Here’s one of the first pieces I wrote for Dadding Depressed, and it contains a solid reminder as we enter into the holiday season.
If dadding were a college, I’d be the freshest freshman; the wide-eyed, panicked kid dropped off at the curb wondering if I should race back home or not. And like most college freshmen, I am awkward, lost, oblivious, and always unsure what exactly is driving me to drink (just kidding…but maybe not).
When my eight-month-old son cries in public, I shrink in awkwardness while darting my cringing face back and forth to see who’s judging me. When my wife is asking me to grab the Boopy or the Boppy or the whatever-baby-contraption-that-people-tell-us-we-absolutely-need-to-successfully-raise-a-child, I’m lost. And when it comes to raising a baby that will someday be a child and then a teenager and then a man, I feel pretty oblivious…and that’s when I grab a beer (just kidding…but maybe not).
A NARROW PERSPECTIVE
Sitting in the delivery room at the hospital, holding my screaming wife’s hand, and before the angels…
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