Returning to the New Normal

My wife and I are exceptional people.

What I mean by that is, she and I have found life. We've traveled the globe. We've tasted great wine. We've taken pictures with strangers. And, this has moulded and shaped us into who we are today.

We are fortunate enough to be able to take time off when we need it. Our jobs are fairly open about it. So, when we have enough money, we jet set and get on our way.

In all the places we've visited, from all the sunsets we've been able to see, nothing compares to holding a squirming baby, trying to translate its alien language into something that somewhat resembles human emotion so that you two can come to some sort of amicable agreement.

It used to be that waking up in the middle of the night was a trip to the bathroom, that bed time was an abstract thought long lost in the annals of my autobiography, lost with toe kisses and sack races. It was once that dinner was served hot and steaming, prepared the moment I stepped through the door. I remember a time where my eyes would close and stay closed for longer than two hours at a time.

They always tell you these things going into parenthood, but you never fully believe them until it happens.

The three of us got home three days after she was born, and I knew right then and there that the rumors were true.

But, here's the kicker.

Screw the rumors.

You see, that little human, complete with ten fingers and ten toes, is some kind of miracle. It's the way a rainstorm leaves the ground glistening and smelling like heaven. It's whatever heaven is.

Sure, the screaming and the pooping and the spilled breast milk and razor sharp nails are annoying. But it's all a part of growing up.

Perhaps that's what this is about. Growing up.

My wife and I have been married for eight years. In that time, we fall into routines. It makes life easier so that we have more time to enjoy one another. If the dishes get washed the moment they're dirty, the pile doesn't stack up, and we avoid a K2-level dishalanche. If the laundry happens to get folded quickly, there's more time to cuddle on the couch. Routine is the gears in a well-oiled marriage machine.

Throw the baby into the mix, and it's one step closer to the bombing of Big Ben.

But it doesn't have to be.

It didn't take long for my wife, my daughter, and I to realize that we needed a new normal. The dogs still needed walking, the fans still needed dusting, and I still needed to put words to paper. So, from the chaos is born a new routine.

It takes time. The new routine involves stretching out chores so that they don't pile up. A great example is the laundry. It's hard enough to stay on top of the washing and the folding when you're perfectly sober and it's a Saturday. With a newborn, it's important to do small loads, substituting the all-or-nothing mentality for small-for-nothing mentality.

Babies tend to sleep and eat and soil their diapers fairly frequently. So, part of the new normal has been to become speed cleaners. When she's down for a nap, the missus and I get our elbows dirty, subscribing ourselves to one task at a time. I may scrub the shower while she sweeps and mops the kitchen.

Don't overstretch yourself. Your baby doesn't need you to watch creepily as he or she sleeps. Let sleeping babies lie!

Guess what dads. While the little bundle of joy is suckling his or her dinner, it's time for you to do something productive! Wash the dishes, start some laundry, weed-whack the lawn. Find out what kind of things you can do really quickly, or break down the larger chores into smaller chunks.

The New Normal is just a fancy way of saying that your lives are changed. Forever. For the better. A child doesn't have to be a ticking time-bomb. In the middle of all this, it can be easy to forget that. It can be easy to lose yourself in the newness, forget who you are. Make time to do something for yourself, whether it's brewing a cup of tea in the morning before anyone wakes up, or take an extra 5 minutes in the shower. Your baby looks up to you, looks to you for guidance and love.

Above all else, remember that you've created life, and its your job and duty to protect that life. Be proud of that.

A New Dad

I'm new at this whole dad thing. I mean, like, less than a week into it. And, as I sit here typing with one hand because the other is clutching to the slumbering behind of my freshly minted daughter, I can't help but feel like I've tapped into a greater conscious, a secret ocean full of whispering waves, a legacy filtered from Adam through us all.

I have a daughter. There's probably nothing more I could add to the wisdom of the literal trillions of men who have raised girls, so I'm not going to attempt it. I want to pass on my thoughts instead because somewhere out there, there's another father who will know someone has had the same emotions flooding through him. To get us off on the right foot, here are my first thoughts as a new dad, when my daughter was just barely 5 hours old.

1) Mothers: you deserve a spa day. You deserve a great meal. You deserve a partner who loves and adores you, who will wake up to wash the dishes just so you can have an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. You deserve to be worshipped.

2) My wife is a champion of life. Every step she walked during this pregnancy was taken to protect our child, to be her voice, and to serve as the best possible caretaker. For those of you who believe the man is the defender of the household, you are sorely mistaken. Mothers: embrace your child as my wife embraced ours and the fruits you bear will be returned upon you tenfold.

3) Fathers: your job is not to sit and read the newspaper in your comfy chair on Sunday mornings. Your job starts the moment you hold hands with the potential mother of your child. Your job us to build her up, to confide in her, to believe she is capable of anything, because, guess what, she is! She can make humans. You can't! There's nothing so close to magic as that! Love her. Cook for her. Pull the car around when it's cold. Do the same for your kid. Be a legend in your child's eyes by living as a legend. Show your son that holding a door open for the next person isn't just kind, it's a recognition that we are all walking through the same doors, and it's okay to show your vulnerability. Show your daughters that there are good men in this world who will take her to the movies and pay for popcorn because the only thing they want is to be near her. That, my fellow fathers, is your job. That, and don't forget to never stop loving the woman who made your children. She is as precious to you as your own life, for you share a destiny, and that destiny will always try to make you proud.

That's it for this post. There will be more to come.