Guest Blog: on being a working father

The hubs was kind enough to take over NaBloPoMo blogging today for me! ~Alicia

 

Hi there!

  

I’m Dave. Also known as “the husband,” “the hubs,” and this guy:

I’m taking over the blogging duty today. Gotta keep up that “one blog every day” goal running, and Lis is off at a class all night.

I figured I’d throw out a little Daddy perspective. Words of wisdom from a somewhat new father… ready? Here we go:

Dude, this is HARD.

Ok, so I’ve always said that I’d love to be a stay at home father. I’ve always said I wanted to go skydiving too. I think both would hold an equal chance of killing me.

I love my wife, and I admire her for being able to handle the kid all day. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kid. LOVE. But you can never be prepared. Not nearly enough people warn you beforehand: “gee, I hope you like building block towers for hours at a time,” or “you’ll sure find it fun when climbing up and down stairs is the awesomest thing in the world to him!”

All that being said, I miss the little booger. I spend every weekday away from him, for a giant chunk of the day. I missed his first crawl, his first unsupported steps, his first pontoon boat race…

I’ll miss more things by childhood’s end, I’m sure.

I’m lucky and get to spend mornings with him, and even take him to work with me for a few hours a week… which coincidently happens to be the same amount of time that absolutely nothing gets done at my office. I’m so thankful for those mornings, because far too often I get home from work, cook dinner for everyone, feed the baby and the cat, and then the day’s over for baby G, and I’ve barely said “boo” to him or played a single hand of poker with him that whole evening (he’s a  master at pulling the inside straight, by the way).

Being a working father sucks, just as I’m sure being a working mother sucks. Sure, some mornings he’s screaming and whining and pitching fits and I’m thinking “yay! I get to go to work!”… but within minutes of leaving I just want to turn around and go back to be with him.

My one biggest reward comes when I get home. Every day when G hears the door and Lis tells him that I’m home he runs… RUNS… to the door and into my arms with the biggest of grins on his face.

Yes, that’s actually a picture of him at the moment that I came in the room. Sometimes the wife is jealous that that’s not how he greets her when she comes home from somewhere… but I say it’s my reward for missing so much so often.

It’s all worth it, and life is good.