Fatherhood: the Sequel

Here's a little fact about me not everyone who knows me may know: I actually wanted my firstborn to be a girl. I'm not really sure why anymore, but at least, one kid later, I finally got the baby girl I wanted.

Parenthood in general is really a funny thing: it's a constant work in progress, from your twenties to your seventies (I say seventies because a great many parents begin to regress into children once they hit their eighties). If I had to put a peso coin in a five-liter jug for every screw up or faux pas I've committed since my son Raphael was born, whether in disciplining, handling or even just behaving in front of him, I'd probably have put my life's savings into the darned thing by now.

And yet, I can honestly say it's made me a better person in many ways. I view my being a father as an extension of my marriage in that they both require copious amounts of devotion and patience, no matter how much I love my spouse and my child. It can be frustrating and immensely fulfilling at the same time. I still remember changing Apel's diapers on a regular basis, and now he's going to the toilet by himself (although he hasn't gotten around to wiping himself just yet).

The funny part is; I've only just gotten through toilet-training one kid, when along comes another who is just as helpless and dependent upon me as her brother was not too long ago.

Which brings me to why I think having two kids within a reasonable gap of each other can be a valuable instructional tool to parents.

At three, Apel is very independent, almost to the point where he refuses our help a little too often for comfort. At times, we are content to let him do his own thing, confident he's not likely to bring the house crashing down around our heads, and at times, we even get frustrated with him when he seems to be acting too childishly.

But having a new baby brings it home to me: my son IS still a child. It's not that I've altogether lost sight of this simple truth, but I realize now that, even at this early age, I seem to be expecting too much of him. Part of me blames it on how increasingly competitive pre-school admission standards are, but I realize that I seem to be judging his growth more by adult standards than by reasonable children's standards.

Having a three-year-old makes having a two-week old such a glorious experience, for the reason I just mentioned, and because I get to relive all the simple joys of being a new parent; watching over the baby, cradling her in my arms and not having to prevent her from running into the street and becoming roadkill. It wasn't three years ago that I did this with my son, but it sure feels like a long time. I'm making it a point to savor this, because before I know it, I'll be chasing my toddler of a daughter too...

I can't help but wonder how I'll handle their reaching puberty...