Tuesday is a big improvement on Monday... gained a client (small deposit received with thanks!). One late afternoon meeting was cancelled so with TMOD (The Mother of Our Daughters) consent went swimming with the girls. First work, than... homework and than pool.
There is a lot to be said for the art of balancing work and children. Although I tried to cut the number of trips required to reconcile work, home and children (I live and work in the same postcode), I could not get changed since I had to squeeze swimming with my daughters between a meeting and a business dinner. So, there I was, the only person changing in the pool still wearing suit and tie. TMOD came along (my daughters do not want to use the 'family lockers') and we had an interesting plunge in the pool all of us. I managed to make a huge blunder by trying to teach my youngest daughter to do a correct breaststroke; she did not take it nicely. All the enthusiasm she had to go 'swimming with daddy' faded when she realised that daddy fancied himself as an instructor instead of a playmate (daddy swam competitively in his youth, I even competed internationally... over thirty years ago)
I felt terribly guilty and ended up apologising for trying to teach rather than playing along.
Success comes in "can"s rather than "can't"s, so I try my best to use the time I am allocated with my daughters to create a family environment and a parent and child relationship. The reality is that when I only spend a few hours with them it is not always easy to become relaxed around each other and expectations and reality fail to go anywhere near each other (let alone match). Has anybody come up with an answer to that ? How do you cope with normal misunderstandings when next time you see your children is five days away ?
Quite frankly I hope I'll manage to forget about this because on Sunday I only have few hours with them (my daughters may be 7 and 9 1/2 but their social life is very very hectic, like the true society girls they are :-) ) and the last thing I want to do is spend time mulling over what happened rather than just being together.
I know my daughters love me, but do they like me ? And does it really matter ? Did I like my father when I was 10 ? It is too easy now to say "of course I did". My father passed away 19 years ago so I cannot check whether he felt I liked him and whether he liked me (I know he loved me).
Now, returning to the art of balancing work and life (before I go for today)... I managed to show up at the business dinner in time (public transport appeared at the right moment) and when I went to get out my business card I found two cards from my daughters telling me how much they loved me. For a moment I stop listening to a woman I am hoping will agree to a meeting before the end of the third millenium (a meeting, not a date. After all, we are dealing with the work side of the work/life balance) and smile at the two cards.
On my way home the grin in my face fades when I think that tomorrow morning the taped voices of my daughters will wake me up, not their own voices.
Monday, Monday tonight has been replaced by 'O mio babbino caro' (my dear daddy) from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi after all today is not Monday and my daughters wrote me short notes to say how much they love me.
There is a lot to be said for the art of balancing work and children. Although I tried to cut the number of trips required to reconcile work, home and children (I live and work in the same postcode), I could not get changed since I had to squeeze swimming with my daughters between a meeting and a business dinner. So, there I was, the only person changing in the pool still wearing suit and tie. TMOD came along (my daughters do not want to use the 'family lockers') and we had an interesting plunge in the pool all of us. I managed to make a huge blunder by trying to teach my youngest daughter to do a correct breaststroke; she did not take it nicely. All the enthusiasm she had to go 'swimming with daddy' faded when she realised that daddy fancied himself as an instructor instead of a playmate (daddy swam competitively in his youth, I even competed internationally... over thirty years ago)
I felt terribly guilty and ended up apologising for trying to teach rather than playing along.
Success comes in "can"s rather than "can't"s, so I try my best to use the time I am allocated with my daughters to create a family environment and a parent and child relationship. The reality is that when I only spend a few hours with them it is not always easy to become relaxed around each other and expectations and reality fail to go anywhere near each other (let alone match). Has anybody come up with an answer to that ? How do you cope with normal misunderstandings when next time you see your children is five days away ?
Quite frankly I hope I'll manage to forget about this because on Sunday I only have few hours with them (my daughters may be 7 and 9 1/2 but their social life is very very hectic, like the true society girls they are :-) ) and the last thing I want to do is spend time mulling over what happened rather than just being together.
I know my daughters love me, but do they like me ? And does it really matter ? Did I like my father when I was 10 ? It is too easy now to say "of course I did". My father passed away 19 years ago so I cannot check whether he felt I liked him and whether he liked me (I know he loved me).
Now, returning to the art of balancing work and life (before I go for today)... I managed to show up at the business dinner in time (public transport appeared at the right moment) and when I went to get out my business card I found two cards from my daughters telling me how much they loved me. For a moment I stop listening to a woman I am hoping will agree to a meeting before the end of the third millenium (a meeting, not a date. After all, we are dealing with the work side of the work/life balance) and smile at the two cards.
On my way home the grin in my face fades when I think that tomorrow morning the taped voices of my daughters will wake me up, not their own voices.
Monday, Monday tonight has been replaced by 'O mio babbino caro' (my dear daddy) from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi after all today is not Monday and my daughters wrote me short notes to say how much they love me.
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