by The Expectant Father
Oh fatherhood. It has finally arrived and how sweet and wondrous it is but...
Excuse me, I just have to go and see to a small, yet very loud, baby for the 50th time this morning.
Where was I? Oh yes, fatherhood, how sweet and wondrous it is but...
Whoops, someone's just been sick in their Moses basket. I'll just mop that up...
So, fatherhood sweet and wondrous it is but...
Blimey, what's that smell?
Oh dear, I only changed you 5 minutes ago. There's another dirty nappy in the eye for the environment.
Let me start again; fatherhood, is it what I expected?
I'll take you back 3 weeks, just before the tornado that is my son hit our lives with it's full force.
My wife and I were itching to finally become parents. Mrs C just wanted to not be punched and kicked from the inside any more. I wanted to start our new lives as a family. I'd spent the last 9 months thinking of us as a modern, scaled down version of the Waltons - so happy in our mountain homestead.
Yes, as the Expectant Father during pregnancy I had some very preconceived ideas about what fatherhood would be like. In quiet moments I would picture all the good times we'd have; the laughing, the playing, the cheeky grins after he's locked his Nana in the cellar.
Now, I'm not an idiot, I knew there would be hard times and some tears. I'll obviously have to tell him off every now and then - discipline is important - but I'd explain to him why he'd done wrong (“Nana's very old and she's afraid of the dark” etc.), he'd apologise and promise never to do it again. We'd hug as some heart warming and ever so slightly sentimental music plays in the background.
But mostly I focused on the good stuff.
I could see us at our first football match together and the pride I would feel as I watched him pull on his Everton shirt for the first time - “That's my boy” I'd think.
I could see him on stage as the Artful Dodger in his school play. Me wiping a tear away as he sings “I'd do anything” to the girl he's got his eye on from the lower-6th.
I could imagine my heart being wrenched from my chest as I drop him off for his first term at University (probably Oxford or Cambridge my dreams aren't too fussy) and the immense pride and satisfaction as I watch him collect his degree.
I think it's fair to say that I'd got great expectations for Peter's life.
Now, that Peter is nearly 3 weeks old, those expectations are all but out of the window. After the initial rush of excitement at being a new father (and at all the associated gifts and cards) I'm now firmly into the slog of parenting. In fact, it's such a slog at the moment that I don't have time for expectations. I'm too busy living in the real world.
Too busy putting dummy's in mouths.
Too busy cleaning up sick.
Too busy changing nappies.
And what I've discovered is that it was easy being an expectant father; being a real father is a different kettle of fish altogether. It's hard work and currently without much reward. I've discovered that newborn babies like to take but they don't really give much.
So now, when Peter does reward us with 5 minutes peace and quiet, when I can dream about those expectations, I' dream about my beautiful son giving me a smile for the first time.
Monday, August 20, 2007
by The Expectant Father
Featured Post and Blog of the Week
You Are Here
by Amie from MammaLoves...
You did well in school to get into college. You tried to get by well enough in college to be attractive to an employer or graduate program, and along the way you may have opened your heart a time or two. Maybe you even found true love.
With a foot in the door, the first years of work were the time to
prove your mettle once again. Promotions, raises all with the goal to secure your future will allow you to settle down, buy a house, travel, commit to a relationship, have kids or not. In what feels like a blink of an eye, your future is here.
And now what?
Chance Favors Only Those Who Court Her
After a less-than-friendly divorce, I was on the market again. Seizing the opportunity, my friends scoured their address books and Palm Pilots for single men and set me up on blind date after blind date. My reaction to most of those dates was, "I call these people my FRIENDS?" One of my real friends suggested Match.com, and given how much I love the Internet, I gave it a go.
A couple months of e-dating passed by in a blink. It was fun, but so far nothing meaningful had hit my radar, and my match inventory was starting to run low. You see, Match.com "matches" you to people based on a list of your requirements, and I'd pretty much run through all my existing matches who didn't seem psycho or stoned, based on their profiles.
Then, one day, I got an email from a guy who was not a match by my standards...
Read the full post...
A Lost Opportunity
by John from Altjiranga Mitjina
Trying to break in as a writer in the comic book industry can be a bit like the one legged man in a butt kicking contest. Every step forward you make means you land on your butt after your kick forward. Comic books are a visual medium. An artist can bring a portfolio to an editor at a convention and said editor can sit there and look at it within minutes and decide if this artist is worthy of working on the newest issue of Stupendous Man or not. Trying being a hopeful writer handing over a script to this same editor at a busy comic convention. You’ll be lucky if the editor agrees to take the script and promise that they’ll look at it later. Most times the hopeful writer is told to send for their submission guidelines and mail in their proposal.
Read the full post...
by Karen Rayne from Adolescent Sexuality Today with Karen Rayne, Ph.D.
This weekend I went out of town, leaving my family to fend for themselves. On Saturday, my darling husband took my two darling daughters – 6 and 3 years old – to what he heard was a fun new toy store in town. Great, right?
They walk in the door, and the 6-year-old pipes up with “Look, Daddy! Jesus toothpaste!” He takes one look, puts one hand on each girl’s shoulder, and does a 180 out of the store. It may be a fun new toy store, but it’s intended clientele does not include the under-13 set.
When I got home on Sunday, the first thing the 6-year-old says to me was, “Guess what! We saw Jesus toothpaste!” I blinked, figuring I hadn’t heard her correctly. Regrettably, I had...
A biker, a green thumb, a cracked hand, and a Queen.
A random biker on a Harley-Davidson took my picture last week. What I wanted to do was take his picture, but I hesitated. Now, instead of a photo of some random biker holding an i am bossy.com bumper sticker, all I have is a lame photo of me holding the bumper sticker and the mental picture of him riding off into the sunset, never to be seen again.
Okay, it wasn’t as romantic or dramatic as that. It was nine in the morning and there was no sunset.
This is not the first time that I have hesitated to seize an opportunity. I don’t expect it will be the last. However, I hope with each lost chance for something intriguing, I will lose a shade of that hesitation for next time...
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