The Art of Unproductivity

I'm an on-the-go kinda guy, a day isn't complete unless a thousand things have been accomplished and I've arrived in bed late more because of the time rather than me actually wanting to stop. Thursdays are not quite that kind of day. This is the day I look after my now 2 1/4 year old daughter. Getting a handful of things done, outside of looking after the young one, becomes a major feat. Forget hundreds or thousands. From the outside, having the day off work to look after a kid seems bliss, and sometimes it quite frankly is, but it is also a challenge in the mastery of multitasking. I met a friend for lunch at a cafe with my daughter this Thursday. She had woken (and hence so had I) early and was a little more tired than planned by lunch time. ie Slightly grumpy & not so sociable. Not the best start. Tiredness brings on a little bit of food aversion, or at least a bigger tendency to play with it, and make noises when things aren't going precisely her way. Conversation was a little stuttered with my very forgiving friend. Through my mind is going a constant checklist - is she eating enough, am I going to need to use the bathroom, is there a change table there, are we disturbing the other cafe patrons, what did my friend just say, do I need to get toys out or will she cope without, is letting her watch Dora the Explorer on the iPad a bad parenting decision. Oh and there's more but after we get home, having sun all the way there in the car to keep her awake, and she decides she isn't going to sleep her usually early afternoon nap, I go into a meltdown. It's the time I was counting on to get stuff done.

One has to cut ones expectations and learn to enjoy being just a dad, playing silly games, drawing and building with blocks, running around in circles, dancing and singing like you've never done before. And it is a lot of fun.

When you let go of everything else.

Butterfly Kiss

The best thing about being a dad is being able to spend loads of time playing. Getting out the lego and making things, drawing things, throwing balls around, dancing crazily around the house singing and making up the words. Repeating words or phrases and having them come back at you in increasingly refined form, sometimes days later, getting spontaneous hugs and kisses, and laughing uncontrollably at reactions you never anticipated.

Here you have a few shots of the two of us playing. Much fun.

For those following my brother's recovery (a cycling accident), he's home, out of his neck brace and going well with a lot of work still ahead. I'll be competing without him, sadly, at the Sydney Triathlon in 2 weeks. Training continues at pace.

Telephone Calls from Disaster

You know those telephone calls you get? They come out of the blue on any normal day, in the middle of doing normal things. But they're not anything normal. They're entirely extraordinary. They're phone calls you never want to answer but you don't know it until you do and then it's too late.

I got that call on Friday morning on my way to do a house call. My normal Friday work day. The patient I was going to see was dying, but the call was about my brother. He was hit by a car training on his bike. He was in the emergency department.

I'm horrified, but the voice of my sister-in-law is calm so it mustn't be too bad. But then, they hadn't let her see him yet. I'm rifling through the possibilities - and I don't like the connection of car and bike with my brother in between. I have many questions but none of which can be answered right now. Shit. I'm thinking more words but I'm a little uncertain of where to go and how concerned to get. He's in another city and I'm due to see a host of patients myself. I don't know whether to cut and run or hold off and wait for more news. I don't really concentrate well with my patient but I get by.

More news and he's alive - he's concussed but has some fractures. Okay that's not so bad.

He has 18 fractures, many involve his neck and back. Oh god that's not so good. Can he move? Does he have any spinal cord injuries...?

He can move, but he's in a lot of pain oh and he's punctured his lung. Brilliant.

It turns out the driver who pulled out in front of him from a stop sign "didn't see him" (he was wearing fluoro yellow) and was upset about his car mirror being smashed up. Lovely.

He'll be months in a neck brace and his Iron Man Triathlon in March is off.

I'm at once pissed off at the bloody driver and trying to be the supportive medically trained family. Thankfully he's in good care. But it's just so unfair.

People, keep a look out on the roads!! I don't want to be the next casualty.

Triathletic Toddler

Run at race pace, repeat, then cycle, vary the intensity, some hill climbs, some flat grinds and then into the pool and pump the water, hard. Check the bike, get the transitions right, race tactics sorted, gear, nutrition, hydration, stay well, don't overtrain, don't under-train...

While training for an actual triathlon is intense in its own right, coordinating work, family life & the actual training is the behind the scenes triathlon; only considerably more intense. Just like a triathlon you have to work at each element to make it fit in with the others or they all fall into chaos. And so goes my life of living at the edge of my capacity. It's been a lot of fun, though in the past few days I've found what it's like just over that edge, my body has spoken and it said 'too much' so I've been forced into relative rest for a few days (you see you can never really truly rest if you're serious about triathlon). While you can rest from training it's a lot more tricky to rest from work and family especially as the growing toddler (above) doesn't know what stop means (a bit like her daddy). Now confidently walking (and swimming of course) she is taking her own directions, sometimes on her tricycle making her technically the triathletic toddler.

And now my race is just 5 days away. It's been a long road and I've done the best I can for the time and limitations I have, I think. But it's not over yet, there is still more work to be done and a race to be won, or at least to be pushed to the edge. And then I will really rest, and the rest will be sweet, fleeting, but sweet.

Taking hold, and letting go

Amélie holding onto my dad's hand - in Hospital.

My dad came out of hospital today. It's a place he's not really frequented in his life but managed to be in for 12 days this admission. He was wheeled to the exit and into the passenger seat of my mum's car - another place he's not generally found - and home with a few walking-frame-navigated distances into a modern apartment now adorned with various mobility aids and hospital style elevated chairs. They all look so out of place. My dad has always been a powerhouse, the guy who lifts cars, fixes everything, climbs into ceiling spaces to install lights and the like, and to see him walking slowly and deliberately with his new titanium reinforcements now inserted into his fractured femur is a little disconcerting. It makes you think about life's responsibilities...

I was driving home afterwards thinking, if something serious happened - would I be able to sort out my parent's affairs, organise appropriate farewells. Would I cope emotionally? I've not ever contemplated life without them, but fragility is just a short mis-taken step away. I see photos of my daughter with my parents and I wonder what memories she will have of them, will they be anything like those I have of my grandparents? My niece the other day asked of my grandmother "...the lady with the purple hair?" but oh, she was so much more than that, the emotions and experiences that are imprinted in my being from her are a powerful influence to this day. And then I see how different my life has been from that of my parents, how I'm partly in their world, but with a foot in another world and Amélie in turn will have her own path...

It does make one look at things with a different perspective. Issues that may have once been all consuming in various relationships become minor details that are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. One's transience becomes a whole lot more obvious. But it's not necessarily a negative thing. I think it's more a reminder that each day is something to be grasped by the balls and run with. There'll be plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead.

2010

Will we be saying twenty ten, two thousand and ten or perhaps two oh one oh?

I think I like twenty ten best, easy, fast and kinda cool.

I'm starting back at work this week after some time off but I'm not too stressed about the idea of it yet. That may all change as I walk in the door Monday morning... I certainly will be looking forward to more time away from work though over summer, with time at the beach, surfing and swimming a distinct priority.

Over the break I headed to Byron Bay which has to be one piece of heaven. It's certainly the place to go to people watch - if you like watching gorgeous men (think washboard abs and board shorts barely holding on) - but has a fair share of eateries, beaches and surrounding points of interest as well. I'm going back, definitely. Can I go now?

For those following young Amélie, she is now 7 1/2 months and developing at rapid pace. She's been to the beach a few times, even got dumped in a freak wave but didn't miss a beat and has been ever keen to return (arms and legs go wild whenever we talk about going there or when walking there). It seems she's caught my love of the water, which is perfect. She may well be swimming before she's walking, but time will tell.

I have no specific plans for the blog this year, but am happy for any input as to likes and preferences for the year ahead. I'm going to busy this year outside blogging with a host of events focussing significantly on Amélie as one might expect, but life goes on outside of parenthood and I'm keen to continue being active in all spheres.

Right now I'm updating my music collection and scanning in old cd's to add finally a little diversity to my iTunes collection. Any new and interesting music suggestions are welcomed while I'm at it.

Happy New Year. Let's see what we can all make of it.

Small footprints, big impacts.

I wish you all a fantastic year

So THAT was Christmas

I've had Christmas already.

No I mean it, I've had it, celebrated, eaten the celebratory food, opened the gifts, sat back and chatted with relatives about life the universe and almost everything, including all too often medical problems. We've celebrated early as my family is essentially flying off to various corners of the earth for Christmas day and it was the last time we could get together before parting ways. With a little'un in tow there have been a lot of gaps: the events and discussions that happened while I was getting her off to sleep or feeding etc, which just adds to the mayhem of what is already a chaotic day, the end of which is filled with sighs and exasperated collapses into lounges back at home.

This year has also seen me take our daughter, holding her in her front pack (where she's sitting strapped on the front of me) to the kids Christmas party we hold for patients at our practice, with The Frenchman coming as well. It was a little daunting, as it's the first time we've been together at an essentially public function locally as a couple with a kid... and certainly a lot of attention was directed our way. Some quite invasive questioning also followed from people who were at least interested in our set up, but after a while one does tire of explaining everything. I guess this is what it's like being a frontrunner in this part of the country where co-parenting is as common as carbon neutral coal.

Now that the big events are over, it's plain sailing to the actual Christmas Day, and I'm quite looking forward to it.

What have I become?

Walking down the street today under Paddington's greening spring canopy, I realised that things are quite different in my world right now. I was talking out loud about the green trees, and the silver cars and the birdies flying past... There was a baby strapped into her Baby Bjorn holder on the front of me; clipped to my belt a small red insulating bag holding a bottle of formula. Of course the usual wallet and phone were in my pockets; a bib somewhere too. Earlier in the morning, having put her down to rest, I'd immediately cleaned up the bowl I'd fed her from and the various toys & things that were strewn about. The room was ordered again but set for its next chapter of chaos.

I realised that I have become my parents.

At the cafe in the park, where I'd fed her the formula and shared a bite to eat with her grandpa, were left meal remnants as we fled upon the arrival of the fatigue monster, thankfully banished rapidly by the movement of walking (away from that very nice but not quite completed smoothie). And I didn't care.

The thing about it is that you really don't care about that stuff, the incompleted meals, the messed up hair, the food on your clothes. I may become the emaciated crazy guy with the kid, but I'm ready for that role.

14 years on...

In Gay years we've been together what, 98 years? It certainly doesn't seem that long. 14 years has flown by, but looking back there's a hell of a lot we've done in that time. We've broken all kinds of new ground for ourselves and the people around us, we've bought and sold homes together and lived in a handful of others, swum probably thousands of kilometres together, many competitively. We've made friends, welcomed new family members and fare-welled others, we've taken hundreds of flights together and tied up the globe with our flight paths. We've driven a car or two into the ground. We've raised our Labrador Norten, of whom we're very proud, and now have embarked on raising a child, which will certainly keep the next 14 yrs and more as busy if not more so than the first. We've grown closer together even when we're apart. It's been one hell of a time and I'm looking forward to the next 14 and beyond.

Happy Anniversary Mr Frenchman, My Frenchman.

10 weeks

Young Amélie is now 10 weeks old and here she is resting on her Papa's shoulder, one of her favourite places. We've been rather busy of late with her, and it's taken a little time away from my usual posting here. But I guess priorities do change, and you do tend to get a little distracted when there is a munchkin about growing and learning and getting increasingly interactive. It's a life changing thing as they say, but it's a very natural change and quite a lot of fun. Some things become more important as other things that may have once been essential to your life just dissolves away and you wonder what significance they ever had.

I've managed to keep up with swimming, it's still quite an essential part of my life. We all go swimming together, though Amélie isn't old enough to get into the water, yet. We all take turns looking after her while the rest swim. I guess she'll get used to the smell of salt and chlorine before she knows what it is. We're counting down the days until she can get in there with us.

It's been a fun start to parenthood. We certainly don't fit the traditional model, particularly in the area where we live where the whole concept of co-parenting is exceedingly new. The local community has been incredibly supportive; there have been some funny questions and statements along the way making us aware that we are in fact breaking new ground here. The fact there are questions rather than silence, gifts of all kinds and positive encouragement from such a variety of people has made it an incredibly positive experience, more than from just a parenting perspective.

insomnia & fathering

I'm in the haze a series of sleep-interrupted nights creates, and my brian is slowed. Slowed to that point where you stare at things for no real reason, and when you realise you are doing it you regain your focus, look somewhere else, and then blur again into the distance. Productive it is not, and as my computer screen becomes that blur I realise another post on superchilled might just bite the dust. 

Part of the insomnia is a parenthood thing, part of it is work - but the combination of the two creates one formidable zombiesque state. 

One thing that is crystal clear is that entering into co-parenting means you're going to be asked a LOT OF THE SAME QUESTIONS over and over again. It gets to the point where you either just omit mentioning the co-parenting status in the introduction of one's entry into parenthood, step right into a description of what it all means right down to living arrangements, or wait for the questions to fly in, some with an air of "Do you know what you're getting into?" or alternatively "I can't see that this is going to be healthy for the child."And usually dispelled by the end of said conversation. It seems it is always easier being straight where you never have to justify anything, it's considered a natural progression. And the questions more "Why aren't you having kids?" rather than "Why are you having kids?". Despite this the responses to our becoming co-parenting dads have been almost uniformly encouraging and supportive, which is sensational. Certainly being a dad is a lot of fun and the work of nappy changes, feeding & the like doesn't feel at all like work. Although at 3 am one's enthusiasm can be a little less focussed. 

And to avoid ongoing sleep deprivation I'm headed to bed.

Not Quite Routine

I'm holding Amélie in my arms right now as she's been a little unsettled getting off to sleep tonight. Up to now she's been pretty much perfect, in fact even with this I think she still is.

It's been a busy few weeks as you've probably noted from my paucity of posts here. My routine has been irrevocably changed. At times I've felt a little less than superchilled. And of course when it rains it pours and with the arrival of the youngster everything else has been falling apart, our cars have been beeping about their faults, making weird noises and being sent off for repairs repeatedly, my iMac has crashed and is completely useless to me now (hopefully a genius at the apple store in the morning will fix that for me). But despite the spot fires that abound the youngster thrives and makes it all worthwhile.

These first weeks are brace and persist weeks, while a pattern can be established... hopefully we'll all emerge from the cloud refreshed and revitalised and you'll see more frequent posting here. Time will tell.

I'm a dad!!!

I've been a little busy of late and obviously preoccupied. Little Amélie was born on Sunday making The Frenchman & myself both dads. It's very exciting and very sleep depriving. We are co-parenting and mum & baby are both very well. Here is a quick peek at her not long after birth.

Surf's Up

I live by the beach here in Coalcliff but on Sunday, almost 2 hours away, I go surfing at Palm Beach in Sydney's far north with friends. It's a 35 degree day (95F) and being in the water feels just perfect. The fact that the men in the water distract me from catching a few waves is just icing. I'm surfing on a friend's malibu board, and it's so much fun I don't want to get out. The Frenchman is out in the water too catching some waves. When we do eventually pack up, a southerly change (ie cold wind) storms in and blows most people off the beach anyway. It's the formula of our perfect summer day - and this is early spring. I'm so looking forward to summer I can feel it pulsing though my veins already. 

Earlier in the day we're at a birthday party, and it's a sports themed birthday so the name of the game is being active (in this 35 degree heat remember). What do we have to do? Well, thankfully it's the 5th birthday of our niece and so it's the kids who are being active, the adults are standing by. Some dads are quite competitive though and they're giving their sons technique tips for the tug-of-war, and high fiving them when they lose "you gotta make him feel good". There are 2 boys who didn't get such support - and when their team loses, they're crying on the grass and don't want to play any more.

I'm glad I'm not 5 yrs old, although I will take the high fiving dad, he's gorgeous. 

Food for the Soul

Saturday brunch I cooked scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, slowly roasted tomatoes, and mushrooms on sour dough brought in from Bourke Street Bakery by our weekend guests.

I guess it's my signature brunch menu. But I like it.

With our friends we took our dogs walking to the beach and rock platform near home and most of us got drenched by some rogue waves that were higher than anticipated. We laughed a whole lot even as we walked in squelching shoes back home. Those classic moments that are embedded forever in one's memory. I love the waves, I love the power of them, and on this sunny day they were particularly spectacular as they surged over the rocks, and us. 

Dinner on Saturday was based around a vegetarian risotto that developed from various element brought in and some we already had. Today's brunch was cooked by our guests who combined various fresh fruits, crepes and bacon with maple syrup. Now I know it's a popular combination in North America (? anywhere else?), but here and to me it's a confusing mix. I tried it for the first crepe, and it wasn't bad - but I stuck with more traditional combinations for my subsequent crepes. 

What I liked most about the meals this weekend was that everyone brought something, made something and became a part of the whole food preparation experience. A sharing thing. A communal thing. Spending time sharing experiences, discussing all and sundry and just being. Doing it at home is much more rewarding as there's never pressure to leave like when you see the closed sign hung up on the door. And it was all pretty spontaneous, which made it all the more fun.

The Frenchman's Chocolate cake didn't hurt either.

Did you cook anything for your weekend?

Le Tour du Monde

I've been following Le Tour de France over the past 3 weeks, and am watching the last few km of the race as I type. They've been racing around France, hundreds of km per day, up and down alps and the like and still at the end there is just a minute between the top 2 competitors. They're all very good to have even made it this far, and it makes me think. To make it to the front you've got to be good, consistently good for a long long time, and even when you are - there are people breathing down your neck all the time. 

But in the Tour, as with life, there may be one person who is seen to stand out, but quite a barrage of people who have supported them all the way.  And there are very few people who get anywhere without the support of the people around them. 

I've been thinking this weekend, as I've caught up with friends who are innately supportive, helped other friends through tougher times, and at various times recently been in touch with people who have been great touchstones for me, how lucky I am to have the people that I do have in my life. Sometimes I lose sight of that - and sometimes I'm disappointed with people - but there are those who are always there, who always make an effort - and those who will challenge me when I need it and with whom I can be completely relaxed. It's these people who help me to be a better person, to have the confidence I do, and to try and be a Tour winner in my own world.

Who are the support people in the Tour of your world? and who are you a support person for?

Life is Beautiful

They come in threes, they say about pretty much everything, and my trilogy this weekend was a stomach bug. Just when I was feeling on top of the world the bugs struck back. So I've had laryngitis, sinusitis, and gastroenteritis all in a few short weeks. Regardless, the weekend threw some fantastic events, people and sights my way. It was the last weekend of The Frenchman's family - and my in-laws, in Australia (and I can say in-laws because in France at least our relationship is formally recognised). So Saturday was an all out Sydney Fest - Paddington Markets, Beach, Opera House, Harbour Sunset and AFL match; before their flight out early Sunday morning. The day was perfect, a lot of fun was had by all, and I even got in a swim at the perennially closed Tamarama Beach. We haven't been to the AFL for a while - but it was a lot of fun. I didn't manage to see the big punch that has been in the news ever since, but the atmosphere at the stadium and the game were great, even though I like to see the scores a little closer for the thriller finish factor... Our nephew got quite the surprise when Sydney scored and the crowd errupted with flags and all waving about just in front of him. It was the perfect end to their 3 week trip to Oz.

With all the excitement of entertaining the rellies and of trying to get over feeling hideous, I've not posted a lot. But now with normality restored, I'll see what I can do... though the gut still hasn't quite caught up with my plans.

Sunday March 30

The Red Eye from Perth last Tuesday was just fine thank you very much - Business class on a 747 is pretty nice (even though it's not international business class - more premium economy I guess) it was the crash landing into the new week that was hellish. Arrived to more work than I could possibly deal with, and then a rapidly developing laryngitis which took me right out of the work equation for a day or more, and then so far behind it was like picking up after a war. I still have a husky voice that makes men and women beg for more (and the more I give the less voice I have to give) deep deep down... Darth Vader eat your heart out.

Of course I then went racing today in the ocean blue - the race of all races - the one I've been training for all year right here at my home beach!!... and I'm sick, I'M BLOODY SICK, like I've not had much of an appetite for a few days, nose is digusting - we won't go there, but the muscle aches and pains are gone (or is that the aspirin I took for the headache this morning?) I still have my fitness, but there ain't no extra left for the surge to the beach. Mentally I'm not helped by the coughing along the course - not frequent - but a reminder that I'm not at my peak - even though I do try and ignore the reminder and push on - which I do - to finish a respectable 16th out of 'almost 300'. Can you complain? But I wanted top 10! I wanted to beat everyone in my age group! That run up the beach today felt like I hadn't been running at all, all year! Bloody hell, I deserved a medal just to get to the finishing line!

A cute guy from Tamarama surf club greeted me over a banana at the end - seriously - so I was pleasantly distracted from my aches and pains for a while. Then The Frenchman arrived, much later in the pack than he'd normally like - but he was sick too - so I was relieved that he actually finished (I think he wanted a cute lifesaver to bring him home). His family there to greet him - all the way from France - I don't think anything would stop him competing either.

It was the perfect day today too, warm and sunny with just a light breeze - we had a gathering for lunch at ours' and had the most chilled out day - with spectacular light a great group of people and a great birthday celebration for The Frenchman's dad. A sojourn to the beach here in the afternoon for some playing in the sand with the kids and swimming in the surf, the perfect end to the weekend.

Here we have The Frenchman's mum serving home made birthday cake with Champagne.

See, the light really was awesome!