You will cry pretty much all the time.
Sometimes you will cry because you’re tired.
Occasionally you’ll cry because, somehow, you feel too happy.
Or because a doctor just stuck a needle in your precious baby’s leg. The fucking prick.
Or because you don’t know who you are anymore.
Or because you heard a single chord from that Coldplay song Fix You. Not to be confused with their other song, Fist You.
Or because an advert for a bank was very moving.
Or because someone got a standing ovation on telly.
Your entire home will smell of shit and vomit. All of it.
At some point, you will stop noticing the smell of shit and vomit.
It’s like your nose has gone to sleep.
You’re like a man alone in a room intoxicated by the smell of his own farts – you might even start to like the smell of shit.
Okay, not like LIKE the smell of shit, don’t get me wrong. You don’t want to eat shit. It’s just become homely.
When people walk into your home and visibly wince, because of the shit and vomit, you won’t be sure why they winced.
You’ve forgotten that most people don’t smell shit and vomit most of the time.
Every item of clothing you own will have a leaked bodily fluid on it (rarely your own).
You will just accept that all jumpers now have snot on them.
Looking “almost clean” is now your version of “quite smart”.
At weekends, you’ll look like a hobo pushing a wheelbarrow.
Only it’s not a wheelbarrow is it, it’s a pushchair.
You will bath your child in the kitchen sink.
You will take a photo of your child having a bath in the kitchen sink.
You will also take a photo of your child doing almost anything.
Baby almost smiling = photo op.
Baby almost sleeping = photo op.
Baby momentarily not shrieking at you = photo op.
You will take a photo of your child napping on your chest while you sleep.
Only you’re not really asleep are you?
You’re pretending to be asleep for the sake of the photo.
You will add the photo to the endless reams of photos of you and your child on the internet.
You will make an arch comment about how you’ve become a “dad bore” before continuing to bore everyone with more photos.
You will break every single promise you ever made to yourself about not boring people with photos of your baby.
You will speak in a baby voice to your baby.
You will give your baby a pet name like “monkey” or “butterbean”.
You will say that name in the most cloying voice imaginable, not noticing that people throw up whenever you say it.
You will spend an inordinate amount of time just staring at your baby.
You will feel on the cusp of a heart explosion every time you look at them. As if you’ve somehow figured out life. Which, by the way, you haven’t.
You will consider their funny little sneezes to be actual gifts sent from God in heaven, made of magic.
As opposed to what they are which is them biologically ejecting snot from their bodies. Getting rid of bacteria or something.
You will look at your partner’s large, engorged breasts, so full of milk, and wonder what the etiquette is around trying some.
You will decide not to try it.
She will then suggest you try it, and you’ll react like it’s the grossest suggestion anyone has ever made. It hadn’t even crossed your mind.
Then you’ll try some.
Not from the boob, that would be weird.
Even though you have spent years with those tits. You have shares in those melons.
Point is, don’t breastfeed, you’re an adult.
You will deludedly think that you’ve become far sexier to women.
You will then remember that you’re a hobo pushing a wheelbarrow with snot on his shoulder.
Plus, think about it. You have a baby. This suggests you’re probably in a serious relationship. No one wants to have sex with you.
Even the woman who bore your child definitely won’t want to have sex with you.
Sex is ridiculous. And also gross. Plus quite sexy when you really think about it.
You will also realise that you are ultimately useless.
You’re just hanging around gormlessly with your hands in your pockets.
Take your hands out of your pockets.
At weekends, you will walk around with a baby in a sling. Your baby. Your sling. You bought it to seem useful. But you’re not really that useful. Don’t forget that.
You will casually check the baby in a sling every two to three seconds, to confirm it can still breathe with its entire face pressed into your chest.
You will sing yourself to sleep while your baby remains very much wide awake in its cot.
You will consider setting up a trust fund.
You will realise that you have no money.
Also, why should the baby get a trust fund anyway?
You didn’t have a trust fund, you worked to get where you are.
Stupid, lazy baby.
You will ask your parents for money.
You will convince yourself that your baby has filled its nappy, but there will be nothing there. A phantom shit.
You will start to question everything you have ever known.
You will become desperately needy.
Your woman will calmly explain that you have a child now, and that’s why she can’t pay you all the compliments you feel you deserve.
You will never watch a whole film.
Or a whole TV show.
Books no longer apply to you.
You will see DANGER in absolutely everything.
Like, look at cuddly toys. Aren’t teddy bears just real bears that haven’t attacked anyone yet? Do they have flick knives?
You will remove all soft toys from your baby’s cot.
Leaving your baby alone in a vast soviet landscape. Pure nothingness.
You will have conversations with old women on buses.
Lots of them, many many conversations. More conversations with old women than you could even imagine.
You will start avoiding old women.
You will be unable to drink more than three pints.
You will second guess every single decision you ever make.
You will change beyond all recognition, even your reflection can’t quite place you.
It’ll be like your entire world exploded and got cobbled back together in a hurry by someone who wasn’t paying attention.
You will be unable to finish a list of observations without saying something vaguely touching at the end to nullify the jokes.
Because, once you get over the shock of everything, babies are wonderful.
Boring and wonderful.
Really really boring. It’s not like they do anything. Anything at all.
But they are new life.
Isn’t that amazing?
You made that.
With your penis.
Now go and show everyone your willy.