Fountain of Youth

by Phil

I've discovered the fountain of youth! A way to stay young forever!

Don't have children.

I know people are going to say, "Phil, you're crazy! Having children keeps you young! You play and laugh all day." But in the (nearly) 6 months that my son has been in my life, I feel like I've aged 50 years. I'm very suddenly an old man. I wake up in the morning with aches and pains. My feet hurt. My back is usually killing me. My hands hurts. And then there's the emotional ups and downs. My son had health problems when he was born, something I'll write about in future posts. There were three hospital stay in all, including the NICU and surgery. The amount of gray hair on my head has exploded. I'm pretty sure my already poor eyesight has somehow gone downhill at a more accelerated rate. I now love John Wayne and the Antiques Roadshow (what treasure will they discover next? It's all the excitement my heart can take!).

It's crazy how old I now feel. And it goes beyond the physical. I'm now more aware of the fact that I didn't have my first e-mail address until college, that I remember a time before computers, that I am currently 64 times older than this kid. The amount of time I've been alive before my son came into being is very starkly obvious to me. I'm going to be 50 before he goes off to college and gives me a moments peace. I'm more aware of my own mortality and that's just adding another layer of age to the achy feet.

But then, on top of it all there's the joy. The amazing unbelievable feeling I get when he gives me that giant gummy unselfconscious smile of his. I mean, c'mon. Just look at that.

He's the human equivalent of heroine. Sure, the bouncing and the rocking and worry about both his health and future weigh on me physically. But I get such joy from his reactions that I give him even more. I pour even more of myself, my time and my energy into him. It's an addiction in the most rewarding way. And he's such a little ball of pure id that he takes it all and brazenly demands more. Which is fine by me.

While not having children is a pretty good way to avoid growing old, I'd rather become more infirm by the moment with my amazing son.

So I'll be your Monday writer here on Knights of the Changing Table. There are five of us at-home dads around here, each responsible for one day a week. Join me as I drag my decrepit, 32 year-old geriatric body through an attempt to be a work-at-home dad. As the saying goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Or, in my case, much much more achy.