Isn’t that my job?

I was watching the mini men decimate the lounge room on the weekend. Between pushing trains on wooden tracks and performing commando rolls, they briefly turned their attention to the flickering television to monitor Scooby Doo’s antics.

I was taken aback when moments later they navigated a washing basket through the lounge room picking up their toys like little organised garbo men.

When the hell did they learn to clean up?  For the past few years, that’s been my job.  I spoke to the ex about it. She nodded her approval at them.  But where do I fit in? I asked.  She just laughed.

I asked the boys what they’d like for lunch and was met with -˜jam toast, hank you’ and -˜cheese and tomato toasted, thanks Dad’ (rolling his eyes at his little brother’s gorgeous mispronunciation of thank you).

No sooner had I turned around to put the lunch on the table, than they had already appeared and were sitting at the table ready.  Another job gone.  Herding the hungry boys in a bygone era was like catching a fluffy dandelion seedling from the air.

The boys wanted to watch the Swans on the weekend to see Miggie O’Loglan as my eldest pronounces one of the players.  We dressed the boys in red and white and ventured out west in the cool night air to watch them win.  I was finally required. I had to carry mini man the entire way and up the ramp to the seats -” my legs are broken, he pouted.  I was happy again.

Sunday afternoon I left earlier than the usual tuck-in-to-bed time to see a friend who’d come to Sydney to visit.  Time to go, I grabbed both the boys and tightly squeezed them and kissed their little offered-up lips goodbye.  I looked at the ex and welled up ready to burst into tears when the boys turned away.

I couldn’t explain the feeling. Being the ever-pulling-it-together wife she smiled sweetly, gave me a kiss and a hug and got the boys to wave me off down the driveway.

I thought about my almost outburst while I was sitting at my table with my dear friend to no avail.  Then it came to me when we were comparing kid stories in a cab going to work this morning.

Apart from a few anxieties around my day job and some odds and ends, I felt the boys didn’t need me as much this weekend.  It’s an indulgent feeling to be wanted, but it’s also natural instinct, given the circumstances.

Was it that the boys were just happy with me being there while they played and explored their little world?

With precious little time with the mini men, any rapid advance to autonomy is a gut-wrenching experience.
I learned, in a quick cab ride, that what I used to think as my job with the boys is now changing direction and becoming something new, continually evolving.  I know I will become something different again to them in another six months time.

Being away from them the other nights of the week and odd weekend are the reasons I feel the world spins too fast and it is I who need to catch up.

Either way, even in this economic climate, one thing is for sure-¦ I’ll never be made redundant.

On a community event note, I’m co-facilitating a Men’s Health workshop for a Federal Government inquiry on men’s health issues in Australia on Tuesday 21 April at 7pm in Newtown.

I would love to hear from as many men as possible. It’s a broad review, not just for gay dads.

Please rsvp to [email protected].