Not in the biblical or movie sense, mind you, but in the 40 year-old first time newbie dad sort of way. This is also my first contribution to the DadBloggers site, so please be gentle with me. Of course, I am a bit nervous since I’m now blogging for an audience outside of my family and friends. I finally became a “man” so to speak back on December 30, 2005. That’s when Aidan, my first child and favorite tax deduction was born, just a couple of months after I turned the big Four-Oh.

For those of us starting our families a bit later in life, the challenges can be somewhat more complex. By 40, we’re supposed to be more established in our careers. By 40, we’re supposed to already have a house full of kids. By 40, we’re supposed to be wiser, more mature and all grown up. Well, at least I’m working on the career and house full of kids part. But I definitely draw the line at being all grown up.

One of the biggest challenges I face is that I certainly don’t have the same energy and stamina I once had in my 20’s and 30’s. There’s a standing joke around my office between my friends and colleagues who are around my age. Invariably, they’ll see me stumbling around in a daze or stare blankly at my computer screen. They’ll ask how I’m doing and how things are with the baby. I’ll start to babble incoherently about lack of sleep, colic, lack of sleep, poopy diapers, lack of sleep, melt downs, waking up at 2am, 3am, 4am, lack of sleep, etc. They’ll of course offer their sympathy, reminisce a little about their own baby experiences, and offer some priceless sage advice. They’ll also share a tidbit or two about their high school aged kids and somehow slip in the phrase “Better you, than me.”

I’ll try and retort by asking how much college costs these days. Of course, they simply respond by saying that the cost is much cheaper now than it will be when Aidan is finally ready for college. That’s when I usually go back to my dazed and confused stare. Even the young’uns are getting in on the act, skoolin’ the n00b dad so to speak. How my old and busted blanket swaddling technique is no match for their mad Baby-Gami Kung Fu skillz. Or how bug-a-boo is the new black, and the traveling DJ techno party babylovesdisco.com is the new under(play)ground retro rave scene. As a 40 year-old first time newbie dad, I never knew how much skoolin’ I have ahead of me. One thing’s for sure though is that I’m definitely looking forward to it.

As a first-time father, I have learned many things about myself, not least of which was how I can love someone more than I ever thought possible.

I have known for many years that I am extremely fortunate to have consistently felt love from many, many people throughout my life.  My family, immediate and extended, has shown unending love between one another as long as I can remember.  Of course disputes occurred, but love for one another always allowed those involved to settle their differences in a caring and understanding way.  My parents, especially, have loved me unconditionally for my entire 32 years of existence.  I know with absolute certainty that my ability to love is a direct result of their caring and nurture.

I love many things in life.  My wife.  My parents.  My brother and sister.  My Aunt Faye.  I can honestly say I love my dog.  And although obviously in a different form, I love the Chicago Bears, NC State, popcorn, and The Godfather Part I and II.

While waiting for the day we would finally meet Gwen, I assumed I would love her like I love the rest of my family, which was, in my mind, the ultimate form of love.

All of that changed at approximately 4:30 PM on September 13, 2005.  When I saw Gwen for the first time, my heart felt something completely new.  Ten months later, and it still is all but impossible to describe the unending love I have for her.  To know that I would honestly do anything for her is still sometimes hard for be to believe is feasible even though I know it is completely true.  I am literally thrilled to see her each morning before work and each night when I return.  And when she says “Da-ee”, I am putty in her hands.

I wondered before I was a Dad how my parents could love me and my siblings so much, no matter what foolish things we did.  Now I understand.  And I am eternally grateful each day that I continue to experience my love for Gwen.

Natasha’s voice drifted sheepishly from the bottom of the ladder:  “Daddy, can you paint my nails?”

“Oh, God, please, not that,” I thought.  “One more step in the emasculation of Chuck.  It’s just me, a neutered dachshund and 3 women in this house.  Before long I’ll be giving make up advice and complaining about cramps.  Oh, the humanity!”

Everything goes dark for a moment.  When the fog clears, I’m in some kind of museum.  Next to an exhibit on the American bison is a small case displaying what appear to be two raisins. I can’t read the description.

“No, sir, those aren’t raisins,” states the guide to my left.  “Those are your testicles, or, should I say, what’s left of them.”

Not sure whether to be scared or confused, I ask, “Why are they next to the buffalo exhibit?”

“Because they, too, once roamed the countryside, wild and free…”

I scream myself back to reality.  (Although I swear the dog is smirking at me from the living room.)

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Nothing…I just got some paint on the floor, that’s all.” Then, looking at the little girl at the bottom of the ladder holding 3 jars of Hello Kitty nail polish, I realized it was time for a perspective adjustment.  Since we moved to the new house 2 weeks ago, our girls have endured a seemingly endless succession of unpacking, painting and rain. Everything in their lives is now new:  new camp, new neighbors, new parks, etc.  With Mommy putting her sister to bed and Daddy painting the dining room, there was a 4-yr-old in serious need of some one-on-one time.

“Besides,” I thought to myself, “I’ve painted everything else in this house, why not Natasha’s fingernails? How hard could it be?” (She cried a bit when I pulled the masking tape off, but other than that I’d say I did OK.)

Once I got past the ‘girliness’ of what I was doing, it became clear that this was actually a good activity for making a connection: we had to sit close together, I was holding her hand and she had to be still.  I told her that I knew that moving was hard, that she missed her old friends, and that starting at a new camp was scary. But I also reminded her that when she first started at her old camp she didn’t know anyone either, and that I was sure she’d make new friends just like she did last year.  And in the meantime, she still had a Mommy, a Daddy and a sister who loved her very much.

Natasha didn’t say anything until I finished painting the left pinky.  Then she looked up, smiled and said, “I like spending time with you.….I love you, Daddy.” And with that she ran off and held her hands up to the fan in the living room.

As I re-ascended the ladder, I recalled a quote attributed to an unnamed old rabbi: “I learned a great deal from my teachers, and even more from my colleagues, but I learned the most from my students.” In that brief interaction with my daughter, she actually taught me something about being a parent.  As important as it is for us to take the lead and instruct them, sometimes we should just listen, and they will let us know what they need from us.  That evening, Natasha needed reassurance that there was still something stable and permanent in her 4-yr-old world.

‘Quality time’ is not something you schedule; you make yourself available and wait for it to happen.  It usually occurs when you don’t expect it.  It can happen during a planned event, but don’t expect it to pose for the camera.  It’s those moments that seem to come out of nowhere, when you realize you are connecting with your children in a way that transcends the day-to-day; that you are becoming closer than family ties alone can bring you.

Sure, I like to think that one day I can connect with my girls while teaching them to throw a spiral or parallel park.  But until then, nail polish and princess costumes will have to do.

Real men are there for their kids.

Both of my daughters started swimming lessons last week and are doing great.

The first day was a little tough. Our oldest, who is now 5, just kept crying. We had to walk away from the pool area and let the teachers do their job. It was really hard but we knew it had to be done. We also knew that we didn’t want to be one of ‘those parents’ that stand right next to the pool trying to ‘help’ with our kid. After the lesson was over she was fine and all was well with the world once again.

The next day was an off day because of July 4th. Our next lesson was just as hard as the first. She cried and cried, she kept looking our way and we decided that we needed to get out of sight. We told the manager of the pool where we were going and she told us that she had an idea. She went inside and when she returned she had a box of chocolate chip cookies. She walked over to our daughter and told her that she would get a cookie if she stopped crying and finished the lesson. Well that did the trick! She had a blast for the last 10 minutes. When the whistle blew she could not get to the manager fast enough. Both of our girls got a cookie. That night we talked to our oldest and asked if she was ready to go to swim class the next day. She said, “What if I get scared?” We had to fish for the reason that she was scared in the first place. After asking a lot of questions we ended up asking if she was scared of the teacher.

B.I.N.G.O.!

It was the teacher. The reason was that the teacher was male. We then realized that she had NEVER had a male teacher. WOW!! Then the reasoning started.

“Well Baba is a boy right?”

“Yes!”

“Baba is fun to play with and jump around with, right?”

“Yeah!”

“So why is this different?”

“Well, He’s not my Baba!”

“Ah, Okay! Well, you have fun at the pool, right?”

“Yeah!”

“We will try again tomorrow.”

“Okay!”

Then the promise came.

“Okay if you make it through the whole class without crying then we will go to the bookstore and you can pick out two books. How’s that?”

“Oh, Okay!”

Needless to say she had a GREAT time at the swim class and every class after that one has been awesome. So the moral of this long winded story…

I really like it when we can ‘bribe’ our kids with reading instead of snacks! That is awesome!

Sometimes parenting gets serious. Real serious. My Mom has seven animals (three cats and four dogs). She has a soft spot in her heart for abandoned animals.  Personally, I think she has too many. But my kids love all her animals. Through the animals, my boys get to learn how to be caring, protective, responsible, and have appropriate fun through responsible and safe play. But this week they learned another valuable lesson having a pet can teach.

Unfortunately, this week one of the dogs got hit by a car and died. I had to sit down with my boys and explain it to them. Of course, my two year old didn’t get it at all. But the lesson was really for his older brother, who is four. I sat down with him and told him something happened to Grammy’s dog, Max. He asked if he was OK. I told him that he ran out into the street and got hit by a car and is dead. I explained that he is no longer with us because the car hurt him so bad. He asked if he could still pet him, but I said not any more. I also was able to use the chance to talk about being safe and not going into the street. I know he didn’t totally understand it, but he did grasp the idea somewhat. He was also able to learn about compassion through the situation. We gave him some options in showing sympathy to Grammy and he insisted on flowers and a card.

Learning about death is a very important issue in the life of a child, so parents have to learn ways to teach this. It is hard and sad, but it is a real part of living. They have to develop the strength to face it, grieve, and move on. Owning pets can be a wonderful tool to teach your kids about many life-skills, even death.