Italian connections
A guy called Christian Ventrello happened across my
blog the other day, and said nice things about my
scribblings, and it turns out we've got a little bit
in common - like I live in Italy and he is of Italian
origin, and we both have Italian ancestors. Not only
do we have this in common, but he is about to have a
child and I already have one. I think he might like
to hear from other new dads out there so he can get a
better idea of what is about to hit him. If, dear
reader, you think you may be able to offer Christian
some advice and tips of the down to earth, recent
experiences variety, drop over to his blog, here:
christianventrello.
Or if you are not the advice giving kind, you might
just like what he writes about in his blog. Of course
you could be in the same position as Christian on the
baby front and it may be helpful to see how someone
else is experiencing the same thing.
Go over there and see.
A mistake
Baby is safely ensconced in his baby seat doing his level best to cover himself with yogurt. So, I decided to steal another few moments to write about what not to do, perhaps, as a father.
Our little darling sleeps, if you can call it that, (more like fidgets, kicks and cries his way through the night) with us. This is my fault, I totally underestimated the power of the maternal instinct and was too lazy to get up during those first few months, when babies wake up right through the night wanting to be fed all the time. My better half hates to hear the little one cry. I find this a bit strange, as I had always been led to believe that this is what babies do, as a rule, but then she also hated to hear our little dog bark, so I guess I should have learned something from this and how the same modus operandi would have been applied to life with baby. So, baby would cry and I would hesitate for a moment be for resigning myself to the fact that I should get up and help put an end to baby’s distress.
(He’s about to burst into tears at the moment, seeing as he cannot seem to pull off his sock, which must be a frustrating thing for a baby. At least it is for ours. I’ve just helped him remove one sock, but this is not enough, as he has two on and now must do his best to remove the other one, for some unknown baby reason. Have you ever tried explaining to a baby with a cold why it might be a good idea to keep his socks on? No, thought not, not successfully anyway. )
Back on track, as I was writing, there was me woken from my slumbers contemplating getting up and hoping that baby would cry himself back to sleep, as I believe babies do. However, I hesitated several nano seconds too long. While I was thinking, mum was acting. She could teach a few things to the odd intelligence service as to the sensitivity of their listening/spying gear, I reckon. Baby just has to utter a few cry-like sounds and she’s up and off, she would make an Olympic sprinter look slow. This was when baby slept in his cot, which was in our room.
Being a pragmatic sort, as I like to think I am, I assumed that my better half would soon tire of all this leaping up all through the night and let baby gurgle a little and fall asleep again without intervention. I was wrong, big time wrong. Mum decided that the only way for her to avoid getting up was, not training the little mite to sleep alone, oh no, but putting him in the parental bed. Result, no-one no gets any sleep and everyone feels pretty foul in the mornings.
Do this for over a year and, well, as you can imagine, probably, that it’s not too conducive to the maintenance of a good relationship. You have been warned all you prospective fathers out there. That female maternal instinct is just as strong as the male getting-your-leg over instinct, sorry to be crude, but that really is the best and, I hope, most understandable by a male audience, analogy I can come up with.
I suppose it would help if both parties had been agreeable to the putting baby in bed with us thing, as this would have led to less conflict. I, as I have already stated, fully accept that I played the wrong card. Still, this is my first sprog, and I had never really inquired into the psychology of the process. I realise, now, way too late that this was a mistake.
Things could be better
Another blogger, whose blog goes by the name of intriguing name of Unlimited Jargon, came across my little blog the other day. In this blog, which does say nice things about my efforts, (It’s good to hear people say nice things about you and you do need to hear good things sometimes. The probable reason why Caesar, good name for someone reading about the trials and tribulations of living in Italy, has found my blog interesting is that he or she may be someone who thinks in a similar way to myself and, this being the case, then there is a great possibility that this other person will also make comments which will make me prick my ears up a bit, sorry about the long digression in brackets. Anyway) Caesar, who is the blogger there, has written the following observation “All blogs have one horrible fact in common. The people in them seem to be having better lives than you.” Well, that may or may not be true but I can tell you that I’m not feeling all that hot about life at the moment and its not got anything to do with Italy, for the same situation and its reasons could exist just about anywhere, apart from Titan, maybe.
I work from home, this means I do a lot of preparation at home and treat my home like an office, which it is just about, full time internet, fax machine etc etc. To allow me to get some work done, which is necessary when you have something close to your own business, I need silence and peace so I can concentrate and come up with things which will interest my students, which in turn helps them to learn, which keeps them happy, which keeps my clients happy and which means I have an income. No clients, no income, it’s as simple as that when you are self-employed. However, the baby factor has entered the equasion. What I mean by this is that before baby, I could, and did, get lots done and still have time to have a life and lots of fun too. Alas, time has now become something which is fast becoming as rare as the proverbial hens teeth. Today, for example, baby is ill and I have to look after him, until lunch time, while his mum goes off to work, before returning at lunchtime, for a shift change. What’s the problem, I hear a few mothers cry, babies get ill, it’s part of the process. To which they may add, only a man could possibly complain in this way. Which is, hate to admit this, true. Well, it’s true about this man. But wait a mo, maybe I am not as bad as I’m making myself out to be. You see our little one gets ill around once every two to three weeks. Right before Christmas, his right eye swelled up, making the poor little fellow look like someone who has been a few rounds with an on-form Tyson. Before that all the way through from the end of the summer hols to Christmas, the little chap had been ill having something resembling a cold every other week. The little chap, has inherited, delicate sinuses, or so it would seem and these ‘cold’ episodes cause some kind of inflammation, which leads to his eye swelling up. I think I’m may be right in saying that Christmas was about the fifth time that this had happened. At least we did not end up in hospital at Christmas. He’s been in hospital three times in the last year or so, with the same problem, big eye. I’m relieved to have to report that the eye looks worse than it must feel, because baby has always taken these ‘attacks’ in his stride and remained in remarkably good humour. Amazing really. Resilient little thing he is. Now, the first time this happened, ending up in hospital, that is, you as a parent are prone to worrying, although I’m worried but philosophical at the same time, I know what young children can be like and feel pretty certain that it is nothing more than a phase and if baby seems OK in himself, then it’s not something to get too worried about. Well, that’s how I deal with the situation. Correction, how I dealt with the situation. After 20 months of not sleeping, not being able to work and not being able to have a life in general, is starting to get to me. I’m becoming worried that my work is suffering and this will lead to my losing clients and getting a bad reputation. Result, drastic fall, in what is already not one of the highest incomes in the world, by a long chalk. My other half’s boss is being very supportive and tolerant, but I wonder just how long he can maintain this level of patience. He is a good bloke, so there is hope. I feel like I’m stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea (I would choose the sea, incidentally, so I could go for a long swim, if the sea in the saying is a warm one, if the sea referred to is the North sea, then the devil will find that he has a new convert). I’ve got some opportunities for developing my business, but heaven only knows how I will be able to do this what with baby getting ill so regularly. Babysitters, you may shout, but paying 700 a month to a day nursery is already denting our income and having to fork out yet more on top, well, what would you do? Life is a bit of a circus act and you are but one of its jugglers, I think one could say.
So, dear Caesar, not everyone out there has a better life than you. If, however, after reading my wafflings, Caesar is still feeling bad, then I feel sorry for him or her, very sorry. But then, upon reflection, my trials and tribulations are positively trivial compared to those in Asia. I’m worrying about future problems, which may not become real problems. The Tsunami victims do not have the luxury of such worries. I should put myself into perspective more often, it, sort of, helps you deal with life.
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Photos from Flickr
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