Howdy gang,
My god
do I love my wife! As I said in the last post, our little Ewok hasn't been
sleeping the greatest or at least as great as she was before, so we have been
suffering a little bit because of it. Since Saturday I think I only got a
combined total of 16 hours of sleep in 4 days and that is including naps. I was
an absolute zombie by the time I got home from work last night. My wife the
saint, was kind enough to just take on baby duty pretty much all night and even
gave me back rub! I feel asleep on the couch while watching Netflix at around
11pm and slept straight through to 9 am this morning. It was glorious! I feel
so recharged! Or at least I did until I realized that I have to sit through a 6
hour training session today. Nothing drains your battery faster than sitting
through a 6 hour PowerPoint presentation. Blurg!
Anyways…
this whole not sleeping thing has finally given me a real answer to a question
that I get asked all of the time now, which is “What’s it like being a Dad now?”.
Having a baby is kind of like being
handcuffed to a t-rex that will explode if you take the handcuffs off. All the
while, the t-rex is using enhanced interrogation techniques on you and somehow
you end up developing Stockholm syndrome and you don’t ever want to take the handcuffs
off. That might be a lot to digest…so let me explain so you don’t think that I
am secretly (or in this case, publicly) loathing my child’s very existence,
which simply isn't the case.
Ewok is
like a tiny little t-rex to me. If you have seen Jurassic Park you probably
remember that the t-rex’s vision is based on movement (fun-fact: current theory
is that t-rex would have had amazing vision as it was the apex predator of its
time) so is Elizabeth’s. That and sound. My God! I stir in bed or make a gentle
cough and boom her eyes spring open and she starts looking for me. All of this
is because she is totally dependent on my wife and I for literally everything!
Hence the handcuff and explosion metaphors. If we weren't around she would
literally starve to death in a pile of her own shit. It is a lot of pressure
and I’m not even the one who produces the milk!
As a
parent you don’t get to have a legit schedule any more. If she gets hungry, we
have to stop and feed her. If she fills a diaper, we have to stop and change
her. If she is wide awake at 2am, you can try to go to sleep, but more than
likely you will be forced to entertain her. These are 2 enhanced interrogation techniques
used at GITMO! Sleep deprivation and uncertain schedules. Couple that with “stress
positions” like HAVING to walk around and bounce a little infant instead of
being able to sit in my recliner after a 14 hour day at work and now we have a recipe
for torture! I would also argue that being pissed and pooped on comes a little
too close to water boarding for my comfort. That’s right gang, I am saying that
most infants could in fact work at GITMO torturing terrorists and I think most
would crack.
All of
this being said, now we have the Stockholm syndrome metaphor which is probably
the most important. If you unfamiliar with it, it is a phenomenon during
hostage or kidnapping situations where the person that is being held captive
starts to identify with the captor and will sometimes even help or claim to
love that person or persons. And that is pretty much being a parent in a
nutshell. Most parents I know are constantly tired, many are grumpy, many have
been pooped and peed on, most are wearing shirts with spit-up on it, and we
still love it. It is just a mind trip. This type of behavior is totally
unacceptable from other adults yet somehow; you still end up loving your child
even more for simply following societal rules. They learn to NOT cough in
someone else’s mouth. They learn to NOT fill their pants. They learn to NOT
spit up everywhere. They learn to NOT just cry for no reason. And as a parent,
you end up being proud that you taught them to act like a human being and not
some little asshole. Well…at least that’s the plan. Some people obviously never
caught many of those lessons as children.
I will
say that this whole experience has been made as easy as possible because of my
wife. She claims that I help out all the time, which may be true, but I still
feel pretty worthless most days. Having someone to tag-team with is pretty much
the only way to get anything accomplished. My dad was around yet when I was an
infant and from all accounts (including my Mother’s) he was quite helpful. So I
am glad she had that help during the bonding years, but I am still unsure how
the hell she was able to raise me in to a half-way presentable adult from the
age of 3 on up by herself! I mean, she had help, sure, but the majority of it
was all on her own. She worked 3 jobs and went back to school AND kept me
alive. That is just nuts to me. Truly, hats off and a big glass raised up to
any parent that is doing this on their own.
Even with
all of its ups and downs, twists and turns, successes and failures, I wouldn't
trade being a Dad for anything. I joke around a lot, but you should have seen
my face the first time I got her to laugh or the first time I got to see her
roll over! I have never been so proud of myself or of another human being than
I am when my daughter does something new. I am pretty sure I am going to throw
a huge blowout (pun intended) shindig as soon as she is potty trained though.
My wife claims I shouldn't get so grossed out when I get her poop or pee on me
because “It’s just breast milk, at least you know where it came from”, but by
her reasoning she shouldn't be grossed out by my own bodily functions since it’s
mainly Taco John’s, Wendy’s, and Pabst, so at least she knows where it came
from. Gross.
I am
still working on some rough drafts for a few other posts, so please check back
soon. I had a request for more pictures as well and I will be happy to oblige.
But…if you check out Fatterhood on Facebook then I usually post at least one
picture a day *hint hint*. As always, thank you all for reading and PROST!
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