One of the things I have failed at as a father is that I really, and I really wanted it, was to document everything it was like to be a father, so I would have something to pass along to the kid when she got older. It sounded like a sweet idea in my head, something that would be a record of what an awe inspiring, life changing event it was to become a father, and how much love filled my life.
Then we had the kid, and I learned that I will now and forever be tired, but especially for those first three months when nothing made sense and life with a newborn was like a rollercoaster ride that I couldn’t get off… Not that I wanted to get off of it, but if it slowed down for like five minutes, that would have been great.
The plan was that I would write anywhere from one sentence to a paragraph about that day’s experience with the kid. I don’t think I ever made seven consecutive days. It was spurts and stops and starts, and I would jump from that first week to three months to a year, and then nothing else. It’s kind of embarrassing that I could follow through with it. I have complete respect for the parents that can keep on top of daily pictures, of first year journaling. That was not my thing.
For me, parenting is such an “in the moment” thing, that it never dawns on me that I should document it until it is too late. And then I try to remember and write it down, some other kid event happens that pulls me away. Holding on to cards, and odd drawings makes sense now. That is the tangible memory that is created.
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