Many parents-to-be lie awake in cold sweats at night wondering how being a parent will change them. Will it be for better, or for worse?
I don’t know about them, but having children has done things to my personality I never would have dreamed about, even at three a.m.
For example, yesterday right after I put my daughter down for her first nap, I heard a bird that was loud. Not just loud, but crazy loud. And the cacophony seemed to be coming from the the small tree that is right outside my daughter’s room.
Knowing she could hear the bird, hell, anyone within a half mile radius could hear the bird, I frantically looked outside to see if I could open the patio door and chase it off. Because every new parent will find that the time in which loud noises are verboten is during naptime.
Problem was, there was no bird in the tree.
Positive it was somewhere too close to her room for comfort, I scanned the area again. There! A nest up in the eaves directly above her window. And it wasn’t a bird, but birds, plural. As in a nest full of hungry baby birds. I could see their little beaks open into rather alarmingly large gaping maws, and it was their unsubtle demands for food that were the cause of all the ruckus.
A normal person would look at the nest and think, awww, what a cute bunch of widdle baby birds.
But as the parent of an infant who is trying to sleep, you instead shake your fists in futility (because really, you aren’t demented enough to destroy the nest) and wish those cute widdle baby birds would STFU. And you will give the nest the evil eye every time you happen to glance at it, and you will possibly wonder if it would make you a bad human being to relocate the nest, even though you know damn well it does.
Even though I’ve done nothing to the birds, and have no plans to, I guess you could say I’ve changed for the worse.