Oh, the enormity of the stress that sat on my shoulders during the first year of parenthood. Through the blissfully thickening fog of forgetfulness, I can see glimpses of a very tired and freaked out dad.
It’s understandable to be overwhelmed. I suspect that every new dad (every good dad, anyway) loses his mind with worry at the start. The sheer volume of the unknowable is enough to crack even the hardest nut. You have no frame of reference for being in charge of this fragile new life. You’re at your most tired and least rational. It takes repeated trial and error, and a lot of time spent with the little sprout to finally get enough data to build some realistic expectations.
It’s never perfect predictability, since they love to change their behaviours and capabilities in the blink of an eye. Max has now established that he can run into the kitchen, remove his shirt and pants, and return triumphantly nude into the living room, in a few seconds. He’s like superman in reverse.
In other news-sinuses still in revolt. The cool, dry nighttime air is turning my sinus membranes into sludgy wastelands of pain and pressure. Bring on the long hot showers! I cannot wait for this damnable head cold to end so that I can go back to thinking clearly.