Father time

By Malcolm Knox

Last year, I spent a night in hospital with my seven-year-old son. He had been admitted for an asthma attack. We arrived near midnight and were woken every two hours.

As we sat looking out the window at the rising sun after an atrocious night, he offered me a revelation. “Dad,” he said, “do you only have a number of breaths in your whole life?”

I tried to answer truthfully, saying that, yes, by the end of your life you will have had a countable number of breaths, but that it is not a pre-determined thing. But as I spoke I realised what he was actually asking. “Did you think you were down to your last breaths?” He nodded. I hugged him, partly to conceal my tears, and assured him that he had a lot more breaths to go.

Duress and crisis, even if they bond us, are not things we seek. Like knowing the number of breaths you have in a lifetime, a night in hospital is something to look back on, not forward to.

Yet there are many other things, some everyday, others special, some quiet and incremental, others that rip the scales from your eyes, that add up to the real glue between fathers and their children. If you don’t do them, you will miss out, not just on their life, but on your own, too.

This hasn’t always been taken for granted. Parenting used to be women’s work. Dr Richard Fletcher, leader of the Engaging Fathers Project at the University of Newcastle Family Action Centre, wrote recently: “One significant development [since the Seventies] has been the dramatic increase in the primary and secondary research studies addressing father-child relationships.

“Equally important has been the shift from asking ‘Are fathers important?’ to an acceptance that fathers are significant in child development, capable of producing positive or negative outcomes.”

Dr Nick Kowalenko, director of child and adolescent psychiatry at Sydney’s Royal North Shore Hospital, says the influence of fathers on their children’s mental wellbeing is not only crucial but measurable.

The evidence, he says, is “very clear that closer engagement with dads in childhood to mid-adolescence increases resilience against depression in girls”.

As a mental health professional, Kowalenko sees kids whose low self-confidence, poor social skills and bad experiences at school are alarmingly coincident with uninvolved fathers. There’s also the question of timing. It’s well established, says Kowalenko, that children’s attitudes to their parents go through three stages.

“Up to six or seven, the parents are god-like, heroic. From seven to 11 or 12, there’s a growing reliance on peers, reflected in a greater interest in team sports and comparing themselves with each other. And after 11 or 12, peers become their main models.”

So it’s pretty clear. My children are six and seven. There’s no time to waste.

1. STORYTELLING

If Mark Latham left any positive impression as Labor Party leader, it was his image of reading with his young children every night.

If I offer to read to my kids or listen to them read, they’re up like Duracell Bunnies to get a book. Hearing them, it’s magic: the cliffhanger of whether they’ll understand a word or not, the lightbulb moments when they get something they’ve struggled with.

“The key issue with reading,” says Kowalenko, “is if it builds the relationship. If you’re very tired at the end of the day and you’re tuning out, the kids will know that.

“But the good thing about reading is that it’s a nice easy thing to do at what might be the only time of day you regularly have to spend with your kids.”

The University of Queensland’s Dr Matt Sanders, founder of the Triple P parenting program, agrees: “The time dads often have with their kids is the time of day when dads are tired and grumpy after work.

“Reading is obviously a great thing in so many ways. But reading with Dad is different from reading with Mum, because reading with Dad is often time that has been specifically set aside. Kids
treasure that.”

Kowalenko adds that storytelling shouldn’t be confined to reading.

“It’s essential to have a period of child-led conversation. Whether it’s at reading time or dinner or some other time, kids will feel valued if they can set the topic of conversation,” he says.

“Some dads resist this, because kids at a certain age will just babble. If they are at that age, I’d suggest putting a 15-minute limit on it.

“But it’s great, because it gives you a better sense of what’s vital to your kid, and it gives the kid a sense that you are a reliable figure who is interested in the things that matter to them.”

2. IN THE WORKSHOP

My dad’s a handyman, and I’m not. I’m afraid I blame him.

He would barely tolerate me working with him, because he thought I might stuff up. It was best for everybody if I just left the workshop quietly.

So not only am I left without knowing one end of a spanner from the other, but I can’t really teach my kids how to do handywork either. I’m looking for a way to rectify this.

“It’s really important,” says Sanders, “that fathers teach their children things that aren’t in the formal education system. Things like changing a bike tyre, or using a hammer.

“It becomes like a form of traditional wisdom passed from father to son, and ideally you treasure it not just because it’s useful but because it’s something you’ve passed on in this way.”

The author of The Penguin Book of Keeping House, Cerentha Harris, whose father is a builder, remembers learning how to use tools.

“Dad worked from home and would set aside times when we could come into the workshop and play with the tools. But you couldn’t just play, because they were too dangerous, so it turned into him teaching us how to hammer a nail or whatever. We just felt so privileged to be in his space.”

The key to doing it successfully, says Sanders, is “setting it up so you can work in parallel”.

“Kids just love fixing things, but don’t necessarily get them involved in something important that you’re fixing. Give them something next to you, so they can mirror you, and you can pass on advice as you go. You’ll feel like you’re workmates. A smart dad will share knowledge and wisdom, not dictate it from on high.”

3. THE BIG OUTING

After what seems like a litany of failure, here’s something I know I do well: taking the kids to things that I enjoy.

My son, when six, had the supreme pleasure of being thrown skywards by his father (and caught on the downswing) as Manly scored another try in their 40-0 win over Melbourne in the 2008 NRL Grand Final. He’s now a Sea Eagle for life.

When I go to these things – the theatre, the cinema, to a music festival or a surfing competition – I love taking my children because we can all get excited together.

“You have to take kids to things that are important to you,” says Kowalenko, who takes his eight-year-old daughter to Sydney Swans matches.

“You’re showing them that you are a vital and excited person, just like them. And because so much of childhood is about imitating parents, why not take them to something where they can imitate you at your best?”

Going to big events has the further benefit, says Sanders, of clarifying the divide between work and play.

“It’s good to have clear contrast between periods of work and periods of play. Sometimes men want their playtime to be away from the kids, and that’s fine, but it really benefits kids a lot if, for some of your playtime, they get to share the kind of fun that dad’s into.”

And if it’s something like a grand final, it’s the gift that keeps on giving. Ever since October 2008, my son and I have watched repeats or reminisced over our triumph at dinner.

4. EATING OUT

Matt Moran, 40, chef-owner of Sydney’s Aria restaurant and the author of When I Come Home, is like most of us who were born in the Sixties: “I never ate out, and nor did any of my friends.”

Now he often eats out with his children “and they’re so into food, they want to have a try, and it’s amazing to see this explosion in their faces as they test out new flavours”.

I eat out with my children, too, and while their exploration of flavours is wonderful to see (less so when it goes wrong), it’s the education in social behaviour that is equally important. The hardest part is getting them to understand that what’s fine at home is unacceptable in a restaurant.

Food writer Simon Thomsen has a five-year-old and a three-year-old, and has taken them out to eat since they were babies. “Sitting down together for any meal, when you’re their dad, is an important part of life because it’s the time when you can sit and talk without other distractions.

“Going to a restaurant is even more so, because it’s a special occasion. And it brings with it a lesson in manners and how you act in public, which is something they’re often looking to Dad to teach them.”

Thomsen is adamantly non-permissive with his children in restaurants. “They have the potential to impact on other diners, people who have paid for a babysitter so that they don’t have children around them. You have to respect that, and as eating is a complex set of skills for kids you need discipline and patience.

“There are also choices to make things easier. Italian and Chinese restaurants are good with kids, because the food is exciting and usually comes quickly.

“What they also do is help you to teach your kids to eat well. That is, avoid the nuggets-and-chips option.”

And for the parent, he says, “there’s nothing better than the way your kids can surprise and delight you with their responses to food”.

Check out our Fatherhood portal for more advice
Win the homework wars

5. COOKING

All right, I’m a bad cook. Not bad as in can’t cook, bad as in I have a bad attitude. I go into the kitchen to get the job done as quickly as possible and lose patience when things don’t go to plan.

I’m on a hair trigger. No matter how much I cook, this attitude doesn’t change. If anything, it’s getting worse. My children are the last people I want in my way.

According to Moran, the answer is not to keep the kids out, but to let them in. Moran has a son, Harry, eight, and a daughter, Amelia, five.

“I started getting the kids to help me when they were very young, three or four,” he says. “It wasn’t to cook anything special, just pancakes on Sunday morning.

“All they had to do was flip the pancakes, just that one job. They’d stand there totally rapt in the whole process because they were waiting to do this job. It became part of the Sunday-morning ritual, just as important as the cooking itself.”

Another by-product, says Sanders, is to break down gender-stereotyping.

“By cooking with your kids, you’re equipping them with life skills that they will really need. And by seeing Dad in the kitchen, sons will realise that they’re not going to be able to depend on some girl cooking for them.”

And the pay-off? Says Moran: “Things have really changed with kids. Cooking is cool. They watch MasterChef. They want to be part of the excitement in the kitchen, they want to learn more about it, so it becomes less and less a chore and more like a field of knowledge they want to get into.”

Okay, I’ll try. As long as they don’t start scoring me.

6. HOUSEWORK

Housework is something I liken to chess: a fast game is a good game. It’s not fun. It never can be and never will be.

So it makes me sick, when I call Harris, to hear that her husband, Brian, has “just finished folding all the washing with the kids. He made it into a game, and so it turned from a chore into this fun thing.”

Well, bully for Brian.

As if reading my mind, she goes on: “Yeah, it’s unrealistic to say fathers can have the energy to turn every chore into a game. But there are still ways to turn these jobs into a good experience with your kids because at a young age (her children are seven and five) they’re desperately keen to do chores with you.”

Harris advises certain strategies. “Try not to do it at the end of the day when everyone’s tired.”

Important, she says, is not to hold out rewards or bribes. “That belittles the process. Young kids love being invited to help. So don’t offer them a reward, as if it’s something they’ll hate.”

The other key is the choice of task. “Anything with water is good. You have to let things go a little crazy, but cleaning the dishes and the bathtub are actually things kids love, because they involve water. They can make mess with water and it doesn’t matter.

Also, she says, do things that are connected with them, like clearing a cricket pitch that they can play on. “Just make sure you avoid involving them in the tasks that stress you out.” And if everything stresses you out? “Well,” she says, “that’s another issue.”

7. TEACHING A SPORT

Few things give me greater pleasure than playing sport with my children – which means, essentially, imparting a skill.

Whether I’m imparting the right skill is another question, but just the sheer fun of doing it together is more important than whether we end up being any good at it. Here, as elsewhere, say the experts, there are better and worse ways of doing it.

It’s important not to let the coaching-teaching sessions turn negative, says Sanders. “It can happen that what comes out of the dad’s mouth is four negative comments for every positive one. That can end up making the child want to avoid it. You should reverse that ratio: four positive comments for every one negative.”

It often depends on how a particular child learns, says Kowalenko. “While it’s true that some kids will feel daunted when their dads are demonstrating a skill, other kids will really try to aim up and imitate you.”

So it’s not just the fact of your doing it. It’s how you do it, which depends on how well you know your kids. And knowing them well depends on how much time you spend with them doing these very things . . .

8. CAMPING

My wife has been urging me to take the kids camping. I resist.

First, I’ve never enjoyed camping. The inevitable poor sleep means a bad mood all day.

Second, I did a lot of family camping trips as a kid, and my clearest memories are of how stressed my dad got. Weirdly, he genuinely loved it and wanted to do it again and again. But it turned me off.
We finally went camping last year, at Cockatoo Island in Sydney Harbour. It was civilised – the tent was pre-erected – but still resulted in fitful sleep and the discomfort of the so-called great outdoors.

Yet everything was redeemed when my daughter declared it her best holiday ever.

“The DIY side of camping is a great thing for dads,” says Sanders. “Making a fire, setting up your tent, working out how you’re going to cook and wash rolls many of the things we’ve talked about into one.

“And if you want your kids to have an appreciation of nature, and getting dirty, there’s nothing better.”

The more effort you put in, the more you’ll get out. “It’s your planning and talking about it and letting them know that this requires a special effort – that’s what kids prize,” adds Sanders.

Kowalenko agrees. “You can’t be the fly-in, fly-out dad. You can’t let Mum do all the organisation and you just come in to have a good time.

“That may give you a short-term dividend – the kids get excited when Dad finally turns up – but over the long term, kids sense that you’re not really committed. What they benefit from is your effort all the way through.”

All right, I’m listening. But what if you hate camping?

“Cockatoo Island sounds like a good compromise,” says Kowalenko.

9. BEING A BEGINNER TOGETHER

My brother and I, growing up, were sure that our dad knew every single thing, literally, in the whole world. And he told us he did.

It must have given him a giggle. We still laugh about it.

What I can’t remember is our dad being down on our level to learn something new. He probably didn’t see that as his role.

But Sanders thinks it is essential that a father be not just a figure of authority, dispensing wisdom, but a comrade.

“Learning a new skill is a great way for dads and kids to spend time together,” he says.

“You have to select an activity appropriate to the youngster’s age and capabilities. It has to be something of which you’re not the master.

“It can be surfing or skiing, or flying a kite. A computer game is good because very often you won’t be at an advantage. Climbing, too, is something that you being an adult doesn’t necessarily make you better.”

The importance of learning something new, he says, is to share vulnerabilities. “You’re in it together, making mistakes together.” There can be a lot of humour in these situations. We laugh when we’re stuffing up together.

10. FINALLY . . .

When they were four or five, my kids went through a “death” period after the passing of their grandparents’ dog, Brodie. They became obsessed with his death, obviously feeling very grown-up. Since then – and here my hand is pressed against the wood of my desk – they have had no-one close to them die.

When a lorikeet crashed into our fence and died, my daughter asked if we could give it a formal burial together.

This was seen as Dad’s job, not solely, I felt, due to my wife’s queasiness. It seemed Dad was best equipped to imbue the event with the solemnity that even young children know is its due.

According to the Australian Child & Adolescent Trauma, Loss & Grief Network, children grieve indirectly. Grieving children can seem fine one day, wracked by causeless aches or tantrums the next. Because they can’t link these behaviours with the loss, it’s all the more important for parents to understand what’s happening.

Konrad Gawlik, manager of the loss and grief program for Anglicare SA, which specialises in childhood grief, says that the key is “horses for courses”.

“You can’t have a how-to list, because every child is different. You have to see things through the child’s eyes, and respond to that.”

Children can be both inarticulate and perceptive, he says. “We dealt with a family where the dad sat down and had a long conversation with the child about the death of their sibling. The next thing the child did was ask when was the sibling coming home. So they clearly didn’t understand.

“Yet in another family, where they were wondering how to deal with Christmas following a family member’s death, it was the child who asked if that family member could be the angel on the top of the tree – and that helped all of them grieve.”

Gawlik says the use of drawing or toys can help. “If it comes up in play, you can see if they want to draw [the deceased] grandma, or ask how their soft toy puppy is feeling about things.”

The stereotypical father, who handled grief by not talking about it is not seen as helpful to a grieving child.

“Children should see that there are natural expressions of grief, such as crying,” Gawlik says. “If the father lets himself cry, rather than cover it up, he’s expressing something that is valuable for the child to see.”

Ultimately, researchers and frontline workers say that helping children grieve is built on the foundations of the relationship you already have with the child.

Everything else in this article – all the things you do with your kids, good and
bad – form the basis for how you deal with crises together.

“Mostly it’s just about being there and having an honest, communicative relationship with them anyway,” says Gawlik. “So when they do ask the questions, they trust that you are there.”