Happy Valentine's Day to a New Mom

It is Valentine’s Day and this blog post is dedicated to my wife. She and my daughter are the greatest things to ever happen to me.

Look, I’m not a mushy kind of guy. I don’t do a lot of hand holding, kissing, snuggling, etc. I won’t read you poems or set up outside your bedroom window holding a boom box, ala Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything.  

My wife probably goes through life wondering why the hell she ever married me, let alone brought my child into this world.

But I am the most loyal SOB you’ll ever meet. Forget Lassie finding help for Timmy in the well. I would have NEVER LET TIMMY FALL IN THE WELL. I once volunteered to get laid off from work so a boss I liked could keep his job. He had a family; I didn't.

Once you are in with me, you are in for life.

So, I show my love through loyalty. Hard work. Sacrifice. I brush the snow off her car in the morning. I let her pick the restaurant. I try to give her a break when she is stressed.

Not exactly Hallmark stuff. I know what my wife is thinking. “Can’t a girl get a box of chocolates?”

When I was young, I believed in the two-kids-and-a-dog, white-picket-fence sort of life. Not that I ever had it, but it was the ideal.

I had four serious girlfriends before my wife. My high school girlfriend dumped me when I went off to college to make a better life for us. She got the two kids and white picket fence, just with my former best friend. BITTER.

My college girlfriend had a career start in Cleveland. Mine was near Chicago. She apparently didn’t think long distance would work. BITTER. My first girlfriend out of college didn’t survive my next career move, to Cincinnati. This time, I didn’t feel long distance would work. GUILTY.

I had a girlfriend in my late 20s. We even lived together. The flame burned hot, but short, incinterating after three years.

These experiences added to my cynicism of marriage. There weren’t a lot of happy marriages in my extended family. I didn’t need my own failures to tell me commitments rarely last. But they sure solidified that thinking.   

So I get to my 30s and then into my 40s, and I’ve pretty much given up on the white picket fence.  I was a confirmed bachelor, living the life. And by “life” I mean, pizza, potato skins and beer. Late nights, sleepy days. A lot of couch and television, very little exercise. The “life” was probably going to end by age 50. I was Whitney Houston without the prescription drugs.

Then, along comes Brooke. Her fun approach to life, her optimistic attitude, her love of dogs, her care for disabled children….it all won me over. She has a tremendous heart and is simply a really good person.

An example: she dipped my daughter’s feet in some sort of  red ink, put them together in the shape of a heart and hand-made valentines to give to our parents and our child care provider. She essentially turned our little daughter into a valentine. How do you not love someone who thinks up something like that?  

It did take awhile. Our love was a slow burn. I don’t trust a lot of people. But once she was in, she was in.

I could sit here and tell you a million reasons why she means the world to me. But I will sum it up with one: Sydney Grace Gregg. This is, after all, a blog about fatherhood.

Not only did my wife get me to believe in the white picket fence, she convinced me to father this precious child. I am a better man for it.

I’m a glass-half-empty kind of guy. I only saw the burdens that children bring. Brooke only saw the joys. Now, because of her, I get to experience those joys. I’m a new man at 45 and, not only do I hope to live past 50, I pray to make it to 80.

Children really do bring out the best in you. I’d step in front of a speeding train to protect my daughter. I’d do the same for my wife. She’s earned that loyalty.

She reads my blog, but this will be a bit of a surprise for her. I hope it makes her Valentine’s Day a good one. Especially since I didn’t buy her anything.

I’m not really an easy guy to live with. I’m argumentative. I’m a contrarian. I rarely dust or sweep. If I don’t have anything going on, I might go a whole weekend without showering.

Yeah, I’m a hell of a catch. Stand back ladies….I’m already taken.

Somehow, she puts up with me. Somehow, she loves me.   

Thank you, Brooke. Thank you for opening my eyes. Thank you for helping me believe in the white picket fence. Thank you for giving me the greatest Valentine a man can receive.

I love you.  

Daddy Turns Into a Softie

A guy in my office told me having a child will expand my range of emotions. He said I will feel everything deeper and I will feel things I’ve never felt before.

He was right.

I have a job that involves abused and neglected children. Thankfully, I do not do the real social work. Those people are true angels who have to deal with situations and people no one should ever have to encounter. I have the easier task of handling communications and dealing with the media.

Still, I am frequently involved in discussing the intimate details of cases where children die or are hurt. I cannot publicly discuss them, but believe me when I say what parents and others do to children would sicken you to the point of throwing up. I cannot stress this enough: there are people out there who torture children. If you think today’s child abuse is something along the lines of what happened when your mom or dad knocked you around a little to set you straight, you are greatly mistaken. Whether because they are drugged up, mentally ill or just plain violent, there are people doing things to children that is beyond comprehension.  

And that is my point. While these cases have always elicited great emotion from me, I feel it much deeper now. I picture my little girl every time I hear the details of a case, and that nearly brings me to tears sometimes. It always makes me extremely angry.

I now know how tiny a four-month-old is and how ridiculous it would be to say the beating you gave them was punishment. I now understand how bathing a baby works and find it inexcusable that someone would attempt it while high on drugs or drunk on hard liquor. I cringe when I hear a father has isolated their little one, making them sleep in the bathroom or not feeding them.

I get angry enough to fight.  

That’s just one example of the way my emotions have changed over the past four months.

I have already told you I am not the kind of guy who gets excited about much. But I greatly anticipate the future I have with my daughter. I’m eager for that day we can talk and I can teach her things. I wonder what it will be like to come home and have her come running for a hug. I can’t wait until we can watch a football game together and I can discuss the Cover 2 defense with her.  

I get angry and sad knowing that she will be picked on at some point in her life, or have her heart broken. I have already told my wife I will watch sporting events away from the rest of the crowd because if I hear someone criticize my daughter, there WILL BE a fight.

One of my biggest emotions is fear I won’t be around to experience all of these times with her.

At Christmas, my mother-in-law gave my daughter a gift from a great grandmother she will never know. It got me thinking about all the people in Sydney’s life who would have loved and cherished her and how she will never have the chance to meet them. Her mom’s grandmother. My father. Most of my grandparents.

What if something happened to me or her mom? How much more difficult would Sydney’s life  be. How would my wife or I handle raising our girl without the other parent? How would we keep that missing parent’s memory alive for our daughter?

These are things I never used to think about. Now, with Sydney, I do all the time. It chokes me up. Having a kid has made me a softie. I cry at Hallmark commercials.

It is both difficult and fun to feel highs and lows that I haven’t felt in a very long time. That’s a good thing. The great basketball coach Jim Valvano said everyone should laugh, cry and think every day.

I agree.