It's a Dad's Life/ Adam Brophy:The poor younger child woke up to her birthday on Sunday morning with only me for company. At the best of times she can take or leave me, so on this occasion I summoned every ounce of excitement available to me and made as big a deal of the event as was possible in a bid to make up for the missing mother and sister.
The poor old mother was suffering enough guilt. It was only after she booked her weekend away in Amsterdam that she realised the break coincided with the birth of her "other" child, the "chosen one" having been allocated an accompanying ticket for the trip.
There was a lot of mulling over the double psychological impact of this departure and favouring the other child on such a fateful date, but cancelling wasn't given a moment's thought. There's a limit to the concerns you have for the emotional welfare of your children, and disturbing jaunts abroad with the girls is way beyond that point.
There it is, the old parental guilt sneaking in. It's a constant balancing act between our own selfish natures and the kids' requirements. I am quite good at managing guilt, having become so used to putting myself first, but the missus struggles with it a little more. She works full-time and so, like many mothers in a similar situation, has a constant niggle that she should be spending more time with the kids.
Luckily, we are in a position for me to be available a lot of the time. Whether that is a good or a bad thing for the monsters' development will be borne out with time.
Over the last 12 months though, more and more work has come my way, opportunities to take on jobs which I find both interesting and self-affirming, and which contribute financially. This has made our existence over that period of time much less of a strain than the previous few years.
Earning and being valued for my work has given me a boost; self-confidence that I had been conscious of ebbing away has returned. But with it came a realisation that getting a work life back was quite a manageable achievement; that I am now in the fortunate position of being able to choose how much work I take on, rather than grabbing everything that comes my way.
That got me thinking. I need to work, I need to earn, I need to feel I contribute, both within my family and to feel comfortable within society, but should the growing sense of satisfaction with being back in the workforce override the needs of the kids? So, that balancing act once again comes into play.
Since the clocks went back in October, I have been dropping them off three times a week into the care of others before it is quite light and only collecting them again when it is full dark. And while I have nothing but praise for those who look after them, I began to feel uncomfortable that they were spending more time with my kids than I was. I didn't quite bite the bullet, but I had a tentative nibble.
From next week I'm resuming the role of sergeant-major to my troops, at least in the afternoons. The aim is to graft in the mornings and play in the afternoons. There was a sense for a while that hanging with the kids was a chore, but now, probably because our time has been limited recently, I'm looking forward to getting back into the playgrounds and the messing and the general mud-larking around.
Mother and sister arrived home in good time for the younger's party. The child was celebrated to within an inch of her life; she would accept no less. Normal service resumed.
