Assuming I remember to publish this post on the correct day, one year ago to the day our son Stan entered the world.

I’ve managed to refrain from posting too much about him, but I figured now is a good time to reflect a little on fatherhood, and the result is essentially several posts that I probably should have written over the course of the year.

I must admit, I’ve never been a big fan of children – never one to “koo” over babies.

2 years ago, given the choice of having a kid or having money and freedom, I could have taken either. At the time I felt it certainly would be good to have a kid. I didn’t know why, other than the fact most other people do it so there must be something to it. It doesn’t help that those that do have kids spend their time moaning about it, only to tell you it’s the best thing they’ve ever done… only they can’t explain why.

At the same time, if we couldn’t conceive then there certainly would be perks. I know people who have chosen the option not to have kids and now live a fulfilling lifestyle as a result. They see something they want and they can afford to get/do it.

Better Than Expected

First of all, good for them! I can definitely see the appeal. But all I would say is, being a parent so far has been an amazing experience. Before Stan, I simply couldn’t imagine how enjoyable it would be to actually have Stan. He’s made me feel feelings I never realised existed, and brought out aspects of me I didn’t expect.

Like being a proud dad for instance. Of course, I kind of expected to feel like a proud dad, but not with such ease. Stan really doesn’t have to do much and I’m incredibly proud to be his dad. From simple things like when he performs a party trick in front of family (eg. you tap your mouth making a noise, and he responds with the same action) to silly things. Of our friends, almost all of them have daughters and as a result, most of Stan’s ‘friends’ are girls. They’re all a bit older than him and they all play with him. In the mind of this proud Dad, he’s the boss. He’ll sit there in his paddling pool (read: Hot Tub) like some kind of pimp, whilst his bitches try to entertain him. It’s obviously not really like that, but I still feel proud of him for being there. Believe me, pimps and bitches ain’t my thing. So why on earth I’d have a strange sense of proudness for it is beyond me.

So given the ease in which proudness comes about, when I see the mums and dad’s of people who have really achieved something, I can’t help but feel good for them – and wonder what is going through their mind?

All the sick, poo, sleepless nights, inability to relax when they learn to crawl, concern when they’re ill. All the crap. It really doesn’t matter. It’s so worth it.

If nothing else, it’s worth it for the feeling you get when you’re in work having a slightly shitty time and you remember something they did the evening before. Or the week before.

At the moment I love the fact Stan is so passionate about playing with his toys. You put him down, he instantly sets off the grab his favorite toys and plays. Such a simple thing, but it puts a grin on my face just picturing him doing it. He’s happy!

Or the sound of him crawling around, hands slamming against the floor, off to find his mummy – panting away with excitement as he crawls. The thought of that makes me happy. I’m even more desperate to get home from work now-a-days.

And of course, the often referred to feeling you get when you get home from work and he’s pleased to see you. Most parents will tell you about this one when asked what’s great about parenthood.

You’re the first person to have kids…

I remember when Becky was pregnant with Stan, my brother told me that when you have a kid, you feel like you’re the first person to ever have kids.

I didn’t really know what he meant by that, but recently I realised – or at least I think I did. I find myself excitedly telling people about something Stan has done, as if no other baby has done it before. I know they probably have, but it doesn’t matter. To me it’s massive! It’s groundbreaking! He’s a fucking genius!! So the poor people I talk to, have to listen to me singing Stan’s praises. If they’ve had kids before, they’re thinking “Yeah, kids do that..”, and if they haven’t had kids they don’t really care anyway. Just like getting married, I never found other people’s kids truly interesting until I had one myself.

It just gets better…

Another thing my brother said to me is that it just gets better and better. At one month you’ll think to yourself “Nah, he’s perfect. Don’t change…”, and the same at 3 months, and 6 months etc. And at the time of him telling me this, I thought “Nope. I can avoid this. A baby isn’t much fun anyway. Everyone knows that a cheeky 3-year-old is far more fun than a baby that just sleeps, poos and feeds”. And yet, when Stan was just sleeping, pooing and feeding, he was perfect. I really didn’t want him to change. He was so innocent and cute. Who’d have thought something that does so little can be so perfect.

But as I write this – and in spite of the fact I’ve now learnt the lesson many times over all ready – I honestly think Stan just happens to be at that perfect age right now.

He’s inquisitive, happy, playful, reactive, not cheeky, cute, loving, absorbing and all sorts of other great things.

What could top him at 1 years old?

Happy birthday Stan!