September is the New January
September is the New January
Do you remember—first week back of September?
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
In what is fast becoming an annual tradition, I find myself penning a back-to-school essay whilst reeling from 11 weeks spent with my kids. A pleasant though unexpected side effect of a weekly newsletter is its emergent use as an ongoing journal—a chance to peer back into what was no doubt a selective presentation at the time.
Two September ago, I’d begun to accept that I was dealing with Long Covid, my body having completely given up on me slap-bang in the middle of a family vacation. This time last year, I reflected on just how different summer becomes as we get older:
You start to say goodbye to summer as “time off” when you get your first job, and entirely leave that dream world behind when you have your first kid. Summer as you knew it—“off off,” lying in a lounger, working your way through a stack of books, waiting for the next hand-delivered watered-down mojito to be delivered to your exact location—those days are done. At least until they’re old enough to figure out summer on their own. To keep your sanity, you search, amid searing heat, for a replacement.
My kids still have a few days before they start back at school. I expect Monday will bring a similar celebration between parents in the local coffee shop. Maybe I’ll bring the sign I threatened to make last year: “Congratulations, Parents. We Made It.”
But this summer was one for the books. We put 5,128km on our trusty VW-branded steed, driving to England and back for the first time. (That’s 400 miles more than the route from New York to Los Angeles, for those Northern American sizing up my road trip bona fides.) It was exhilarating and exhausting, thankfully more of the former than the latter. As I was logging off, I mentioned to the dads in our community that “just add water” is always a great summer parenting tip. Even I was surprised at how well it worked this year: my wife bought a £10 slip and slide, we somehow squeezed it into our overloaded car before connecting it to a free water source (AKA granddad’s hosepipe). A dreamy return on investment, hours of entertainment from a tenner that wouldn’t have even covered the cost of two beers.
It was a summer of sports, straight through the line—from the rues of Paris to whatever English country garden we found ourselves in. I won’t forget this summer with my kids, the first time they got hooked on the excitement of a major international football tournament and an Olympics for the first time. They watched the Euro 2024 final here in Spain as we repeatedly heard goal celebrations from neighbours a few seconds before they arrived—the curse of living in a streaming-only house. And I would be happy if I never have to answer the question, “Why can he play for England, but also Manchester United?” ever again. After a ropey and rainy opening ceremony, watching the world’s best athletes compete in France (and Tahiti, for those lucky surfers) was an abundance of delights. Watching back in the UK added an extra dimension—I forgot how much a team of partisan, old-fashioned-linear-TV pundits bring to the proceedings, excited to see their countrymen and countrywomen succeed.
One of the reasons The Olympics exists is to foster healthy competition across countries and generations. It certainly bled down to our family. This year, our spirit of contest came through various card games. My youngest is now 5, so we can all play together: he understands the rules, even if he doesn’t always make the strongest strategic decisions. I assisted him when he played Monopoly Deal against his elder sister—he couldn't always read the cards. I helped him a little, but may have been guilty of helping him too much. We also played a lot of Set (a matching game to tests your reactions and logic) and SkyJo (where the aim is to turn over 12 cards, one round at a time, and end with the lowest score).
As great as summer was, I’m ready for them to head back to school. That’s still four days away. But who's counting? We’ve now reached the “disassemble all the heads, torsos, legs and accessories of every Lego character before putting them back into new configurations” stage of their school holiday. It’s not quite Lord of the Flies, but a distantly related cousin. I’m impressed with their creativity, and will continue pushing down on my urge to ask, “So … will everyone be returning to normal next week?”
It’s been three months since Mum died, and I’ve spent a lot of it thinking about the cold, hard fact that the number of summers we’ll spend together as a family is painfully finite. I found myself thinking, even during the hardest and hottest days of summer, that I shouldn't be wishing any of them away.
Back once again
This is my first time in your inbox since July. This newsletter has always taken a “Mediterranean August,” an idea I couldn’t quite wrap my head around when I first encountered it. An entire country closing down for a month? I was working for Google in London, but working in what they called a “central” role as opposed to a “local” one. I worked across various European countries, with teams in Spain, Italy and France telling me, “We need to get this signed off before the end of July because no one is here in August.” I realised quickly they weren’t exaggerating.
The Europeans don’t just believe in time away from work—they’ve spent the last decade enshrining it in law. Since 2016, those pesky bureaucrats in Brussels have been working to ensure European citizens maintain a “right to disconnect” from their jobs. This applies to the working day, week, and across the year. You may recall looking enviously at headlines that exclaimed French people could now ignore their bosses’ emails after 6 pm. Over the last eight years, France, Spain, Italy and Belgium have transformed what was a proposed human right into multiple laws, and whilst their implementation isn’t perfect, other European countries are beginning to follow suit. There are even murmurs of the new UK Labour government considering it too. It’ll probably need a rebrand so it doesn’t get denounced by the two hundred and sixteen people left in the UK who still think Brexit was a good idea.
The French call this time of the year la rentrée. It’s beyond back to school: it’s the changing of the guard, the return to everything: work, museums, galleries, books, albums, gigs; you return to your life, home and desk with a bright face, a nice tan, and some new ideas. Going away and coming back offers the gift of a new perspective, a fresh pair of eyes to see opportunities to be taken.
Remember how big a deal September was as a kid? That first day back to school was monumental as you wrestled with the emotions of returning whilst grinning for the inevitable photo at the front door. Sure, turning a year older is always important. But birthdays are spread sporadically. September means stepping up in the world on the same day as the rest of your friends, walking back into the institution where you’ll have spent 25% of your waking hours between the ages of 4 to 16. It’s a chance to start afresh. To leave whatever behind whatever wasn’t serving you and commit to doing something differently this year.
When you become an adult, leaving full-time education intersects with late-night New Year’s Eve parties. Somewhere, the attention is displaced: “This year will be different” becomes a decry for the first day of the calendar year, not the academic one. But when you have kids it changes back again. September is the new January, which was the old September all along. It was just hidden underneath that latex mask and those ghastly NYE-numbered glasses.
And it would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!
Introducing: The Dadscord (An update on our community)
Back-to-school special: subscribe and get 1/3 off for a year.
One unexpected hiccup of the summer was needing to migrate the dad community off an app we were using onto another one. Bumble acquired Geneva (a trio of words that would confuse any time traveller) as they attempt to move from relationships to friendships. And they’d do that by blocking access to their app for every European user. Makes perfect sense. Clearly, this ongoing battle between the EU and big tech has US folks acting spooked.
We migrated to Discord. I took the opportunity to rechristen it ✨The Dadscord✨ and it’s been a fountain of community, entertainment and brain fodder over the last few months. I’m constantly surprised and delighted at the kinds of discussions we have there, and I am happy to report we’re a group of thoughtful, funny, interesting dads who aren’t afraid to open up.
The channel that always makes me smile is A Good Day, a place to celebrate little wins and moments of joy in our lives. Fun fact: When I started the community, I called this channel The Void because I thought dads would need a place to rant, scream, and get things off their chest. It was quickly revealed what was actually needed was somewhere to (somewhat privately) share tiny bundles of joy from our tiny bundles of joy, watching our little babies become little humans together. A highlight is always when a dad comes to share a newborn baby photo—we got one of those this week—and it’s been lovely reading other dads share their feelings on kids returning to school or even heading there for the first time.
The Career Book Club
One topic we’re never far from discussing in The Dadscord are the thorny places where fatherhood and work intersect. We had a good old chinwag over the summer about how our definition of success has changed as we’ve gotten older and how having kids can shift the centre of gravity in life away from work. On the suggestion of another dad, we’re going to do a Career Book Club later in the month.
Without further ado, here’s Neil:
“To anyone interested: The Career Book Club will happen in late September. You have the option of three books, all unpacking work in ways that put it into new contexts for life: How can I not be defined by my work? How do I make work fit my life instead of the other way around? How do I integrate my whole being with what I do and how I make a living? It doesn’t matter which book you read. We’ll compare notes, and I think it will be a richer conversation for having more source material.
Option 1: The Good Enough Job, by Simone Stolzoff
Option 2: Creativity, Spirituality, and Making a Buck, by David Nichtern
Option 3: A Company of One, by Paul Jarvis
Interested in any of this? Come join us. (We’ve had a few generous dads subscribe with the “choose your price” option this year, kindly “unlocking the commons” and covering the cost for any dad who can’t currently pay for it. If that sounds like you, hit reply, and I’ll get you added, no questions asked.)
Introducing: “Kevin Maguire”
Finally, one of the oddest experiences of the summer was being at my in-laws and hearing my kids playing with a Playmobil set in Catalan, with the only words I understood being a continually repeated pair: “Kevin Maguire.”
When I went over to investigate, I learned that “Kevin Maguire” was, in fact, a Playmobil character. He’s had a difficult life: he was born in a bag, one of 12 possible characters part of a Playmobil: The Movie blind box. He bounced around houses in the south-west of England before ending up on Facebook Marketplace and finding a loving home with Nani and Nana. ChatGPT is pretty sure his name is Del, and that seems to check out. But round these parts he’ll always be known as “Kevin Maguire.”
And by “round these parts,” I mean, “in my office.” Because, after a daring escape reminiscent of Hollywood’s finest prison breaks, I stuffed him in my bag and brought him back to Barcelona. Before the hate mail comes in, please: I only did what was best for him. He was starting to look pasty and would have been sleeping in a cardboard box in the garage all winter. He’s been really happy and is looking forward to spending more time at the beach.
Good Dadvice
Say Hello
Bit more of a life update than normal. How was your summer? And how was this newsletter?
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Branding by Selman Design. Illustration of me and my family by Janki Patel.
This week’s newsletter is brought to you by Sammi Virji’s Essential Mix, the album Romance by Fontaines D.C. and the mind-blowing benefits of drinking your recommended daily intake of water. Who knew?
Happy new year to all you dads and fams out there! This is my first new school year not working in schools, so it’s a very different experience for me this time around. I usually feel all the butterflies my kids have felt as the first day approaches; I still felt them, but only because the first day was my last day. A whole new life is unfolding! But here’s the kicker: having COVID for the first time has made it all the more surreal. This virus don’t mess around. Returning to the school routine as a zombie is a helluva drug.
May your school year be healthy, everyone!
He'll always be Del to me...