Before I was a father, I had no idea what to expect. Sure, parents would tell me all the time what
was going to happen and how I was going to feel, but until you live it and
experience it—you really have no idea.
It’s not like when you get a dog for the first time and all your friends
with dogs tell you everything you need and what to expect—no sir, this is WAY
different. Now, eight months have passed
and it’s amazing and I kind of wish we had done this parenting thing a long
time ago. (Kind of like the feeling I had after getting married.)
So, although it’s almost useless to try to explain what it’s
like to have a child and how it changes you, I’m going to give it a shot
anyway.
Language
The words you use once your child is born are words you may
have never used before. It’s a whole
different language parents use. For
instance, I probably never used the word “onesie” until Maxwell was born. As a matter of fact, Microsoft Word doesn’t
even recognize it as a word. Now, I use
this silly word all day long. The good
news is they’re all so darn fun to say--Baby Bjorn, Ergo, Bumbo, Boppy, Binkie, Boogie Wipes, Floppy Seat, or how about Diaper
Champ? Use a string of these when
speaking to a non-parent and they’ll think you’ve lost your mind.
Poop and Pee
One of our relatives got us a Costco size box of baby wipes
for a shower gift. There’s 900 wipes in
the box. I remember thinking at the time
that it was superfluous and it would take us forever to go through so many
wipes. Well, we just cracked open our
third box of 900. And diapers? Don’t get me started with the diapers! Let me put it this way; when Max was around
twelve weeks, we probably went through eight to twelve diapers a day. One time, I changed his diaper four times in
about ten minutes.
Mobility
After a few weeks, you’ll be so ready to get out of the damn
house you’d just about chew your own leg off.
But guess what? It is required by
law that you have to bring your child with you.
Fortunately, there is a host of ways to transport your child from point
A to point B including, but certainly not limited to the aforementioned list of
silly words. Every parent’s an expert on
which is best and they can spend hours debating about the best device to carry
your baby. The people who make the Moby
are geniuses by the way. Not that it’s
such a brilliant baby carrier but that they took a twelve foot piece of
stretchy cotton, folded it in half the long way and stamped a $50 price tag on
it and have sold thousands of them.
“Excuse me; is that a
Graco Snugride 35?”
I never used to notice babies that much really. They all looked the same to me and sure they
were cute, but I didn’t really see what all the fuss was about. And watching them get spoon fed was almost
enough to make me want to puke. Now I
can’t get enough of them. At work at the
bar, when families come in I find myself fixated on their kids. I try to figure out how old they are and
compare Max developmentally to them sometimes.
“What? Your kid isn’t using a high chair yet? What is he, like seven months?” I even check out their equipment. I never so much glanced at a stroller
before, now I pay attention to every one I see.
“Wow, you went with the Bugaboo Frog Huh? I like its three-in-one
system. Yeah, I’m more of a Snugride guy
myself. This one here has lots of cargo
room and its carrier is side impact tested, but it does take up a lot of trunk
space…”
Emotions?
My friends would never use the word “emotional” to describe
me. I once told Beth that I bottle up my emotions but it’s okay because
there’s a small hole in the bottom of the bottle which slowly let’s stuff drip
out. She’s the complete opposite and
cries all the time. Well, I think this
whole parenting thing has turned me into a softie.
A couple of weeks back I was watching a Sox game and the guy
batting swung at a pitch, missed, and in doing so, lost his bat which careened
into the spectators on the first base line and hit a kid in the head. It all happened so fast that the camera guy
didn’t have time to follow the trajectory of the bat and only captured the
scene just after the boy was struck. I
know because I watched it over and over again.
I was completely transfixed--the fans waving over for help from the
ushers, the dad leaning over and picking up his son, and the boy, obviously
stunned, holding his head in both hands. Nick Punto, the batter, was clearly shaken up
and walked over to the boy’s section, trying to get a glimpse and hoping he was
okay.
Eight months ago if I witnessed the same incident I would of
course be concerned but I’d probably figure that the situation would be taken
care of and I’d refocus my attention on the game. But this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about
that poor kid and his dad. I kept picturing the scene over and over in my
head and then I started picturing myself in that situation with Maxwell. I honestly don’t know what I would do if
anything like that happened to my boy.
For the rest of that day, all I could do was worry about
this kid whom I never met—I never even saw his face. I kept checking the Red Sox website for
updates but it wasn’t until about 7:00pm that I found out the boy was released
from the hospital. The doctor who
treated him said that he was going to be fine.
I was more than relieved and I found myself tearing up as I read the
news. Later, I asked Beth what was wrong
with me; she said I’m just a daddy now.
So friends, if you’re planning on having kids, don’t forget
the wipes and diapers, but you might also consider stocking
up on the Kleenex.
