The joys of fatherhood are endless. I've learned so much about life just from examining the life of my own daughter. In fact, I've often though, "If I knew being a dad was this much fun, I'd have done it sooner." This of course is a lie, but I tell myself that without even meaning to at times, simply because I am so extraordinarily happy being with my kid.
For so long I focused on the fact that there are things to be bought; car seats, high-chairs, bibs, diapers, and the like. Then, as I would sometime regress as an adult, I would also focus on the negatives about cleaning the high-chairs after a fun filled afternoon of pudding/ketchup throwing I've seen exhibited by two year-olds in my family. Oh, and let us not forget the vile wrath that is a dirty diaper.
Off topic, but good Lord! What did she eat last night? That diaper looked like it had three previous owners and two of them were adults, the third a crocodile. I bet I used twelve wet-wipes cleaning that child...
Sorry. Ahem.
The joys of fatherhood.
The thing is, everyone told us we'd never be ready to be parents, that we should just do it. Those people aren't me, and I despise when others try to tell me how simple it is to make such a large, life-altering decision. We get it, now of course. These people just wanted to see us squirm and writhe in fear at such diapers as described above.
Bring it on.
The first time I held Evie in my arms, I was Superman. Every day since, when she smiles at me, hugs me, or gets mad and cries because I won't let her play with the remote control, I feel even more confident in being a dad. I love it. Sure, its a full-time job, but I love it and the pay isn't a few dollars you can waste at Wal-Mart. Its so much more.
Messy faces, peanut butter in her hair (perhaps I'll blog about this another week), dirty diapers, vomit, bad dreams, fussy days, fussy hair, and everything else, I'd never trade it. Because one heartfelt smile from that little girl makes it all worth it.
I'll end with this:
I'm at a point, currently, where I really dread going to work. I get depressed because this isn't the job I went to college for. I wanted to be a pastor, not a probation officer (though, to be fair, I dealt with more ruthless people in the church at times than I have my current vocation). I work outside in the heat, in government owned cars that sometimes lack air conditioning, or may not even run at all - your tax dollars being stretched as far as they can. You're welcome. I feel out of place where I work because, unlike my coworkers, I really never wanted a job like this.
Then, I come home and that little girl claps her hands and starts chattering away the minute I step through the door.
And my life is complete.
Happiness is your child being happy to be with you.
