A few nights ago I had a dream. It was the first “baby dream” I’ve had, and…well, it was a little scary. In the dream, the baby was crying, Sarah was saying, “It’s YOUR turn. GO get him” and I was walking over to the crib, picking him up, and just holding him, staring into his cute eyes and listening to him stop his crying. I thought I was pretty damn good.
And then there was poop.
So much poop. Neverending amounts of poop coming from his diaper. I yelled at Sarah. She yelled at me for not putting the diaper on the right way. And then, while trying to race the baby into the bathroom so I could at least hold him over the toilet…he started puking on me.
And then I woke up.
And thought to myself: “Wow…now THIS is going to be awesome!”
Of course, I posted something about it on Facebook, and everyone was super encouraging. No really, they were. Folks said things like:
- “That will be your reality…”
- “I had that dream too! Oh yeah, that actually happens to me a few times a week.”
- “Ha ha ha! Get ready for the real world that is coming!”
Even my mom chimed in with this: “Let’s hope my grandson is like his father…I only remember one episode like that…although it was on an airplane.”
Well – you know what I say to all of you?
Bring. It. On.
I’ll show you who can clean up poop. I’ll show you who isn’t afraid of a little baby spit-up. I’ll show you! (knocking on wood as we speak).
But really, I’m ready, as much as I can be. I’m ready for all the shit (literally and figuratively), the long nights, the sleep deprivation and everything else that I have no idea about right now. Will I probably whine about it while it’s happening? Yes. Will I probably tweet at 3am while I’m trying to get my son to go back to sleep while reading him Go the F**k to Sleep? Yes. Will it seem like it’s just too much when I’m in the middle of it? Sure.
But bring it. I’m ready. I’m ready to keep being a dad.