Category: Jack

Letters to my son

bookmark_borderHow to raise a man

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Man up, sit down
Chin up, pipe down
Socks up, don’t cry
Drink up, don’t whine
“Grow some balls,” he said
“Grow some balls”

The mask
Of masculinity
Is a mask
A mask that’s wearing me
The mask, the mask, the mask

Samaritans by Idles

We want Jack to be kind, considerate, and thoughtful. We want him to be present, to live a happy life, a healthy life both physically and mentally.

These are not unique desires for a parent, I’m well aware of that, but it’s something we’ve actively discussed and as the main male presence in his life I’m already conscious of the things I say and do that could influence him.

Fundamentally I want my son to treat every person with respect, respect to their gender, their sexuality, their race, their abilities, and to understand and respect the language they use and also to know when it’s HIS feelings and issues that are the problem, and that those issues are for HIM to deal with (and that I’ll always be there to help him with those too).

That’s the goal but how do you do that?

I’m very wary of reciting advice we’ve read/heard elsewhere, or sounding like I think I know it all and this will guarantee Jack grows into a flawless adult (spoiler alert: he won’t) but there are a few simple things I am doing that, hopefully, will help lead him down a path I hope he chooses to take as he gets older:

  1. Being mindful of how I act, and what I say.
    Kids copy so much of what their parents do. How many times do you, as an adult, do something and instantly realise it’s something you’ve inherited from your Mum or Dad. It can be a small mannerism – my Dad used to tap along to music whilst driving the car, tapping his wedding ring on the gearstick, I caught myself doing it the other day – or something more nefarious.
    With the latter in mind I’ve tried to stopping making jokes about, for example, how ‘Mum’s place is in the kitchen’ as not only is it not actually funny, but I don’t want Jack to grow up thinking that attitude is ok.
  2. Acknowledging my mistakes when I make them.
    I think it’s important for Jack to know he’s allowed to make mistakes as long as he knows how to process that and learn from them. I’ll do my best to set an example for him. That means apologising to him if I lose my temper with him, or if I do something he didn’t want me to do.
    The former I’ve already done a few times, when my tiredness and a cranky toddler collide I’ve raised my voice to him and as soon as I’ve calmed down I’ve sat down with him, said I’m sorry and explained why I acted that way and that it wasn’t right for me to shout at him. I’m not sure he understands the words, but hoping he understands the sentiment.
    The latter is a tricky line to tread as whilst, for example, HE wants me to go stand far away in the playground whilst he climbs to the top of the (12 foot high, metal) stairs of the slide, he still occasionally misjudges things and falls over so, no I won’t stand where he wants as I might need to catch him! Again, in a calm voice I’ll explain why I’m not doing what he wants.
  3. Talking openly, honestly, and often.
    Hopefully this will help Jack as he grows, and with practice he’ll come to understand that he can talk to his Mum and Dad about anything, good or bad, and while we will be strict when required, he’ll always know that talking about his feelings is a good thing, and we will always love him, no matter what he brings to us.
  4. Crying.
    As my friends know, I am an emotional guy. I cry at lots of things, songs, movies, TV shows. I won’t be hiding this from Jack. And if I am upset about something, as I can get with thinking about my Dad and how he would’ve doted on Jack, I will cry and tell Jack why. I’ll smile through the tears so he knows it’s ok to feel sad sometimes, and that crying is nothing to be ashamed of.
  5. Loving.
    I tell Jack I love him every single day. I made a promise to him, and myself, that I would do this in some form or another from the day he was born and I’ve not missed a day yet. For now I get to say the words to him, but I know as he grows it might be by text message or whatever mode of communication we end up with in 2035, regardless, I will tell him I love him every day whilst I still can.
    He’ll also hear me say that to his Mum, and see me cuddle her and show affection. I think that’s important too. Love is powerful.
  6. Respecting.
    And possibly the hardest one of all, at least it seems that way, is to teach Jack to respect other people. Flying in the face of mainstream media which, whilst it is changing, is still very misogynistic, I want Jack to understand and embrace consent.
    I can’t recall which TV show I saw it on but so far the best handling of this I’ve seen was a father and son sitting in a fast food restaurant at a counter. They are eating and the father broaches the subject of consent, asking his son if he knows what it means, when the son isn’t sure, the father says it’s simple. When a sporting referee blows the whistle, everything stops. You might question the decision afterwards, you might be annoyed, you might think the referee was wrong… but you stop. That one stuck with me.

I’ve been thinking about how to capture of all this for a while. In my head the title of this post is actually, how NOT to raise a rapist which isn’t far from the truth. I know there will be difficult conversations ahead, one of which will be about rape and how it’s up to MEN to sort that problem out (and presuming he continues to identify as a man then he’ll need to be part of the solution).

I have, of course, no idea how all of this will turn out, I have hope because Becca and I think the same way about all of these things, have personal experiences to bear out our advice, and because we both believe that the more we talk about these things with Jack, and the earlier we start, the more likely it is that he will grow into a good man, that Jack will turn out to be just that.

Which strikes me as something I’ve mentioned before about another man, he was a good man too, so here’s hoping some of him is passed down through me to my own son.

bookmark_borderJack is 1

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My son

Hey kiddo,

Somehow, although I’m not quite sure how, it’s been a year since your Mum and I spent all night in hospital waiting for you to arrive. One year since we met you, this tiny little boy who was chomping away on the towel he came wrapped in, one year since your first feed from your Mum, one year since your Mum and I (ok, mostly me!) cried happy tears that you were safe and sound, ten fingers, ten toes, and all the rest.

One whole year.

It’s wild really and, looking back it’s just a blur of wonderful memories. We are definitely in the ‘lucky’ category because we’ve had only a few really hard nights, only a couple of really bad moments and, on the whole, you’ve been a happy and chilled out wee guy who is, somehow, a year old already!

As you can tell I’m struggling to get my head around this. That said, it still amazes me that, about a year ago, we just walked out of the hospital with you and NO-ONE checked what we were doing?!!!

Over the last few weeks you’ve definitely gone from being a baby, to being a boy, it’s hard to put my finger on why it feels that way but given you’re almost walking and are starting to make more and more different sounds when you chat, perhaps we can start to see you as a toddler?

Watching you grow, from this tiny wriggle who I could fit along the length of my forearm to this inquisitive, cheeky, fun little guy who I will always lift up for a cuddle when he asks (no matter how heavy you get, ohhh my back!) has been an absolute treat. All my troubles melt away when you are around and I could happily sit and watch you as you sit and play with your toys, so content, lost in your own world as you explore how things work.

Every parent is the same, no doubt, but your Mum and I always share a look that is part amazement and part proud-parent whenever you do something new, the first time you rolled over, the first time you crawled, the first time you clapped, the list will grow but our happiness at your progress won’t every wane.

Neither will our love for you, which is so complete it’s a little scary. You mean the absolute world to me, which makes the few times you’ve been ill and crying inconsolably all the harder to get through, but we do, with a smile and a few cuddles.

There are so many memories of this past year I want to cling on to, the first time you fell asleep on me, that first laugh, all the evenings being the one to put you to sleep at night, the night we had just you and me and what a trooper you were, it’s been a joy to be around for all these things (thank goodness I’m still working at home full-time) and I know there are more milestones on the horizon.

That very first morning when the nurse handed me this tiny swaddled bundle I made you a promise, and I am so happy I’ve been able to keep it, every single day.

I feel so very lucky to be your Dad.

Love you, Dad. x

bookmark_borderThe First Father’s Day

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It was Father’s Day a few weeks ago in the UK. I wanted to capture my thoughts, it’s just taken me a while…

My first one as a Dad, with all the emotions that brings with it.

Every single day I tell my son I love him and Father’s Day was no different. It’s part of a promise I made to him when I was holding him in my arms for the first time, having just been handled this tiny little thing all bundled up in a towel. I tell my son I love him every day, I tell him I like him, I will make sure he knows this growing up and can feel confident that that will never change, that I will always be there for him. It’s important to me that Jack knows I’ll support him no matter what, the same way my own Dad did for me.

Still miss Dad. The grief gets easier but it still hurts that he isn’t around and that Jack won’t ever get to meet him. I know I’m a lot like my Dad in many ways though so a fair part of who my Dad was will be passed down anyway but I would have dearly loved to see my Dad with my son. He was such a great Grandpa to Lucy and it’s sad that Jack and Daisy won’t experience that too but we have many happy memories we can hold on to and try and pass on.

I am enjoying being a Dad. All the fears I had still linger in the background but day by day with the realisation that those fears aren’t coming true, that I might actually be ok at this whole Dad thing. I was worried about so many things, would I love him, would I want to spend time with him, would my inherent laziness and selfishness (neither of which I know are actually true) somehow prevent me from bonding with him… all nonsense now and, no doubt, many of you would have told me that anyway but such are the thoughts that swirled through my head.

Of course, none of those things are coming true and instead I’m spending time with my son, looking after him, feeding him, changing him, soothing him, and sitting with him while he plays (he’s very independent already). All of this brings so many little moments that I want to capture and hold on to, tiny moments of each day that fill my heart with more love for this tiny human who is dominating our lives and who I love so much.

Sometimes Jack will pause what he is doing, turn his head and look at me, a little smile on his face and I already know that’s all I’ll ever need from him.

bookmark_borderWelcoming Jack

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Hello Jack, my son,

You arrived early, but safely, and the last few weeks we’ve been getting to know you, figuring out your needs and wants, and mostly just gazing at you in utter adoration.

You seem to be settling into life well, and I think your Mum and I are doing a pretty good job of keeping you happy, safe, warm, clean, and fed. The latter is all down to your Mum right now but that means I get to hang out with you, hold you in my arms and, so far, you don’t seem to be bored of my chat although admittedly it’s mostly been silly noises.

You’ve met the family already, Granny Morna, Grandpa Liam and Uncle Robbie were all thrilled to say hello, your Auntie Jen (keeping the family tradition going) had a special t-shirt to wear the first time you met, your cousin Lucy has had a squish and, well, your cousin Daisy is only 9 months old herself so it’s safe to say that neither of you were that aware of each other but that’ll change!

And of course Granny McLean was delighted to meet her first grandson, she’ll definitely spoil you rotten (although I think Granny Morna is up for the challenge). I am a little sad that you won’t get to meet Grandpa McLean, but trust me when I say he would’ve adored you every bit as much as I do.

I’ll roll out some cliches now because they are all true (or they wouldn’t be cliches); since the minute the nurse handed me to you, all swaddled up, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ll happily confess that I cried, tears of joy streaming down my face as I looked at you, and I knew instantly that I’d do anything for you. Anything.

Since you arrived it’s been a whirlwind of feeding, napping, and changing. Ohh and noises and wriggling and smooshes. Lots of those. Cannot get enough of you, holding you, gazing at you… I may have said that already.

You are putting on weight well, feeding well (and often) and so far seem to be very chilled out, laidback little person. It’s fascinating to watch you already becoming a small boy, losing that newborn baby face, and those big eyes (just like your Mum) starting to take in the world around you. You’ve made friends with the dogs too, although right now they aren’t interested at all as you can’t play with them or give them food.

I’m your Dad.

What a sentence that is, so short but so utterly life changing in the most wonderful of ways.

I apologise now for all the bad jokes, but everything else is yours to discover. Your Mum and I will be there every step of the way as you grow, and we can’t wait to meet the adult you, regardless of what choices you make. We will be there for you, and just want you to be safe and sensible, although neither of us are sure how we will help you achieve any level of “being sensible” as, as you’ll find out soon enough, we are both a bit daft.

But we love you. More than I realised was possible.

My gorgeous boy,

Your Dad x

P.S. We have decided not to share many photos of you on social media. Only abstracts for the main part, as we want that to be your decision when you grow up.