Smooth

I have a couple minor peccadillos that have bothered Julie for years. For instance, in the winter I let my hands get so dry that they become chapped and sometimes even bleed. "Yummy, pass the bread basket!" you must be thinking. Julie tries to convince me to put on lotion, but I also loathe stickiness and sliminess. Unlike Jesse Ventura, I got time to bleed.

But I'm reexamining these tendencies from the lens of fatherhood. If a baby's skin represents the epitome of smoothness, then I certainly don't want to rough it up with chapped hands. Incidentally, I'm guessing the phrase "smooth as a baby's bottom" makes sense to new parents, because it sure doesn't make sense to me. "Hey wow, baby, that is one smooth ass! Smoother than a bunny's eyebrow!" I picture it more like, "That ass smells like ass!"

Anyway, I'll use moisturizing lotion on my hands this winter. I will also hold, love, and take care of the baby even when she's disgusting. Unlike me, babies are not anti-gross; in fact, they embrace the gross. I will too.

It's crazy, though, because I find myself thinking about other annoying but otherwise innocuous parts of my personality and wondering if they'll make me a bad father. For instance, I'm certain I could sit down for 10 minutes with a mental health professional and be diagnosed with A.D.D. I'm not saying it because it's the new fad diagnosis or because I secretly wish to be quirky or to be defined by an acronym; I've just had enough kids in my class over the years who've had A.D.D. and caused me to think, "You're actually a lot like me."

Who cares? I'm successful, I cope, and I only piss off my wife once in awhile when I cannot pay attention in a movie theater, read a book, sit still, listen without daydreaming, or finish a...

...oh yeah, thought.

But I do wonder about the ramifications when it comes to parenting. I'm not interested in medication, but I'll be interested to see how my behavior changes when there's a baby in the house.

If nothing else, I promise to have smooth hands.