To answer the question of how long it takes for your life to change in such a way that you cannot remember how it was previously I'm pretty sure the figure is about 10-12 weeks.
I can't remember any time not worrying about whether we have plentiful supplies of wipes, nappies and formula (NotHeidi is getting breast milk for the most part but the way that kid eats a little extra on the side is useful). I'm not sure where the bouncers, playmats, plush toys and books all came from but I've no idea what used to occupy the spaces they now take up. Eating dinners in turn so that one party can dedicate themselves to the needs of NotHeidi is basically how I assume I've always eaten. I mean intrinsically I know that can't possibly be the case... I just can't fathom how it would work otherwise.
Every day brings a new variation on the theme of parenthood. The rashes, the coughs, the expelling of fluids and other decreasingly fluid matter are not what you'd call highlights but they inform you of how utterly dependent NotHeidi is on us both for everything. I recall once having to take similar care of another, much older, part of the family tree and the feelings that engendered in both parties. At it's root both occasions were borne of need and the tasks were performed with a sense of duty but while one was a memory I'd gleefully forget the other is one I will come to cherish.
OK, I'll admit that "cherish" is not quite the right word. NotHeidi's shit certainly does stink and it happily sticks to everything it ought not to. Still, you are engaged in an activity you know will be limited to a fixed time period, the length of which the wife and I might disagree on, but it's all in aid of progress and a continuation of your place in the world. Once your life has come full circle and you're back in nappies, have no idea what's going on and have trouble making yourself understood the task of looking after you is not the fulfilment of potential and promise but more one of karmic insurance payments. NotHeidi is going to be in for a bit of a surprise.
It is also at this juncture that NotHeidi's mere existence is kickstarting some of the intentionally neglected grownup activities that previously were better off left alone. Reviewing insurance options, checking finances, setting up wills, considering the things we would all rather not consider. After all there's new episodes of your favourite TV show to watch. A child in your life is an interesting way to distill the things that are essential in your life. The results are sometimes surprising. I never thought I'd give up my football club membership but it seems pointless to pay to not attend any games. That they will lead a nomadic existence for a few years unless the state government comes to its senses (unlikely) isn't helping.
There's also the question of empathy. I've never really considered myself as unfeeling or without compassion. Still I'm now pondering why it is that halfway through watching the most recent series of the TV show Ash vs the Evil Dead I got a little squeamish. I'm not a huge fan of horror, at least not in the way that Homer Simpson is a fan of Donuts, but the jokesy stylings of Bruce Campbell as he and Sam Raimi flog the dead horse of the latters one good idea amused me. Until NotHeidi came along and then the demon fetus killing splatter-fest became a little harder to take. He's just a baby! Certainly one born of demonic incantation and with a thirst for human blood but it's hardly his fault.
I'm not always entirely comfortable with who I'm turning into but you have to accept that life is a constant series of changes and you change along with it or you end up being that weird 50-something guy on the train with the shoulder length hair, bell bottom jeans, platform shoes and brown shirt with giant lapels. Sometimes I don't miss getting on the train at Kings Cross. I mean it's one thing to forgo stretch denim, stonewash, acid wash, whiskers, rips, holes and the jeans that look like you walked out of the bathroom without having completed all the tasks. You can live without those. But if you end up in a place where everything you are, have and do are the best they will ever be then... well... aren't you done?
I'm pleased to say that as splendid as life is I am not done. There are changes left to go through and while I'm hoping that they're all positive I'm prepared for some of them to not be.
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