Last night, after putting away dishes and preparing the coffee pot for this morning and locking windows and doors, I crawled into my tiny edge of bed which was, at the time, being made smaller by a tiny little body, curled up and in striped pajamas. I slowly pulled the covers back and thought about closing the window to make it a bit warmer over night but figured cuddled up, we would all be fine. I eased my way into bed trying not to make the box spring creak or make the mattress roll Mason over towards the edge, and in turn, wake him up.
As I laid my head onto my pillow, he stirred, albeit briefly, and curled right up into my chest and laid his head on my outstretched arm. Through the dim light of the night light (we realized early on that he sleeps better with a small amount of light), I could see Audrey watching me and smiling. My smile began creeping from ear to ear.
I laid there sniffing his head (something that happens almost unconsciously whenever a babies head is near my face) and began thinking about having a son. All this time, almost a year, I have never once had that feeling of "Holy @^*!, I am father", but instead have had the "Oh my !^&, I have a son." Last night, something in the way he curled into me, instead of Audrey (he almost always sleeps tight against her back or side, almost never curled up to me) made me realize there is something more to this.
It isn't just that I have a son to take care of and make sure he has enough play time, good food, and learns how to feed himself, but that I have a son that is now looking towards me to learn things, looking towards me for guidance, looking towards me to be a role model. I think, as he is moving from being a blob of a human to a tiny little person with a personality and emotions and mobility, this road of parenting is becoming more of a two way street. There is now a give and take that hasn't made itself as prominent as it has been in the first 10 months.
I know the difference between having a son and being a father might seem insignificant, or even ridiculous and superfluous, to anyone else, especially those without children, but to me it seemed nearly as monumental as his actual birth. I guess as his hierarchy of needs expands beyond food, shelter and a clean diaper to mental stimulation, physical exercise, and social interaction, my role as a father and caregiver goes from providing basic elemental support to providing guidance, mental and emotional support, and more love than I have ever had to give to another human being.
I guess I should also teach him how to ice skate. Perhaps I will let him walk first. Perhaps not.
