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Tonight I am the worst father ever. While trying to work on something I ignored you playing at my feet. When you tried to play with me I got upset and raised my voice. I feel horrible. Not only because I raised my voice, but becasue I missed an opportunity to play with you, as though there would be plenty of them to come. I’m writing this to remind myself never take for granted the time I have with you right now. It only happens once … and if I ignore it, it’s gone forever. So me, future self, listen up. Stop working when your kid is around. Start playing. You can always work, you can’t always play.
I read a blog today about the 7 habits of highly effective fathers and tried to take stock of how I’m doing compared to this arbitrary and seemingly self evident list.
- Keeping stress to myself – Check on this one. I don’t bring my work home with me, and even if I’ve had a bad day you have a way of cheering me up like you wouldn’t believe
- Leading by example – For the most part probably, but it doesn’t bode well for us when you have healthier eating habits than me. We’ll have to work on that one.
- Being consistent – Check. I’m consistently fun, and I stick to my guns when I need to.
- Staying involved – Check. We go on walks together sometimes just the 2 of us. We watched baseball together and play baseball in the backyard together.
- Scheduling Family Recreation – Check. We got back from our killer Vacation and I think we’ve done a good job of keeping active on our weekends. We also tend to eat dinner at the same time more and more.
- Teaching – Check. Mommy, Brian and I all do a really good job of helping you learn. Whether it’s choking up on the bat, learning to wipe the dirt from your hands, or just learning how to fall off the couch, I think we’ve all taught you stuff you need to know and stuff that’s fun to know.
- Creating Family Rituals – We’re getting close on this one. I think walking every weekend was a good one we used to do before the heat of summer melted the roadways and made them impassable by mere mortals. We do have our routines, which are a sort of ritual, I suppose, but I think we can do a little better. So, we’ve got our thing to work on now.
Last night the Boston Red Sox swept the Chicago Rockies in the World series 4-0. We got to watch the game together until the 7th. At that time I asked you if you were ready for nigh-nigh and you were off to the races toward your room. This wasn’t too big a deal because the Rockies were down 3-0 so off we went to your room for our nightly ritual:
- Turn off the big light
- Turn on the night light
- Singing of ‘Take me out to the ball game‘
- Putting you in your crib
Of course after you went to bed the game got interesting. The Sox scored a run to make it 3-0 in the top of the 7th. The Rockies scored 1 in the bottom of the 7th. Then in the 8th the Rockies scored 2. Of course since the Sox has scored 1 in the top of the 8th they were still down 4-3. The Rockies did a good job of not letting any more scoring occur in the top of the 9th, but with Jonathon “Crazy Eyes” Pappelbon pitching, there wasn’t much hope, and just like that, the Red Sox were World Series Champions.
Overall I think you enjoyed the post-season, though not as much as if the Dodgers had made it to the playoffs. Maybe next year …
I just reread my post from last night, and wow, it doesn’t transition well from the Daily Doozle part to the new lens part. Sorry about that. I guess this will teach me to do my posting a little earlier in the evening.
I read a post today about what it feels like to be a father. It was spot on. The day after you were born Mommy was sleeping in her bed in the birthing center and I was holding you, sitting in a chair next to Mommy’s bed.
I couldn’t get over how little you were and the rush of feelings and emotions about how ‘every thing was different now’. There was fear that I wouldn’t feel the love that everyone says you’re suppose to feel when you first see your child. I was still in shock over the events of the last 48 hours and hadn’t had time to think about it much. It was still all too surreal.
As I sat there holding you, looking at your small features, wondering exactly how you’d turn into a ‘person’ and wondering why I just didn’t feel this overwhelming love that I was suppose to, second guessing everything about what I was told about fatherhood, and wondering what kind of horrible person I must be that I didn’t feel what I was suppose to, you ‘smiled’ at me. My heart instantly melted and I started to cry. It was the overwhelming love that I assume only a parent, and maybe only a father, can feel when he looks at his 2 day old baby girl. And that’s when I knew that the descriptions I had heard about the love you feel as a father could never adequately describe what you actually feel.
