Published June 19, 2005 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
The other day, a local TV newscast aired a promotion for a “Best Dad” contest for Father’s Day.
Now, as many of you might know, I recently became a first-time dad. So I pose this question: Is it wrong that when I saw this TV promotion I TOTALLY wanted to win the contest? I know I have no real claim on the title. I’m a new, largely incompetent father. Other dads give their children kidneys and protect them from gators. My primary accomplishment is not accidentally dropping Henry down a well (at least, not as of press time).
It’s probably just my competitive nature. Whenever I do something new I always think, “perhaps I am abnormally skilled in this activity and shall receive accolades beyond my wildest dreams!” I went through this a couple years ago with woodburning and I just hope fatherhood doesn’t end up the same way (with lots of misshapen sailboat art in my closet).
I’ve already written about how becoming a parent prompts so many people to give you advice that your brain will hemorrhage from the influx of “getting baby to sleep” tips. I don’t want to become one of those people who suddenly become all-knowing wise men upon first entering parenthood, but I’ll offer this observation. Having a child will turn off certain parts of your brain – in my case, the part that remembers where you put things.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve lost track of many small, expensive things. First, I misplaced the tiny memory card from our digital camera that contained all the pictures of our son from the hospital. Now, I had already backed up these pictures on our computer, burned a CD and made enough prints at Wal-Mart to effectively increase the company’s stock price. But whenever you announce that you “lost the memory card with all the baby pictures,” people start treating you a little more like Hitler.
A few days later I lost my glasses. That’s right, an entire pair of glasses fell out of my jacket pocket somewhere. I was wearing my contact lens at the time, but whenever I wear those things for too long my eyes get dried out and I look like those miners who get freed from the bottom of a dark coal shaft after six days. I am so nearsighted that I once had to get help crossing a street from a rhino. A rhino. (rim shot). Rhinos are very nearsighted. So, anyway, I’ve had to wear my contacts all the time for more than a week.
Then there is the day-to-day misplacing of thousands of little baby items, ranging from pacifiers to burp cloths to the box of baby wipes. Invariably, what’s supposed to be upstairs ends up downstairs and vice versa. Like I said, I focus my efforts on making sure Henry doesn’t do a gainer off the changing table or become misplaced himself.
Fortunately, I found the memory card with the baby pictures. Unfortunately, I had to order a new pair of glasses. During the long week it took for skilled scientists to find two identical old-timey Coke bottles to melt into my glasses, I was given a difficult choice. Should I try to change a diaper at 3 a.m. with my limited vision, or attempt to put in my contact lenses in the dark? Either way, it’s funny – just not at the time.
So I’m not sure if I deserve a Father’s Day award. I’d probably just lose it anyway. As they say, fatherhood is its own reward.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.