Parental bonding second time round

We've been in Colchester for almost exactly a year now. In many ways we've settled in really well. We all like the town. Our neighbours have been really welcoming. And we've met lots of new people. More than I anticipated we would actually.

Coming from London where everyone is a lot more insular, it has been a breath of fresh air how open Colchester folk seem to be.

However in recent weeks I've felt myself a bit of an outsider again. I've been looking after our second born for a day a week now that Mrs Holiday is working a couple of days a week. As such, I've been back on the parenting circuit. Having looked after Number One Son for a good part of his early days, it's not an unusual experience, but it is definitely different this time around.

With our eldest I really threw myself into the whole 'stay at home dad' role. (This is actually a bit of a misnomer as most of the stay at home dads I knew were anything but. There was a well beaten track around Children Centres, stay and plays, singing clubs and child friendly cafes, so we were mostly everywhere but at home). As most of the people I met were first time parents like me, there was a puppyish level of enthusiasm and a sense of all being in it together.

What I'm finding with my second time as a caring dad is that it's a bit harder to break into the established groups and cliques. As soon as people have more than one child, they are a bit more set in their ways, and I plead guilty to this myself.

At any rate in recent weeks, I've noticed a bit more that everybody seems to know everybody else, and I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself as Billy No Mates. Well, not quite no mates, but very few, so that when they disappear to chat to one of their other acquaintances, there is that an awkward sense of being alone in a crowd.

Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough. Maybe I'm not around enough - one day a week isn't really enough to get yourself known. Maybe I'm going to the wrong places in the first place. Maybe I'm imagining the whole thing.

Whatever it is, I think I need a plan B to try and get over this feeling that I'm missing out. As J gets nearer to school age, there is a mild, yet creeping panic concerning the power of the school gate Mafia. We're already damned by geography to be banished from the sharp-elbowed parent's local school of choice. And with that I fear a whole round of birthday parties, play dates, and Masonic preferential treatment from the Colchestratti. (Not to mention dad's nights out - yeah, what about me!)

I'd hate to think that I've blighted the lives of our two young innocents by not getting my A into G. One thing is for sure, it's only going to get tougher from here onwards.

Why the long face?

The overriding memory I have of my mum when I was growing up is that she always seemed grumpy, usually with me. Our house was a whole world of 'no'.

Now, of course, the boot is on the other foot, and I can see that what I took for her unfair crabbiness was probably just plain exhaustion at bringing up two kids on her own. This combined with the ongoing repetition of house rules and regulations designed to prevent your offspring killing or maiming themselves or each other.

This is particularly brought home to me now we have two children. To a certain extent it was easy to be fun-loving, easy going dad when we just had Number One Son. Now with his four-month old brother in tow, I frequently find myself in the role of bad cop, relaying all the many ways he is letting us down with his inconsiderate behaviour.

He is two years old. I am 43.

I think he can see it coming now. His face creases up into a mask of misery and he implores me: "Don't be annoyed with me."

It is a mask of course. He's well sneaky and knows that I find it hard to be hard on him. Unless like last night I'd been up all night, due to brother's sniffles, including a 2am trip to Tesco for Calpol which he only succeeded in dribbling down his front anyway. When his elder brother started complaining that he couldn't sleep in his bed due to wasps, it really was the final straw!

"Get in that bed NOW, and go to sleep. If I hear one more word from you I'll... " (tries unsuccessfully to think of a suitable sanction for a two year old. I had started to remove his favourite toys when he misbehaved, but when he said, "What shall we take away next?" it was apparent that my punishment regime had been turned into a game by him. You can't win.)

Eventually he did go to sleep, although not before complaining of more wasps and telling me where I should sleep (on the landing, outside his door). It's suffice to say that none of us are fresh as a daisy today - well, he is, but his parents are looking more haggard than usual.

Meanwhile, my dear old mum has turned into a doting and fun grandma. Enjoy your rest mum. You've earned it.