fatherhood

So. I have now entered the world of babydom bottle in hand and masculinity out the window. being a father for the last month has made me acutely aware of several very male misconceptions that I had believed before becoming what I have become.

First, a real man knows a good time in bed! True. One word, Sleeping! I dream about it some times between the feedings, changings, and screamings. More often I daydream about it during afore mentioned baby rites. For example, my wife and I talked my mother into watching the littleling for the night, and we painted the town red. That's right red lobster, and as we kept falling asleep mid meal wondering how to get how at the obscene hour of about 9:30, our minds kept wandering to all the possibilities for the rest of the night ahead. We giggled about wrapping ourselves up in separate blankets and sleeping without the soft pitter patter of baby's vocal exercises waltzing on our eardrums. When we got home it was pure bliss! the pillows were cool and the room extra dark. other than that, I don't remember ANYTHING!!! Like I said bliss.

Second, making farty sounds and speaking like an idiot to children makes one immature. Nope not at all! It can only make other people prudes and wet towels. Doing the same to your wife? Maybe not such a hot idea. Though it can produce giggles at times, generally unwise. Note: this really seems to apply during bouts of colic at 3 in the morning.

Third, there is nothing undignified about smelling ones baby's butt to verify your suspision that a changing is required when someone has dressed said baby in a "cute" outfit that a sleep deprived and possibly hallucinating father cannot seem to get a baby in or out of in less than forty minutes. Very wrong. It is totaly undignified, but who the hell cares at this point. If that butt don't need ah changin, I'sa ain't goin near it. gurreilla urine attacks from a innocent looking little boy can change a man.

'Nuff said.

Finnaly, smelling oneself once one has discovered the funky odor is not emanating from ones child is vulgar? Well, after weeks without sleep, un counted exploded diapers, and random bouts of projectile vomiting, the days seem to blur and memories of these mythic things known as showers become dim at best, and I hold that our nose is Gods way of trying to keep us from catching the plague. Ergo, perfectly acceptable.