July 1, 2011 I received the greatest gift of all. Fatherhood! I was so happy when my son was born, that the word happy does not fully describe how happy I was. I’m convinced the word that I need to describe how I felt does not exist in the English language. I had grand dreams of playing soccer, video games, and doing movie marathons with my son. The only problem was that my 8 pound ball of love just wanted to eat everything, sleep when he wasn’t eating, and poop so he could either sleep or eat. There wasn’t much use for dad’s services as my wife was essential.
My wife’s first day back at work was my first day doing the dad thing without any help. Even though my son couldn’t do much, it was beyond exhausting. The day dragged and I couldn’t wait for my wife to get home to relieve me. In place of the dad manual, that every new dad probably wants, my wife began making me a schedule of things to do with our son to give the day structure. That helped immensely. One thing she put on that list was to tell him a story.
For whatever reason, I never thought of that. My dad told us stories all the time. I loved his stories. Heck, so did my mom. Then I started thinking about all the things my parents did with me as a kid. A light bulb went off in my head. My parents taught me the parent manual my entire life. I just had to copy the things they did with me.
That revelation gave dadhood purpose. I was going to be a great dad because I had the greatest teachers of all. My parents.