Nastalgia for the REALLY Simple Things

Lately I have been noticing some things that I miss only now that I am a dad that I never new I was taking for granted. I'm not talking about the things you expect, like lack of sleep, lack of money and lack of time. I'm talking about the really simple things you never thought you would miss because you never knew you had them. Sort of like civil rights in Iran before Facebook.
1. I really miss walking at a normal pace. There's something really liberating about walking at a normal clip while not pushing a stroller, standing fully erect or carrying 30 pounds of flailing baby. I didn't notice this until I was trying to cross the street in a cross walk while cars piled up as I pulled Finn by the hand. I know the simple solution is to just pick up the little fart and pick-up the pace. I see the daggers you are shooting me young-professional-in-your-leased-BMW-with-hundred-dollar-sunglasses as me-and-mini-me loaf across the street. But I really don't care. This kid won't sleep unless I grind him down with long, long walks. Plus my arms are tired. Just keep scarfing down your Fillet-O-Fish and tweet about the a--hole and his kid later. Also, have fun with that heart attack in your early 40s. And nice Blu-Tooth, loser.

2. Another thing I never thought I was taking for granted was eating a meal without having food thrown at me. I know it's cute and funny in the movies when the kid pitches a spoon full of pea soup or spits out a stream of pureed chicken chimichunga. But in real life when Finn pitches a pancake over the edge of his high chair or tips an entire plate of baked beans on the floor, I have to stop eating so that I can clean it up. Maybe some parents can just wait to clean it all up later, but I really can't; that spill is a personal slap in the face that stings until I wipe it up. I simply can't, can't can't enjoy my tea and crumpets with those cheerios dripping off your chin onto the floor. But the cat seems to like them.

3. Staying up late and then sleeping in. Most of my friends don't have kids, which means I miss half of their lives. But  I don't even like partying when I can arrange a night out and Danielle plans to pick up the slack for me the next morning. Why? Because it is when we are weak that the little monsters really stick it to us. When I wake up with a hangover, a sinister series of dominos are triggered. It goes something like this:

I roll into bed at 2 am, making sure to keep one of my feet anchored to the floor so as to avoid spinney induced vomiting. It's like the Gravitron in here. Using his supersonic hearing, Finn hones in on the tiny gurgling sound of the internal war being waged between my spasming oesophageal sphincter and the five craft beers I drank (is five not a lot of beer? I meant six!). This rhythmic surging of acid upward in my stomach is like an alarm clock for Finn prompting him to wake every 30 minutes until 6 am, at which time he decides he is up for the day. I awake just before him at 5:45 am when I realize the radiant heat I am feeling is not a broken air conditioner blowing on me, but Danielle's fever-riddled body trying to kill all the germs in her body as well as all the germs in our neighborhood. The 15 minutes I get to myself before Finn wakes up is enough to make me truly fearful for the day as I realize a) there is a God and he is vengeful, b) there will be no easing into this headache so we will just have to fight for my soul bare knuckles style, c) Finn has only slept about 6 minutes since 2 am so today will ROCK!, c) tomorrow I will have the flu that Danielle is currently gestating and d) Finn will have it on Monday when I am home alone with him. At 7 am Finn wants eggs and I nearly vomit while cracking them into the pan and again as they heat up and expel there essence into my nostrils. At 7:30 am Finn has miraculously already processed the eggs and, BONUS!, has finally broken his streak of constipation! For the first time in my life I almost throw up while changing him, though "almost" is really a technicality, isn't it? The rest of the day gets worse, but I don't see much of it because of the literally blinding headache.

Safer to start drinking at 10 am and let the buzz fade over the afternoon.

4.  Using the bathroom without having to stock it with a menagerie of toys first. Also, using the bathroom without having someone looking into your eyes. Also, going to the bathroom without being touched by a tiny hand.

5. Eating food without realizing how much of someone else's feces is actually on it. First, you eat way more sh*t than you think you do. Every time you go out to eat, every time you don't sanitize your salad in the microwave, every time you lick your sticky little fingers, you are ingesting a little poo.

Browntown.

I'm not saying I eat more poo than a non-parent, just that I have had to make peace with the fact that I test the integrity of my native flora by introducing exotic flora on a daily basis. I miss not knowing...