The Return of the Blog: Fatherhood Rocks!

I really like being a dad.

I realized that a few weeks ago when my wife and I had our first child. (If you haven't talked to me in so long that you didn't realize that A. I was married and B. we have a child, my apologies. Both of these conditions were untrue the last time I blogged anything. My perennial inability to keep in touch is not your fault but mine).

Throughout the first three weeks of fatherhood, I'm processing my new definition of 'clean.' Pre-children, I would consider a shirt caked in another creature's spit-up to be dirty and in need of a wash. Post-children, I would still consider this shirt dirty, but perhaps not as urgently dirty as as I would in my childless days. "Sleep" is another word undergoing substantial definition renovation. Before kids, a good night of sleep would be eight continuous hours of rest. After kids, a good night of sleep would be six non-continuous hours of sleep and two cups of coffee (Full disclosure: except for a few growth spurts, we are enormously lucky with Isabelle. I have heard horror stories from other friends, and it could be MUCH worse).   

And, strangely enough, I don't mind such things. When I spoke to my male friends during pregnancy, I found that men, on the whole, were much more likely to focus on the privations of child-rearing. You won't get sleep. You'll be covered in the child's bodily fluids. Did I mention the lack of sleep? My wife found the opposite to be true: women were much more likely to discuss the joys of having a baby. You'll never love somebody more. Your whole life will be wrapped around your little girl's finger, etc. I started to envy the positive view of child-rearing that women in our culture have. If we are going to bring this child into the world, we might as well enjoy it.

Maybe I'm just in the honeymoon period right now, but it's important to remember that my child is going to poop and cry, regardless of my attitude. My child is going to disrupt my schedule with a diaper change, regardless of my to-do list. Heck, a diaper change interrupted this blog post. It's important I don't miss the forest for the feces (see what I did there, haha), and choose to have a good attitude about the rearing of children. I can chose to appreciate the daddy-daughter diaper dates that I spend with Isabelle. I can chose to enjoy every minute with this little bundle of joy. That is more fun anyhow.

Daniel  

(Another yet fuller disclosure: Very reasonable people could say, "That's easy for you to say, Daniel. you aren't breastfeeding every two hours." Very true. So far, child-rearing is definitely more draining for my wife. Due to my lamentable lack of homegrown milk-producing equipment, she's the one who needs to feed the child. I try to stay up with her as much as I can, but I don't always hear Izzy like a mother can. Often, by the time I get up, she's mostly done feeding and changing her. My wife is Supermom and a Rock Star, rolled into one. End of story).