Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Choir of Jr. High Wind Instruments

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 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.


KS said...

Wow. Beautifully put, and made me cry. BTW....sooo glad you're back in the blogosphere too :)

asmaa ahmad said...

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