Baby Rule: Winning…
…isn’t everything… | | | | | | | V IT’S THE ONLY THING:
…isn’t everything… | | | | | | | V IT’S THE ONLY THING:
I was raised Catholic. And like everyone else who was raised Catholic, I am what you might call “lapsed.” (In reality I am actually just “not a Catholic anymore,” but my parents might read this, so let’s go with “lapsed.”)
I don’t put much truck in religion these days; it has its purpose for many, and I don’t begrudge them their beliefs, except of course when they use those beliefs as a rationale for violence and intolerance and hatred and war and etc. Which is a lot of people, but it certainly isn’t the majority. So go ahead and pray if you like; I just won’t be joining you.
But my son might.
Read more about Raising Kids With Religion – or Not …
Not everyone likes me. I’ve done some bad things.
I didn’t get straight As. I swear too much. I am not religious, I am not even particularly kind. I may or may not have been arrested. I’ve been unemployed for long stretches. I drink a lot. And I once killed a man for touching my fries.
Are those failings my parents’ fault? And, more importantly, will my sons’ shortcomings, personality defects and general life mistakes be my fault? Conversely, how much credit should we take for our kids’ success? And how much should we care about it?
If you’ve ever raised a baby, you know how the presence of an infant can transform your home into something like Arkham Asylum. It’s just constant chaos, noise, paranoia and catatonia, and I haven’t even mentioned the food and feces that litter the walls, floor and your clothes. But hey, it’s all worth it once they grow up to be ungrateful money grubbers who show you no respect!
Dealing with a baby is hard. Dealing with a crying, frantic, fussy baby is hell on earth. And even just a few weeks in, I’ve learned a few tricks for making life with a baby just a little more tolerable.
The other day, my wife gently let me know that she was a little concerned with the language I used in my last post. That’s not an MP, I said. That’s a YP.
But then, the next day…
The doctor told us she loved the way my wife’s cervix looked. She used terms like effacement and dilated and etc. She says it should be any day now.
Let me repeat: It should be any day now that I will have a son. Yikes.
Does this change everything? Is it time for me to tone down my language, reconsider some of my actions in the face of becoming a father. Is what was just a few days ago purely a YP now an MP?
Is it time for Dad and Buried to grow up? Can I?