Apropos of Nada
On the Barstool Sports network of podcasts, there is a podcast called The Podfather, which is three of their staff writers, who have children discussing what I think to be an under-represented form of media: fatherhood.
Don’t get me wrong. Dads get their say. Plenty of fathers have written, blogged, been recorded talking about being a dad. Today’s society demands it. It’s a good thing. Yet, it’s still under-represented. We ceded that neighborhood of media to the women and rightfully so. Our lives as fathers are changed, but not nearly as close to how the lives of the women we love are changed.
That said, on the podcast, they were talking about the nine and a half months of pregnancy. They hit the usual topics: no drinking, what to say/not to say, no caffeine, etc. They didn’t talk about one part, though, which my wife and I were discussing the other day without prompting from the podcast.
The BEST part of the nine months of pregnancy, at least for the first child, is the complete ability to do nothing at all. My wife sat on the couch and watched Netflix for months and it was awesome. We had a complete excuse to sit around and do nothing. We didn’t have to fulfill social obligations; We didn’t have to call people back; We didn’t have to feel bad when that Netflix screen pops up and asks if we’re still watching and then four hours later asks again. It was incredible!
That changes when number two comes around. Child number one doesn’t stop being a child to acquiesce to our decision to have another kid. We can’t sit around eating popcorn, making fake drinks for wifey, real drinks for me and hanging out. The child wants to keep playing, getting into cabinets, needing to be fed. It’s horrible. Completely changes the dynamic.
After the first kid, you’re like, “Hell yea, I can do that again.” Then you do it again and think, “What the F was I thinking? This is NOTHING like the last time. Where are the chips? Where is the sleeping in? Where is the AppleTV remote?”
Oh, and they’re not kidding about the sleeping. Don’t expect to ever wake up after 7 am ever again. Ever. Again.