Daddy Doody

Hi there it's me again. I was going to do some kind of cool riff on Adele's 'Hello' but then I remembered it wasn't 2015 anymore and that pretty much everyone has moved on. Except James Corden. That man is ruthless with the singing. Enough already. We get it! You're adorable and English and you can kinda sing in a car. Where was I? Oh yeah so very tired...

Nine* days ago today our lives were completely turned upside down in spectacular and absolutely wonderful fashion. We had a baby boy. Well my wife had a baby boy. I was there cheering her on, trying not to pass out, and secretly thankful that my anatomy will never in any way shape or form support such an endeavor.

Which reminds me, a HUGE shout out to my wife. Does one shout out to their spouse? No matter...Holy crap y'all. She carried a baby for 8 1/2 months...inside her! Then she delivered the baby. From her body! And afterward she was happy to talk and have visitors like she'd just gotten back from a trip to Target. What. The. Hell. Women. Damn.

I'm still trying to process this whole fatherhood thing and yes I am keenly aware that the fact I am responsible for another human being is absolutely ludicrous. On a good day I can barely make a sandwich and now I'm charged with making life altering decisions like Montessori Pre-K or the one where they only speak Spanish. I mean Montessori will definitely help with his sensory development and sense of self but Spanish is infinitely more useful than having a sense of who you are. On the other hand if he goes to the Spanish school, when he gets mouthy I'll have no idea what he's saying. See what I mean?

So what's a dad to do? Make a list of course. Possibly the laziest narrative device in the history of the written word. But you have to admit it's pretty effective and they are excellent for organizing little tidbits of otherwise useless factoids generated entirely by yours truly. Also (say it with me kids) I write lists now. Lists are cool. Without further adieu here are some things I have managed to learn in the 9 days since I became a father.

1.  Baby feet are too small for socks yet we have an entire section of his wardrobe dedicated to baby socks.
2. We also have baby shoes. No idea why.
3.  I have been peed on, pooped on, hit, and thrown up on this past week. I feel like I'm back in college. 
4. If you have to ask what a diaper blow out is you've not experienced one.
5. The worst advice we've gotten is "Sleep when he sleeps." What the hell does that even mean? It's 1:30 in the afternoon. I have a job.
6. Even if I can sleep when he sleeps I am up every 30 minutes making sure he is still alive. This speaks either to my fatherly dedication or complete ineptitude. 
7. Driving with a baby in the car is far less terrifying trying to figure out how to strap on the baby carrying harness thing. No idea what they're called. They look like really oddly shaped tandem sky-diving rigs though. 
8. Before sitting down to write this, my son went through 3 outfits and 2 diapers in less than 20 minutes. 
9. I never thought I would envy the regularity of a newborn.
10. My wife has lost 30 pounds in a week.
11. I would like to know when my baby weight comes off. 
12. Seriously. Was there a form I was supposed to fill out at the hospital? Nothing fits.
13. Looking aloof and helpless with a baby will get you sympathy help at stores.
14. I am actually not horrible at this dad thing. In fact I really dig it. Like totally man. Super groovy. God I'm so tired.
15. When he smiles, giggles, coos, or even poops it's totally worth every minute of the crazy. 

So there ya have it. Short but sweet. I won't go so far as to say that having a kid has completely changed me and made me a better person. I also won't say it hasn't. Too early to tell but I'm trending in a groovy direction man. So tired...

Till next time. Adios y'all.

*I actually started writing this yesterday which would have been 8 days. Because this is writing of the highest caliber and I am lazy I changed the number of days to make you think I started this today. Then I told on myself. No one likes a snitch. Snitches get stitches. Wait what? Oh right. Sleep deprivation.