The 5 Dumbest Things I Did in My First Two Years as a Father

My little girl turns two next week. I write that sentence,
and yet it still feels unreal – from both directions. I can’t believe two years
have disappeared and, at the same time, I feel like she’s been a part of our
lives for much, much longer than that.  I
have my theories on how this paradox occurs. One is, that while a baby is
crying, time slows to a crawl (pun intended) and a minute is an hour. If that
theory proves to be true, I aged about two years just during bedtime last night.

Anyway, my wife suggested that I write a blog looking back
at the last two years with our daughter. Unfortunately, such a blog would be
the length of a novel. So instead, I’m going to dig into my bag of lazy
blogger tricks and make a list.

The 5 Dumbest Things I Did in My First Two Years as a Father

1. I worried for the entire 9 months before she got here.


I slept less before the baby came than I did when she got
here. Seriously. Miscarriage, Down’s Syndrome, Mental Retardation, Cleft
Palate, Still Born, Maternal Death, Blood Sucking Spider Baby (that one was
actually a nightmare from when I did fall
asleep). I worked myself up about every possibility (and impossibility). I
wouldn’t just worry about those things. I obsessed about them. I’d imagine how
I’d react if they happened. I had conversations in my head. I bathed in my
worry. It was horrible. It was a giant waste of time.

What I’ve learned:

It wasn’t a giant waste of time because those aren’t serious
things. It wasn’t even a giant waste of time because those things are
statistically unlikely to happen. (Don’t worry. I Googled the numbers in the
midst of my madness. They didn’t help). It was a waste of time because my
worrying had zero effect on the outcome, nor did it prepare me for something to
happen if it did. If our daughter had arrived with a birth defect, illness, malady,
arachnid like features I would have loved her. And we would have figured out
the next steps. And we would have loved her. And our lives would have been made
better by her existence. I know this with every inch of everything I am. It
comforts me. And now, with our son less than three months from getting here, I
sleep well.

2. I compared our daughter to other kids.

Our close friends’ little boy, born about a week after our
girl, walked first. They posted a video of it on Facebook and I went a little
crazy inside. Why isn’t our child walking? Are we doing something wrong? Are
they doing something we’re not? Did they post that video just to spite me! Did
they work extra hard to teach their child to walk just to prove they’re better
parents? I’ll show them! Child, put on those ridiculously small roller blades
that I ordered from unrealparentalexpectations.com. We’re making a movie!!!!

What I’ve learned:

One year olds cannot rollerblade. That, and I had
unreasonably high expectations for my child’s first two years of life. Aside
from how to keep a kid alive, you know what I’ve learned in the last year? No? Neither
do I. You know what my kid learned? She’s learned more words of a language than
I learned in all of high-school and college combined. She’s learned colors, shapes, animal
noises and names, puzzles, spatial relations, object permanence, how to get what she wants through a
combination of looks, tears, and sometimes poop… AND how to walk. And I would
look at her and think “WHY AREN’T YOUR TEETH GROWING FASTER!?”

Kids dictate their own development schedule, not my anxiety.
And parents post videos of their kids because they’re proud of them, not because
they want to show off what their kid can do. (Who am I kidding, we all show
off. I’m the worst offender I know.)

3. I was carrying my daughter into her room and smacked her head against the door frame.

When my wife asked why she was crying I shrugged and said
that I had no idea.

What I’ve learned:

Spatial relations. I’m a little behind the curve. Sorry
honey!

4. I gave advice to other parents.

You're a first year parent? Tell me again how to get my toddler to go to bed.

I was like the freshman senator who thinks he can fix the
entire system with moxy, and gumption, and sleeping on a cot in his office!
Your kid isn’t sleeping? Let me tell you how I get mine to sleep. Get thisโ€ฆ I
lay her in her bed. I think the secret is the “I lay her in her bed”
part. You’re welcome.

What I’ve learned:

Being a parent does not make you “every parent.” I
wish I could take back every piece of advice I gave friends with kids older
than mine. I was a cocky novice with a superiority complex. Most of the things
I thought I was doing right were merely gifts from the gods: easily given,
easily taken away. That easy bedtime I bragged about causing with my made up
bedtime skills? 2 hours now. That clean nursery we claimed anyone could do if
they just put in the time and effort? It’s simple when your baby is a
paperweight. I’m sorry. Build me a time machine and I’ll go back and slap
myself. And kill Hitler.

5. I didn’t say thank you enough.

This is the big one. My mother in law watches our kid four
days a week. My sister and her husband will babysit at a moment’s notice. My
father-in-law and his wonderful wife have been there on numerous occasions to
lend a hand, as well as my best friend and my sister-in-law. My mom, my dad, cousins and grandparents are a phone call away all
day, every day.

What I’ve learned:

We didn’t do this alone. Our family and friends have formed
a support structure for us that is so integral to our lives that it leaves me choking back tears as I write this. I am endlessly grateful for all of the love
that is in our life, and I know how lucky (my religious friends would say
blessed) we are to have it. So I promise to say thank you more. Starting now.

Thank you. All of you.

Dad

I want to know: What are your things that you would have done differently? Leave comments! Comments make me very happy!

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