Everyone keeps telling me to enjoy the quiet time we have now. As if Godzilla himself is about to arrive and stomp out little selves into oblivion. It’s a smug, knowing aside from people who seem keen on reveling in the potential hell of your first few weeks after the birth of a child. It ain’t helpful.
Some of them are friends and they say it with love and affection, wanting us to realise that there are troubles to come and a bit of sleeplessness (perhaps a lot). But some just like the wind up. For the wife, as her mobility and energy wanes she will be spending more time at home and we are more often cocooning ourselves in front of a movie, or reading companionably on the couch, her rather sizable belly resting on whichever part of my anatomy she can shuffle closest to.
I have less desire to get out, and more desire to be close to her. Whether this is the whole hormonal protecting thing, or the advice from the friends and dickheads is sinking in, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s time well spent. Keeping an eye on myself and how I’m doing I want to connect with each and every moment as they happen rather than worry about the future or what’s happened in the past.
My problem though is I’m slipping back into old habits. I grew up with a lot of TV, I have a habit of just getting comfortable and slobbing out. If I’m gunna be #fitdad #happydad #notdeadat50 I need to get the active back in the routine as soon as possible. But for now I’m good with the couch, I’m good with being with my best friend and having her all to myself for the last few weeks before Godzilla arrives.
Maybe I’ll be sat on a couch in a year’s time wondering what the fuck we’ve done. But at the very least I know I’ll be sat on it with the right person…sorry, people.