David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published April 27, 2004

Do we ever know what it's really all about?

It seems like ages ago, but I was one a friend who just didn't get it at the time. I had no clue what parenthood was all about. Now I have a 3-year-old and a 16-month-old, and I get it. I now see how blissfully unaware I once was.

The funny thing is that while I have learned so much about fatherhood in the last three years, I'm sure a father who has, say, a 10-year-old is looking at me and thinking, "Just wait a while and then you'll see what it's really all about." I'm sure he's right. One of the first lessons I learned as a dad was that just when you feel like you've got a pretty good handle on what's going on, kids toss your entire program into the shredder.

But I'm not the only one who must wait to find out what it's really all about. While the 10-year-old's father may think he's been there, done that, I'm quite certain the father of a 17-year-old is looking at the 10-year-old's dad and thinking the exact same thing -- "Just wait a while and then you'll see what it's really all about."

But it doesn't stop there. Oh, no. Not on your nellie. (Did I just type "nellie?") Even though the 17-year-old's dad thinks he's seen it all, handled it all, encountered it all, survived it all, I'm absolutely sure that the father of, say, a 25-year-old is thinking, you guessed it, "Just wait a while and then you'll see what it's really all about." Maybe that dad is in a hospital waiting room waiting for his child to deliver a child of his or her own. Maybe his son is a Pro Bowl starter. Maybe his daughter is finishing her residency at Johns Hopkins.

You see where this is headed. Unless you're pushing 90, I don't know if you ever really know what it's all about. Every day with kids brings something new -- sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always interesting and often unexpected. It doesn't matter if your kid is 3, 10, 17, 25 or 64.

But like I said, I had no clue before we had our brood. The things childless people do that I find so humorous now, I remember doing when I was in their carefree shoes.

Here's an example of what I mean, and it's my favorite.

Let's say, purely hypothetically, I'm telling a childless friend about how Phil was up all night with horrible diarrhea. It's not that far of a stretch -- it happened last week. Anyway, after relating the gory details about changing nearly 10 diapers from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m., diaper rash, primal screaming (father and son), getting no sustained sleep of more than an hour at a time, and the joy of watching the digital clock turn to a cool-looking 4:44, my childless friend obviously feels obligated to express his sympathies and relates a harrowing tale of his own. It turns out he's got a new puppy, and the puppy's whimpering woke him up a few times.

... And?

And that's it. He was rustled from sleep by a whimpering puppy. One night.

Yeah. OK. I feel your pain, bro.

Parents just roll their eyes when childless people say stuff like that. It's not offensive, not in the least. They just don't know any better. I didn't either, back in the day. I'm embarrassed to admit that I told a few cat stories in a lame attempt to follow up friends' baby stories. It's just human nature. Misery loves company, and you just want to belong. At the time, cat stories were all I had. I was such a chump.

I also like it when my childless friends stay out all night socializing, partying, eating, drinking, being merry, watching movies until dawn, and then tell me about how tired they are the next day. Poor babies. All that fun's got you dragging a little today, huh? Well, as long as you were up at dawn anyway, you should have turned off Rambo III and come over to our house.

We Spateses were up and about, changing diapers, making oatmeal, negotiating a oatmeal-instead-of-candy treaty and getting ready to tune in to a rousing episode of "The Wiggles."

But I did it, too. I'd let loose on the weekends and then bellyache to my baby-anchored friends about how beat I was. "Yeah, I slept until 11:30 and I'm still tired," I'd say. Looking back, I deserve a retroactive slap in the face for a comment like that.

I've got a two friends now who are about to have their first children. I can't wait until their eyes open to the reality of it all and I can sit back and think to myself, "Just wait a while and then you'll see what it's really all about."

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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.