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Golf, Page 4
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I used to think I had a fairly busy life. I was a young man starting out as a reporter in Vancouver, working many weekends and evenings and had an active social calendar.
Clubs, drinks with friends, fishing, golf, girlfriends (later reduced to girlfriend, then permanent emotional entanglement), dogs, and non-stop fun were the staples on my smorgasbord of life.
So, when my wife Darcy said to me, "I want to have a baby," I immediately responded. "Well, I'd like to get in a quick 18 holes before the barbecue."
Darcy insisted she was quite serious and so did I.
"Look, can this wait? I just had a shower," I said in a stunning display of selflessness, then realizing my error continued. "It sounds like a great idea to me; you run with it, I'll be back at about three." And so it was done.
Perhaps surprisingly, Darcy decided to have her baby with me. Bachelors envision fatherhood as a non-stop purgatory of crappy diapers, screaming kids, nagging cranky wives and utter destitution. Most fathers I know wish it were really that easy. But aside from learning the truth about life with children, I have learned that it is absolutely essential to hold onto something from that near-forgotten former life.
The most difficult part of childrearing is its relentless nature. Toddlers rise at dawn and, possessing all the civilized manners of a charging phalanx of Huns, want to eat something ... right then ... in the morning ... before even a cup of coffee is made. This is a demand that Darcy is physically incapable of satisfying and therefore falls to me. I accommodate, but it is only the first in a series of demands by Keiran the Incorrigible that continue until nightfall. Men wonder why their wives begin to narrate their lives after having children. Simple. Children want continuous running commentary on everything that is going on and the minute you break contact to have a thought of your own, your toddler is tucking into a bar of soap or scaling the stereo cabinet.
Have a child and never be alone again. But think about the pressure of doing a 13-hour stand-up routine while performing household chores. Then do it 900 times in a row. Now nod your head as the motivations of mass murderers start to make more and more sense.
Four months ago we added a second emotional black hole to our daily schedule and, although significant improvements were made over previous model years, the claim to "low maintenance" should be viewed with some skepticism. A not-previously-advertised feature in the 1996 model is the optional need for sleep. This a luxury we could have done without, but Dylan the Dynamic cannot be stopped. He doesn't sleep at all some days and when he does it is usually for less than 15 minutes at a time. Non-parents can never know the glamour of having to choose between a bowel movement and brushing your teeth as a personal day's accomplishment. I usually get to do both, but I am fortunate enough to work outside the home five days a week.
So now our days start around 5 a.m. and end -- if we are lucky -- around 10 p.m. and God help you if you don't get to sleep right away.
Darcy and I try to spell one another off, letting the other sneak away to the basement to play a computer game or just sob uncontrollably, but periodically it is essential that dads, and moms especially, breathe the rare air of total freedom. A natural martyr, Darcy can be tough to pry out of the house.
Suggest a round of golf or a party at a friend's home and she will sigh despondently, "Oh well, have fun," implying that she -- as always -- will make the ultimate sacrifice and stay with the kids while I go off and have a good time spending our children's milk money on booze and cheap women, an attitude that can take the fun out of going out.
This is a warning sign. You must force your wife to golf or at least have a drink with a little umbrella in it in the golf course lounge. Ignore these signs and you will come home one day to find your One True Love perched on the roof with a high-powered rifle and your next door
neighbors pinned down behind a hedge.
HELPFUL HINT: the word "diaper" should never be used while talking her down.
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