Thursday, September 01, 2005

Fatherhood - taxi-driving and hauling rubbish

Day 11 – I don’t think we are made to live with less than 5 hours of sleep. Last night was one of those night. Lian wouldn’t fall asleep, fussed and fussed, and it took its toll. Today, my wife and I snapped at each other …. again. And for the smallest of things: today’s argument was about what the word for a homeless person in French is: “clochard” or “sans abri”. We were taking a walk – our first steps outside today – up to Buena Vista, where I had carried Lian yesterday, and halfway up the hill, we had our argument. The end result: we each walked our own separate ways down from Buena Vista, each of us lost in our own world of newborn parenthood frustrations.

I’ve heard legendary tales of arguments between new parents: one couple quarreled for 6 months and seemed to be on the verge of a breakup from what I was told. Others seemed to get hit by the double-whammy of fatigue-induced arguments – those incidents in the middle of the night where the husband can’t or doesn’t want to wake up, the wife gets frustrated, she takes matters into her own hands, and then takes it out on the husband the next day. Well yes, I speak from experience (only a very small bit, though).

Having a baby enter your relationship is like having your parents chaperone you on a first date. First, you have someone on a schedule who politely but firmly reminds you when it’s time to go (analogy: a wailing baby); and second, even if you manage to escape onto the veranda for a quick kiss, you know they’re watching you (analogy: a wailing baby reminding you that you’re ignoring it). The only difference is – sometimes you can outwit your chaperone. You can never outwit a baby.

And that’s the other point about having a baby – there’s nothing witty or clever or intellectual about it. In fact, when you think about it, being a dad is a combination of the most menial jobs you can imagine: garbage man (diaper changer) and taxi driver (lull-to-sleeper).

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