Parenthood

I’d like to start 2012’s blog by thanking the (to remain anonymous) person that sent word that my silence was making me “conspicuous by my absence”. I like to think that suggests some James Bond-like mission that has kept me out of contact for a few weeks. Or a coma-inducing festive social calendar that still has me scratching my head as to my recent drunken whereabouts.

The answer is sadly / happily quite the opposite. Now I realise most of my followers know what’s happened, but I’ve got to think of my future international subscribers and inexplicable current ones (who, according to Google, mainly live in Russia) that don’t. And besides I think there’s still some room for explanation.

A week after you last heard from me I was blessed with the arrival of a healthy baby girl. After all the ups and downs, food cravings and mood swings the 9 ½ month wait was over. It hadn’t been easy for Emma either.

So clearly my priorities have been elsewhere whilst I get to grips with becoming a parent. And how am I finding it so far? Well it feels like I’m doing it single-handedly. Not by myself, but literally. Ned Flanders might have found a career in selling left-handed utensils but what about those poor souls like (I presume all) new-born parents who have to manage with just the one hand whilst the other is left holding/comforting/jiggling/swaying the baby? Next time you open a tin first try doing it with just the one hand and you’ll soon discover what I mean.

It’s been the biggest shock to the system you can imagine (or will know about if you’ve been there) but wasn’t unexpected given the amount of time we’ve had to talk and read about it. I’d say prepare for it except the truth is you can’t. Unless of course you get your kicks by cutting your sleep by half (on a good day) and splitting it into random parts of the day while trying to go about everyday tasks. To date I’ve managed to pour orange juice onto my coffee and nearly burn the house down by trying to sterilise something in the microwave without adding any water. Don’t try this at home!

New parents would be better prepared if they had a much better understanding of it all from an early age. In the same way I’ve discussed how I would previously have downplayed what’s involved in running 13 miles I’ve also had the same dismissive macho attitude to parenting drummed into me. “If men did give birth love we’d be back at work that afternoon.” No you bloody wouldn’t is the short answer. If teenage pregnancy really is the problem that the Daily Mail would have us believe then I’d suggest that all kids are taken on a school field trip to a screaming labour ward rather than measuring the speed of a river or visiting a factory to see how coke is bottled like my own.

The last 3 ½ weeks have been a real eye-opener as to how being a housewife/husband really can be the most difficult job to do. I’ve only had a taster so far but already the simplest of tasks get put to one side day after day whilst I grasp any brief window of opportunity to seemingly prioritise alternating between doing the washing up and hoovering. Replying to a text is generally done in instalments that can take hours. (And I’d typed up to this point days ago!)

So you might guess how it’s affected my training. Today was the 4^th time I’d been out in that time because it’s suddenly become such a sporadic opportunity. And frankly when those moments come I’d much rather be taking a nap. Admittedly only now with good cause.

At the same time though I realise I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve got a partner who can share the burden and take the strain for a couple of hours every now and again. God knows how single parents cope – their training schedule is constant 24/7.

Occasionally I drive past women in neighbouring villages who are out running with their pram or pushchair in front of them and at first I assumed they formed part of the same runners’ sect that like to be weighed down with a heavy rucksack or chase a dog on a lead. I can see now it’s out of necessity not insanity. You can even push a custom-built twin carrier around!

But for now I’m not quite in the Harold Bishop world of embarrassing exercise routines so will continue to scoff until the time comes that my sole trick of getting my daughter to sleep by walking up and down stairs turns into strapping her to my chest and taking her running with me.

Another 9 ½ month countdown starts now. For that’s when D Day arrives (not Darren Day…I hope) and, however awake I am, I run the half marathon. There’ll no doubt be similar challenges ahead to those that parenthood brings. A sense of wanting the process to be over as quickly as possible. Many days of discomfort and funny walks as my body gets into shape. Nearly passing out as the finish line approaches (thankfully I avoided it – just).

But ultimately something hugely rewarding and, with good fortune, something I manage to do again one day.

MM