Fatherhood has changed me, of course; this was inevitable. It’s just that the changes are most definitely not of the variety that some of my acquaintances (fathers themselves) rather gleefully assured me was coming. I was me before L. was born, and I’m still me.
But there have been changes.
For instance, I’m more patient than I was before – not nearly to the level I feel I need, but I keep working at it. Stress and exhaustion can still incline me to snarl and snap, of course, but it takes more to provoke me than it used to. There was a time when displays of random obnoxiousness and ignorance (I find the two usually go together) would just infuriate me, even if I didn’t react overtly. Now I’m more inclined to look at someone and think, “Wow. Somebody needs a bottle and a nap!”
Mind you, the contents I’m thinking of for the bottle starts at the benign and becomes increasingly . . . “dire,” depending on the level of obnoxiousness and ignorance being displayed.
I told you I’m still me.