Parenthood

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As you know from my last column [3], I'm a first-time-father-to-be. Also, I'll be a stay-at-home dad. Never having cared for a baby before, I've enrolled in parenting class so I can master the basics.

Like, how do I relate to a tiny creature who can't (yet) speak English, screams (as far as I can tell) pretty much the same way whether s/he's colicky, hungry, filthy, in pain or afraid and relies on me (and, less of the time, Emily and others) for his/her every need?

Not to mention—that kid's not the only one who'll be afraid. S/he'll be afraid because s/he's totally helpless and has no idea how to deal with the world. I'm afraid already because I will be, for the first time, responsible for caring for someone who is totally helpless with no idea how to deal with the world. (And I don't get to respond in quite the same ways!)

This is the biggest deal ever. Remember the classic test of whether something is major: “Will people still remember it in a month, a year, a decade?” Well, whatever I do, my son or daughter is likely to remember, one way or another, for as long as s/he lives!

And speaking of what I do—of course it has some relation to how my mother and father raised me. Guess what that means? Yep—in the coming years I'll be raising not only a child directly, but also likely one or more grandchildren indirectly. And so on down the line potentially ad infinitum …

There are lots of things I won't be able to do any more except as rare treats. Like sleep for eight or even more hours at a stretch. Or put on headphones and seal myself off from the world. Or use/listen to/display on my screen/print out any kind of language I feel like.

Or just blame other parents for their kids' behavior without a second thought. Yes, parents are responsible for their children ... particularly their young children. Once the kids start going to school, responsibility inevitably shifts. And by the time you have a teenager, I understand that control gets really dicey.

Or be the center of my own world. As a good friend—who is a mother herself—pointed out to me recently, being a parent means being to some extent secondary to your kid. I'll still be “Jeffrey Deutsch,” but I'll also become “John's dad” or “Kathy's father.” (Or maybe even “John's/Kathy's grandfather” to the ushers at his or her college graduation—I’m no spring chicken even now!)

My life is changing and it's never coming back. And it's turning into a mode where change is the only constant. If you think everyday life requires flexibility, wait till you start raising a child.

I've mentioned before that I hope my son or daughter is an NT. I also can only hope that if so, s/he may one day understand why Daddy sometimes behaves a bit differently from most people.

Will my own child look down on me, or think I'm a freak? (Yeah, parents tend to embarrass their kids anyway—mainly by breathing. Maybe at least I'll give mine plenty to talk about at school!)

Will I have a hard time understanding him/her? (Yeah, there's always a generation gap. Will my being an Aspie make things that much worse?)

Will I be unable to spot problems—dating or other abuse, drugs, alcohol, the wrong crowd—before it's too late?

Gambling’s supposedly illegal in this country. But so many things about having a kid seem like just spins of the wheel. Maybe whoever wrote those laws was never a parent!

[4]

About the Author - - Columnist

Jeffrey Deutsch is an Aspie, who helps fellow Aspies better relate to NTs and vice versa. He gives inspirational talks, group trainings, and offers individual life coaching for both Aspies and NTs.