My Type of Parenting

When John was born I took some time off work to assist with taking care of Eli. Turned out what I thought would be assisting was full-on doing.

For one week, I was on complete Eli duty; feeding, bathing, changing, putting to bed, etc. To some this may not seem too demanding but I should note in the nine months leading up to John's birth I wasn't too involved with certain aspects of Eli's care. Namely: feeding him, bathing him, changing him, putting him to bed, etc.

My wife did all of this (because she’s awesome) and I forgot Eli was pretty much helpless (because I forget things). Well, when I took over his care, Eli got to remember just how hapless his dad is.

Now, I could run through a whole list of all the inept things I did while on Eli duty. However, in an effort to avoid self incrimination (since I haven’t told my wife most of them yet) I’m not going to do that.

Instead, I’ll relate the one occurrence that shook my faith in my parenting abilities. Sort of. I had finished changing Eli’s diaper (he was teething that week -- yay) and was feeling proudish for jumping back into the diaper changing game so optimistically. Eli went running into the living room and I heard my wife burst out laughing.

I walked over to see what was so funny and could tell by the look on her face that I’d done something so stupid she thought I did it on purpose. Sadly, I know that look well. And also that was not the case. Somehow I managed to set Eli free with his diaper on -- but with one butt cheek hanging out. Yes, for real. No, I don’t know how you do that without realizing it.

As the little half moon was running around it hit me; this mis-diapering was symbolic of my entire fathering experience. I’m like a “Get Smart” parent. I frequently get the big things right but still miss it by that much. And, just like Maxwell Smart, I’m often earnestly attending to what I think is the problem while the simple thing goes wrong.

To whit, our air conditioner went out last week. In an effort to keep my family comfortable, I strategically positioned fans all around the house. I set up a tower fan in the living room and held Eli back while I checked to make absolutely sure he couldn’t get his fingers inside the fan. Then I let him free. He curiously walked up to the fan and eyed it for moment. Then he charged into it, and bear hugged it as it toppled to the ground.

Here I am thinking I need to prevent him from putting his fingers in the fan when the real concern is him tackling the fan.

Maybe I’m not the only dad who feels like the devil is in the details when it comes to parenting.

After all, there are a lot of big things going on in the fatherhood realm, and it’s understandable that some of the little things get overlooked while you're focused on the big things, right? I just hope Eli considers proper butt coverage a little thing.