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.

Eating Together -- At The Table?

Marriage instantly makes you a family. Granted, it's a small family, but it's still a family. You are now husband and wife. Breadwinner and bread eater. Emergency contact and, well, emergency contact.

Simply put, things change. And of all the places that change happens, none may be more significant than the dinner table. Or, as we used to call it, that white, flat thing in our dining room that holds the mail, Oscar's leash, and our latest dying plant.

But now, it is for chow. Because we don't want to turn into these folks:

Bridget and I do our best to eat together as much as possible. The summer makes that tough. She has a girls' night. I have basketball and kickball. Happy hours happen. But, during most work weeks, we eat in the same apartment at least a couple times. And at least one of those times, we've promised, it will be together at the dinner table. 

Older folks (read: older than 35) might read this and say, "Hey, you should always eat at the dinner table together! What's wrong with you? You damn kids and your MTV! Eat at the table!" Well, we don't. And in today's entertainment- and technology-filled world, I'd be willing to wager many couples and families don't.

There are TV shows to watch, iPads to play with, and Kindles to read. Frankly, it's much easier to turn on classic episodes of Seinfeld (like the Kenny Rodgers chicken one), exploits of Homer Simpson (like this one), and even the occasional Two and a Half Men (like this classic) when things really get stale. (Really, Mike? Two and a Half Men? I'm kidding, of course. That's the worse show ever. You should be ashamed of yourself if you watch it.)

But in all seriousness, we've turned off the TV, stored the iPad and the Kindle, and have started to just talk at the table. And you know? It's been great. We talk about work. We talk about when we want to have kids. We talk about food, vacations, and Syracuse basketball. (Well, not really, but I'd like to.)

Eating together at the table is quality time that we didn't have when our eyes were glazed over watching Jerry dump a girl for eating her peas one at a time. And, it creates a good habit for when we have more than just two (and a dog) in our family.

How often do you eat at the table with your significant other or family?