On a somewhat daily basis, I have this weird sort of “aha!” moment where I realize, again, that I’m a father, and that’s really weird to me. I picture fathers as guys that are older than I am, which is to say, that “being a father” somehow equates to “higher age” even though that’s obviously not remotely true. Of course, I also don’t feel like I’m really an adult yet, either, even being in my 30’s, given concerns about getting enough time to play Rock Band overtake my desire to, say, watch the evening news. I own a house, too, and when I think about that in concrete terms it weirds me out as well.

I also have a difficult time equating “baby” and “human,” like Phoenix is some sort of small animal that needs to be taken care of (like a house cat). I find myself talking to her the way I talk to the cats, sitting her on the couch and saying, “See, now you’re on the human chair!” when, duh, she is a human so of course she’s on the human chair. I think that will probably change when she has, you know, motor control and some mechanism of communication beyond “scream.”

I don’t think Jenn has this sort of cognitive dissonance issue over feeling like she’s-a-mom-but-she’s-not-a-mom. I think it’s sort of clicked for her. I suppose I’ll get there eventually. For now, it’s just still… surreal.