I’m an atheist. It’s not something I wear on my sleeve because I’m not a militant atheist. I don’t walk around my town wearing a sandwich board declaring everything that’s wrong or objectionable about scripture. That’s the Internet’s job.

In real life though, I’ve never been made to feel dirty or discriminated against because of my (lack of) religion. No old ladies throwing rotting vegetables at me in the street or public shunning of any kind. Well, until recently. Here’s what happened:

Enter the local scout group

My oldest son is painfully shy. After years of trying to get him to participate in football clubs and after school activities, we finally found something he loved and enjoyed: the local cub scouts group. I’ve never seen him so happy or fulfilled, making new friends and getting involved in games.

But there were a couple of problems. The long-established leaders of the pack were planning to leave, and the numbers of children attending were quite small. It was very likely that the pack might disband if nothing was done to bring stability to it. There was one new pack leader who’d started in the same month as my boys, but really no-one else was stepping forward. And with child protection regulations, there was no way a ratio of 1 adult to 8 children was going to be allowed.

So – and totally painting myself as a modern day hero here – I decided that there’s no point in complaining about people not being community minded if I wasn’t going to step forward myself. And so I did. I put in an application to be an assistant, which involved a standard police check and some references to make sure that I wasn’t a shady dude. Fair enough. (Passed with flying colours, by the way!)

An interview…

A few weeks ago, I was surprised to receive a call from a man inviting me to an interview for the position of pack leader. This was curious, because I’d assumed I was applying to help on a more informal basis. You know, show up every 2-3 weeks and offer a hand with whatever was planned. So an interview seemed a tiny bit over the top. But hey, I decided to go with the flow.

And so I went along to the interview with a bit of the reading material the Scouts people had sent me. It was while I was sitting in a coffee shop before the interview that I read the literature they’d sent me. Uh-oh. To be a pack leader, you must have recognize an obligation to God. It doesn’t have to be the Christian God, mind you. Any God will do. Just not “no god”.

Before the interview, a lumbering, white-haired bear of a man approached me and introduced himself as one of the leaders who’d be interviewing me. Apparently there was a problem with my application – I’d ‘forgotten’ to fill in the religious denomination section. Silly me. I explained that I tend to leave that blank because I’m an atheist and…

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The formerly genial gentleman who’d been talking to me was reduced to uncomfortable stammering. Damn, I’ve never experienced anything like this before. He awkwardly pointed out that the Scouts aren’t a Christian organisation – presumably for equality reasons more than anything else – but that an atheist cannot make a pledge to God. I agreed. It’s something I would never do, not even to cover my ass and ‘fake it’.

He rushed off to consult with his colleagues about this, but the vibe was frosty. And then I was called in to meet with the three leaders.

What I explained to them…

1. No, I’m not a Christian. I have no problem with anyone’s religious beliefs, but I won’t fake a belief to fit in. I think that stands testament to my credibility and self-respect.
2. I admire the Scouting organisation. I understand that they have a code of conduct that they try to instil in the children, and I admire and support that. I just don’t believe that religion is the only way to treat kids morality and right from wrong.
3. My decision to help out with my local pack was an attempt to be community-minded and volunteer to give something back to an organisation that was having a profoundly positive effect on my children.
4. I explained that my religious position is long held and will never change. It was the product of a long and traumatic period of questioning in my life that led to the conclusion that there is no God.

I did not try to be a facetious smart-arse and list my religion or say that Simon Cowell is my God. Though I was sorely tempted. You open your doors to all religions, as long as the person can say that they pray to a deity.

It’s profoundly insulting to be told that a door is closed to you because of your beliefs. What, I can’t be around Cub Scouts because of my lack of religious belief? I suppose I’m not fit to be a parent at all by that logic.

Here’s the real kicker:

After having what was a genial but frank discussion with these three leaders, the head honcho guy laid out the problem for me: there’s no way you can ever be a pack leader. (Er, I didn’t want to be in the first place, I just wanted to offer support, not get married to you!) But I possibly, maybe, could be a pack assistant. You don’t need to make the vows, but you can wear the uniform. Cool. I think.

But the leader of the leaders had to squeeze in one final insult along the way:

We’re going to have to check this out with the area leadership. But it’s not as if people are knocking down our door to sign up as leaders, so it’s probably okay and we should be able to offer you a position as pack leader.

Er, back it up there Baloo! So what you’re saying is that if you had a queue of Christians, sorry Deists wanting to help, I wouldn’t be good enough for your Scouts group? How unutterably rude! It goes without saying that you clearly aren’t inundated with nice, religious mums and dads lining up to help out. Instead, you’re sitting in a circle around an atheist dad who’s keen to help your organisation. Grrr.

That made me angry. “Ordinarily, you wouldn’t be good enough. But since no-one else cares enough to step up, you’ll probably get a position by default.” Not cool, Scouting dudes.

Guess what?

In the last week, I was offered a pack assistant position. Incredible. But totally expected. I presume the legal position was a bit sketchy – you can’t really discriminate against people based on their religious beliefs. But obviously the pack was in dire need of extra hands and there was really only one applicant.

Now, I could be bitter and offended about all of this, but I’ll probably take our local scouts troupe up on their ‘kind’ offer. Ultimately, it’s good for the kids, and not just my own kids. And I still like the idea of contributing to the community somehow. And I still respect what scouting’s about in providing a firm foundation for our kids.

But a question for Christians and Atheists reading this: how would you have reacted? Am I doing the right thing by staying involved, or should I have been more vocal about my objections?

I’m not judging these people. Well, not much. Okay, I am judging them. After spending years in the wilderness being a slave to the grind and becoming a dull, grey person as a result, I want to make every moment count.

Anyhow, it’s reassuring to know that whenever it feels like I’m totally at odds with the rest of Planet Earth, at least I’ve got my kids. I just love that closeness that we have in our family – the in-jokes, the wacky spontaneous dancing in the kitchen, playing and living together. (Reality check: no, we’re not The freakin’ Waltons, we irritate each other too sometimes!)

Sometimes they’re so finely tuned to my mood that they’ll know what I’m thinking before I’ve even opened my mouth. They’re the global leading experts in reading my mind.

For example, Jake was regaling me with a story about something that happened with one of his friends. It seemed to me that the other kid was being a bit of a douche, and so I was deep in thought, racking my brains for the best, most balanced advice to give him. Jake immediately registered the annoyance in my face and said “You’re angry about something.” He was absolutely right. I didn’t like the way he’d been treated by the other child, but I was trying hard to balance my response. But Jake picked up on the pursed lips and faraway look and correctly guessed that I was irked.

And I love that they’ll say to me “You’re annoyed.” It means that they’re tuned in to how I feel about things, but that they feel they can talk to me about it. It’s not “Dad’s angry, keep your head down and hide”, they want to engage and ask why. Curiously, whenever they quiz me this way, it sometimes shakes me out of my funk, because it makes me feel ‘understood’ and not like some type of untouchable patriarchal type.

So, when other people are getting on my nerves and I’m pissed off with the world, this is one more reason why my kids can still put a massive smile on my face. In what ways do your kids make you happy?

In his life so far, he’s notched up quite a few bumps and bruises, but the top three so far have been:

4. Headbutting Buildings: A couple of years ago, playing in a niehgbours’ back yard, Dan was being chased by a friend. Turning round without using his perpiheral vision, Dan turned and ran…straight into the corner of the house. Essentially, he put a massive vertical scar on his left temple, which grew into an impressive-sized bump. Took weeks for the scabs from that one to heal up.

3. Causeway Tumbles: On a trip to the Giant’s Causeway, we were all bouncing up and down the stone columns. Except Dan, who was belly-bouncing against the stones. Until he bounced too hard, and ricochetted backwards. I saw him fly past me and literally caught him in mid-air as he was falling backwards. If not for that, he’d have landed on his back on some pretty hard volcanic rocks. Ouch.

2. The Tooth Smasher: The most recent addition to Dan’s gallery of scars. While out playing on his swing scooter, he somehow – and no-one knows how – smash his face off the handlebars, chipping a prominent front tooth. And guess what? It was an adult tooth, too. Oopsie.

1. The Wrist Slasher: In this one, Dan’s not quite three yet. We were in his grandmother’s house just days after my father had been buried. The perfect time for some hospital-related shenanigans! Dan, playing the Superman role, rushed at the front door with an outstretched fist and punched straight through a panel of glass. The most of the damage was done when he pulled his hand backward and sliced his wrist on the shards of glass. A trip to Accident & Emergency and some emergency surgery managed to save the motor function in his hand, but it was a scary few days.

I’m sure if we all put our heads together, we could come up with a load more. He’s been known to close his finger in doors, for instance. Lots.

We’re kind of hoping that he doesn’t continue to do lasting damage, or he’s going to end up looking like a toothless yokel. You can see why allowing him to go out on a pair of roller skates is a cause of such worry for us!

Picture the scene. I’m sitting in our living room with Jake and we’re talking about our new abortive show, Terra Nova. If you’re not familiar with Terra Nova, it’s a series about a group of people who escape a wasted, polluted Earth to the dawn of the planet where they can found a new civilisation.

Anyway, I recently found out that FOX have cancelled the show, and wanted to break it to Jake that once we hit the season finale, there wouldn’t be any new episodes. Welcome to the eternal disappointment of the sci-fi geek, son. Never trust FOX to keep a good show running, etc.

So I sat down with Him and gave him the bad news. I should have anticipated the “But why?” that followed. So I gave him my theory: not enough people watched the show and it was very expensive to make, so it got cancelled.

“But why was it so expensive to make?”

Damnit, a money question. I decided to pull a random answer out of my ass. Don’t judge me, all parents do it!

“Well, son, it was so expensive to make because they had to find the dinosaurs in the first place. And then they had to teach them how to act.”

He looked at me for a second. As the enormity of this dawned on him, his jaw went slack nod his eyes started to widen. He was halfway through his catchphrase “Did they ACTUALLY?” when you could literally see logic winning out in his brain. There are no dinosaurs. D’oh!

What followed were about five solid minutes of us all laughing (Jake included) at how gullible he’d been. He later told me it was the best joke I’ve ever played on him, so I’m glad he took it in good spirits!

What’s the best practical joke you’ve ever played on your children?

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it on this blog, but our eldest son is painfully shy. Well, he was painfully shy. At one point, my wife suspected he had selective mutism, a condition where the child behaves normally at home, but outside the house they barely communicate at all. In front of other adults outside the family, Jake would rarely utter a word.

Lately he seems to be gathering more confidence. I’ve noticed such a change in him in the last twelve months. He’s always buzzing about things in his life – whether it’s his adventures at school, or his time in Cub Scouts, or even things that’ve popped straight out of his (incredibly fertile) imagination. In fact, he’s become an unstoppable chatterbox!

It’s funny when you hit a certain point in your child’s development and realise they’ve really turned a corner. I remember taking Jake to endless clubs and classes from football to martial arts to swimming. It was always a painful experience of watching him become more and more tense in the run-up to the class, sometimes acting out to get a reaction to justify his frustration. And when we’d arrive at the class, it was almost impossible to persuade him to get involved. He’d spend the entire hour hiding behind me or trying to pretend he was invisible. It was a regular exercise in embarrassment and frustration, and stressful for both of us.

Talking it out

But like most things in raising kids, it gets easier when they’re older and you can reason with them more. You can talk things out, explain what you want to achieve and ask them to elaborate on what’s causing them problems. I think as Jake has got older, we’ve been able to talk about those times when he freezes up in public and look at the causes. We’ve also been able to point out that the first time he does something is the most difficult. He knows now that things he sees as commonplace now once caused him enormous anxiety.

Finding the right club for him has also helped. We found a swimming class that’s smaller and the instructor is in the pool with the children. The guy’s like a drill sergeant and should terrify the bejesus out of Jake, but his respect is hard-won and when Jake swims well, the praise from the instructor puts him on cloud nine.

Cub Scouts

We also allowed him and his younger brother Dan to join the local Cub Scouts. Again, this was a smaller club, so the numbers weren’t intimidating. And because they both joined at the start, they felt ‘established’ when new members came to join. Both Jake and Dan look forward to their nights at Cubs and to seeing a different group of friends to the ones in our neighbourhood. And they talk freely to the leaders, whether it’s to ask questions or to show them something they’ve done.

Having a shy child causes a fair bit of anxiety. You’re constantly wondering whether there’s something more behind the shyness: is there a behavioural problem or something else? When you start to see that child become more comfortable, you definitely breathe a sigh of relief. The Jake we know in 2012 is a chatty wee man, loves to talk with us and reason things out and share his thoughts and ideas. Trying to leave his room at bedtime is nearly impossible because he’s still trying to unload his thoughts on us, even as we close the door!

Last night, in a rare one-on-one moment, Jake and I were sitting watching Terra Nova. He was excitedly talking about the dinosaurs and chattering about school that day and anything else that came to mind. I told him that we don’t say it enough, but we’re proud of everything he does n the effort he puts into everything, whether it’s cubs or his artwork or his swimming. It’s just so nice to see a child who was once crushed by his shyness breaking out of that. And I can tell, simply because he’s just so damned happy at the moment.

(Photo credit: Shy Boy by Lili Vieira de Carvalho).

After weighing it up, we decided to allow our oldest two to walk part of the way home together. Without us. Yikes!

Now, we don’t live too far from the school. It’s a ten minute walk at best, and a relatively close-knit community where everybody knows each other. We decided that the kids are safe enough up to the first main road they have to cross, so we agreed that they would leave school together two as a week and meet us at this road.

They had their first test run today, and it went really well. Dan and I left the house a few minutes later than normal and met the older two at the arranged place. I was not-so-secretly looking out for sensible behaviour: no racing, pushing, jostling or recklessness that might result in danger. And to be fair, both of them – and the friend they were walking along with – were exceedingly well behaved.

It was easy to see the effects of this little bit of independence. The pair of them met us with big smiles, clearly pleased to have been trusted to walk without parents for once. And speaking as a parent, it wasn’t a huge risk or worry for us, so it worked out for parents and kids alike. Especially for Ray, our eldest, it’s an important factor for her because when she moves on to secondary school, she’ll be bussing it to school in another town. So it’s important for her to get this taste of independence now.

What we the ways you start building your child’s confidence, and how do you feel with each little step on the road to growing up?

I start with fitness, because Lisa and I both dropped an enormous amount of weight and started exercising. Our wardrobes changed as our waistlines contracted, and our self-confidence grew: partly due to being so successful at the seemingly insurmountable task of losing weight. Imagine you discover the self-discipline to lose 30kg – what else can you achieve when you put your mind to it? Of course we were also much healthier and feeling energised because of our new lifestyles.

The reason I titled this post “Metamorphosis” is because it feels like we’ve changed as a result of all this. The new energy is everywhere. I feel a revitalised love of life that makes me excited about the future again. I think Lisa feels it too.

We’ve transformed from the lethargic, overweight, work from home parents into two dynamic individuals who want to pack as much fun into life as possible from now on. Personally, I’m loving walking in the mountains, road running (meep-meep) and keeping my fitness levels high. I love all of this, but I want to transfer some of that success from 2011 into my professional life in 2012. But more on that later.

Life’s too short! If you’re one of those people who obsesses over the underwhelming minutae of life then you’ll be seeing a lot less of us this year. No, we don’t want to hear the ins and outs of your grocery list or the tedious details of your phone call to your car insurance company. If this stuff makes up 90% of your conversation, then you’re doing life wrong. Those are the tiny insignificant details. We’ve found ourselves surrounded by too many of these type of people. People who make life a grey, depressing, boring place. But on the other hand, we’ve (re)connected with some amazing people in the last year – friends who don’t burden us with the small stuff, who value our company and who we look forward to seeing.

If we don’t look forward to seeing you, then there’s something broken in our relationship. We’ll either fix it or walk away.

Which brings me to my next point: we’re not going to be craven wusses this year. If we’ve got a problem with you, you’re going to hear about it. That doesn’t mean we’ll be strapping on boxing gloves at the first sign of a disagreement or putting severed horses heads in your bed at night. But we won’t be bottling things up anymore. Two reasons:

• When we bottle things up, we become more resentful. And resentment eats away at us. It makes us look for more things to be annoyed about and then things become a mess of gripes and complaints so seemingly insurmountable that we end up ruining relationships. I know this sounds incredibly vague, but we’ve had first-hand experience of this in the last year.
• It’s better for everybody. It removes the need for resentment – if you do something that upsets me, I tell you and we move on. You’ll be aware of what my boundaries are in future. Likewise, I’ll have spoken my mind, so I have no excuse to be resentful. This difuses tension and allows us to continue our relationship.

Lisa and I are in a unique position – we run a fairly successful business from home and we’re lucky to spend lots of time with our three kids, who we love dearly. We’ve come out of what feels like a four-year long funk, and we’re ready to play! Our goal is to surround ourselves with fun people who enjoy life and to pack in as much adventure into life as possible. We’re going to dwell less on the negative experiences we’ve had and set our sights on enjoying life as much as possible.

Hopefully in the next 12 months we’ll be sharing some of that fun with you guys! Happy 2012! Let’s make this year a great one!

This becomes more of a problem at the weekends, because of the subject matter of our main blog, that’s when we’re most busy. So the dilemma for us is how do we give the children our attention while getting the work done?

Answer: divide and conquer. My wife stays at home and works on the site while I take the children for day trips and outings.

Some dads might feel like they’re getting a raw deal, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! Take this weekend for instance – my wife just jetted off for a business trip to London for three days. Now, we’ll miss her and she’ll miss us, but we’ll get by without her!

I always have a pep talk with the kids whenever I’m going to be alone with them for any length of time. I let them know that I’m going to be on my own and I need them to help out when they’re asked and that they need to try their hardest to get along. Once we’ve got those basics covered, things usually run pretty smoothly. This morning, before we took our day trip, I asked everyone to pitch in with getting ready and even persuaded our eldest to help me pair socks in preparation for the next couple of days of school!

That done, we headed out to the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum. It’s somewhere I’ve been visiting since I was a child, and it’s become a big part of the kids’ lives as well. It’s their opportunity to see what Northern Ireland was like way back at the turn of the last century and how people lived. It’s essentially a replica rural village with old buildings that have been transported brick-by-wonderful-brick to a sprawling country estate outside Belfast. And as I hope the pictures in this post prove, it’s a gorgeous place to spend a chilly autumn afternoon!

But of course this post isn’t to extoll the virtues of Northern Irish tourist spots to you – I wanted to talk about the genuine pleasure that it is to take the children out on these day trips!

What I’ve discovered over the last few months – since the summer holidays, actually – is that my children are fantastic friends. Sure, they bicker and argue like most kids, but they have an amazing camaraderie with each other. They’re always smiling and singing and dancing on these day trips – and they’re at a great age where you can let them wander around and explore without worrying about them damaging themselves or anyone else!

From the moment we set out this morning, they were joking and singing in the car. The eldest was flicking between radio stations or finding her favourite song by The Doors on the CD we had with us. I’d taken along a few snacks because it was going to be a long day out and I wanted to save money instead of eating expensive and unhealthy take-away food. They were given the choice to have their snacks immediately when we arrived or to wait and have them later – and they democratically made the decision themselves.

And when we got home…well, the two oldest helped me make a Paddy Pizza dinner (local recipe – I’ll share it with you someday!) and the youngest helped set the table.

What I’ve learned in taking the kids out on my own like this is that my children are a wonderful little gang. They’re great mates, and they love outdoor experiences. They’re not greedy like other kids we know – they love to eat in Burger King as much as the next kid, but they’ll never complain if we produce a packed lunch!

Sometimes parenting alone forces you to raise your game. It’s just you and the children – are you going to vegetate in the house all day, or are you going to go outside and bond with them and do something fun? It used to be easy and convenient to just watch TV and play console games. But really, there’s nothing like the smiles and hugs and fun of going out and having adventures. Last week it was the Giant’s Causeway, this week it was the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum. What’ll it be next week? Who knows? It all depends on the weather. But we already know it’ll be fun!

Do any of you notice a difference when your other half goes away and you’re looking after the children alone?

Of course, she’s precocious beyond her years. Ten going on teenager, really. But I think it’s fun when they’re this age to sit and reflect on their journey. After all, it’s been a decade.

I remember when she was a baby, I’d come home from work in the afternoon and go for a nap with her. I’m sure it started off as me giving her mum a break, but we’d ultimately settle on the bed and she would fall asleep in the crook of my arm. It was a standing arrangement.

Of course all of that was in a different house, fifteen miles away, a decade ago. So much has changed in the meantime. She’s had two brothers. She’s joined classes. She’s made friends.

I may be biased, but I think my little daughter has grown into a wonderful little person. She’s quick-witted, pedantic, hilarious. One of her recent things is to wind up her mum while winking furiously at me to show that she’s trying to get a reaction. But of course, the winking always results in a furious shaking of her head, so Lisa knows exactly what’s going on!

She loves my music. She’s been listening to old CDs of mine in the car – The Doors, Alice Cooper, Bon Jovi. Even Iron Maiden, but only for Flight Of Icarus. Because she’s made up her own nonsense lyrics to the song. When she heard that I’d agreed to play bass for a band recently, she was so excited that she told everybody in school and dogged me for days to find out what the band would be called.

Of all the things I love about the child, I think it’s just the relationship I have with her that’s just so much fun. She’s got my goofy sense of humour. When we had some friends round the other evening, one of them laughed at her jokes and said to me, “She’s just like you.” I might have blushed at the compliment.

Lisa sometimes frets about the speed the children are growing up at. With Rachel, a decade has passed in the blink of an eye. But it never worries me. How boring would it be if our children stayed the same age forever? Onward, upward to the next adventure! In two years she’ll be starting secondary school, and that’ll be a brand new world for her. She’s loving her dance classes at the moment, and she’s forever throwing herself into new things, learning and growing without even realising it. She’s just having fun.

For me, I just love spending time with this wonderful human being who makes me laugh and makes me proud and makes me feel fiercely protective at the same time. Oh, she can be frustrating sometimes and a downright diva at others, but I wouldn’t have her any other way. I’m looking forward to her growing older and watching all the mischief she gets up to. She really is a wonderful child. All of my kids are!

It’s been a brilliant 10 years, Rachel. I’m looking forward to another decade of silly jokes, catty comments and lots of love and fun! Happy Birthday, Girlpants!

Homeworks in our house are lengthy affairs. The kids come home, their returns staggered by about an hour in general. The two youngest are first home, and they get stuck into homework right away. How quickly they finish depends on how focused they are, how tired after school and how hungry.

Today, Jake had to do a reading homework in addition to his usual tasks. You could tell right away he was going to be a reluctant participant. He was impatient to race off and play Playstation with his brother. Since the Playstation made a surprise return to our household earlier this week, it’s been virtually all they want to do.

Anyway. He changed books because he didn’t like the one he’d brought home. Then he opted to go to the attic room with me to read in quiet. And then he moaned and grumbled about the replacement dinosaur book HE’d chosen! Damnit.

We laboriously struggled through eight pages of reading (he’d been asked to do thirteen). And then he REALLY dug his heels in. That’s when the “I hate you”s began. And throwing himself around the room. And throwing things around the room. Threats were issued and roundly ignored. The softly-softly approach was tried, gradually giving way to a louder, angrier, more frustrated voice.

But it’s not entirely his fault. I honestly believe that he’s living on a steady diet of TV and computer games. Books, with their still words on pages THAT SHOCKINGLY DO NOT LIGHT UP are “so boring” to him. I’ve read recently that’s the crux of the problem: books don’t offer the same excitement as consoles and TV series.

This is almost doubly disappointing, because Lisa and I are avid readers. Our house is coming down with books and we’ve made sure the children are well provided for. There’s a virtual library of Horrible Histories, Captain Underpants and Horrid Henrys. The only problem is, these things frequently play second fiddle to Wii, iCarly and DSLites.

But what’s the solution? As I said to Jake tonight, he could have been finished hours earlier if he’d only read the book instead of throwing the Mother Of All Tantrums.

I think he has no excitement or passion for sitting down and reading. That’s probably a failure on our part as parents for not reading to them more. Not switching off all the screens around the house and having quiet time for reading. Maybe we need to do that – start off with 10-20 minute sessions, building up their reading stamina until they’re capable of reading unassisted for longer.

But if I’m honest, I’m at my wits end and possibly out oft depth here as a parent. I definitely don’t think there was a clear winner in that battle of wills today. Suggestions from all you clued in parents are more than welcome.