About their father

Last night I was telling my husband about the comment I received on my latest post. It was from an anonymous father, pointing out, very kindly, that I never mention the role of fathers in parenting.

“I didn’t know I had any male readers” I told James. I was brushing my teeth and he was in the bedroom so I could not see his face.

“Anyway I published it and spent ages thinking about the best way to reply, because really it is a blog for mothers, but he is right that I never mention you, and I often say ‘mother’ when I could say ‘parent’… why are you laughing?”

James is not usually a practical joker so when he did finally show me his face it was particularly full of glee.

“I thought you would know it was me immediately”, he didn’t apologise, “I didn’t think you’d publish it.” He was positively reveling in his deceit.

We had a good laugh but although he denies it, he obviously read the post and thought “Hang on! What about me?” So this post is all about James, the beautiful father of my children. Seeing as he hates me writing about him, I am also getting my own back. Killing two birds with one stone.

James is right. I forgot to mention yesterday that there are two pairs of welcoming arms to greet Jemima when she wakes in the night. Or that, every lunchtime, he comes home from work (a very good reason never to leave Cambodia) and cuddles Bella and plays with Jemima. Or that last night while I was feeding Bella and getting ready to meet a friend, James dealt with a very tired and contrary Jemima, never once losing his calm as she refused to brush her teeth, get her pyjamas on and get into bed. I left them curled up together, Jemima falling asleep in his arms.

There are two things I will always be thankful for now that I have children: that I am still in love with their father and that he shares my views on parenting. To begin with I suppose I lead the show a bit, simply because I was at home doing it all while James was out of the house for 12 hours a day (a very good reason never to go back to England). But he’s never had an issue with co-sleeping, me breastfeeding a walking, talking two-year-old toddler… James even dealt with the nappy bucket when he got back from work for god’s sake! By the time Bella was born he could no longer imagine using a cot or a buggy again. (We do use a buggy from time to time – Jemima sits in it with Bella on her lap. It’s very sweet.)

James is the kind of father who would much rather just climb into bed with his child in the middle of the night, than teach her to go back to sleep alone. One who will always hold his baby rather than put her down. If I try to picture him with the kids, he has Bella jiggling about on his lap during dinner, or slung over one shoulder at a barbeque, or he’s lying on the floor playing with Jemima. He’s not really interested in reading about why or how to get it right, positive parenting just comes naturally to him.

James’s work has always involved regular travel. When we first arrived in Phnom Penh he was away in the region more than he was here for a while. Now he has a new job which is Cambodia-focused only, he makes much shorter trips. I don’t mind him travelling, it is in his blood so to deprive him of it would be cruel. But boy are the days long! His absences give me a glimpse now and then into the life of a single mother, particularly here where we have no family around us. I really empathise with and admire any woman who goes it alone with children. Having another pair of hands is obviously a huge help, but what really keeps you sane is having someone to debrief with at the end of the day, a bit of adult perspective around the house, and someone with whom to discuss the news.

I think this is enough. I feel satisfied that I have had my revenge. Do remember though, when I write about ‘me’, I probably often mean ‘us’.
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