Being a dad is different than I thought. I expected angles with horns as soon as she popped out. Instant, deep, penetrating love for this little "bundle of joy". I thought I would feel different.
Instead, I feel like I have picked up a task. A good one...one I don't mind doing...but a task nonetheless. Sorta like that job that was a bit of a stretch, but you you did not mind the hard work and long hours.
I am up all night long, trying to decide if I should rock her, dance with her, sing to her or just let her be. I change diapers and prep for feeding. I jump at every whimper and smile at every coo. I put her in the backseat very carefully and drive much more slowly. I have already eaten a few cold dinners, passed on a beloved cigar and cooked with a good bottle of wine instead of drinking it. I wipe the "front butt" even though I am uncomfortable doing so. I hold her until my arm feels like it will fall off then I move to the next one for just as long. I manage to do all this with a smile and looking forward to what comes next.
Wait...that is Love...that is a deep, penetrating love. It may not have involved a choir of angels, but that crying and whaling is pretty melodic, sora like a bunch of 7th graders playing in their first concert...and Claire has never been so beautiful.
Yea, I could get used to this whole Dad thing.