Life with Eli is an absolute joy, however. I don’t know whether I just don’t know enough babies, or have never had such close proximity to one before, but he’s so happy. He smiles and talks and laughs and giggles all of the time. Sure, he has times when he’s whingey and isn’t too interested in being happy, but those times are very very few. He greets me with a huge grin every time I see him, and generally grins all of his way from a feed straight after he wakes, through to when I put him down for a nap – he grins and talks to me and flaps his arms while I put him in his gro-bag and put him to bed.

He goes to work with me on Tuesday mornings. It started early on when Beth needed a little break, and has since just developed into a habit, partly on the insistence of those in the office. They love having him in there, and will come and steal him for cuddles, and take him for a wander around the office while I (somewhat foolishly) attempt to do a small amount of work. He’s not the best at actually sleeping when he’s in the office with me, but he’s helpful. I took him with me to meet with our web developers one morning, and he managed to swing them into giving me a bottle of champagne!

I realise while I’m writing this that I am just spouting new-father drivel, but I am completely enamoured with him. He is such a joy and delight that I can’t help but talk about him.

In the meanwhile, here’s a photo of our little boy.

—

The remainder of his umbilical fell of the other day. Changing him is now infinitely easier with one less appendage to position correctly in or above the nappy. Also, he now has a belly button, not something hidden under a yellow clip. All good news. Changing, on the other hand, can be hazardous. Not for me, more for the amount of nappies we go through. He’s got this amazing ability to hold off on filling a nappy until just after I’ve put a fresh one on him. Clever, clever boy.

—

Zahli is adapting as perfectly as could ever be expected. She loves her little brother, and will race into a room if she hasn’t seen him for a while, find where he is, jump up (if he’s on the couch with Beth) to give him a quick sniff, then happy curl up or continue playing. Other times I’ll find her racing from room to room trying to gauge where he is; when he’s found, she’s happy. She just wants to know where he is. She’s also taking to curling up on the spare bed in his room while I’m in there settling him or changing him – something she never used to do. She wouldn’t even go in that room before he was born, even if we were in there sorting things out.

—

Beth is a super woman. While I always knew this, people after people are telling her so. Apparently a lot of women take a lot longer to recover from a caesar/emergency caesar, and the fact that before Eli’s even two weeks old, she’s been up, out, shopping, visiting, attending birthday picnics is some amazing feat. I always knew I had a good wife!

—

I’ve realised that now I’m a dad, I’m eventually going to have to confront one of my deepest fears about parenthood. Thankfully it’s not going to rear it’s ugly  head for quite a number of years, but it’s no longer something that may happen – it’s bound to, now. Without even having the discussion, I know the responsibility is going to fall to me, even though I’m not looking forward to it any more than Beth is. But I’ll have to take it on, I guess. As much as I can.

Maths homework help is going to seriously suck.

Things are good. We’re all settling in at home, and enjoying life. Adjusting, but enjoying the journey. Our little man is as awesome as they come. We could not be more lucky, nor (dare I say it) blessed. He’s simply the greatest thing we’ve had the privilege of being a part of.

I will get my thoughts in order, in the short future. I will get some things written up, and get posting again. Life is good, and I want to share. For now, you’ll have to be content with this.

It has taken quite some time since this specific inspiration has hit. Creativity isn’t an issue of late, ideas are still flowing – be that slowly or thick and fast, they’re still flowing – but the inspiration to put hands to keyboard in a situation that is not all but ideal for writing has been missing. All it has taken is a glimpse at a photo on the blog of a random person of whom I have no idea who they are, and inspiration hits.

Life has been hurtling along at an amazingly fast speed. Work flies by without much stop, weddings have been shot and turned around every second week, with the opposite week usually containing meetings to book in further clients. I’m not complaining, mind you – with Bop on the way, the extra cash is helpful. And with some of the frames I’ve made over the past six weeks, I’ve been eternally grateful for wonderful clients to work with, who have been nothing but relaxed, warm and totally open to run with what I suggest.

While I’m nothing but happy with the fact I have work there (and almost to the point where I was about to start turning work away), I have mixed feelings at times. There have been a couple of weddings that have involved almost as much time in the car two and from than was actually spent at the wedding – 3.5 hours in the drivers seat is perhaps not the best way to start a day off where creativity, clarity and energy are required to be on and running nonstop. These weddings, while they have been two of the more fun ones to shoot, are more tiring than the others. The second long drive wedding saw me make it only as far as my In-Law’s place where I was picking up Beth, before I crashed. She had to drive the rest of the way home. As often as not, though, it’s the aftermath of the wedding that brings the biggest bag of mixed feelings.

I have the simultaneous joy and dread of living with my number one (me) and number two (Beth) critics. Each wedding Beth looks over the shots from the day and gives me a critique on the images I’ve made. At times it’s daunting to sit next to her as she flicks through everything – while she may not admit it, she’s got one of the sharpest eyes I’ve seen for composition and direction. And she doesn’t hold back if an image is below par. Yet it’s one of the most beneficial parts of each wedding I shoot, as it only serves to hone my vision and keep me on my toes before I click the shutter – I figure that if I can make both her and I happy with each frame I take, the the clients are going to be nothing but happy and grateful for the photos they get.

In my roundabout way of getting to the point, I’m trying to emphasise that while I haven’t been writing, the creativity is still there – thankfully (and it is one of the things, after my wife and my baby that I am most thankful for) it hasn’t gone AWOL on me. The simple fact is that when life gets busy and hard, something gives, and the inspiration, time and discipline to write is often one of the first things to go. That’s not to say that the odd phrase or idea won’t still come into my head; it just doesn’t get translated into any physical form.

The walk to our local supermarket is nothing if not short – 220m or there abouts. As a result, I end up walking there and back at least once on most days. It’s become a short time out in my days where I often do start to compose posts, emails, images or entire shoots in my head. Specifically the walk back when it’s a mild summer evening seems to be the best formula. The walk is never a thoughtless one, but when there’s mounting pressures of deadlines, clients, and the day to day running and engaging in a life for two-plus-another-coming, the time it takes to walk there and back is often the only forum that those thoughts will get until things settle down. And, as the existence of this post indicates, things have settled down.

Tomorrow morning I get to have breakfast with my Dad before meeting some clients. Mum’s actually down in Melbourne tonight, so it’ll just be the two of us tomorrow (his joke was that he can’t provide bacon and eggs, but does do a pretty decent cereal, toast and coffee), but I’m looking forward to it. Things settling down often seems to happen at just the right time for things that have been planned months in advance. I’ve had this client meeting booked for over a month, and dinner tomorrow night with some friends we haven’t seen for a very long time for even longer, yet knowing that things have settled down means that tomorrow is going to be even more enjoyable. I know I won’t be stressed while driving down to Dad’s, and that I’ll enjoy the time with a clear mind not focussed on the meeting ahead. And the drive back will be time for me to sit with a clear head, and enjoy a Saturday morning drive. No pressure. And while I’ll still be aiming to get back to Melbourne as soon as I can, it won’t be a cloud hanging over my head. It will be because I want to get back to my wife, and enjoy these moments of simplicity.

The simple fact of the matter is come May, I’m going to be responsible for another life. Bop is going to be personified in a way that will completely change our outlook on life for its duration. Bop will cease to be Bop. Bop will then take on the name that we’ve chosen for him or her, and the only reminder will be the “bop” letters that I’ve been making over the last week. It will be a visual memory of what we called our son or daughter while they were still in utero.

I get asked every now and then both where Bop comes from, and if Bop is going to hang around after they’re born. Thankfully the question that hasn’t been asked is whether Bop is actually the name we’re giving the baby – my patronising look has been spared, and is still safely looked away. I’d like to think that people would think we’d have a bit more understanding and thought for our child’s future than to land them in life having to explain their name at every turn.

Bop came about after an original name for our still-unborn baby was considered, almost put into practice, and then slightly changed to become Bop. And no, I’m not going to either confirm or deny what the other name was. That one will remain locked up. As for the name sticking around once our baby is breathing on its own, I don’t see it hanging around at all.

Before our housemate’s son was born, he was known to one and all as Rocky. Short for Rock Monster. Rocky was all we knew the ever-growing bump as, and I for one thought that I would struggle to make the transition from Rocky to whatever his name was actually going to be. And if I hadn’t lived through the same thing with their son, I may not have been so happy to bandy around the name Bop. Once Rocky was born, it was a non-issue. I think perhaps once my tongue slipped, within 3 or 4 hours of his birth, and I called him Rocky. But even that felt weird, as if I’d called him by his wrong name – which I clearly had. As soon as he was born, and we were informed of his name, the shift in my mind was instantaneous. And so I’m not worried about Bop being called Bop after they come out.

That said, I’m glad I made the letters. They’re lowercase, painted black with a glossy clear coat. And while initially there was some debate as to whether they were going to be wall-mounted or shelf-sat, I’m glad they’re going to be in our kid’s room. A reminder of the journey that this is. And of the hilarious times we had watching him or her kick and make Beth’s stomach move.

I hope you found what you were looking for.

I’m usually a lot more receptive to Christmas. I went through a period of a couple of years where it wasn’t the most wonderful time of the year. Not that I had anything against it, but I didn’t hold onto that excitement and wonder as December approached, and the whole situation seemed more of a somewhat amusing anecdote than a side-splitting laughter inducing tale of hilarity. That changed when I met Beth, when having a significant other made the whole season a lot more joyous. There were presents to be given. Presents to be received. Presents that didn’t come from parents or family members, and hadn’t been expected due to our usual early-December “what do you want?” conversations. The last few years have been exciting at Christmas; the last two moreso as we’ve enjoyed them as a married couple. This year however, the uptake is slow.

The Christmas tree has been delayed. While we don’t hold to a fixed tradition of sorts, it usually goes up around the first weekend of December, and serves as the signpost of a transition into the yuletide season. Putting the tree up has been something we’ve done with our housemates, as they share our tree each year, whether that be from us being the more sentimental ones, or simply the more organised. Christmas music of some description fills the air as we talk, laugh, assemble and decorate. This year the first couple of weeks have seen us with the house to ourselves, as our housemates have been up in Queensland, spending an early Christmas with one side of their family. As much as we’ve wanted to get into things, it seems wrong to put the tree up without them.

There’s been speculation of what it will be like this year. Our housemates’ son is now over a year old, and is walking and trying to talk. He helps unpack the dishwasher, picking up each glass, plate or bowl and handing it to you with a noise as closely approximating a thank you as he can manage. Pegs are his other speciality, handing them to you one at a time as the washing is hung out. We’ve considered whether he’ll get into the spirit of the season with us, and unpack the decorations, handing them to whoever ends up decorating the tree. As it turns out, he’s in his high chair on the dining table, eating his food, as we get around to it.

A Friday afternoon comes around, and we’re all finally home and free at the same time. The box is dragged out of the roof, and the tree begins its assembly. Upon something akin to forethought, we realise that the full-erected tree won’t fit into the planned space without cutting off most of the major thoroughfare for upstairs – a bad idea, as nice as it may look. Bookcases are unpacked, entertainment units unplugged, and furniture is moved around in an attempt to rearrange the living areas to fit the 7-foot tree. After 10 minutes of sweating, we sheepishly realise that the now completely rearranged furniture needs to go back to its original configuration, with a mere single bookcase moved to the opposite wall to accommodate the tree. Ten minutes more, and we’re all set to continue.

Music is put on, the windows are opened, drinks and snacks make their way upstairs, and we begin to ease into things. The form of the tree is quickly assembled, and the decorations soon follow. Laughter flows, smiles are fixed to our faces, and the tree takes shape. I sit back and soak it up as Beth finishes decorating the tree.

I’m happy. Our tree is a catalyst, and I’m finally starting to get into the mood. I find myself becoming more expectant, looking forward to the next two weeks before Christmas finally arrives. A quick walk down to our local supermarket soon after leaves me happy, joyous and filled with Christmas cheer, as I realise the decorations are a great idea, and not preemptive marketing. A smile fixes itself to my face as I arrive home and view our completed tree. It finally feels like Christmas.

Our relationship is something that from the outside may seem a bit quirky, but it’s the most special thing to me. We have our own way of doing things, our individual way of journeying through life together, that sometimes makes others scratch their heads. But they don’t know us as well as we do, and they have every insight into how we function.

Eight months after our wedding, we headed down to Inverloch with my family for a few days away – an attempt to reclaim some form of a family holiday. We shacked up in a beach town during the middle of winter – not smartest of ideas, to be entirely honest, but the heater kept us warm. I remember waking up each morning before Beth and reading out in the lounge, leaving her to sleep in peace. When she did wake, I made our breakfast, and we ate together.

I remember my Mum looking at me as I made breakfast each morning, not entirely understanding what was going on. Whether it was bemusement, or trying to figure out just how we worked, I distinctly remember thinking that no matter what she was thinking, she didn’t know our relationship’s dynamic. We have our own way of doing things, we have our own method of going about life. If that’s different to everyone else or not, I don’t care. It’s what gets us through.

Recently we’ve both been noticing how we have a tendency to say the same thing at the same time when in a group of people. Sometimes it’s a reaction to something that’s happen, or an (attempted) witty comment. It’s happened enough times of late that now we laugh at it. Before we tied the know, It may have been a sure fire sign that we spent too much time together. Now, I see it happening and I’m proud. I’m proud we get to spend so much time together. I’m proud we enjoy each other’s company so much that we still want to hang out with each other every day. I’m proud of the way we live our life.

A colleague of mine commented for a while about how she loved that Beth and I take off together, whenever we can. Whether it be a week on the beach, some time with friends interstate, or just a night in a hotel, we grab any chance to stay somewhere new with both hands. My colleague commented how she loved that we both prioritised going away together, and did it as much as we could, both in financial and scheduling sense. It is one of my favourite things to do with Beth – to the point where we’ll drive two hours to have lunch in a restaurant in Portarlington.

Time together is something that doesn’t grow old. I work from home each afternoon, sharing my work hours almost equally between the office, and our study – and I love the fact that I get to be home with Beth during the afternoons. She works from home as well, and although we may not be constantly talking, there is something about sitting in the same space as my wife that gives me a peace. The ability to work from home is something that I am unimaginably grateful for – and I’m sure that will only grow as Bop is born, and we begin the next journey together.

I’ve often claimed that I would love to be a stay at home dad. I would love to be around as much as I can with our kids when they are growing up (yes, I said kids. We want more than one!). And what I once thought was going to be a lofty dream, a reality only if we put off having kids until we were in a place where I could work for myself, we find ourselves in the situation where it’s as close to being a reality as we could ever ask an employer for. Safe in the knowledge that my afternoons will be spent being on-hand to help Beth with Bop, I am all the more excited for this baby of ours to be born. And all the more excited to be with Beth as we go through it all.

We thrive on time together. It’s how we function. It’s why I’ve grown so used to having her around, and all that she brings to everything in my life. She helps me dealing with clients. She gives me input on designs for work. She helps me schedule shoots both for work and for James Burke Photography. She critiques every wedding I shoot, and that is something that continues to grow and stretch me as a photographer, and to make me strive to be better at my craft. She bounces ideas off me, and I bounce my ideas off her. We talk, plan, and dream together. We discuss issues that come up on the website we’re both a part of. She even laughs at how tacky and lame certain Wii games can be while I’m playing them. That’s why she reads my posts. Because I love her insights, love her thoughts, and love that it’s one more thing that we do together.

Just before we headed to Coolangatta for our “baby-moon”, we finally decided that the time was right to make one of my dreams a reality, and buy a new TV. We ended up getting a 42″ full HD plasma (theoretically along with a free home theatre system via redemption – though that is an entirely different story), and although it didn’t get much of a workout during that first couple of weeks due to our marked absence, since our return it has been put to good measure.

Now, I don’t want this to come across like we have no lives, spend all our times in front of the TV, or are entirely anti-social. The simple fact of the matter is that we both like watching TV. We’ve both got shows that we enjoy, I’ve then got more shows that I enjoy that Beth won’t go near, but for both of us it’s a relaxant, an escape, and a way to unwind. Being typical Gen-Yers, with no attention span or patience, we end up watching a lot of TV shows that have already screened here, or never made it to our shores. As such, shows are watched season by season, as opposed than the traditional model of an episode a week. Because of that, we crank through shows fairly quickly – and are often on the hunt for a new show to start from the start, and immerse ourselves in. The big beauty of the new TV, is the blu-ray disc recorder that handily has a USB slot. That means anything downloaded can now be watched on the big TV, not on the laptop on the end of the bed. A simple joy, but a joy nonetheless.

Blu-ray has been the big discovery for me. Initially, in my uninformed days, I’d written it off as a gimmick, as something that would be nice but would never lure me in, at least not until it became industry standard, and format governed our ability to find something to watch. However, having watched a movie or three in full high-definition, I am unashamed to admit that I am a total, utter convert. A sell all my posessions and live in a commune type convert. I’m sure being both a past student of TV production, as well as a photographer does make me somewhat more inclined to embrace the extra pixels that come with the definition, but it’s more than a knowing technical acknowledgement that courses through my mind while I’m watching 1080p. There’s a brilliance that returns to the screen, a clarity that I often even find lacking in the cinemas, especially to an eye that makes it money from focussing. And, nerdy admission though it may be, it’s brought back a passion for movies.

For the past several years, I’ve seen most films that are released at the cinemas. By most, I generally preclude any overtly kid-only films, or in days before Beth anything that required a female’s company to enjoy, but I watched a lot. My usual dilemma when going to the cinemas wouldn’t be what time to see the film I wanted, but whether or not there’s anything in a slightly-obscure cinema screening a film that I haven’t seen yet. Even after marriage, this continued. Beth worked in retail, and had an unavoidable Friday night shift, and a Sunday shift – and both made perfect movie-going time. I’m fairly sure that in most circles of friends I pioneered the solo trip to the cinemas, and am quite an advocate for seeing a movie for yourself. Sure, I prefer to go with Beth any day of the week, but for a movie that you want to see, no one to see it with should never be an excuse. With Beth no longer working shifts when I’m not at work, my solo cinema trips have dwindled – yet a very good and cheap local video store has been my hero. Yet even with thousands of titles I’ve still yet to see (there is even a list somewhere, I think, of films I still haven’t gotten around to seeing. Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus may just be one of them, Matt – purely for the lols), I’ve found that my borrowing rate has dwindled, to the fact where I went to hire a Wii Game, thinking that surely I must have hired more than the prerequisite 200 DVDs to be entitled to safety-deposit-free game hire, only to find that I was a good 70-odd titles short. My somewhat-hidden guise as a movie freak has slipped.

Tonight, on independent inspection, would seem to be a return to those ‘glory days’. I watched Public Enemies on BD, the day it was released on that format. Of the two other films I’ve seen on BD, it by far eclipsed the mark set by either in terms of clarity, quality and sheer delight in picture quality. I’m not ashamed to admit that it sparked something, too. There’s a part of me inside that is brimming with excitement to crank my way through the ever-growing selection of Blu-Ray titles at our local store; even screening films I’ve seen before simply to enjoy the full picture clarity goodness. That wasn’t the only spark-inducing moment.

Finishing the film, I flicked through the channels to see what was on, and stumbled across Band of Brothers being screened on Channel 7. Not only that, but catching a couple of minutes of it on 7HD has left me wanting more. Band of Brothers is indoubtedly my favourite series of all time, across all denomination of film, tele-movie, television series, etc. I must have watched it over 10 times through all 10, hour-long episodes, and yet will still sit down utterly entranced and watch them all again. There is an excitement and a dread growing inside me for The Pacific, the other series from the same creators, purely for the fact that it could achieve the brilliance that its predecessor does, or it could fall short. But even with my love for the series, catching a glimpse of it in high definition has only served to whet my appetite for more.

I’m a stories guy. I always have been, and I have no doubt that I always will. This is why I watch TV, why I sit entranced through so many movies. I get lost in stories. I can identify with them so easily. I love the extrapolation of humanity that is conveyed through stories – be they simple or far, far reaching. And in a reference to what I was thinking and writing about last, stories beget stories. A rediscovery of that spark to watch, listen, immerse and consume stories is only going to be a good thing for my creativity. And I think that is why I am so excited.