Getting older, perhaps not wiser.

Reflections on life from a confused parent

It’s going so quick. I would never have thought. Hitting the big 4 — O next year, but still really feel like a twenty-two year old. “Grow up man!” I tell myself. But I have. I’ve got three children, a wife, a mortgage and a dog. Oh yes and a career, sort of… I’ve been full-time employed for fourteen years now. Even when I’m off or my baby has kept me awake during the night, I wake up at 6.30, conditioned by the merciless drum of the nine to five treadmill.

Like many of us, I spend far more time staring at numerous screens throughout the day, than looking at leaves rustling in the wind, clouds drifting through the sky or the beautiful eyes of my baby daughter. My brain is fed continuously — images and information — from around the globe, as I ache to be connected to the human family, marching past the window-sill of my laptop or phone screen, including me, involving me, making me one of them.

All the grown-up things I do — sorting out health insurance, investigating schools to send my kids to, ironing my shirts, feeding my dog, reading articles, involving myself in debates, cooking dinner, worrying about my rotund little belly that struggles to confine itself within the bounds of youthfulness and elegance and making life choices which are not just for me, but my…