Do You Miss Your Old Life?

It's a simple question, really.

"Do you miss your old life?" Someone asked me that this week and I froze.

Do I pine for the days when I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted? Do I wish I could go out every weekend, drink delicious Dogfish Head beer, and not worry about what the next morning might look like? Do I yearn for the time when my primary responsibility didn't involve a precocious, stubborn, willful little red head?

It's a simple question. But it doesn't have a simple answer.

I've actually been thinking about this question for quite a while -- almost two years, actually. At first, I didn't because I thought it made me a bad parent. You've been blessed with this wonderful miracle. How dare you ever pretend it never happened?! But then I realized it was normal to think those things, even healthy. If you never talk about the things that are really on your mind, what kind of a life is that?

Fatherhood, as I've chronicled on this blog, is wonderful. Mostly, I present the lighter side of things here and on social media. Pictures of a smiling Annabelle. Memorable moments by the ocean's edge. A family relaxing in the backyard.

I post those things because I think they are probably more enjoyable to see and they are the way I want to remember the early years of Annabelle's life. It's certainly not to fool anyone into thinking our lives aren't filled sometimes with stress or challenges. But who wants to look at pictures of incessantly runny noses? Or a video of a tantrum caused by a lack of pretzels inside the bag of Chex Mix? (Obviously, I didn't just come up with that example on my own.)

This week, or the past two weeks actually, have been especially challenging because Annabelle will no longer sleep in her crib. We're trying lots of different things, including crying it out, which is absolutely brutal. She just cries and cries and cries. And the second you start becoming immune to the sobbing and screaming, you think you're a horrible person because you're letting your adorable child go through it.

Shudder.

So with those experiences fresh in my mind and, well, ongoing, I figured it was a good time to pony up and answer the question: Do I miss my old life?

First answer: Sometimes.

I mean, how couldn't I, right? How couldn't any parent? Before baby, you had lots of free time, more disposable income, and more control over your life. You slept well almost every night and actually looked refreshed from time to time. During certain moments, like when I was lying on her rock-hard floor at midnight on Tuesday begging her to "just close her eyes," it's impossible not to miss it.

But if there was a way to go back and make the decision again, I would absolutely take the same path. I would take it 100 times out of 100 opportunities.

Why? Mostly because one big hug, one care-free minute of laughter, or one "I love you" trump anything I've ever experienced. Just one of those things is better than 50 amazing nights out at a bar, a European vacation, or a game-winning shot in a local hoops league. Call me a sap, but that's how I really feel.

So, my final answer: I miss moments of my old life. But I couldn't imagine not living the one I've chosen.

Seven Things I've Already Learned about Fatherhood

I can now wear high, white socks. I can now use phrases like, "Money doesn't grow on trees" and "A little hard work never hurt anyone." I will now, without exception, eat all the end pieces and the leftovers no one wants.

I am officially a Dad.

I've had my shiny, new title for all of 11 days, but I've already learned a few things. I still have about 174,893 things to figure out, but after almost two weeks as Annabelle Grace Briddon's father, I am certain about these seven things:

1. Parenting is pretty natural. In other words, I'm not nearly as bad at this as I expected I would be. I know how to change a diaper, hold a baby, and turn crying into quiet. (Not every time on that last item, but I'm getting there.) Everyone said that you just kind of figure it out. Everyone was right.

2. My pinkie finger is very important. If you put your pinkie -- nail-side down -- into a baby's mouth, she sucks on it and, subsequently, stops crying. So far, anyway. For whatever reason, this little secret didn't appear in any of the baby books I read. When one of our nurses showed me how to do it, I felt like I was being invited into an exclusive club.

3. I would be screwed without my wife. This isn't a new fact, but it's become very apparent in the past couple weeks. Bridget, a seasoned babysitter, has cared for a lot of newborns in her life and appears to be really good at all this complicated stuff. Diaper change? Eight seconds. Breastfeeding? A natural. Explosive diarrhea? Handles it with a smile. She more than makes up for my 10-thumbed hands.

4. Poop smells. Several times, I read that breastfed babies don't have stinky diapers. That is, excuse the pun, a load of crap. It is not pleasant.

5. Your body can adjust to anything. I really enjoy sleep. The thought of a soft, delicately braided hammock gently rocking on a cool summer evening is downright sexy to me. I used to average about 7-8 hours of snoozing every night. Now? Well, if you're a parent, you know it's sometimes half of that. Or a quarter. Or some other tiny (and ungodly) fraction. But, so far, both Bridget and I are holding our own. I've even worked out a few times in the past week. (Or maybe I dreamt that ...)

6. Apps can be wonderful things. I love apps. I'm constantly looking for new ones and touting the value of my favorites to friends and family. Yes, they can be a giant waste of time, but the right ones, like Baby Connect, can really improve the quality of your life. Baby Connect tracks feedings, dirty diapers, doctor visits, and everything else related to our bundle of joy. It's a data lover's dream. In the last five days, I know Belle has gone through eight diapers, nine diapers, eight diapers, seven diapers, and 10 diapers, respectively. And now you know. Neat.

7. There's no word for how much you love your child. The English language just doesn't have one. Dozens of times every day, I'm experiencing emotions I've never even imagined. I know this is mushy and all that, but it's true. When she sleeps for an hour on my chest. When she opens one eye, but not the other. When she kicks me while I change her. It's, well, like I said, there's no word.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go buy some socks ...