Landmark

Today was my daughter's first birthday. The happiest and most bewildering experience of my life was exactly one year ago. Well, almost one year and a day now. I meant to write this earlier but I've been clearing up wrapping paper and that sort of thing. It seems only proper that I commemorate the occasion in writing. I want to somehow embrace all of the highs and lows of the past twelve months, but without being tedious or repetitive. I want to condense the considerable variety of lessons I have learned into one snappy conclusion, but without resorting to patronising cliche.

I had thought I might approach this by writing about the ways in which fatherhood has changed me since a year ago. But honestly I'm not sure if it has. I'm still quite vain, a bit lazy and prepared to go to incredible lengths to avoid confrontation. If you had asked me before my daughter was born whether one could be a good parent in spite of these characteristics, then I would have offered a vain but non-confrontational response to the effect that no, I would need to change, and fully expected to.

Of course I have only my own experience to comment upon, and it's not easy to generalise about these things, but I think that parenthood in fact magnifies any strengths or weaknesses in one's character. I can only hope that my daughter (and her impending sibling) learns from me to take pride in her qualities, rest during pertinent opportunities and settle disagreements in a calm, mature manner.

One cliche, the use of which I can justify only because it is so unequivocally true, is that the positives of parenting outweigh the negatives. Admittedly, for a long time I struggled to cope with the disruption of sleep, managing to do so only because of my wife's vastly superior ability not to be lazy. And anyone who claims to enjoy changing nappies is in need of either psychiatric or olfactory treatment. But most difficult of all to cope with is the relentless weight of responsibility. In my previous life I had only to make it through the day at work before resuming a carefree existence at home each evening. Now I must continue to put the needs of at least one other person before my own for twenty four hours a day.

But sleep can be caught up with. Nappies, in reality, smell no worse than any bathroom recently visited by me. And, as a vain person, I am easily capable of appreciating the power of responsibility as a source of pride. But actually none of these rational considerations are even necessary to justify the cliche. Because when my daughter wakes me up in the middle of the night, I have come to relish it as an opportunity to spend more time with her. Every trip out with her is a chance to show off the adorable bundle of joy and curiosity which I helped to create. I cope with my responsibilities at work only by thinking of how much I enjoy my responsibilities at home.

For a long time I thought that these were ideals of which I had to convince myself. But at some point unnoticed by me I realised that I genuinely feel this way. All the hard work really does pay off. Hard work which I achieved in spite of my limitations, I think because I sensed that there was something in it for me. I'm greedy as well.

In short, my daughter makes me very happy. This is a simple, wonderful truth. My shortcomings and qualities have no discernible bearing upon this. I sincerely hope that this is the experience of all parents. If not, then this is a tribute not to parenthood, but to my daughter. Happy birthday to her.