I have a friend.
A good friend. You know, the kind you copy assignments off of (or the kind that you allow to copy assignments from you). He’s the kind of friend who’ll take you to weird joints for a beer but will make sure you don’t get too drunk. The kind of friend who, after a night of random drinking, will help you jump over the gate so that you get to the house. Jumping over a gate/fence while drunk isn’t easy people. I almost broke my ankle. But I survived.
He’s an honest guy. One would say he’s too honest. Brutally so. It’s like he attended the University of Cutting Jibes, Faculty of “Chills for Who?”. But he tells it like it is. I admire that about him. He’s a hard worker too. The definition of a hustler. He’s sold lots of stuff, from water at rugby games to sufurias door-to-door. He also sells shoes. He’s got the coolest shoes for guys, yo! Really affordable too. Up your shoe game. If you are interested, let me know in the comments section.
Anyway, this hardworking, straight-talking, binge-drinking friend of mine is now a dad. He has the cutest little baby girl. She looks more like him than she does her mother, in my opinion. I’m sure she has many wonderful qualities from her mum though and I just can’t see them right now. But that’s not the point of this post. This post is about fatherhood – and I have no bleeping idea what to write.
I assume the transition from normal guy to somebody’s dad is crazy. It’s like your whole life takes a sharp turn. Now you’re responsible for the life of another. Like literally. Not like being responsible for your weird friend who has never had a drink at a bar. Not like being responsible for getting that girl safely back to her hostel. Really responsible. Half of your chromosomes are in this tiny creature that looks like you and will look up to you all its life. That’s some major responsibility.
He is now an example. A role model, if you will. Psychologists say that girls look for spouses who are like their fathers. He’s got to be that man. The kind that he’ll want his daughter to end up with. That in and of itself is a scary thing. A lot of pressure.
And of course, he has now become watchman and guardian angel. From now on he’s supposed to look out for his child. Look out for those boys who’ll hang around her because he knows what those boys are thinking. He’d probably invest in a firearm to ward off those little miscreants. And no one, NO ONE will ever be good enough for his daughter.
Then, of course, he’s got to be the provider. Food, shelter, clothes (girls love clothes), hair, school fees and other feminine needs. And girls have a lot of needs. I feel for him.
He’s also supposed to be a comforter now. A pillar of strength she can look to when she feels uneasy. Someone who’ll give her counsel when she needs it (or when she doesn’t. You can’t have too much counsel). He’s also supposed to discipline and chastise her – which I imagine is difficult.
Fatherhood sounds tough. I’m not ready.
But again, as I said, I admire this friend of mine. So far he has shown all these qualities. I see it when he holds his daughter. The love that he shows her is so disgustingly sweet, I can’t even. And the way she calms down when she’s in his arms, I can tell she feels the love and the strength emanating from her dad. She’s a lucky girl.
To her and her family:
“Blessed you are in the city and blessed you are in the field;
Blessed you are in your going in and in your coming out;
The LORD will cause anyone that will rise up against you to be smitten before your face;
The LORD will bless all that you will set your hands to do;
He will open up to you His good treasure, the heaven to give rain unto your land in His season, and He will bless the work of your hand. You will lend to many nations and borrow from none;
And He will make you the head and not the tail, above only and not beneath.”
– Deuteronomy 28:2-13
Welcome to the world Alaine. And congratulations to Allan and Lydia.