Before fatherhood, I often complained that there were never enough hours in the day to do everything I wanted.

Then I became a parent, and I realised I’d deceived myself. I’d had more time then than I would ever have again.

It wasn't easy to accept that. Shamefully, I sometimes allowed my thoughts to drift to pre-parenthood life as I mourned my freedom.

But I adapted. I adjusted my expectations and integrated fatherhood into my daily life.

And then something else happened. I became a father again.

And I realised that when I only had one son … I still had so much time.

Now, my life is fucking crazy. It’s overloaded with stuff I must do, things I need to remember and responsibilities to shoulder. My priorities jostle against one another, competing to be heard, to be next in line.

I’ve learnt two things from this. Number one, no matter your circumstances, there will never be enough time. Second, the less time you have, the more you focus on what’s important.

For me, that’s time with my boys – no question! I miss the other stuff, sure. I miss it a lot. But I know in my heart that what I have today is more than I had before.