Your love is making me fat...It's alive...

Izzy was spinning in the computer chair and trying to slide out one through one of the arm rest holes as the chair spun...
Daddy-"Izzy don't spin in the chair please."
Izzy- "Ok, I won't." (proceeds to keep spinning, unabated.)
Daddy- "Izzy, I don't want to see you spinning in that chair again."
Izzy- "Ok, just don't look at me then,"


I'll bet Neil Diamond was a good dad or at least paid somebody to be a good dad for him while he was rocking the knickers off the blue haired brigade back in the day. The first time I was left in charge of Izzy, she rolled off the couch and ended up face first between the coffee table and my leg. In honour of Father's day, Izzy and I have decided to step into the wayback machine and see where it all began...
So yadda, yadda, yadda, living in the states, rock star, got sick, came home, yadda, yadda, yadda...
Your love is making me fat... That's what the email from the future Mrs. Narrator said but neither of us paid it much mind. We were in love and we used to be young, of course we were going to put on a little weight with all of the eating and drinking we were doing but by Mothers day we could stand the irony and tight trousers no more. So after much stick peeing and wringing of hands, we decided that the world hadn't stopped turning and a plus sign was a good thing. Well outside any way, inside I know we were both saying, " oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."
It was a fairly uneventful pregnancy and the big day finally arrived. They wheeled her away and I was left alone to think...not a good thing in a situation such as this. " I didn't imagine I would be much of a father and quite frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted to be one.
I remember now that for whatever reason, the boy (who was five at the time) had gotten it into his head that unless we had a little girl, he could not be a big brother. He never said what he would be if we had a boy but because he was going to be a brother, we were having a girl. We purposely didn't find out the sex of the baby early on we wanted healthy. I secretly was half hoping for one of the "It's Alive " babies, then my detractors would truly fear me...I mean the father made it to the end of the movie, right?
The birthing part is all a bit of a blur, it really did happen quickly but suffice it to say that I now know my wife inside and out, literally. The doctor said that he had the top half of a boy followed by the nurses retrieval of the bottom half of a girl. A daughter, pink as bubblegum and promptly wrapped up parcel post and shoved into a glass box complete with red french fry lights. Isobel. I was told to follow and I did so silently, unsure of what my next move should be.
The nursery reminded me of a happier version of a dairy farm. There are babies and bits of equipment with babies variously in and out of them, everywhere. I was shown a chair and told to sit and someone would be with me shortly. Welcome to the world kid, it's hurry up and wait from here on out. Now I had been sitting waiting for the better part of two hours while they weighed and measured and foot-printed her and not once did I think to ask about the welfare of my child. But neither did any of the other poor schmucks in there with me. I was walking in a daze, which luckily seems to be a prerequisite for fatherhood anyway.
"Daddy, would you like to come hold your baby now?" I heard the nurse speaking and honestly, my first reaction was, "I wonder who she' talking to?" It took her moving a few steps toward me and a "Mr. Baker, would you like to come hold your daughter,"before I realized it was me she was referring to. She placed Isobel, my progeny, gently in my arms and I looked down at her tiny face.
"Holy shit," I thought. "It's alive baby."
I asked the nurse if they shouldn't clean her off a little better and was politely told that it wasn't leftovers from the birth, that it was some sort of gel they put over her eyes to prevent syphilis. What kind of child do you think this is anyway? But for good or for ill, there we were. Daddy and Izzy. We walked a little and talked a little and I kissed her forehead as she let out a little yawn. Old ladies all over the world are absolutely right, babies breath is like heroin. I think I probably sniffed most of the eye goop off of her and my mother likely smelled off the rest. We spent the next five hours getting to know each other and wandering the halls of the hospital waiting for Mrs. Narrator to come up to her room, giving each other the "They'd tell us if something was wrong, right" look. There wasn't and Mummy arrived for a quick sniff and a cuddle, followed directly by a nap.
I'd like to say that the birth of my daughter was the proudest moment of my life but it wasn't. I wasn't sure if I was capable of pulling any of this off or even if I wanted to. Many men before me have chucked it all and bought a ticket on the deadbeat dad mobile. But it was in those five hours, wandering aimlessly up and down the halls, holding her and looking at her and smelling her breath, that I came to love this child as only a parent...a father can. I wanted to hold on and not let go, I wanted to protect her and keep her safe and in a flash I saw her many years form that moment, as an adult and I felt a surge of warmth and pride that I hadn't ever before. That and I am unbelievably, stupidly, stubborn and there was just no way I wasn't going to see this through to the end. I wouldn't be beaten by a mere child!
I don't know if I'm a good dad. I don't think I am. I tend to be far too strict and not as fun loving as I should be but make no mistake, I love my kids and would move heaven and earth if it would make them even this much happier, both of them. I wasn't there for the birth of the boy but he is as much mine as she is. They are both my reason for being and I treasure them even when they don't listen.
If I have one message to give it is cherish your children, always. They are your legacy to the world and most of them can smell weakness.

HAPPY FATHER"S DAY