David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published April 23, 2002

One year down, a lifetime to go

My daughter is 1 year old today. It seems like just yesterday we were at the hospital waiting for Anna to be born. She's been such a joy. I can't believe it's been a whole year since ... Blah, blah, blah, blah.

All right, that's enough. Just stop. Stop it right there. You've read this column before. I've read this column before. I'm not covering any new ground here. Soft-focus reflection of my first year as a parent is not my style. Just because today is Anna's birthday, let's not pretend that the last 365 days have been filled with nothing but rainbows, moonbeams and cutesy-wootsy baby duckies. There have been countless "awwwww, how cute" moments, and I've been fortunate enough to be on the scene for almost all of them. That being said, let's move on. If I can't add something new to a topic, I don't write about it. My devoted readers (both of them) have come to expect a fresh perspective, and I intend to continue that tradition with today's effort.

First off, like I said, today is Anna's birthday. During the weeks leading up to the big O-N-E, my wife and I wrestled with what to do. Should we have a full-blown theme party with tons of presents, a seven-layer cake, a house full of invited friends and relatives, novelty noise-makers, and a rented pony named Mel tied to a tree in the backyard? Some parents go a tad overboard with their kids' birthdays, you know, but all of that seemed more than a little excessive for a 1-year-old.

That's when an important maxim of parenting revisited our decision-making process -- often, it seems, what parents do under the guise of being "for the child" is really "for the parents." I learned this truism pretty early on in my Dad career, like maybe 20 minutes after Anna was born. It first hit me when the hospital staff GLUED a little pink bow to her head moments after birth. Yes, a bow was glued to her head. I guess it was supposed to make her look cute -- for me. It wasn't a big deal, I suppose. They didn't use Krazy Glue or anything like that, but it just seemed rather silly. I took it off. If entering the world via Caesarean section wasn't traumatic enough, now you've got some discount-aisle bow anchored to your head.

The "for parents" maxim has served me well in the last year. It explains why I see Eddie Bauer leather-trimmed strollers selling for $400. "Nothing is too good for my little girl," some parents may say. Yeah, right. Whatever. You're not buying a $400 stroller with SUV-inspired suspension "for your little girl," you're buying it so you can show off.

It also explains why some babies have more toys than a Wal-Mart return counter the day after Christmas. The truth, as far as I can tell, is that very young children don't need or necessarily even want an entire room full of toys. Unfortunately, I didn't learn this lesson quickly enough. Anna has too many toys, and she's interested in only a dozen or so. The others are merely obstacles she must traverse en route to reaching the ones she wants. Parents, me included, often buy toys that look fun to us, not them.

So where does that leave Anna's birthday festivities? Well, she could care less. As I write this two days before the actual event, we're not planning a big hoopla. Not even a wee hoopla. Mel the pony hasn't been booked. We'll do a little something, I'm sure. Maybe we'll stick a candle in a mushy piece of banana, snap a picture for posterity and sing "Happy Birthday." Over the weekend we got her a sandbox shaped like a turtle. That'll be about it. No doubt there will be numerous birthdays to come where more of a song and dance will be required, but for now I'm happy to mark this one quietly. Like I said, she's rather indifferent about being 1.

You know what else I've realized over the past year? Being a Dad is tough. It's a lot of work. If

I never change another diaper, never shake up another bottle, and never dig dried sweet potatoes from under my fingernails, that would be fine.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love being a full-time Dad. I don't regret my wife's and my decision for me to quit working a bit, but there are days when I miss going to work. I miss being part of a newsroom. Newspapers have been a big part of my life for the past decade or so, and now I have to read the paper like everyone else -- without already knowing what's in it.

And, sure, I miss the money. Speaking of money, how about a tax deduction for stay-at-home parents? Parents who use daycare get one, right? Well, my family has significantly less money now that I'm staying at home. I'm sure we'd enjoy a lighter tax bill, too. It seems only fair, but, of course, I shouldn't look for fairness and sensibility in the federal income tax code.

The government would rather I be an income-generator. One year down, a lifetime to go. The past year has been more "everything" than I expected - more work, more headaches, more fun, more joy. For every exploding diaper and 3 a.m. crying spell, there have been 100 "awwwww, how cute" moments. My life is filled with rainbows, moonbeams and cutesy-wootsy baby duckies. That's the absolute truth.

I know, I know. Blah, blah, blah, blah.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@chartertn.net.