The Painful Truth About Fatherhood Part Deux: It Gets Better

Alright gents, in Part One of this epic tale I imparted some of the wisdom I wish had been bestowed upon me rather than the hellish school of hard knocks that was my first kid’s first year on this earth. But now I’ve got a modicum of light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel truth to impart: It gets better.

Now, your wallet is still gonna feel light, you won’t see many of your buddies and sex is a game of speed and chance. Just be advised that this is going to last for about 5 years. Then they start kindergarten. FUCK YEAH!!! Thundercats HOOOOO! 6 hours of whatever the fuck you wanna do! I talk to fathers who have had kids in school for several years, and they still wanna high-five when they say “kids are in school.” Up til then, you’re a Limbro. That’s right, a Bro in limbo. Ha, I’m copywriting that shit.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I just get so excited! It’s like drinking your first beer, or seeing your first porn. You don’t know what to expect.

Some Awesome Shit

Now, there is some awesome shit that occurs before the complete removal of your children on a daily basis. First, mobility. You don’t have to carry those wiggly sacks of potatoes anymore. I think that half the reason those cute little cock-blockers would cry was out of frustration from lack of movement, and now they can crawl or walk. Just wait fellas, my monsters can climb into my truck on their own and get into their carseats! One of them can even buckle himself! No longer am I folding strollers or carrying carseats (or kids in carseats), wondering when I’m gonna drop a nut and hope my insurance covers “child-induced hernia.”

Secondly, you no longer need to deal with another human’s bodily excretions every… fucking… day. Admittedly, accidents happen and they still don’t have full control, but it’s no longer like dealing with drunk college kids that shit themselves. Goodbye diaper genie, and go fuck yourself, Pampers. Though, your services were appreciated.

Third of all, they start to feed themselves and can work the TV! Just one more thing that gives you a breath. Hell, my kid can work Netflix better than the babysitter. That’s right folks, I let my boys watch TV. You don’t agree, write your own fucking article. It not only gives me a chance to have a breath, work-out or get shit done, but this is a technique I’ve used multiple times to get some boot-knockin’ with the wife.

Lastly, they can now communicate. Sure, it’s mostly irrational, sub-human insanity that spews from the lips of terrorists who are holding your man-card hostage, but you can at least get some semblance of a yes or no out of them. No more rolling the dice on whether the demands are regarding hunger, shitty diaper, fatigue or one of the hundreds of possible reasons that kids cry.

Not So Awesome Shit

These are just a few of the many things that are going to change for the better. But there are going to be some caveats as well. You know those cunts that feel like it’s their responsibility to tell you “you’re going to miss this” while you’re out in public with your children? I want to throat-punch those people so bad. Reason is, you only hear those remarks when your kid has been a raging asshole for the past several hours, and then the little con-artist decides he’s going to be cute and flirty with some old lady in the grocery store. You never seem to hear that shit during moments you’re actually going to miss, and I know there are plenty of things I am going to miss. Like when they want to cuddle on the couch or think I am literally strong enough to lift a mountain.

My Evolution of Fatherhood

I know the day is coming when they don’t want a bedtime story or a hug or no longer think their dad is the strongest person in the world. What actually felt like a physical blow, was when my older one called me “dad” instead of “daddy.” Fuck, that hurt. I thought I had at least until he was eight to be “Daddy.”

On the other hand, they will throw some Jedi mind tricks at you that will blow your goddamn mind – whether it’s whipping out something that they learned from school, or telling you that they want to dress themselves! Then they actually do it, and you’re standing there like Ricky Bobby and don’t know what to do with your hands. You’re just so damned proud that this thing you created, fostered and cared for can actually do shit for themselves. It’s like they are finally giving a crap about you after 3 years of unrewarding stewardship (sounds extreme, but you get my drift).

But, this is the life our dicks chose for us, so make the best of it. Yes, it seems like it’s going to suck at times, and it will. Especially if you have those DINK (dual-income-no-kids) friends that talk about their last trip to Europe and how awesome their last orgy was. Buckle up for the real feels bitches, I had a hard time accepting fatherhood. But finally accepting my role and responsibility and giving the finger to the bullshit and entitlement that I told myself I deserved made the difference. I finally had the mental and emotional freedom to enjoy my awesome little assholes.

Yes, parenthood is bittersweet, but stand together fellas. Share a pint and vent your frustration with your brothers-in-arms. After that, get off your ass and continue the pursuit of glory in the Battle of Fatherhood.

To you, my fellow warriors of the wailing.

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