A Dad's Sense of Self

Hello, my name is Jonathan and I am my own man.

Or at least I was up until seven months ago. Up until Isaac was born.

Now please don’t think for a second that I’m resentful of the fact that my son being born stymied my life so much that it’s now irreparable. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s just that when you become a father, a parent, everything else sort of takes a backseat. The trouble is, as I’ve found, reclaiming your sense of self. But not necessarily because it’s difficult.

I used to go to the cinema a lot before the little man was born. It wasn’t my job or anything, but I sat in a darkened room in the Odyssey Cinema complex in Belfast at least once a week and reviewed what I watched for local website Belfast Times (click here to read what I thought of movies released over half a year ago). I loved it. I love writing about films as they’re a passion of mine.

When Isaac arrived that all stopped.

Again, not bemoaning the fact that the small matter of having a young child to look after overshadowed the obviously much more important act of reviewing the talkies, but it fell by the wayside. I always assumed I would get back into it eventually (more on that later.). As I was back at work since shortly after Isaac was born, and Jenny was on maternity leave, I couldn’t afford to take the time to go to the cinema. We live around half an hour away from the Odyssey, then I’d have to park, sit through the trailers, watch a two hour plus film, then half an hour back home. For sake of argument, let’s say that’s around 4 hours. As my son’s bedtime is around 7 PM, once I’m home from work I have around 90 minutes with him. Work being kind of necessary to pay the bills, I can’t do anything about that and I try to make the most of those 90 minutes, usually by wrestling on the floor or playing peek-a-boo, a game I’m still not sure which of us gets more enjoyment from. After seven, I’m not going to trek back up to Belfast to watch a film during the week. Especially seeing as my bedtime is around 9 o’clock these days.

But the weekends? They’re my time with my boy, and as much as I would love to go to the cinema I’m not taking four hours out of my Saturday or Sunday when I could be spending it wrestling or playing peek-a-boo. It ain’t going to happen. Also, I don’t think sodding off to the cinema and leaving the wife literally ‘holding the baby’ after she’s looked after him all week on her own would go down too well. So while I have (had) lost my sense of self in a way, it’s not like I feel bad about it. My self is just different now.

Jenny, by virtue of being housebound for a lot of the week, jumps at the chance to go out on a Friday night if asked. This isn’t a regular occurrence, once a month if that, but she always asks me if she can go out. Not because I’m a domineering husband or anything (if you met me, you’d automatically know that’s not the case) and needs my permission, but I think more because she knows I don’t often go out at nights since Issac was born – not that she does either; I can count on the fingers of one hand how many evenings there’s only been one of us in the house - and wants to make sure I’m fine with staying in, not because she doesn’t think I can’t look after the wee man or because she feels guilty.

And the truth is, yeah, I am fine with it. I love it. Even though Isaac’s usually in bed by the time she leaves, I love it being just me and him. For two reasons.

1)      Jenny gets to see her friends and not have to worry about Isaac for at least a few hours in the week.

2)      I get to catch up on my TV and gaming. Score!

Our friends too understand that we’re new parents, and accommodate our changed circumstances. We’ve had our pals over to our house for dinner and drinks more often after we’ve been parents than we did before because they understand that we can’t just drop everything and head out anymore. Yes, the length between shenanigans might be longer than it was before and definitely more subdued, but you can’t have everything. They know we’re not as flexible as we once were (in more ways than one) and change their plans accordingly. And I love them for that. The same goes for our parents; every Monday my mum and dad take Isaac for the afternoon, so Jenny can go about…whatever she needs/wants to do that day. It’s usually cleaning the house. It’s invaluable, and the benefits are twofold, Isaac gets time with his grandparents and, once again, Jenny gets some me-time, even if it is spent cleaning, though she’s one of those weirdos who actually likes cleaning.

But recently, with Jenny’s maternity leave coming to an end soon, we’ve discussed a kind of reshuffle in our lives. Nothing major but enough of a change so that we get back some semblance of ourselves. For Jenny, going back to work will probably help her get back to being ‘Jenny’ and not just ‘Mummy,’ although she will obviously always be that. And for me, well, I’m getting back into the reviewing game, as well as hopefully pursuing several other avenues that interest me, but I’ll still always be Daddy. These past seven months I’ve been solely Daddy and Jenny has been solely Mummy, not forced upon us (well…) but through choice. Anytime since July I could have got back into reviewing, or gone out for the night, I just didn’t want to. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Isaac.

I still do, but I’d like to spend some time with my hobbies. My friends.  My wife.

Myself.

He’s old enough now and we’re both confident enough in our parenting, that the other person can go out for the night (on a schoolnight???) and not have it be A Big Deal. We’re also confident enough in our choice of babysitters that we can leave Isaac with them and not have to worry. Who knows, the wife and I might even be able to go on a date(!) soon without having to bring the baby bag along too.

I can’t wait to get my sense of self back.

I love my son more than life itself but I can’t wait to get back into feeling like me again.

It’s just that feeling like ‘me’ also means feeling like a dad now.

Which is the best my self has ever been.