In truth, my wife is torn in at least two directions. She knows I have to work hard, but she can also see that the children are missing out on time with me and that the day is coming when I'll regret missing out on these years big time.

There are times when it is good that work is proving a struggle - it can give you an opportunity to get some perspective on life. A few months ago, I reviewed the reasons as to why I was busting my butt. I came up with a few, but nothing really conscience relieving.

Then suddenly it hit me, I would never change another one of our children's nappies. This is not to say this was ever a great pastime of mine, but the thought of never having the opportunity again bothered me. In fact in put me into a minor panic. Having always been fascinated by numbers I began to work out how many days left until our eldest left home (assuming that she left home at eighteen). Just over 4000. Not bad until you realise that I had 6570 in the first place! The truth was that the first third had gone and it had gone quickly. I was already 33% down and, to make matters worse, I knew once she reached 11, that the 'cool factor' would kick in and she would probably want less and less to do with me. It seemed to me that I better make the most of the next 1400 days.

I was sure I couldn't be the only dad in England to fall short of the David Beckham benchmark. So, first of all, I called on a friend for a quick reality check. Tim and Helen had been friends of ours for years they are the same age and at the same life stage as us. Talking to Tim I confessed all only to find out that they were going through the same hassles brought on by the same pressures. Not life changing, but reassuring for me. The one nugget I did pick up from our conversation was that Tim and Helen are talkers. They talk together when he gets in from work. Not psychiatrist couch stuff, but they still talk properly - using sentences which consist of more than "Pass me the remote control."

For me, on the other hand, the old adage of assuming makes an 'ASS' out of 'U' and 'ME' held true. I didn't really know what my wife or my kids wanted from me as a husband or a Dad - I just assumed I did. In respect of the former, we still struggle to talk enough but we try. Eating our evening meal together provides us with an opportunity to catch up with one another's day. If nothing else, it helps us avoid those embarrassing (and annoying) situations for Lou when one of my work colleagues yells "I can't believe that Rob didn't tell you that!" We also try to regularly review my diary for the next few weeks. This helps to remove the last minute shock element of me being away for her and provides a useful "Are you sure this is what you want to do with your life?" moment for me.

Next I called upon someone who I look upon as a bit of a coach. Someone who does the same kind of job as me but is a little older and at the next life stage with teenage children. Talking with Steve I learnt loads not just about his apparent parental success but the journey he had taken to get there. I came away with a list of things that I was not going to do, as well as a few gems of things I would. The best was to make time to talk to my kids - not just in incidentally but intentionally. Real time. Now, once a month, I take one of my daughters out for breakfast. Why breakfast? Because it's cheaper than lunch! There is no agenda, no minutes of the last meeting, we just chat. We talk about everything from the latest world headlines to why new Barbies are sold with out knickers! It's not rocket science but it does give me an insight into the Dad that she wants and I need to be.

I also decided to talk to another Dad who was two life stages on from me - whose kids were leaving home. Paul and Sue were, in my eyes at least, 'successful parents'. If I could echo their performance as parents, perhaps looking at myself in the mirror in years to come would be a little easier. Again, they didn't say anything mind blowing, but they just underlined the need to make time talk to my kids, especially if I want them to share the values which I hold as important (a task, if I'm honest, which is all too easily delegated to the television).

There was one final port of call before I was ready to stand alongside Mr Beckham. It involved a conversation with the root of the problem… me. I realised that I had to take responsibility for myself, my diary, my ambitions and my levels of communication.

Of course, I still haven't got it all together but I'm working at it. And day by day it is getting better. Talking to those around me has helped me be more of the Dad I want to be more of the time than I could manage left to my own devices. So talk, talk and talk some more - it's time consuming in the short term but its long-term legacy is more than worth the investment.

And for me, with less than 900 days to go before my eldest daughter reaches eleven, it's definitely good to talk.