four months of fatherhood: the lessons (more or less) learned

today baby nice guy turns four months old (well, actually, 17.5 weeks but she was born on may 12, so ...). yesterday, on sept 11, the nice guys went to a picnic thrown by our fantabulous midwives: they had a very busy summer, apparently, as there were no fewer than 3,699,037 babies that they delivered flopping around in prospect park with their parents. it was a lovely affair: semi-crunchy young moms and dads abounded. borderline unhealthy foods were being consumed with gusto. there was quite a bit of talk about barfing and defecation and sleeping. so, actually, it was a lot like college. only with more breastfeeding.

four years ago mrs nice guy and i were unwed, living in sin AND in boston, which is a sin itself, so we were living in sin-squared. since 9/11 we have gotten married, moved to new york (there's that hubris again), gotten shmancy jobs, bought an apartment in the nastiest apartment-buying-environment-ever (hubris, anyone?), and made a tiny, screaming, non-napping infant. we're absurdly blessed. life, despite how wisp-thin we're constantly reminded it is, goes on.

so, yes. four months of fatherhood. what i have learned about myself in the past four years has been sobering in itself, but these past 17.5 weeks have been eye-opening on an entirely different level. feel like learning everything you didn't want to know about yourself? have a kid.

honestly? i still don't feel like a dad. i see toddlers, walking and sort-of-talking, and i think you mean my kid is going to turn into that? my barfing non-napping lunatic? i feel more like the proud owner of some rare pet: a wild drooling hairless north american simian dwarf. she's cute, but a human? you have yet to convince me.

anyway, here, in four-part harmony, is a brief breakdown of what mr nice guy now knows about himself, whether he likes it or not, thanks to a tiny, unfurry chimpchild:

• when you wake up every day at 5:30 am, it makes total sense to be drinking your first beer by 10.
• a person who weighs less than 20 pounds can send me into such paroxysms of rage that i (a tiny-penis-having, card-carrying, junior flyweight pussy) am seriously considering joining an illegal kickboxing fight club in some chinatown back alley somewhere. must. punch. something.
• i am capable of growing some really beautiful sideburns.
• this same hairless chimp that throws me into apoplectic fits of fury is also capable turning me into its dancing, clapping, imbecilic noise-making bitch in my pathetic, dehumanizing attempts to coax a smile onto her unbearably cute face.
• my wife's tits are so powerful that they can sustain life for months at a time! i knew they were impressive and all, but this child has put nothing into her body for her entire life that hasn't come out of mrs nice guy's recently-ample bosom. it seems i have underestimated her strength.
• you have to give them credit: babies really know how to barf it up.
• apparently i will never get eight consecutive hours of sleep again, and you know what? the hallucinations i have been enjoying lately are beginning to suggest that 4-5 hours every night just doesn't quite cut it. something has got to give and since i let go of my sanity weeks ago, i am terrified to learn what that will be.
• watching a baby take a giant, gurgling, earth-rumbling dump just never ceases to be funny ...
• ... until it leaks through her diaper and gets all over your sheets ...
• ... and even then, it's still pretty funny.
• drinking alone at home is almost just as fun as going to a bar with my friends. ok, that was a lie.
• attempting to make sweet, sweet love to one's spouse while one's baby is screaming in the other room because she woke up sooner than she should have is stressful. also: it actually is possible to be too tired for sex (ok, seriously, someone please kill me right now).
• it turns out i am exactly the type of psychopath who will walk up to you and your baby on the street and try to strike up a conversation by saying something deranged like "oooh, isn't he handsome" because, obviously, we are the only two people on earth who have ever procreated ever.
• even though my head totally feels like it will explode if i have one more cup of coffee today, it actually won't.
• i would never have guessed that i am perfectly capable of killing someone for merely breathing wrong on an infant. and yet there it is.
• i really care about my baby's naps. remind me: why do i really care about naps?
• i CANNOT WAIT until this child is 13-years-old and mortified that she sprung from our loins. there are untold joys waiting for me in those days when i can utterly embarrass my daughter just by wearing the wrong shirt or telling some dumb joke. oh sweet, sweet revenge, thou shall be mine in spades!

i grow weary of this exercise. you get the point. fatherhood is fun. and hard. and ennobling. and drunk. i recommend it. in fact, you can have my daughter. haha! joking! no you can't.

yes, actually, you can.

no you can't!