Hope you like yogurt because it’s about to get cultured. One of my colleagues today mentioned that they are off to the opera to see “Madam something” without any clue on what to expect. My suggestion is to treat it like a One Direction concert and sing-a-long and wave placards saying “We <3 Puccini".
To help get over the midweek hump I thought I'd play the famous aria 'Un bel di'. I know it is famous because I looked on Wikipedia and I think I've heard it in an advert before.
Empty, not an icon to be seen. My desktop is as vacant as Windows will allow with only a solitary Recycle Bin sitting empty and unused. Nothing gets kept on the desktop; not a shortcut, rogue text file or gif. My physical desk is as empty as possible so the electronic version reflects reality. It all comes down to organisation.
Basic organisation of anything is not hard, when you name your files properly you can quickly find what you are looking for saving you more time to do fun things like drink tea and eat biscuits. Unfortunately when it is easier to make a mess most people will resort to a lackadaisical system of bad labeling and filing. Which is why most people’s desktops are a mess of badly named files.
As I clear through my old posts I’ve come across one from my pre-Fatherhood days worrying about how I was going to cope with the arrival of a screaming bundle of joy. It was full of the neuroses fed by the unknown and the advice of the post-birth grandees.
Looking back on the fears I had then makes me laugh, I am so laissez-faire with the upbringing of Baby G we have you to cover everything in foam and lock the house down. She’s not hurt herself, which doesn’t mean that she won’t, but we are taking precautions to make sure that we teach her what she can and can’t do. While she is in the “Dog-Phase” (the part where you can start to train them with chocolate, when they just sleep and eat this is the “Cat-Phase”) of childhood we will keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.
Just another hour. All I want is another sixty minutes to stay in bed, is that too much to ask for. If only we could put the clocks back every single evening I would be happy. The practicality of it may cause problems (after two weeks I’ll be having lunch in the dark of night) but I’m sure I will adjust.
If we had twenty five hours in the day I would use the extra time to sleep, I don’t get enough of what I would like so I’m going to spend it dozing betwixt my sheets. This may be classed as a waste of this temporal gift but the additional rest is a boon that would be well used.
For the last few weeks I keep having the same dream, that my baby daughter is about to fall off the bed. She is not even in the same room, and sleeps in a cot, so I have no idea what the panic is.
The downside of this is that I am getting very tired and struggling to get up in the morning and keep a shiny face on all day. The first bodily function that fails when sleepy is my genial demeanor.
To get through the day I am listening to my Spotify playlist “:)”, this is much better than the “>:(” today. So to get you going this Monday here is the first track that came up, ‘All Night, All Right’ by Clive Tanaka y su orquesta
A word I hear all the time.
Delegate. v. entrust (a task or responsibility) to another person, typically one who is less senior than oneself. – Google definition
The feeling out letting go fills me with fear, I want to do everything myself. That way I know it will get done and (possibly) get done to the standard I expect. Results show that, in the end, nothing gets done and it would have been better to relinquish a little control.
Both for productivity and my own health, yet the martyr in me sees delegate as a dirty word who’s meaning I don’t understand.
Delegate. v. relinquish control or become disappointed when not done – Geek Ergo Sum definition
It’s the return of the Friday Hometime tune, and to start it off a track that summarises everything I’m feeling about getting home. Also it helps that it helps kick off the weekend. It was either this, or Wouldn’t it be nice by The Beach Boys…oh sod it, it’s the first one of these so why not.
“How do you know what to do?”, the subject of how we went from non-parents to slightly-fumbling-to-get-it-right-parents always comes round to that “moment”. Nothing I tell expectant or expectant-expectant parents would take the place of the on-job training that pregnancy provides.
After having a chat with someone about the kind of support that you can get I’m going to dust off another old ‘Fatherhood’ post. While we were on the run-up to B-Day we took a few classes on birthing, which now I can look back on with hindsight.
That hindsight goes like this, what we learnt was great and provided us with a lot of support and reassurance. Then labour started and things got real, every class we had attended seemed a waste of time and money as the situation escalated. Yet the friends we made on that course have been more important to use than any diagram or simualted birth with a tatty-looking doll.
Of all the corporate mascots out there I find the WWF’s the most ironic. For an organization that is dedicated to the conservation of the planet’s species they made the decision to choose one of the few examples of fauna that wants to go extinct. I am an animal lover, and it saddens me when any species slips from the Earth never to be seen again, but sometimes you also have to go “You know what, nature has decided that this particular beast is of no use and must be let go”.
This is the case for the Giant Panda, possibly the only animal on the planet that is still around due to human intervention. If it was a gnarly lizard or some parasitic insect we would have put our hands up and gone oh well, that’s Darwinism in action. Instead with its cuddly little face we have decided that we must save it, it’s Survival of the Cutest and its wrong.
A chance dinner discussion led to Me and Mrs G scrubbing off a potential Baby G name. This is a bit of a shock as I thought we had nailed down names enough for two girls and two boys. Not that we are planning on a quartet of babies, but it was good to be prepared.
Now we are back to the drawing board for a girl, the two male noms are pretty well agreed, which involves reading out hundreds of names until we find one we can both agree on. There is no point making a list and comparing because we both start off from two different naming points. Luckily we are both decisive about Baby G1 so I am confident that any Baby G+1’s will get a good name as well.
This did make me think of an article from the archives, regarding the fuss that was made over Prince George and how when he was born no name had been decided on. So here, a year later is my rant about all the fuss made over two people trying to pick a name.