This I Know for Sure

by Frank O'Brien

I am a slow learner. I develop preconceptions about everything this life has to offer and hold on to them until they’re ripped from my grasp, which usually makes it that much harder when reality takes their place. Fatherhood has been the ultimate test in this regard. I’m sure I am not alone in having misguided beliefs, but I feel like I suffer from this affliction much more than people around me. Everything about fatherhood has turned out differently than I expected—everything, that is, except one thing: I never thought I would go two years with an average of four hours sleep a night.

I love sleeping. In my early twenties, I slept a lot. I was the envy of most of my friends. Turn out the light and I was in dreamland. I kept any stresses of life at bay. I was always well rested and fresh, with never a worry. Some people told me sleep would be a rare commodity after having children, but I didn’t believe them. I was way too smart for that.

Fast forward two years to when sleep deprivation had taken its toll. Mini anxiety attacks, dark circles under my eyes, confused thoughts, trying to figure out how to catch a few Zs at work with no one noticing. Wasn’t it supposed to be different? I wasn’t even the one getting up to feed the baby. My wife had two hours of sleep for every four I managed to get.

And before having a family, money was never a worry for me. If I needed it, I made it. Now it is a major focus. I don’t care about the status it might bring—I now think of security, dinners, bills, insurance, birthday parties that require a loan to afford, and a million other small but important necessities that require a constant outlay of funds. No more trips to town to buy jeans, CDs, movies or cool things to make Dad feel, er, cool. Now every dollar has its proper place.

This conveniently leads to another commodity worth more than the almighty dollar. Time. There was a period in my life when walking out the front door was easy. Grab a coat, put on a pair of shoes, and leave. Or, if I wanted, I could choose to just sit and watch TV for an uninterrupted five hours with no consequence other than getting hungry. If I decided to stop for a burger on the way home from work, no one would notice. Road trips to places unknown were commonplace and ETAs mattered only in airports. The only schedule I kept was what time work started and what time it ended. Wasn’t that all there was to life?

Not anymore. Now, schedules rule. Daycare providers don’t like tardiness because it affects their schedule. Schools don’t like it when you just leave your kids there for an hour or so after school because you wanted to run some errands. I tried to get the soccer coach to keep practices from starting until we got there, but she did not really take to that idea. My wife’s boss and my boss don’t really like it when we don’t show up for work because we got only a cursory three hours of sleep. Go figure.

Now, time at home is neatly divided into cleaning, washing clothes, making lunches, cleaning lunch bags, making dinner, washing up after dinner, reading stories, making beds, looking for socks, arranging play dates, breaking up arguments between siblings, driving to daycare, soccer, dance…you all know this list. It took me about nine years to fully accept that this is fatherhood.

I never expected my daughters to not like my decisions, reactions or mannerisms. And I am just now realizing that I am the male role model that my two daughters will carry into their adult lives. It’s a long way from the image I started cultivating when I was a teen. My wife and I were supposed to look young forever, be ever cheerful and full of vitality. I have now learned that Dad doesn’t need to buy cool things to be cool. In fact, the words “cool” and “dad” should only ever be used in the same sentence by my children’s friends.

I have learned that I actually don’t enjoy marathon sessions of Seinfeld or Cheers like I used to. It hurts my back to lie on the couch for that long and I’ve seen all the episodes anyway. Being on a schedule actually keeps me more organized. I find that it’s enjoyable to have things run smoothly—an easy way to get a small feeling of accomplishment. I have learned that my daughters’ reactions to my decisions are sometimes not as important as their eventual understanding of them.

Now, that one thing I was right about. The one preconception I developed in my youth which turns out to be 100 per cent accurate? I always believed my children would love me as much as I loved them. I believed in a household where there would be lots of hugs, where my children would look up to me, where we would treat each other with respect, and where I would be the man in their lives for a short time and that I would enjoy my role.

It turns out I was right about the most important thing.

Frank O’Brien is the father of Aideen and Megan, and husband of Amanda O’Brien. He is developing a writing career and is currently authoring a book on his experience in the restaurant industry.