The Little Things
By Jason Marshall
There is no handbook for being a dad.
For perspective, when I bought an Ikea coat rack, it came with a 14-page instruction booklet. When I walked out of the hospital as a new father, I carried with me two things I didn’t have when I went in. Neither one was a how-to manual.
One was a tiny human. The other an aching back from sleeping on that fold-out chair/bed for fathers.
Both will require TLC for the next 50 years.
Becoming a dad thrust me into an entirely new world where I’m co-responsible for the life of another living, breathing soul.
Luckily for me, there is no time to actually think about that and falter under its weight—therein lies the beauty of parenthood. The most enormous responsibility in life, but you don’t realize it because you’re too busy being enormously responsible.
Pure genius and madness packaged together.
I’m almost three years into fatherhood. A dad to two boys. The youngest closing in on his first birthday.
Every day is filled with love. Laughter. Teaching. Learning. Sleep deprivation. Too much coffee. And wheels on the bus. Did you know they go round and round?
Honestly, there is no place I’d rather be than immersed in this amazing family we created. We can find some measure of joy and happiness in every situation.
Just two mornings ago, a timid little voice from beside my bed woke me from a deep sleep.
“I don’t feel good, dad. I want to cuddle with you.”
He was running a low-grade fever. Glassy eyed. He just wasn’t himself.
He had to stay home from daycare. Little brother was feeling good, so he was daycare bound. Mom had a full workday planned. And that meant I was staying home with son number one to wage war on the latest bug going around.
Again, no handbook.
Cuddles were the priority. So that’s where we started.
As he snuggled in, I just watched him. My heart melted.
My mind drifted to when I was a little boy, home sick in bed.
All I wanted back then was to know my mom was with me. She’d make me feel better. I truly believed there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do.
So, atop the list was to simply be there for whatever he needed.
If my mom had a blueprint for dealing with a sick kid, it would’ve looked something like this:
- Glass of flat ginger ale
- Campbell’s chicken noodle soup
- Sleeve of soda crackers
- Jumbo can of Allen’s apple juice
- Drum of Vicks VapoRub
- Little glass thermometer that could go in either end
- Bayer’s children’s aspirins. Those tart, tangy, chewable orange flavoured little pills in a glass bottle with a blue label and pink childproof lid.
- Daytime TV including The Friendly Giant, Dressup, Wok With Yan and The Flintstones at lunchtime. The best of the best from six channels, one of which was French.
- Lots of naps for me in the afternoon, so she could get caught up on the latest chapter of Another World and The Edge of Night.
- More ginger ale. Soup. Vicks. Chewable aspirin. Thermometer thankfully under the tongue.
- Repeat until well
With all due respect to my mom, I strayed from her checklist. But was her list all that bad? After all, I survived. She kept me alive.
And isn’t that what we’re basically doing as parents—trying to make it through each day with some semblance of sanity still intact. And keep our kids alive?
We did more than that on our day at home together. Lots of hugs. Moments that made both of us smile. And when he rested, I even found time to begin working on an actual Fatherhood Instruction Manual.
Here’s what I have so far.
THE EARLY YEARS
- Expect the unexpected.
- Never trust a baby boy when changing a diaper. He’s carrying a miniature fire hose and he’s not afraid to use it.
- Embrace the little things. They make all the difference.
Jason Marshall has been a writer and journalist for more than 35 years and is an on-air host and general manager at Valley Heritage Radio just outside of Renfrew, Ontario. And he’s truly a big kid at heart. You can email him anytime at jason@valleyheritageradio.ca.
