First Time Dad at 50

Older Fathers - Stupid Kids?

2011-05-19T05:25:00.001-07:00

Oh dear, I recently read that there are all sorts of increased health risks for children of older fathers. The title may be overplaying it but there is definitely enough material here to make me look more closely at my child.

The article I read in Psychology Today written by Paul Raeburn, who has written extensively on the effects of older fathers on their children, asserts that there are lots of areas to be concerned about.

Allegedly research shows that in a child of a father over 40 there is a sixfold increase in the chance of autism while that increases to ninefold for fathers over 50.

This 'Advanced Paternal Age' has links to all sorts of birth defects such as cleft lip and palate, water on the brain, dwarfism and miscarriage. Now we can add another to the list which includes higher instance in prostrate cancer in boys of older fathers, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. That's 'Decreased Intellectual Capacity'.

I am worried enough as it is when it comes to my own intelligence but to think that my older fathering has diminished my poor boy's chances of a decent IQ is actually quite hard to take. The only light at the end of the tunnel is that the child can 'catch up' later and fulfil its intellectual potential.

Presumably that catch up is as a result of the decreased period that the child is under the father's parentage as people as old as me will die earlier than younger parents. At last, an advantage of being older on top of an earlier inheritance.

In all seriousness, this is a concern. Particularly in the context of our search for a suitable first school for the might, it has now biased my thinking to giving our boy the best education we can afford.

Bang goes the concept of Early Retirement. Any retirement is looking a decreasingly likely option.

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School Time?

2011-05-16T00:49:00.001-07:00

My son, Scott, is just 14 months old and it's fair to say that of the many things on his mind right now, school is not one of them. Frankly, until this weekend, it wasn't on mine either.

My wife had been hit by a case of 'Bad-Mother-itis' after someone had asked her if she had put Scott's name down for a school yet. Both of us looked at one another and frowned. He's only 14 months old for goodness sake. However, in a sharp lesson we found that many parents are putting their child's name down at a school almost as soon as he or she is born such is the competition for places at good schools these days.

So in the blind panic that knee jerk reactions can cause, we found ourselves attending the Open Day of the nearby Prep School, York House near Croxley Green. Actually, it's near nowhere as it is a school set in its own grounds and sports a long drive down to an old redbrick building with a clock tower that looks like the set of 'Tom Brown Schooldays'.

Why, when we have several other schools to see (most of which are not private), did we choose to look at the most expensive Prep School in Hertfordshire first (OK, I am guessing here but I reassure myself that if there is another more expensive then I will be shocked), I don't know?

First of all we were late. Then I felt under dressed in jeans and a jumper. I felt even my swanky car looked cheap. But when we crossed the threshold we were met by both Head and Deputy Head Master who both shook us warmly by the hand just hard enough to see if they could hear the coins jangle in my pocket and I was reminded that these places are not just schools, they are businesses. We passed the first test and were passed onto a well groomed Asian pupil called Hassan to show us around. I work with many young people who are intelligent and good at the their jobs but who lack some diction. This kid was just 13 and he had better elocution that most company executives.

Hassan had more badges on his blue blazer than an experienced Morris Dancer which were for every sport conceivable. As we looked around the fantastic buildings and Kindergarten, he casually asked me if I played cricket. First, the assumption that I still played rankled a little. Then when I smugly said I used to play for a local league team, he asked 'Which county'?

County!? I was a bit part player for Hemel Hempstead but was proud of my minor achievements. Thank God he didn't ask me about rugby. In reply to all this he pointed to a spotty young kid in the other room and said he played for Middlesex. I suddenly realised how pathetically inadequate my life had been.

I also realised, as I surveyed each superbly equipped classroom and spoke to every toothy teacher, that a young child could get no better start in their life educationally to spend as much as 10 years at this place.

This taught me two things: 1) We had made a tragic mistake by coming to see York House first. It now muddles our thinking and sets unrealistic expectations for any other school we see. I mean, I can't think that a Primary School in our area will not only not have its own swimming pool but it certainly will not be able to have Kayak lessons in there. The only upside was that Scott slept most of the tour and so I reason that what he didn't see, he won't miss. 2) If we were to send our as yet unborn child and Scott to such a school for all of 10 years then we will have paid as much in fees as our current mortgage. Yes, it's that much.

By quirk of fate, I went to a Prep School as my father worked mainly abroad on assignments for BP who then paid the lion share of fees for any UK schooling as mostly boarding was required. I went to Craig-y-Nos school in Uplands, Swansea which has since relocated to the Gower Peninsula and was recently attended by my nephew, Matthew. When I went there it was a converted townhouse and was run by a Headmaster with a stutter called Ernie Walters and its only sporting prowess was cricket. We won the Under 11 Swansea District Cup but I missed the Final at St Helens because I finished term early to visit my parents somewhere abroad. My point here, was that Prep schools have moved on.

The problem I have with York House, apart from the potential drain on income, is that Prep Schools are usually a pre-cursor to a full private education. I subsequently attended Christ College, Brecon which is a fantastic school if you like rugby but this was only because my parents were abroad so much of the time. Scott will hopefully have us close at hand and so I don't envisage a need for boarding school or private school for that matter.

The problem maybe catchment areas. I don't know enough about local secondary schools around us but I know that Watford Grammar has a superb reputation while Verulam in St Albans is the feeder school to my old rugby club, Old Verulamium - and that's good enough for me. But we are not in the catchment area for either and I can't see ourselves moving into St Albans and sacrificing the peace and quiet of our current location for the hubbub of the City Centre and no parking or garden. The dogs would never forgive me.

But then, there was the Science lesson. As we entered the Kindergarten to look around its excellent facilities, we saw a group of boys led by a balding teacher who was conducting a science lesson in the yard. He had a foot pump and an inverted pop bottle a third filled with water with a rubber hose its neck connecting it to the pump and a boy was taking his turn to hold it in place as air was pumped in. As the teacher told the pupils that pressure was building and the molecules were gaining more energy, that energy had to have somewhere to go. And he was right. The bottle left its launchpad via the thrust of the ejecting water being forced out by the pressurised air. The child underneath was soaked. That experiment alone could have sold the whole place a thousand times over.

Who would have thought that the thought of schools for a 14 month old who can't even talk yet let alone read would cause such panic and hysteria?

As one parent put it to me over the weekend, this is just the start.

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The Sum of all Fears

2011-05-12T00:35:00.000-07:00

Following on from some of my thoughts yesterday, what could be worse than losing a young child?

I may be thoughtless here but I heard on the radio today that the little girl that was caught in the cross fire of a London shooting a few weeks ago is said to be recovering but it is now confirmed that the bullet paralysed her and she will never walk again.

Hearing that moved me to tears as I drove the car. I can't think of anything worse than a child being maimed at such a young age and having to face the rest of their life in a wheelchair. The child's name is Thusha Kamaleswaran and she was shot in the chest in a shop in Stockwell in March.

In another radio snippet, there was a story about criminals and victims facing one another in order to get some kind of closure for the victim while the criminal can rightly feel remorse for the crime they committed. Admittedly this was related to burglary but the aim was to justify not sending the criminal to jail as most burglaries are committed by young people and therefore they might shape up without having to go to prison and mix with hardened criminals.

In principal, I don't disagree with the latter. But of the six people so far arrested for the attempted murder of Thusha, only one is not a teenager, and he's just 20. The rest are 17-19 and there is one suspect aged 14.

I am not sure of my point here. But if I were the parent of little Thusha I am sure that forgiving would be far from my mind and I tend to forgive most things easily.

There is an argument, however, for terrorists and murderers to have to confront the enormity of their actions. Bin Laden will never have to face up to that and in the minds of his followers he's up there with his gaggle of virgins right now, whooping it up. That's a victory to him and his cause. If only he could have stood and faced the loved ones of those who died in 9/11 and allowed them the opportunity to stare him in the eye or ask him where in all the Koran does it say that you murder innocent people to perform Jihad? Perhaps it would have given some semblance of closure but maybe, just maybe, Bin Laden himself might have seen how totally absurd his actions were.

I digress. The fact is that for no good reason, a small child aged just 5 has to now face the prospect of living all her life at the most extreme disadvantage.

I cannot even start to contemplate how I would feel if this little girl were my daughter. But I know how I feel about the people who shot her.

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In This Day and Age?

2011-05-11T06:58:00.001-07:00

Did you know that each one of us in Britain is on average caught on CCTV at least 70 times a day? And did you know that as long ago as 2006 there was over 1 CCTV camera for every 14 people in Britain - well above the average for any developed country in the world?

Shocking to know in some respects. All the more shocking is that people still commit crimes despite the presence of so many cameras. Perhaps not very many of these cameras are actually looking for serious crime - many are looking for petty offenders like people over staying at a car park or for what we are putting in our bins (I kid you not).

Why do I mention this? Well, it is alleged in a village not far from us there has been two instances of a single grey car attempting to snatch a young child. In both instances the target was a young girl but from descriptions it appears to be the same car. If there are so many cameras about it is a wonder that these people try to commit such crimes, knowing that their number plate can not only be filmed but recognised too and matched against databases.

It sends a shudder down the spine of any parent, no matter what age. The overwhelming urge to protect a child and ensure it suffers no hardship at the hands of evil people comes to the fore at such times and it makes you wonder just what you would do if someone attempted to abduct your own child.

Topically, I see that a book by Kate McCann is available and is being serialised in one of the dailies. I have lost track as to when Kate and Gerry's daughter, Madeleine, was allegedly abducted in Portugal but again this brings back evocative memories of a very disturbing time - and it felt terrible even though we had yet to become parents.

But what was equally disturbing was the McCann's apparent demeanour and specifically the rather odd and indifferent behaviour by the mother, Kate. I read a very interesting Sunday Times article at the time written by a psychologist and it explained that the reason why so many people seemed to distrust her version of events on that fateful night as she and her husband revelled at a nearby restaurant was because she seemed so unmotherly, pristinely turned out and calm. More recently, the full series of questions that were put to her when she was designated as an 'arguedo' or suspect in Portugal, were published and she chose to answer only one of all the questions, most of which were really quite straightforward and pertinent to little Madeleine's disappearance. That the family refused to go back to Portugal to re-enact the events of the night was more perplexing as experience has shown such reconstructions often serve to jog memories and create new leads.

I suppose the primal fear for my child in me rages against any would-be wrong doer. I cannot fathom what it would be like to lose our wee one but I am certain that I would not be out at my usual restaurants or playing tennis for a long while after.

I used to be against all these security cameras but if they save just a few lives, they get my vote.

Just turn them away from petty crime and focus on real crimes.

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To MMR or Not?

2011-03-18T01:41:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was a big day. Dad was in the doghouse for not being able to attend Scott's MMR jab but, with or without him, the jab went ahead with a full booster too.

This was after twice postponing the jab as Scott was not in chipper health on both of the previous two appointments, which we were told was essential. The wee one was very brave and took his injections stoically and with little fuss. Afterwards he was his usual self and we then attended our eldest's nephew's 18th birthday do. Scott was the life and soul of the party, crawling around persistently and making everyone smile with his antics. He even fell asleep on the way home which augured for a normal evening.

That's where reality and the hopeful fiction of 'he may show a few symptoms' differed. He had a most unrestful night. Having gone to sleep at around 9pm, which was late for him, he was awake again before we went to bed, then again at midnight, and every hour after. At around 2.30pm, after administration of Calpol and it's ibuprofen equivalent, we sat playing with him on the bed sipping cups of tea. That's how awake he was.

We did get him back to sleep but he was up at 7am prompt and is slightly grumpy and weary - just like his dad. This is all bad enough but then there is the MMR furore to deal with.

MMR has got a very dodgy history. In Japan, having the mumps, measles and rubella vaccine together, or MMR, has been banned and they are now done separately.

It all started when the MMR vaccine was mandated in 1994 for all children. Since then, unequivocally, there has been a spike in the instances of autism diagnoses. Many of the diagnoses occurred just months after the administration of the MMR jab - so was there a connection?

The situation was not helped when a gastroenterologist (Dr. Andrew Wakefield) made some pretty profound claims in the Lancet where he proposed from his study of MMR immunisation, bowel disease and autism that there was an interaction between the viruses (as they are administered live in the MMR serum) which could 1) have an impact on a child's immune system, 2) lead to persistent infection in the gastrointestinal tract and 3) lead, in the long run, to possible brain damage and autism.

He caused a massive scare. Since, he has left his post after it was discovered his work was 'fatally flawed'. The fact that all the patients he did his study on already had gastrointestinal illness made his subjects non-random anyway but that group sampled was ridiculously small too. From that, no real conclusion could be made despite the fact that the measles virus was found in the gut in all cases.

The controversy remains. Our goddaughter had quite serious bowel illness when she was young - I have no idea if this was on or around when she had her MMR jab. But all parents question most things in relation to their child's safety and this is a very hot issue.

We have made the plunge and we are watching our little one like a hawk. We expected him to show symptoms of illness - they say for up to two weeks - but we had not expected him to be so 'rough' so soon after the jab.

The household is on high alert.

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Catch Up

2011-03-14T00:37:00.001-07:00

The last few weeks have been a real roller coaster. The sense of anticipation of a new addition to the family in July has been overshadowed by wee Scott having dreadful sleep patterns which were first caused by a bug he had. Since catching the bug, he has got into a routine of waking more frequently and then asking for his mum rather than dad and so the burden of nighttime care has been evenly split. This means that both mum and dad get very interrupted sleep and we are both exhausted in the day times.

Just when I thought my lot was bad, though, I see the terrible scenes in Japan and the ongoing effects of the earthquake and Tsunami and I can see that our hardship is nothing compared to that of those affected by this terrible natural disaster. In fact, put into context, we wake up to see our lovely son, refreshed from 'sleep' and his sunny smile just makes all that tiredness seem very worthwhile.

The fact is, I often think our lot is bad but there is plenty that goes on in the world where people have unbearable suffering for many reasons which makes our little homeward issues absolutely trivial. In fact, we should be thankful we have such things to worry about, and for the most part, we are.

However, here's an interesting thing. The Consultant who delivered our baby and will deliver our second also, has more skill in his little finger than most people will accumulate in a lifetime. If he had applied that incredible skill to pressing buttons on a computer and working in the City, he would have been far better off. In fact, it would have taken his accumulated pay from before the time of the Battle of Hastings to have earned as much as Bob Diamond did just this year. And Diamond is the man who almost bankrupted his company and needed to go to the Middle East and sell shares at knock down prices to keep his bank from going out of business. In most business circles, that would be abject failure given the kind of money he risked for his shareholders by bad business practice but instead his rises again to fill his pockets. If our Consultant had made just a minor slip up or failure, he would never be able to practice his craft again in his lifetime, by comparison. Fred Goodwin did and he walked away with - well you know the story.

That would be the difference between responsibility and accountability.

Today in Sandei, Japan, the likes of our Consultant and his medical colleagues will be the most valuable people in the world and the likes of Bob Diamond will be looking to limit their losses and then make a handsome profit on the plight of the people there.

That's how wrong we have got the whole thing and that's enough to drive people who get expert help, from brilliant people who care, absolutely crackers.

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Feeling Rough

2011-02-19T00:58:00.001-08:00

I have been a bear with a sore head lately. Poor Scott has had really poor sleep lately and has developed a trend to waking up about 1am and then bawling his eyes out so that he has to sleep with mum and both of us are on tenterhooks as he lies between us. This then can last several hours or even the whole night. While we have tried to alternate responsibility, we are both shattered and it leads to unnecessarily frayed tempers, which is pretty unusual for me.

This morning, I felt a bit better until I read Barclays Bank paid just £113m in Corporation Tax last year when the bonus pool was £3.4bn. I mean, how stupid are we, really? Why do we put up with such nonsense and allow fat and happy people to take advantage of our lives, our money, our tax and our prospects for work when all they do is lie, cheat and make money out of thin air then lose?

You see, that's an example of daft angst for no reason other than tiredness.

But here's the bright side. On Thursday, Scott was one year old and he loved his day with family. My brother and he wife travelled all the way from wales to see him while we we inundated with my wife's family for the evening and cake cutting. Scott was in his element, surrounded by all the people he loves and he loved all his presents.

Today, we have a wider party and some 30 people will be coming including y elder sister and husband on their way through to Heathrow for a holiday and folks from near and far too. We have hit Costco and frankly the 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment could turn up and we would still have leftovers. I raided Sainsburys for beer, wine and soft drinks last night as well and let's hope there is a thirst amongst guests or we ill be drinking until Christmas.

This has been the best part. As I speak, he is delightfully playing in his Playpen with his new toys while mum gets some rest with little lump growing at a grand old rate.

Suddenly, I fell better. And that's been the pattern of things. s that normal? I have no idea.

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Facing Up To The Age Thing

2011-01-24T23:14:00.001-08:00

My wife and I were chatting about this just last night. We are both very excited about the fact we will have our second child in July. I will be 52 in November. Our little boy is just 11 months old. Sobering facts.

While there is no doubt that I am young at heart and having children makes you feel younger, I am very aware that I am not as physically fit as I was even a few years ago and that I will be over 60 when my little boy and new one will be around 10 years old. This is the sort of age when I will be ferrying them back and fore to school, meant to be kicking a ball about, having trekking holidays, camping trips - you know the sort of things you see in an advert for visiting Wales.

The fact is that I will be called 'late middle aged' by some kind people but reality is that I will be far less able to be a normal dad compared to someone half my age. I will have less job prospects, less time before I qualify for a bus pass and probably call modern music rubbish.

It's bad enough me thinking about that, but what will it be like for my young children when other kids joke about them being picked up by their granddad who is in fact their father? When I was kid it was a rarity to see older parents, nowadays at least it seems more acceptable and numerous. But it still does not take away the thought of how we will all cope with it.

Will my children resent the fact I am an older dad, a curmudgeon, not able to play in the dads v kids football match, am less fit, forget things more easily and not know who the winner of X Factor is but know who Champion the Wonder Dog is? I worry about all that. I think it is part of being an older dad.

I still haven't started my fitness regime, again. Prior to 50 I was a regular, even obsessive, gym-goer fitter than when I was actually playing rugby each weekend. Now, after an excessive Christmas and inactive New year, I have put on a few more pounds and feel unfit and heavy. Now is the time to seize the bull by the horns, when I have a bit of time on my hands. Sadly, excuses get in the way. My wife needs more attention, being pregnant, so I take more care of my little boy. I have injured the ligaments in one hand, would you believe, by attempting to play golf. So my gym comeback will have to wait a little longer, although I have pointed out to myself that cross trainers require less use of the hand.

Mix all this together and you get some feel for the constant reminder the body and mind gives of age. Many people say that since they turn 40 or 50 they feel no different. That was not the case with me and having children, new ones, at that age makes you acutely aware of your physical limitations beyond a certain age and, in many respects, your mortality.

That's a final issue that crops up now and then. I am not at all comfortable, as I guess most are not, with the notion of death and finality. But it has a new dimension now. Death will surely rob me of some of the best moments I could have had (does that make sense?), like watching my son graduate, possibly, or get married, have grandchildren. I have to face facts, it is unlikely I will see any of those things.

Still, even though the little one has been up 4 times in the night as he has a little tummy problem and so I feel pretty drained, it is true to say that, while he keeps fully aware of my age, he also helps me fight back the ravages of time.

His smiling face makes me want to behave like a 10 year old and invariably I do. Long may that feeling continue.

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First Christmas

2011-01-24T00:56:00.001-08:00

This year was my son's first Christmas. The build up was interesting as a branch of JoJo Maman Bebe suddenly opened in St Albans, almost at the entrance to the car park we use - I fear it was no coincidence considering the amount we have bought from this excellent chain. It makes me wonder whether real estate by that car park is going to sky rocket as various baby outlets vie for a share of my wife's purse. I must look up who the landlord is and see if I can invest and get some money back.

Christmas was all the more special this year. We got the decorations down and made up the tree and Scott's eyes were a joy as he looked at the glowing lights, tinsel and baubles. We would sit and night and I would tell him stories by the tree and I swear he seemed to understand every word although my wife rightfully puts it down to the prompts I give him. He's not really a boy genius like most dads think their little boys at this age.

Christmas is special in our house anyway as the two dogs, border collies, love opening presents and when they see the tree go up, they know what's happening. This heightened the atmosphere and when Christmas day came, little boy and dogs had a wail of a time opening presents. There weren't many Christmas Carols played on TV or radio this year so we played a CD on Christmas morning and sang along to the music with the words in a book and my wife and I cried our eyes out for no reason. I don't think Scott registered anything but it didn't matter.

We always spend the day at my wife's parents and Scott's twin cousins were there and so we had a lovely time. Having a large family helps in all sorts of ways but its the sense of belonging and kin that our little boy has seems to bring him alive whenever he sees a relative. It's amazing, but we said of my wife's sister's kids too, children seem to know someone is a blood relative instinctively and the love is immediate, deep and given with no strings attached.

We have a toy mountain to deal with after Christmas Day and subsequent visits to relatives. The little one has walkers, the Chicco one that makes him wander around like a Dalek, a little wooden pushcart with blocks in it, a playpen like a prison cell, several wooden block sets for inserting shapes in holes but still his best toys are our ceramic chess set and metal coaster set which have been there since time immemorial. In fact, he seemed to get more fun out of the paper on most presents.

But this year was very special. My wife and I have waited a long time for this special moment and this was as much our moment as his. To see his little face on Christmas Day wondering at presents, laughing with family, eating turkey and sprouts with gusto and playing with anything not nailed down was hard to describe.

It was indeed the Most Wonderful Time.

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First Birthday Approaches

2011-01-22T00:21:00.001-08:00

On 17 February, little Scott will be one. It seems to have gone by in a flash and I can't seem to remember what life was like before him. Now the discussion turns to two subjects - 1) what do we do for his first birthday and 2) when do we get him christened?

We have had an invite already to one of the NCT class first birthdays. Phil and Pauli's baby, Dylan, was born on 2 March and his party will be on 5 March. When they told us about the party, I had to admit we hadn't even started to think about Scott's birthday and immediately we started to think if we were bad parents for not doing so. The other subject of christening was another point for debate.

We will get round to organising a party for Scott's birthday, I'm sure. Probably family and maybe a select band of close friends, NCT perhaps on the Saturday closest.

The christening? Well that's a different matter. We are godparents to several children - one of whom I have not seen for about 16 years which is dreadful on my part (he's 19 now). The problem is not so much which church do we do the christening at but who do we select as godparents?

If we were to repay the compliment on selection then we would have to have several children to accommodate the situation. But reality bites, Scott will have probably 3 godparents and we have to filter down the possibilities and that means some people may get their noses put out of joint.

Age is a factor here. After all, being a 50 year old means that most of my friends and family are the same age and part of the point of being a godparent is being around during the child's formative years and possibly more. Wouldn't younger people be better equipped for such a job? Then again, the easiest pick would be my wife's sister. We are godparents to all three of her boys and proud to be so. We have also been a big part of their lives as they grow up, the eldest now being 17. My wife's sister is slightly younger then my wife so the age factor is not so acute.

In contrast, my elder sister, who would be a great choice, is two years older than me and lives some 200+ miles away. However, there would be no doubting that she would be a wonderful godparent. Then comes the potential disappointments - my brother, who is 13 years older than me and is, in fact, one of my godparents, would likely be disappointed, even feel snubbed, if he did not make the selection list. My younger sister is not baptised herself and I understand is eliminated on that technicality, even though she would make a wonderful godparent.

There are more to choose from my wife's side which means it is unlikely that any more than one of our friends would be a potential godparent. We know this will cause some issues but I guess it's one of those things that can't be helped. Knowing how to deal with it and what you say to people will be something we will have to learn along the way.

As for timing, well this could be dangerous. It's a bit nippy and rainy at the moment so now is not a great time although a christening beyond Scott's first birthday sounds a bit unusual. The fact is we are now in the prime 6 Nations zone and there are games played on a Sunday.

Oops, slipping into pre-dad thinking there. Any Sunday would be perfect but it would be nice to have a ray of sunshine and a little warmth for the photos if nothing else. Springtime - that's the ticket.

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A World Fit For Our Kids

2011-01-21T01:48:00.001-08:00

I don't know how many times I got texted and emailed when the heavy snows were about with the pithy line, 'Global warming, my arse.' I even perpetuated it by sending around a text saying, 'The Conference on Global Warming has been cancelled due to heavy snow.' Ha, ha.

Many of my good friends are massive sceptics when it comes to the environment and believe it is some sort of conspiracy that perpetuates the myth that humans affect the world in which they live, as there if there is instant financial gain in saying that. Without delving into the facts, a simple appraisal says that in the earth's 13 billion year history, there has never been an intelligent species like man and in the last 100 years or so we have invented things that have polluted our environment from smoke to gases to radio active bombs that have not been in the natural order of things before. Just as when Mount St Helena exploded had profound environmental effects and was a natural phenomenon, so too when Chernobyl melted down, radioactive rain poured on the sheep of North Wales.

To think, in this short time, man has not had an affect on the environment is surely illogical for those reasons alone.

Putting our heads in the sand does not help even if some of the facts are wrong. The point is that as parents, our first priority should be giving our kids a future, yet we behave so differently. Yes, we want them to learn to read and write but what point would that be if future generations face a world so badly polluted that it becomes less sustaining of life.

Somehow, the environment and the future of the planet must get some credence. Just as the Cold War threatened the world we found a way to get round it when national differences are put to one side. Perhaps the same can happen again when the United States stops worrying about how much oil China needs.

Again, as I watch my little boy play in the safety of his playpen, I hope that the wider world will be as safe and as welcoming to him in the future.

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Prospects

2011-01-21T01:29:00.001-08:00

A cursory glance at the Business section in yesterday's Daily Telegraph saw two opposing headlines - 1) Goldman Sachs employees are to earn an average of £269,000 of pay and bonus this year and 2) unemployment levels in the youth population has reached record levels - the Lost Generation' as some refer to it of kids with no prospects. The thought that may link these two headlines was Lord Adair's comment on banks who said they largely 'dealt in products that served no social purpose'.

You see, the problem with being over 50 is that you become much more of a curmudgeon - the sort of person that your 20+ year old child might look at and say, 'Here goes dad again on his hobby horse. He's so out of touch.' And as I write this blog entry, my son's face is covered in bovril and he is playing peekaboo with his bib. Being a curmudgeon is not a good thing in bringing up an 11 month old baby, I would venture to say.

That said, it's a real point that so much of what we call success and acceptable serves no real purpose to society at large. If we look at the schools system, one of my nephews failed to get certain grades at A level interims in the Lower Sixth that he was told he could not go onto A levels at that school. Rejection at that age is not healthy, and how we have got to league tables of kids and schools under a then sitting Labour government is beyond me.

But what it all means, as we ponder the fact that there aren't enough university spaces for British kids and if they get there they clock up immense debt, is that we are loading the dice against kids from an early age. I fear for the prospects for little Scott and my unborn child as in another 10 to 15 years this whole situation will only get worse and prospects will decrease.

Why do we heap pressure on kids at such an early age? Is it character building? Does it prepare them for the real world? I don't think so, because the employment laws now mean it is so difficult to get rid of under performing employees that our labour pool is going down in terms of performance not up while the opposite is happening in our kids. Again, somehow, the standard bearers of the common people, Oxford-educated Labour men, brought all this in.

I sit here looking at my little one as he plasters a piece of buttered toast on his head. I just hope that the education system and society give him the chances his sunny little face deserves. For that to happen, we do have to stop this patently dangerous and unnecessary polarisation in wealth that goes on which we all underwrite. If the money could be spread more evenly, we could have more schools, more opportunity for our young and they don't deserve to be victimised because we adults got it so badly wrong. I don't subscribe to the bankers' view that if they didn't earn so much money then we wouldn't have the standard of living we have - because it is so badly wrong.

Curmudgeon time has ended, it's back to chasing the little fellow around the floor with a policeman's hat on. Just don't get me started on the environment but maybe I'll tackle that tomorrow.

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Being A Dad At 50

2011-01-19T23:16:00.001-08:00

So what has it been like, being a Dad at 50+?

This last year has been a whole new ball game to start with. Life revolves around His Lordship and that has been a huge culture change, the biggest since I met my wife some 18 years ago. Although we still do lots of the things we used to do like go to restaurants, it's fair to say that we rarely go out in the evenings and we have babysitters only twice so far in the last 11 months. We have had two holidays, one in Crete with my wife's family which was great and one in Spain which was mixed with business and not so brilliant. Neither provided any real relaxation.

That's the obvious part. The second is that whenever we enter a room, automatically one or other of us 'Has the Conn', i.e. we are in charge of the little one as he moves around at will, particularly since crawling. We are now elevating all items which could be of use to him in every room while watching him like a hawk for crashing into corners of tables or chairs.

While this is normal for any parent, it's actually a huge change for a 50 year old, steeped in tradition of just sitting down and relaxing or playing with the dogs. It means that you rarely relax and you also find that you have little time, when you are in charge, to do anything from make a cup of tea to answer a telephone call to send an email to go to the loo. It's that all-consuming and that's a massive culture change, particularly for a 50 year old guy who was used to do pretty much as he wanted.

The big result of all this is that fatigue is major part of your life. Even as I write, I have to get up very early in the morning and stay up late just to catch up on things like doing my accounts, writing blogs, emails or even just reading things. With getting up in the middle of the night a routine that cannot be changed, it means that interrupted sleep is all you get. This builds up and I don't care what anyone says, for a 50 year old it really begins to drag you down. It would help if I could allocate time to go to the gym, but that really is unrealistic as in the order of priorities in the house these days, personal fitness is not near the top. Even walking the dogs has been cut down as time just gets consumed plus in the Winter the concern about excess dirt coming into areas where the little one is crawling is high.

Then there is the general worry. As you get older, the chances of your career ending or changing dramatically are much higher and this is an underlying pressure. Back in 2006, I took the decision to work on contracts and I have had an excellent run on this in the main. However, this produces a high degree of pressure as I cannot afford to take holidays as time off is unbillable and to take a break between contracts is a false hope as you spend any such time worrying how you are going to get another contract.

Lob in the concern of having a child and the pressure starts to intensify as the overwhelming urge is to provide for the family in terms of bringing in the 'bread'. With my wife on unpaid maternity (she is self-employed), this doubles that underlying pressure. As she is again pregnant, it means that we are probably looking at two years on a single income, which is a precarious one. This is a pressure that sometimes manifests itself in short temper as I feel the need to do something about it, either to change back to permanent employment or to find more lucrative contracts (which is nigh on impossible). All this magnifies as each day passes, as I know that no matter what legislation is in place, there is a very active discrimination of 50+ year olds in my kind of work and market sector. It means you have to work harder to prove your worth and that means not just doing the hours but going well beyond.

Here's another curious thing and this may just be me. Sometimes when I am out with Scott alone, I am acutely aware of my age. I see young mothers and fathers with their children and I dwell on the fact that by the time my boy will be in his teens and wanting to kick a ball with me or ask me to bowl to him in the nets, I will already be in my sixties - grandfather not father age. I get a very real feeling that I will create a stigma for my son (and new one on the way) that I saw when I was young and at school at a time when older parents were very rare. This may be unfounded but I guess being 50+ I am of the era when older parents were less prevalent whereas the modern era is different. This does gnaw away at me and I also feel the nagging little concern when I am with my friends who, while they are genuinely delighted for us, clearly feel having another child is just going a step too far at our age. Or at least that's how I play it in my mind.

When I consider all the apparent downsides listed above, it does not even slightly tilt the balance against what we have. Little Scott is not only precious but he does help me feel younger in his presence even if I get aware of my age in some respects when chasing him around. The fact is, I have always been a kid at heart and now I have the perfect excuse to behave like one. A 50+ year old behaving like a child does look daft, but I don't care about that.

I have been busy, when I have the time, writing up the bedtime stories I tell Scott and I have started a blog at http://babyscottstories.wordpress.com to keep them safe for him now and in the future. My mother always urged me to write and Scott has given me that perfect driver to do so. Whether they are any good or not is neither here nor there to me. In general, he hangs on my every word and, as every dad knows, that won't last too many years!

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Dad For a Day

2011-01-19T07:51:00.001-08:00

For the next few weeks, while I am waiting for a new contract to begin, I will be the exclusive parent on each Wednesday, maybe a few more days per week. While it is a great bonding time with wee Scott, I have succumbed to impulse buying.

You see, today is a typical example. I dropped my wife off at the station and have spent the rest of the day in St Albans. Immediately, while ambling around town, I have bought a new set of golf irons, having only the previous Wednesday bought two hybrid woods. In two weeks I have spent around £250 on a hobby I play no more than half a dozen times a year on average.

And they say women waste money. Note, I said 'They say'. I certainly wouldn't say such a thing. No.

There followed lunch and little Scott was superb eating bread, fishcake, haricot beans and peas, followed by a good slug of milk. He napped this morning for no more than 30 minutes and then again he has slept from around 2.15 until now (3.45) which is good for him. Mind you, considering he was up three times in the night, I'm not surprised.

As he slept, on impulse, I went and had my eyes tested and bought two pairs of reading glasses. Supposedly, it was one pair and the other free at £99 but somehow, with the eye test and assorted 'value added extras' which I have no idea about, it came to £144.

So my experience of exclusive parenting so far has been nearly £400 in impulse purchases plus two lunches.

Have I enjoyed it? Too right, I have. Scott is a pleasure to be with and even in his most difficult moments, usually at bedtime, he is a never far from being totally endearing. In fact, he eats well and has a sunny disposition most of the time.

The best part about the Wednesdays and others days so far is the time to bond. My job has meant that I have travelled a great deal over the last year and so I have spent many nights away as well as those when I leave too early and get home too late to get a great deal of interaction. These parenting days have been superb for balancing that to some small extent and Scott and I have become the best of pals as well as father and son. Well as much as you can do so with an 11 month old.

The other thing is that the wee man is a little babe magnet. I don't know how many times ladies of all ages have stopped and talked to me while he has flirted outrageously. I also get a strange kindred spirit with the mums around as we struggle through the crowded market streets, soothe crying babies or administer emergency bottles. I am a long way from being accepted by such mums but I feel I'm beginning to earn my spurs.

Here's a point for all dads who are in my situation for either short or long periods. What's with the poor changing accommodation for dads? Very few restaurants have good changing facilities anyway but many cater for mothers only and so the facilities are in the 'Ladies' and there are none in the 'Mens'. Fortunately, I can highly recommend Carluccio's and Loch Fyne's as good exceptions to that observation.

So back home to walk the dogs with Scott in the BabyBjorn (a must for any parent, brilliant device)' then put the supper on before picking mum up from the station.

It may be just one day a week for now but being the only parent for the day gives a great taste for just how incredibly demanding a Mum's job really is while giving maximum bonding time. I can't recommend it enough on both counts.

If only I could curb the darn impulse buying.

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Resuming The Thread

2011-01-19T00:36:00.001-08:00

It's been a long while since I lasted posted here. That's what fatherhood does, I suppose, grab your time and make you prioritise. Between working, fathering and trying to get some sleep there is less time and certainly less inclination to do other things which may be less important.

Is this a symptom of being an older date? Do younger dads, with more energy and a sunnier outlook on life, have more time or prioritise better? That's a good question.

Let's review things. I am now 51 and my little boy Scott is less than a month short of his first birthday. He has experienced his first Christmas, he has 4 razor sharp teeth which he likes to keep in good shape by biting my nose, he can crawl at a fearful pace, he stands up at every opportunity, he laughs, claps to order, High Fives', and flirts with women appallingly.

The dogs get on fine with him, with the bitch, Cari, dotes on him. We have had zero problems of jealousy or lack of hygiene (that's been a running battle) but there is contention for time as the dogs love their walks and interaction.

We have bought thousands of pounds worth of stuff from clothes to sterilisation units to food to bottles to toys, babybjorns, two prams, two car seats, playpens, walkers, I could go on and on. The generosity of others leaves me short of words when it comes to well wishes and gifts.

And Scott has gone digital. He has his own Twitter account at scottedunn and his collection of bedtime stories are on http://babyscottstories.wordpress.com where I have tried to remember the stories I make up for him. Who knows, maybe that will get published some day.

What has it been like, this last 10 or so months? Hard work. I can't remember ever being this tired and we have had but two nights which I can even tell you the dates of when he has slept right through without waking up for a top-up of milk and a cuddle. But it has been a joy. I guess it must be harder for a 50 year old and I worry more about keeping working and the money coming in but, between us, my wife and I have done well. He's a thriving, healthy, happy little boy who is wickedly funny and into all things dubious. He has been a life changing ball of fun.

And here's the rub. My wife is around 14 weeks pregnant with our second child. How about that for a showstopper? Like London buses, we have waited so long for one baby to arrive, there appears a second almost immediately. Of all the lovely mummies we have met at our NCT classes who are considerably younger than my wife, she is the only one who is pregnant again.

The plus side - we have some experience and plenty of kit ready. The downside - our house will never accommodate two toddlers and two dogs. Money will be an issue when we need a new home. On the really big plus side - it's a dream come true.

I'm going to try and keep this blog going over the next few months and catch up a bit on the past and tell you what it has really been like for a 50+ year old dad.

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The Nanny State

2010-03-10T11:47:00.001-08:00

Let's be clear, my wife and I are committed believers in breastfeeding - she is breastfeeding our son as we speak.

However, after 48 hours of our son being born at 6lb 6.5oz it was clear he was not getting all the food, and especially liquids, he needed to thrive via the breast only. Having given a fair amount of the vital colostrom, my wife was simply not producing enough milk for the baby and he was not finding feeding easy. At that point my wife made the decision to supplement his feeding with SMA formula and we have done so ever since in conjunction with both breastfeeding and expressing. Three weeks after he was born, my wife is still not producing enough milk for him and we supplement with a bottle.

Today, the Health Visitor declared that he was 8lb 5oz and has put on over 1lb in a week. He is thriving and well fed.

If we had followed the NHS and Government dogma of 'breast alone is best' then our little boy would not be thriving today. A very good friend of ours had six weeks of bullying, haranguing and general put downs by various mid wives who told her that she was a failure because she was not feeding her boy enough. After six weeks of hell and a 'Failure to Thrive' notice on the her son by the Health Visitor, she decided to supplement with formula. He is a fine bouncy boy today and thrived the moment she made that decision.

Our sister-in-law had twins and her milk took six weeks to 'come in' before she could feed adequately on the breast. Thankfully, like my wife, she followed her maternal instinct and used the bottle to supplement - her twins are wonderful specimens today.

I'm not saying that that 'breast is best' is wrong, but the clear over-riding concern is to ensure the health of the baby and that's the mother's responsibility and objective over anyone else's. Who are the Government or the NHS to bully people into believing otherwise?

To stir this debate up, I called at Boots today to buy some SMA in cartons for supplements. Naturally, we have clocked up a great many points on our loyalty card and so I tried to redeem some to buy the products only to be told that was not possible. The Government had decreed that no loyalty points could be accrued on the purchase of formula of any type or points be redeemed to buy any. Such is the rabid dogma of the Government and the total Nanny State attitude that their intelligence and instincts are better than any mothers'.

Delay in milk production or lack of is a common phenomenon, you have only to ask people you know to understand this. If mothers are being bullied into believing they are failures by not producing enough or forcing the feeding of their child when there is simply not enough milk there to feed them, then I think the Government are lining themselves up to potentially cause harm, or worse, to young babies.

It's not about the discount points, it's about life and the health of babies and the mother's instinct to protect. In an ideal world, breast is the only way. But if there is not sufficient milk for the baby to thrive, mothers must make their own decisions to ensure the health of their babies and ditch dictats by the Nanny State for the sake of their babies.

First Night Away

2010-03-09T23:15:00.000-08:00

It’s back to work and it all started with a trip to Paris with an overnight stay.

On the one hand, with junior’s sleep patterns meaning little opportunity to rest at night, a stay in a quiet hotel and a comfy bed seemed a great idea. On the other, I have missed my wife and little one a great deal. It has meant that I have had a relatively poor night’s sleep in which I had a lot of quite vivid dreams along with unrefreshing sleep. In reality, I would have far preferred to be at home.

We are still none the wiser on what is causing this nocturnal behaviour of his. It seems on the face of it a problem with wind, particularly in the lower digestive system and bowels as we don’t have too much problem getting raucous burps from the tummy. The baby is pooing like a good ‘un so it does not seem to be constipation and the books only really illustrate the problem of colic which, to our minds, is a much more intense condition – we are not at 3 hours of inconsolable screaming yet but we do get short bursts and very disturbed patterns of sleep so we are on the way.

We have changed the feeding bottles on top up milk. We have thought about whether the SMA formula is causing a reaction – we know he is getting far more of it than he should as my wife has had a lot of problems in her own milk production. The baby still sleeps reasonably well during the day but neither of us have mastered this concept of just sleeping whenever we can we both think we should be doing something in the daytime. Certainly, I have never been one to be able to sleep anywhere but in bed and at night, at that. My wife has borne the brunt of it in the last few days as she has designated that my going back to work is so important that I should have some good sleep in order not to turn up like a zombie. That means I feel really guilty that I am not pulling my weight in all this parenting and probably caused my own poor night’s sleep last night. So it means that both of us are suffering, though she far more than I.

I am back home tonight and I will be putting in a full nightshift as I am working at home for the rest of the week and so I can afford to get up a little later than normal for work and still be at my desk and phone for 8.30am. I shall also be looking at helping my wife get some sleep during the day by taking junior with me downstairs and having him by me while I work. That may not be entirely practical as when I make business calls, having even a moaning baby in the background let alone a crying one does not portray the ideal professional image. This all needs to be worked carefully otherwise my wife will simply be getting up during the day as well as I am locked on the phone.

We have no doubt that this will all even itself out and a decent pattern of sleep will emerge as junior’s digestive system matures. My sister happily told us that it was a mere 7.5 weeks before her boy slept a full night – that extra 4.5 weeks seems a real mountain to climb right now.
But this is but a minor problem in the face of the joy that this little one has brought us. He is universally loved and he cuddles each of us so lovingly each time we pick him up that you just don’t want a miss a second of his life. I read a poem circulating from a young girl dying of cancer yesterday which was about slowing down so that we do not miss a second of life because it is only when you are in her situation that you realise that time is the precious commodity when you know you have little of it left.

But as a maxim, I think it’s a good one for us all to adopt in this world that runs at a million miles an hour.

Sweet Dreams?

2010-03-07T00:11:00.000-08:00

Sleep, as we have known it for the last 15 years of our lives as a married couple, has been abandoned. We are now on the new Scott Edward regime.

For the last two weeks, we have been regimenting ourselves to getting up every couple of hours to feed him. At first both of us saw the night through in the same way, sharing duties. Then we came up with the idea of the 'Night Shift' and one of us would stay on duty the whole night while the other got a night's sleep. We sort of do half and half now with one doing one half of the night, the other taking over the baton halfway through and seeing out the rest of the night. This seemed to be going well, with the 'on duty' parent snatching bites of sleep between feeds and winding. This sort of routine was working and we have not felt too exhausted for the last week of it.

Then something changed. Well amongst all the change a 50 year old bloke confronted with a new born son, this was just another 'curve ball' in reality. The whole process of bringing a baby into the world at my age is all about change in every department. But this one caught us unawares. I realise that even that is a dumb statement - as a new parent at 50, everything has caught me unawares.

Okay, let's get this into perspective - just when we thought we had got the whole sleep -feed - wind - sleep cycle off pat during the nights, another twist occurred to set us off balance. Firstly, he seems fairly nocturnal in that he feeds and sleeps soundly most of the day in regular patterns and his sleep is usually deep and undisturbed. At night, he has always been less regular in feeding intervals and he takes a while to wind and then get back to sleep. In the last few days these irregular feeding patterns have now got an extended period of winding which now includes some real distressful crying which starts almost as soon as you put him back down to sleep in his basket. It means that the cycle is now longer punctuated by periods of sleep in which the 'watcher' can rest but the whole cycle does not have defined start and end points - it's pretty much feed - wind - cry - feed. This means that the watching parent really gets little or no sleep at all, and none of any quality.

Splitting it during the night has helped a little and so at least each gets a few hours in a room without interruption but it does mean that we sleep separately. The first thing we did was to take the advice of a friend and his wife who have been so generous in a 'materials' way but also in imparting their knowledge. They had similar problems with one of their daughters and they found that the feeding bottles they used introduced too much air into the feed causing wind to the extent that the child got 'colic'. By changing the bottles to Dr. Brown's anti-colic special bottles, the problem was quickly alleviated.

First up, we use Tommee Tippee bottles and the steriliser unit which we had found great to date. So we switched yesterday to Dr. Brown and they don't naturally fit in the steriliser to start with but they have a special air reservoir system which makes feeding a lot easier, faster and definitely introduces less air - manifested in very little milk having to be cleaned away from the mouth and neck. Burping is very much easier and that is very noticeable. But we still haven't got rid of the main problem which seems to be trapped wind in junior's fledgling digestive system. This seems to be what is causing the problem.

So we have looked up colic and doctors generally diagnose this based on the 'threes'. i.e. it starts at around three weeks old, they cry inconsolably and loudly for three hour stretches and it happens around three times a week. Colic is likely to occur anything up to three months after being born and seems to be spasmodic pains in the abdomen causing very disturbed sleep. For the parent, it can be excruciating as normal methods of consoling and soothing seem not to work and the screaming can get to a high pitch. After a three hour stretch, many parents at least regret having the child and some consider the possibilities of violence. These are natural responses, allegedly, although if anyone contemplates actual violence they should seek help immediately.

However, the symptoms are much more pronounced than Scott has. Usually colic comes with inconsolable prolonged periods of high pitched crying, bunching of fists, scrunching of knees, red face and they wake from short sleeps with a start and much crying. But it is fair to say, he is beginning to show signs of this. First thing that is encouraging is that it is quite normal, according to Miriam Stoppard in her book on the A-Z of Common Complaints. The second is that she asserts that there is nothing physically wrong with the baby and the parents are generally doing nothing wrong - it's just the way it is in about 20% of babies.

There are various methods prescribed to help - lots of cuddling is one and this argues soundly against the regimented routine that the likes of Gina Ford put forward. Research has shown that responding to a baby's cry with cuddles and holding is not connected to any future dependency on such response - if anything, it promotes a much closer relationship with parents in later life. Rhythmical rocking or walking, swaying is often helpful, firm holds which have contact with the abdomen are also recommended which help the passage of wind. Stoppard promotes much swaddling in sheets and blankets and then put them down (this has worked a it for us in very short bursts) helps. Stoppard recommends a dummy though another book we have argues strongly against dummies as they become a rod for your own back for the future. Finally, various ways of laying the baby on their tummy or your shoulder helps produce a small pressure on the lower regions and a warm bath is also helpful.

It seems that in our case it is trapped wind in the new digestive system. He will cry out very loudly, contort, stretch, bunch up and eventually out will pop some wind from the rear exit. This almost spectacularly covered me in a jet of poo yesterday which thankfully fell short of me as I reached for a pampers wet wipe.

As I write, there seems no sign of all this now that the sun is up, he has a full tummy and he is relaxing in his vibrating chair - he is sleeping the sleep of a very contented baby. As soon as I stop typing, I shall stretch out on the couch and catch up a few z'ds I missed out on last night.

Ah, no I won't - the dogs are ready for a long walk. Parenting and dog owning mean that you have a very full day indeed.

On a final note, tomorrow I go back to work. Two days in Paris and then back home will leave my wife alone with junior for a night for the first time and this contract will probably mean plenty of those. We feel we have not quite got the whole regime sorted and this new cycle is a threat to our sanity unless we can break the cycle. The next few days may be very long ones.

So I ask myself again - do I feel this more because I am 50? If I were 20 or 30 would I be finding lack of sleep challenging? Well the odd thing is that I am one of those people who has risen early every day and love to do so. Short hours of sleep are quite usual for me so that is not the challenge - it is the intermittent nature of the sleep and the fact none of it is very deep. I am sure my age makes it worse but realistically if I were 20 or 30 years younger I would still feel much the same way.

20 or 30 years ago, I would not have had the facility to write this and tell everyone.

In Praise of Paternity Leave

2010-03-02T23:12:00.000-08:00

It's not often, as an employer, that I praise Nanny State initiatives which are funded by private sector companies at a hefty cost, particularly if your business is a small one, but I find myself heartily behind the concept of Paternity Leave.

In my case, as I employ myself alone and therefore every hour I am not doing what I do I simply do not earn, Paternity Leave is funded 100% by myself as a lost opportunity to bill clients. However, I think it's worth its weight in gold as I am already not looking forward to going back to work on Monday and leaving my new son. This early time with him has been precious and I recommend it to all new fathers.

It's been a while since I last wrote so there is a lot to catch up on. Has age played a downside side so far as a Geriatric Dad of 50? In some ways it has taken a few years off me, believe me. It is always on my mind, in point of fact. Already, I am thinking what I will miss when my son is 18. I will be 68 then and likely not able to bowl at him in the cricket nets, play fathers vs sons at the school soccer match or be his doubles partner in tennis or even his Sunday League buddy in golf. But it has its upside for him - at least he will not have to wait so long for any inheritance as the rest of his friends. It's macabre, but these thoughts go through your mind. I also have been conscious of the older looking parents when I was a kid at school and when I have picked up my nephews. People do notice and we are going to have to deal with that when it arrives - and even though I am a young looking and behaving 50, I still look older than most parents.

Yesterday was an interesting test of my manhood. My wife was visiting an elderly friend who had suffered a bereavement and I was entrusted with junior, who took for his first walk in our Mamas & Papas Pliko Switch Pramette. After struggling to work out how to build and deploy the swish looking lining we had bought, I managed to have it all ready in time. It was a beautiful day and we walked along the rutted path - you get to feel every bump left by the zillions of cable companies these days on your aluminium frames - how the boy slept through that, I don't know. As we walked, I got a call from my wife's best friend who lived near by and had a friend and her mum in from New York - they wanted to see the boy if I could stand three clucking women. I steeled myself and walked there.

I skillfully negotiated the step in with the pram and took out the baby. Passing him around was easy and everyone was delighted to get a while with the baby. The inevitable happened - the baby woke up and he was hungry. The big test was on as all six eyes drilled down on me. How was I going to handle this amongst highly experienced mums. I reached for the Pod bag, removed a feed I had prepared, took out the muslin and put the boy in the crook of my arm and calmly fed him the bottle. Half way through, I put the bottle down and without missing a beat, I sat him up and, with no mean skill, deftly yet authoritatively, winded him, eliciting several load burps for the audience who applauded him warmly. I repeated the procedure before putting him over my shoulder and getting the last of the wind, then setting him to sleep to be passed around again. Hardly a peep out of the baby and a duly impressed audience. I was as nervous as a kitten to start but those who say you should never work with animals and kids in a show are wrong. I felt at the end as if I had passed an initiation test and had joined a sororiety as we all talked of 'cannonball breast syndrome' when the milk builds up and the merits of breast over bottle as if I was one of them. It was a curious feeling of being part of a 'coffee afternoon' and I felt as if I should watch 'Loose Women' as my next learning step, so much a part of the team I felt.

People always ask about nappy changing and how I coped to start with. To be frank, I found there was not much to it. Once you learn that you need to stop the squirming with a good grip on the feet to move the lower half and clean it, you are on the winning track. Modern day cleaning tools like cotton balls and warm water are great but when drying with cottonwool it leaves furry pieces in the cracks, literally. That can't be comfy so Pampers Sensitive wipes are an essential as they clean efficiently and leave a nice rubbery feeling to baby's bum after, ready for a nice new nappy. While we are into saving the earth, disposables are the practical way and it will all decompose nicely somewhere I am sure to become part of the cycle of life.

And there is the poo. Yep, you can have your own university course on the changes you will encounter. First couple of days it was the tarry meconium of the first born which needed soaking and a chisel to remove from baby's skin. Then you get some yellowy stuff which is best described as someone taking an open peanut butter sandwich and slapping it heartily onto baby's bum. Now we are at the roughly chopped, boiled and buttered spinach phase which is a little more gruesome to deal with. The volume is growing and so the 'spread' is getting larger while the smell is getting a little more toxic. You have to remember to look in all the nooks and crannies when cleaning and bathing but realistically, it is not that tough to deal with. Just wait until 'solids' kick in and the real pongs start, allegedly.

On the way home last night, after a day visiting, we decided to call in at L'Italiana Restaurant in French Row in St Albans - a favourite of ours and comes with our highest recommendation. Like all family run Italian businesses they love kids and they greeted us warmly and cooed over the baby. Such is the incredible generosity and warmth we have received from everyone, after we dined well and junior slept throughout, we walked out with a free drink each and a bottle of wine from the owners and the well wishes of the lovely staff including the prettiest of waitresses. Everywhere we go, we just find a warmness from everyone and that has been one of the most remarkable observations I can give. Except from the swine of a traffic warden who had given us a parking ticket. St Albans is an absolute nightmare when it comes to parking and enforcement - after 6.30pm you have crowded, impassable roads as people park everywhere while wardens still patrol 'soft areas' to hand out tickets causing traffic chaos. It really is the classic 'commission based' parking enforcement gone wrong - the council ought to be ashamed but they aren't as they they love the easy money it brings in.

And yes, fellahs, babies are babe-magnets. Young and old, women throw themselves at you. Well not you, the baby. Get with the program, they may smile and tell you nice things but they really just want to coo at and hold the baby - you are merely the object they have to sweet-talk to get what they want. But the attention is great - a bit like when the dogs were puppies. Like the dogs, make the most of it as when they get more mature, the girls no longer want to know.

Today we have the first visit from the Health Visitor, having been signed off by the mid-wife yesterday after Scott had put on nearly a pound in weight in the first 12 days and there is no longer any sign of jaundice - shame as that mid-wife was really nice. It's the next hurdle in what has been a real voyage of discovery.

And the sleep? Yes, there is lots of intermittent feeding during the night and so sleep is still an issue. The real 'Parent Fatigue' wears off and you get a routine, but yesterday I did a full night shift and let my wife sleep through - that's an advantage of mixing bottle and breast that the NHS dogma on 'breast is best' does not promote. Last night she returned the favour and, refreshed, I took over at 7.00am feeling like new. I am concerned for next week when I return to work duties as I will be travelling a lot in Europe and mum will have to cope without me for at least two nights a week. We have worked so much as a team on this that I do feel as if I am letting her down but I hope that we can get the routine just right so that she does not get too exhausted initially.

That's pretty much up to date. So far, age has not been too much of an issue but I can feel those old bones creaking a little. But there is nothing like a little baby in your arms to renew your vigour for life and peel back those years.

I feel very much younger every time I pick him up and that's a really good feeling for an old fart to have.

Name on The Register

2010-02-25T23:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, our son was formally registered as having been born.

The morning started as normal but as the time neared I felt a lot of excitement about formally announcing to the officials-that-be that we now have a son and what his name is. I don't know why I felt like that, it's not as if Gordon Brown is going to put a call in to congratulate us or even, for that matter, the Mayor of Watford (if one exists). But it means our son has officially arrived and he has a genuine Birth Certificate for us all to lose at some point in his life.

Registering a Birth is a slightly stuffy affair. You have to call up and book an appointment with the registrar. I did so and the earliest time I got was two days forward. It's an old building with decent parking and I competed for attention with a wedding which was going on upstairs, though quite how they were going to get the elderly gentleman with a walking stick who had trouble with the shallow steps outside up there I was not sure. I was ushered in very swiftly and the nice man sat me down (no tea offered, none expected frankly) and he turned his computer screen to me. First he checked my wife's name and date she gave birth and picked off the fact that Watford General had recorded the birth on the system. We then went through a series of questions to ascertain addresses, where the parents were born and what we did for a living and then on to formally recording the name of our son.

The curious thing for me was that no real verification was required - I brought along the maternity records and red health book issued by the hospital, I even took my wife and I's passports. But none of that was asked for - registering a birth is a very simple matter, hardly requiring official input at all, in my opinion. When he asked if I wanted any copies and I told him 10, he did raise his eyebrows.

"10?" he asked. "Why so many?"

"We are a forgetful family," I replied. It was partly true but I was planning on sending some to relatives too - God knows why.

I understood why he was concerned. The poor chap had to individually print, sign and date each copy with his old fountain pen. It took a while and in total it cost £35 (£3.50 a copy).

Scott Edward exists. It's official. And we had a quiet sip of rose sparkly stuff to celebrate with our chicken risotto for tea.

Sleep Patterns

2010-02-24T06:37:00.000-08:00

I should really label this as simply lack of sleep rather than sleep patterns as they are non-existent.

I have tried to ensure that mum gets her sleep and particularly calms down on doing things to make sure she is healing properly after the C-Section delivery. It's hard to understand it but it is major intrusive surgery that goes right through many important layers of membranes and muscles and so healing is not simple. In order to do this, I have tried to take on as much of the night duties as I can. Last night, mum noticed that I am getting really tired and, unusually for me, I have been struck by a heavy cold which is making me feel more run down. So she tried to handle things until about 2am but I found that the slightest noise would wake me and I would be up like a shot. It doesn't help that baby Scott has turned out to be fairly nocturnal. As I write, he is sound asleep after a good feed around 12.30pm and will be fitful when put in the basket at night even though he is perched on top of a DooMoo bean bag which he finds really comfortable.

I have found a few websites which cover the subject called Parent Fatigue Syndrome which is quite common, obviously. There are several which also give some handy tips for trying to cope with it and usually they come in the forms of '6 Tips to avoid tiredness' and similar. In some cases they reckon it could drive parents potty but for me it's just a numbing tiredness that makes you want to do no more than focus on your baby and that alone gives you the energy to survive.

Tonight we are going to try shifts where one of us looks after baby until 2am and then the other takes over with the sleeping person in the spare room. I have volunteered for the first shift as I think there is football on the TV tonight (European Champions League) so that should keep me awake, possibly. I hope this breaks the cycle of sleeplessness as it is the only down side in what has been an amazing first week.

On the dog front, and following on from yesterday, the female dog popped up and gently sniffed the baby as I watched carefully. She made no contact and just looked before walking away. I hope these are good signs along with their behaviour yesterday. The baby, for his part, seems fascinated by the big shapes that loom in his view and the occasional barking when the doorbell goes. Then again, he should be used to that as he has had 9 months in the womb to listen to those sounds.

We have had some more visitors and we were really touched when one of our neighbours popped in with a shawl with Scott's name embroided onto it. It was powerfully touching as his wife is direly ill at the moment and taking time to think of us was incredible.

Then again, we have been so deeply touched by the generosity of so many close family and friends that we are no longer surprised.

Meet The Dogs

2010-02-23T08:49:00.000-08:00

It had been a worry for us - how would our dogs react to a new member of the family? And one that will upset the hierarchy at that.

As the pregnancy progressed, it was important to make sure the dogs didn't dive on my wife as they are apt to do, so we have definitely been different with them. They have also sensed a change, perhaps they pick up changes in hormones or sensitivities but they have certainly been different of late. Since the baby has arrived, their movements in the house have been curtailed. No longer can they roam freely from room to room or hop from furniture to furniture, they are confined to the kitchen, utility and lounge thanks to our series of well placed doors.

They are feeling down, that's for sure. The baby gets most of the attention and they spend lots of time alone while I am able to walk them less. Hopefully the latter will change soon but as my wife recovers, it's hard to be away for any length of time.

So today we let them get close to the baby and both were very curious and gentle. Both gave him a good sniff and tried to get close enough for a few little licks but no contact was made. The girl dog looks very maternal and concerned, while the boy is more concerned whether the baby will always get fed first and if it can throw a ball yet. The toys are the main targets - the girl has eyed the mouse with the music string built into its tail and I can see that getting swiped and mauled at some point soon. Cleanliness is the priority but we have also ruled that we should never have the baby in a room with the dogs without at least two adults present - you cannot afford to take a chance even if you trust your dogs like we do ours. Time will form a lasting bond between the child and the dogs but that has only just started.

We are getting little sleep. Young Scott gets crotchety for a feed in the wee hours at least twice a night and takes time to settle back which means I at least start him sleeping on me. While we know that this is not the best policy for getting him used to his basket, the fact is that I love having him near me. And while he sleeps on me, I sleep very little, mainly as I am too scared that I might move and he falls off.

We still keep getting gifts via post. A former colleague sent me a beautiful Baby Journal with lots of 'first things' to record in there like first nappy etc. Today two firsts happened - while I changed his nappy, the stub of his umbilical cord fell off to reveal a perfect tummy button and the second was that he puked over me with gusto this morning, raining milky vomit over my tee shirt and the lovely clean romper suit I had just put on him. We also had a parcel from France where one of my wife's clients sent a package of bath towels and a flannel.

Today, I have been really caught up by the emotion of it all - I guess it still had not hit me totally. I spoke to one of my sisters and my brother, then got a text from my elder sister. Between them all, in a quiet moment as I looked at my emails, I had a quiet weep to myself.

My son will get to meet a of lot of wonderful people that I love in his life but I thought of the people he will not get to meet. My parents are in the back of my mind all of the time and rarely I go a night without seeing at least one of them in my dreams. Right now, as far away as they may seem to be, I have never felt closer to my parents who died in 1991 and 1996 respectively and were the greatest influence on my life.

I am so glad that he will get to know his other grandparents who fell in love with him approximately 3 hours after he was born as the first visitors awaiting our return from the Recovery Area. Granny was 'horse whispering' him today and he stared back into her eyes as if listening to every word.

You can see that today has been a real weepy one - proud as punch one minute and a teary wreck the next. As we approach the end of the first week of our son's life I think I will have many more like these.

Bring it on.

Blurry Eyes

2010-02-22T13:44:00.000-08:00

It's been a blur.

Mum and baby arrived home on Friday and the first night was troublesome so neither of us slept well as we were on tenterhooks. Baby has found feeding on Mum's colostrum difficult, which is the vital early milk produced for the few days after birth that is rich in crucial ingredients for baby's development. It is rich, quite thick and is produced in small amounts - making it tough for baby to draw down. Mum noticed on the second night that baby was distressed at feeding and decided to supplement with a bottle of SMA formula despite protests from the mid-wives. She has also taken to expressing extra colostrum to ease pains in her breasts but to produce more for the baby at feeding times with less difficulty.

At this point, you have to understand my wife is committed to breast feeding but she also knows you have to trust your motherly instincts. If baby needs more - give it. What he clearly needed was more volume and, specifically, fluids. Due to that early trouble feeding he developed mild jaundice, but now, in a combination of breast and bottle feeding, he has had his 6 day check up where it is typical for a newborn to lose 10% of body weight and he has lost just one ounce. That's a small victory for common sense over dogma and my simple advice to would-be parents is to use your own judgement as the NHS is so fixated on 100% breast feeding it is actually putting children's health at risk - or at least that's my opinion.

The other thing we learned early on is that 'skin to skin' is both awesome and really helpful at feeding times. Part of it is the shock of coolness on the skin from the air but most of it is the touch of the mum and it really helps in breast feeding. Another thing we learnt is that mid-wives are no experts - they have great experience but there is a huge volume of differing opinions and no actual right line. You have to take advice and trust your own judgement.

The first few days at home have been a huge learning curve amidst lack of sleep. I am exhausted so just imagine what mum feels like while baby is thriving - at the least the priorities are right. We found ourselves to be more prepared than we thought we were - the cot is ace, the moses basket excellent and the tons of outfits and nappies all went down well. Then came the overwhelming and incredible generosity of others - family and friends. Neighbours decorated the porch, sister-in-laws brought us box loads of hand-me-downs, the flowers were copious and then there were the gifts.

Tons of clothes - tons of clothes - some disguised at flowers in bouquets, shawls of vintage wool, toys of all sizes with a rat or mouse playing a lullaby if you tug its tail, a Welsh pillow with a sheep on it (well he has to grow up in the right environment), a silver spoon, books, DVDs shoes, mittens, socks, outfits - it is endless. We have a had a constant stream of visitors with neighbours walking across the courtyard to family arriving from Wales for just a few hours. The emotions have run high, the tea has flowed and the cakes have been vital. It's been a roller coaster of feelings and we still have to catch our breath when we look upon our little miracle and think how long we have waited for these moments and realise it was well worth the wait.

We've had a few wailing fits, plenty of soiled nappies, a few baths, baby weeing on himself when you are fumbling for a clean nappy, little bits of vomiting though not much, a couple of feeding issues but no real hassles, but nothing really prepared us for the 'Gestapo' or the initial visit of the mid-wives. Like 'dementors' from Harry Potter they arrive unannounced, creep around you and quickly suck the euphoria from you as they assume that you are bad parents and you have to prove them otherwise. Their line of questioning was to challenge my wife's decision to supplement breast with bottle asking for justifications. I was seconds away from asking whether I had missed something and that non-breast feeding had been outlawed in statute. Fortunately my wife had more patience. Another mid-wife arrived today when I was at the dentist and she was excellent, applauding the supplementary bottles and my wife's attention to the baby ahead of all else, echoing the Paediatrician's views in the hospital. A victory for common sense.

The feeling of tiredness is debilitating but you just take one look into his face and you get all the adrenalin you need.

24 Hours

2010-02-18T22:26:00.000-08:00

Meet Scott Edward at less than 24 hours old. He's a handsome little fellow who we all agree has his father's nose and his mum's toes. These may not be things he thanks us for as a start in life but at least we will be able to pick him out in a crowd.

How can I describe our feelings at the moment? Exhaustion springs to mind. Mum had about one hour's sleep on the first night, I found it difficult to nod off and so had a stiff Scotch then fell into a deep slumber and overslept. So we were both not at our best for baby.

The problem of the day was that he had difficulty in feeding - he fed at 4.30am and then slept a good deal and had the most enormous ejection of meconium which I had to deal with and is a 'first baby thing' to remember, believe me. But baby decided that feeding was passe and so slept on the boob until he finally decided to latch on and feed at 5pm and then did not feed again until 10pm. By that time he was way crotchety and despite the best advice from the mid-wives he had studiously avoided slurping.

The trick, we have found so far, is to make sure he is wide awake and then to get 'skin to skin'. There is a lot of 'faddy' research on this but I cannot recommend it enough as a) it works and b) it's such a feeling for mum and dad alike - I am getting choked up just writing that as it is so special to have your new baby actually sleeping naked (bar a nappy) on your own bare skin. You see, the problem was not wanting his mum's boob - he was using it as a comfort - but to stimulate the action of feeding. By cooling him down, upping the lights and tickling his feet, he really got stuck in and his last feed before I left was a big one and he was much, much more settled. Mum was hoping to get at least a little sleep as she was far more tired than me. Having said that, I got to sleep just after 1am and was up again at 6.00am and I can tell you I am shattered with blood red eyes.

But that's a minor issue. The actual joy of being around this little bundle of delight is amazing. And we are just so chuffed at not only how many people have contacted us from far and wide but how touching all the thoughts are. It seems that not only we were trying hard to have this baby all this while, many of our friends and family were praying equally hard. That's a great start in life for the boy - no pressure then.

Talking of that - I had this from my brother, who has just gone potty over his new nephew. "I had a dream last night. There was Scott stood on top of Mt. Everest wearing his Emeritus cap and gown as Professor of Nuclear Physics from Cambridge University holding the Ashes urn in his hand. You'll have to have a harsh word with him as I don't want under-achievers in the family." No pressure at all then.

We are hoping that everyone can return home today. The doctors are happy with mum's progress and baby is looking fine, passing his early hearing test with flying colours and he looks good. So I lectured the dogs again last night and got them to sniff the baby's dirty clothes I brought home. Both seemed very excited but I have seen that sort of activity at Christmas time when they think each gift is for them and so they unwrap them. We shall see how jealous they get later - plus no jumping on mum's tummy.

I got home late last night and the neighbours (I am not sure which ones, but I have my suspicions, Lindsay) have decorated the archway outside our porch. It brought a huge smile to my exhausted face - and a second one in the dead of night when I awoke with a start and realised I had not put the recycling boxes out as it was bin day today. How stupid was that as I was up long before they arrived anyway - so be prepared for addled brains as part of the fatigue.

One of my sisters has indicated she would like to travel up from Wales for a short visit on Sunday and lots of friends and relatives will descend on us over the weekend. It augments my view that lots of people are rooting for this boy.

No pressure at all, really.

The Hand of God

2010-02-17T16:36:00.000-08:00

At 3.07pm today, weighing in at 6lb 7ozs, our son was born by Cesarean Section. His name is Scott Edward and he came with a decent head of hair and fed almost the instant he was born.

Nine months zipped by in a flash. Reality never really set in and even this morning I did not really believe that we were at the end of an incredible journey. It was hard to believe I would return home a father.

Nothing prepared me for this moment. You could read a thousand books, see a million films, listen to a billion people - nothing prepares you for that first moment of new life, that you have created. I cannot find the words to describe the moment he was born.

The day had started early - we called the Delivery Suite at Watford General and they told us to get our backsides there fast. We were late on their requested time, but we needn't have rushed as our Consultant, Yunus Tayob was there but no midwives were. He told us that we would be on at midday and to go away and relax. We went down to the Knutsford Suite, really just to drop off our bags, but they opened our room and we sat there and relaxed until 11.00am when we went back to the Delivery Suite. We waited for over two and a half hours before we were summoned. Even then it took time. We changed and went for the prepping. A rather nervous lady anaesthetist tried to administer an epidural on my long-suffering wife and failed. Enter the Consultant anaesthetist who did in around two minutes - we were good to go then.

The procedure is brisk and after cutting, sluicing, prising and tugging, the baby's head appeared and Mr. Tayob told me to get round the front of the screen to take pictures. That view, that moment will live in my mind until I gasp my last breath. There was our son poking out of his mum's middle. Deftly, he was hauled out and held up for my camera like a fisherman displaying a prize catch.

Lots go on all around you and it's hard to take it all in. The boy blurted out a cry almost immediately then he was whisked away for cleaning by the mid-wife who also did a series of checks to confirm he was in rude health. Mum was stitched up all the while but before long she got to hold the baby first and was ecstatic. I was snapping away at whatever I could between tears and got my turn to hold our son.

Eventually we were taken to the recovery room where the baby took to the boob like a natural and fed for the best part of two hungry hours. Mum was sore but so happy while I was calling every relative and friend I could while texting loads more. I could hardly talk to my wife's mum while I choked up talking to her sister, her brothers and then my family. Everyone was so choked up we hardly actually said a word. The texted replies came cascading in from people as far as Australia and we choked up reading the warm messages and good wishes. In fact, we just choked up generally.

The NHS gets maligned for a lot of things (not least the £12 per day parking fees - how idiotic is that?) but the staff at Watford General were fantastic. The delivery team were superb, Mr. Tayob made having a C-Section like listening to your dad tell a story while he washes the dishes. The mid-wives were fantastic - professional and they lightened up the moment and helped us on all the things we had no clue about. Our assigned mid-wife for the receiving of our baby and the recovery was Nikki Glover - not only was she fantastic and attentive, she was drop dead gorgeous and great fun. She knew all that was needed to know, helped in so many ways, offered advice, and showed us what to do as if she had done this for 40 years. It was when she told us it was her mum's 50th birthday on the weekend that I realised that the NHS at least was giving great training.

We finally got back to our room in the Knutsford Suite at 7.30pm to be greeted by my wife's parents who were just delighted with their latest grandchild. Soon, my sister-in-law and her hubby arrived and we all took turns with the baby and took endless photos. I had got to put his first nappy on, dressed him in his first vest and outfit with cap, and wrapped him in his first blanket. I also got to change his first soiled nappy, clean his first dirty bum and administer his first wet wipe, and then put on his second nappy. It has been one hell of a day.

Young Scott shares a name with his Uncle who was chuffed to bits to have a nephew named after him. But it's been a day of chuffed people - my brother pointed out that there has not been a new son in the family to bear our name for 50 years - our Mum and Dad will be smiling down from heaven tonight, proud as punch for us.

It's difficult to write while trying not to cry - it's been that sort of day. Now I am back home, being greeted by two wary and put-out dogs, I realise life will never be the same again. The car seat in the car on the way back said it all. The Moses basket by the bed, the cot, the pram - our new way of life is all ahead of us.

While waiting for our new son to finish his third feed of the day before I came home, I leafed through a copy of New Scientist. It was going off about quantum communication between photons or something like it. I have a sort of scientific and questioning mind that looks at questions like creation with some degree of scepticism. I can reason to myself that life is but a random outcome of the amalgamation of a set of circumstantial events that happened to cause life - when you study it, life is just chemicals having an amazing party.

Then you watch your baby's head emerge from its mother's womb after nine months of gestation and take its first breath and instinctively fall in love with its parents and reach for a nipple.

At that moment, all logic flies out of the window - science is trivial, mathematics means nothing, quantum schmantum - at that moment you just know this cannot happen without some God, somewhere.