When presents are not enough

/ beaumontmichael

I was sitting at my local cafe enjoying my start to the morning while at the next door table a mum and her two young children were playing “gift giving”. The girls were 12 and 10 and it was the older girl’s birthday. As she unwrapped present after present, a pattern was forming. The watch wasn’t quite the right one, the Lego was more suited to someone a little younger, the clothes were not quite what she was looking for and the camera was, well, “what would I need a camera for?”

The cafe floor was strewn with paper as she unwrapped a dozen presents and broke her mother’s heart with every one. I know it is difficult to be a twelve-year-old girl. There was no sign of dad. Though somewhat conspicuously all but one of the presents was wrapped in the same paper, so I’m guessing he supplied that one.

All said and done, the present unveiling was not a stunning success. She was totally underwhelmed. I didn’t understand if she was spoiled rotten and wanted more, or she was hoping dad would appear inside one of the parcels, or she was just out of step with what was going on for some reason. The only real success was the pair of fluffy slippers that immediately went on her feet.

Mum had certainly gone to a lot of trouble to make the birthday presents special and the other daughter sat and watched the gift giving without a single grumble or jealous gripe which makes me think the birthday girl just expected something else perhaps. For whatever the reason, it was heart wrenching to watch the mother give it her very best shot and come up way short.

It was heart wrenching because today as the day my son comes out of hospital where he has been recovering from what was supposed to be a routine day surgery “home by lunchtime” procedure. Three days later, he will be coming home and I can’t wait. I will want to give him a big hug, but he will be both too big to do that with any real effect and still too sore to do with any real gusto.

I hope in years to come the birthday girl will come to realise that, as Mick Jagger has been telling us for years, we can’t always get what we want and that a parent’s love, may be all that you need.

5 Things I learned about parenting when my son got sick

/ beaumontmichael

I understand that each and every parenting experience is necessarily different, personal, private and unique in its own special way, there are themes that I see keep popping up in the parenting experience. A friend of mine is going through a similar challenge, though with very different roots. Her son was hit by a car while riding his scooter to work, resulting in some broken bones and weeks off work.

My own son is struggling with Lymphoma, similar result in the end as he will in all likelihood make a complete recovery but needs a few weeks off work as an invalid. Both young men spent a little time in hospital and are recuperating at home and then some medium to long term recovery plans. The two young men do not know each other which makes the comparison even more interesting from a spectators point of view. The parenting issues are still the same.

Lesson 1. There is a time to step forward, and a time to step back. I am not completely convinced I have learned the lesson well, but it is a constant challenge with adult children, and parents of my generation. We parents want to demonstrate our love in all the ways that our parents failed to do with us. We hug our children, we tell them that we love them, we are happy to have them around. However, we can’t protect them all the time, things will happen to them outside of our control and we have to learn to let them invite us in to assist.

Lesson 2. Though you never stop being a parent, your children can actually make decisions without you. I know, crazy isn’t it? My adult son, can actually look at the available information and make an adult decision without my input. When did that happen?

Lesson 3. Sometimes they want their partner, not their parent around. This one is a complete shocker. How can a young attractive girlfriend possibly give the sort of comfort that a father could? Hang on a minute, I think I see what’s happening here.

Lesson 4. It’s OK to cry about your children in public. Every person on the planet cuts you a bit of slack when it’s about your kids.

Lesson 5. There is a balancing act around discussing your children with others. Lets face it, listening about someone else’s children is boring. But then, if someone’s children get sick or injured that rule changes in an instant. Letting people know what is going on is actually really important in the scheme of things.

Parenting is such a wonderful art form. Constantly changing, perpetually imperfect. It has given me so many grey hairs and wrinkles as well as laugh lines and beautiful life changing experiences. My boys are amazing. They help me grow up. Watching them suffer is one of the toughest, perhaps the toughest part of being a parent.

The wicked wand that is the Selfie-stick

/ beaumontmichael

I have never been more envious of anybody than when my gorgeous cousin recently asked “what’s a selfie stick?” Though I suppose I should not have been too surprised that the ridiculous emblem of self absorption had not permeated the farthest corners of verte-provence in country France, I was none-the-less envious.

Stick-wielding, and often stick-waving, self absorbed tourists had just recently ruined my first and long awaited visit to Florence, had annoyed me to distraction in Venice and really pissed me off in Berlin. Don’t get me wrong I love a good photo. In fact my bride is a demon for a tourist photo, for which I am eternally grateful (once I have gone through them all and deleted the ones I do not like, that I am in i.e. all of the photos I am in, or at the very least photoshopped myself out of them.)

Though the selfie sticks are almost exclusively the domain of the young traveller, they are even more dangerous and annoying in the hands of the older generation as they waive them around causing a comical reverse Mexican waive as people duck to avoid being hit by a phone on the end of a rotating wand.

Have we truly arrived at a place and time in history that requires us to take a photo of us smiling in front of everything we pass? Throughout my recent, first and much anticipated visit to Europe, barely a bridge, statue, river, mountain, building, causeway, shop, car, bus or mound of litter went by without someone thinking it would make the perfect backdrop for a photo and then raising their wand and twisting their face into a photo smile as they glanced self admiringly into their phone.

Me me me, it has now become all about me. How do I look in front of this, or how happy am I blocking the view of this? and how good did I look standing on that?

If roller blades go down in history as “of their era” then sadly the Selfie stick may be the emblem of 2015. It doesn’t make for a very pretty picture of us.

Vote for me, regardless of my performance.

/ beaumontmichael

Popularity, or perhaps more accurately the democratic process can get in the way of progress and improvement. These days with many associations and other organisations being controlled by boards that are forced to rely on the popular vote, that very process often stymies the development of the organisation.

Lets face it, from time to time, anyone in charge of anything is going to have to do something that isn’t popular. Raise a fee here, reduce services there, revamp something, re-align something, replace something or build something completely new. Chances are, any of those activities are not going to please everyone.

I have often heard board or committee members say, “it is vital we are seen to do something”. Which is code for “I want to be voted back in.” Thus positioning that board member or committeeman firmly in the role of “champion of popular activity.” This could well put him at odds with what is good for the organisation.

Surely for an organisation to develop, grow, become more resilient etc, that organisation needs to do what is right for them, not what is politically prudent for the survival of an individual board member. But here is the curly one. Who is going to call the director on this absurdly juvenile behaviour? The General Manager can’t, not if he has plans to work there, long term. Fellow board members may not want to call the behaviour out for a number of reasons of their own.

Often it will go unchecked resulting in outcomes that are less than ideal for the org. I have seen it time and again. It rarely gets called out for what it is, but most often gets relabeled as something like expediency or whats good for us is good for the everyone, or the value of stability.

Wouldn’t it be cool to have someone like an omnipotent freelance roaming ombudsman, charged with being “tough but fair” calling out activity in all circles of life that were self-agrandising and out of step with the wellbeing of whichever org. the activity involved.

School headmasters would lose their jobs immediately rather than hiding in their offices waiting for retirement. Line managers would be forced to leave rather than waiting for their long service leave. Office managers would be sent packing for putting their own ‘work-life balance’  ahead of developing the people around them. Board members would simply leave, embarrassed by their own pitiful performance all in a bid to be re-elected.

Maybe Mr Putin is onto something here???? Just kidding. Who would want to get rid of the opportunity to have their say at the ballot box? No-one is going to feel comfortable giving up their democratic right to vote someone out of office. Truth is though, how often does it happen? For most org’s it’s business as usual. Same old, same old, regardless of the performance. Sad but true.

Disconcerting reunion

/ beaumontmichael

Class reunions can be an uncomfortable time for many people. I have heard tales of people getting tied up with anxiety prior to the event such that though they had travelled hundreds of miles to attend, they could not walk through the door. I have also read a tale of one class candidate detailing the web of lies he had spent days rehearsing prior to the reunion. I can only guess, to cover for a life not yet lived.

My take on the level of discomfort comes from being forced to place a bookmark in one’s life story. Being forced to do the maths of one’s post-school existence can be a harrowing experience. Wondering if they measure up, and of course no-one does.

While I do not mind doing the maths on my existence, most of us were raised, safe in the knowledge it would not be until we were close to drawing our final breath that we would be faced with the task. For most people it comes down to working out their value. Has it been a life well lived? That is where the angst begins.

If the answer is no, or not yet, the accompanying feeling in the pit of the stomach, those butterflies, are telling you something. Get on with it. I have never believed that people need to climb mountains or swim oceans to lead an honourable, effective, meaningful life. I think our lives should be judged on what we leave behind. Our children, our estate and the consequence of our actions (both good and bad).

Conveniently then, I also believe, no-one’s life should be judged when there is still time and opportunity to do honourable deeds, be effective and add meaning. A life worth living. Bring on the reunion!