I always wore a crash helmet while riding a motorcycle.
In part that was because to not do so would have been to break the law, but in such an obvious way that escaping unpunished would be extremely unlikely.
But this is not about motorcycles and traffic laws, it is about the thing inside, the switch that flips, the dawning realisation that while, for thirty years, you have been the centre of your own Universe, that is true no longer.
Now you have to grow up and be a Dad.
I always wanted to be a parent. Not in some sentimental way, just an inner knowledge that part of our journey, part of our reason, is to help produce and prepare those who follow. We are nothing if we don't reproduce. We are doomed to extinction should we fail in our primary task, the procreation of our species, and we miss out on a great deal of fun if we don't at least try.
I was thirty years old when I first married, and it was another three years before Thomas kicked and screamed his way into the early morning sunlight in Basingstoke, Hampshire, to change mine and his Mum's lives, forever. We didn't learn our lesson the first time, and Tom was followed by Joe, two years later.
Circumstances change and now, eighteen years later with Tom holding three University offers in his pocket, I find myself step-father to three delightful (mostly) American children, and that has been a trip.
What is it, this "Dad" business? I still have mine and that is something I am deeply grateful for. I watched as Mrs Twigg said goodbye to her Dad, and I will put that off as long as possible. The pain is almost unbearable, made endurable only because her Dad did his job so well that she was as prepared for this loss as can be made possible.
So we, us Dads, get to watch our children grow and become adults. We live to protect and preserve them, stoop to pick them up, and sometimes make them fall, as gently as we can knowing that, in the falling comes the learning, the experiences they need so that we may offer our final gift. The gift, the strength that prepares them to leave the nest, stretch out beyond us and finally ..... say goodbye while remaining whole themselves.
I have often heard it said that a video camera comes with a five hundred page manual. It's every function detailed, tabulated and compiled with helpful pictures allowing no one but the illiterate any doubt as to it's operation. A baby comes with a single piece of paper and a bag of diapers. If that was someone's idea of a joke, well it is not funny. Not funny at least to a couple of young adults carrying their new baby out of a hospital and into a waiting car. Quite honestly ... they didn't even know quite how to safely buckle in the baby seat, never mind get this kid through college and beyond.
Well here we are, and the kid is about to go to college in London! London! I still wonder if he is safe walking down the street in his local village. How did it come to this?
In all honesty I am not sure. I go back eighteen years and I do know that something changed. A part of me was born that Christmas Morning, the day Tom entered the world. Sure I was married and so naturally had another person to consider and appreciate, but this was much more fundamental. There was a shift, a change in the perception of my place and purpose; a re-alignment, if you like, of the world around me and what now mattered.
I learned that it is true that you "lose your freedom" when a child is born. I also learned how that was so unimportant, because I was only losing something I didn't want anymore. My life would change, they said. What they forgot to mention was that it is only "other people's" kids that are a pain in the ass. I also learned that I would do my best to make sure that my kids were not a pita to other people, in as much as my wife and I could. I think we achieved at least that much.
When my wife and I divorced I learned something else too. I learned that, even though part-time, being a single-parent is tough. You don't realise quite how much you rely on your partner for support, assistance, comfort and the rest, until that partner is no longer there. That taught me that the very many single parents who bring up a child alone, and do so successfully, are strong beyond belief. That they deserve a special place in our hearts and thoughts, because they are shouldering a burden that you really would not wish upon anyone. That they are shouldering a joy too is little comfort at three am when your child has colic, and you so desperately need to sleep.
I learned that if that young Mum is seventeen, living in poverty and alone with little in the way of extended family and community support, then please don't be surprised when she snaps, and there is tragedy. It's not necessarily forgivable, but it is deeply understandable. It helped me understand that we, as a nation, should never put young men and women in that position, if only for the children.
I have had a second chance at happiness, and a different perspective on being a parent, and a Dad. It came to me by virtue of Mrs Twigg and her three brats adorable kids who, at the time, were eighteen months, three and five and a half years old.
It is possible to make a second family work. You can walk into the lives of three children grieving the loss of their Dad (through divorce), and carve a place for yourself as rewarding as the one you left. The secret is simple. You wait for them. This is their turf, their home and you are the stranger. Worse, you are the stranger who is a guy, and not their Dad. You will be their Dad when they give you permission, and you get that by listening to them, being with them, and waiting for them.
You are not expected to ditch your own personal standards. You are not expected to be abused by them, ignored by them or be the reason for their loss. I found that I was able to be firm, to be clear but not to have expectations. I have personal standards and I was able to maintain them (I'm actually a push-over, don't tell my kids!). The great joy is that by and large, the expectations I have now seem to be very similar to the expectations my new family has for their relationships with others.
I have also learned that "Band" is expensive when your twelve year old daughter wants a clarinet, then qualifies for a saxophone in her second semester. I am not proud of her ... Oh No!
There is work to be done still. It will not end for many years. As I type this said twelve year old is at a sleep-over at a friends house, and Mrs Twigg is fretting about that, and about the fact that I had forgotten she was staying over, yet, at eleven pm I had not wondered where she was. I am such a disappointment .... heh.
When I became a Dad I started, almost unconsciously, to drive more slowly. I didn't give up the motorcycle, but the 160 mph rocket I owned was traded for one that would only reach 150 mph, with the wind behind it. Little things marking a change in outlook and attitude.
Attitudes I hope that my children, all five of them, will add to their own experiences that when they become parents they can do the same, and that when my time comes they can say their farewells, and be happy.
UPDATE:
This Diary is linked to Facebook. My son, Tom, mentioned above, had this to say:
"Having a motorbike that only does 150 is much more suitable, than one that does 160, when you have young children to look after ;)"
UPDATE:
Thank you Rangers, for the Rescue.
There are a couple of comments that disturb me a little.
There appear to be those who view a single sentence in my Diary as de facto evidence that I, in some way, am denigrating those who choose not to have children. The reality is that there is NOTHING in my words that can be construed as such, and it would be polite, had you any doubts, to ask me before leaving negative comments.
I have considered changing the wording to appease those who bring their own agendas, but I will not. The fact remains that were we, the species homosapiens to fail to reproduce, then we would be gone inside two generations.
Do I support people's individual rights to choose? Absolutely!
Nonetheless, the wording of the Diary only suggests otherwise if you choose to mis-read it. Nowhere do I suggest otherwise, and the sentence folk objected to is general not specific, and accurate.
I apologise if I inadvertently caused any offence but honestly, I thought I had earned a little more credit around here than for folk to assume I meant the worst!
Carry on :)