My first father’s day: a word from the not-so-wise

Have you seen a new father? You might recognise him. He looks like an escaped prisoner of war, gibbering helplessly about sleep deprivation and, hold on, is that the faint tang of baby vomit?

It’s a new universe of pressures and priorities that, as the first-time father of a four-month-old boy, Oisín, I’m still grappling with.

As my first Father’s Day approaches, what I once dismissed as just another Hallmark holiday is now assuming new and heroic levels of importance: there should, by rights, be red carpets and military bands playing, shiny medals of valour awarded, followed by a meaningful handshake with the President.

You see, we’re not like mothers. They seem to spend most of their lives in a training course for motherhood and have access to a vast mummy industrial complex of books, websites and clued-in friends.

Men, on the other hand, have just men to rely on. And it’s not exactly the main topic in the boozer. Yet somehow we’re expected to know everything, even though no one ever taught us anything.

In my short few months as a father, however, I have unearthed some nuggets of wisdom – mostly via YouTube and Yahoo Answers – that I am willing to share with other new fathers and fathers-to-be.

1 Embrace your inner health-and-safety expert

Life quickly becomes a never-ending series of risk-analysis decisions. Is it acceptable to put a child in a snowsuit in mid-summer, because it’s the one way of making him sleep? There are plenty of decisions I’ve made that won’t make my clip for the parent of the year awards. But you get the hang of it – to the point where non-parent friends raise their eyebrows at how you’ve transformed into an amateur health and safety inspector.

2 Perfect ‘the nod’

Early at weekends, I often end up pushing the buggy through the empty streets of Dublin to help the baby nod off. I used to think that this was unusual, until I passed many other displaced men doing the same. It is important to pefect “the nod”, a symbolic gesture of silent solidarity between men with prams.

3 Consult Yahoo Answers

Who needs to wait for free GP care for the under-sixes when the answer – probably - lies in the bowels of the internet? Is 37.5 degrees a nice, balmy body temperature – or the sign of a raging fever? Does almond oil restore a dry scalp? And what’s that – Dr Quirky’s Old-Time Snake Oil Elixir is a great way to get rid of colic? Well, maybe best not to give up on the doctor just yet.

4 Accept your loss of dignity

When it was first pointed out to me in the office that my shirt was stained with baby vomit, I was horrified. When I told my wife, she pointed out what also looked like poo on my trousers. Thankfully, most people are too diplomatic to say anything. Simply accept there will be occasions when you leave the house with smeared clothes.

5 You are the person who used to annoy you

The parent on the train or plane with the infant everyone is praying won’t sit beside them? The dad pushing the over sized buggy along the crowded pavement? The father who can’t help but bore his friends with stories of his little dote’s latest accomplishments? Don’t think you are better than them. You are them.

6 Put your worries into perspective

After my son was born, he wasn’t moving. He was placed in intensive care, and, for those never-ending hours, I remember telling myself, “if he’s okay, I won’t let anything else worry me again”. I now realise you never stop worrying about your child. In fact, you become more skilled at concocting ever-more imaginative dangers. On the plus side, all those old day-to-day worries suddenly seem trivial.

7 A new-found admiration for your other half

Despite my cry-baby antics, my heroic wife endures lack of sleep and never-ending demands with a grace and good humour that convinces me she is superhuman. I love her dearly. And to see her as both a beautiful wife and skilled mother makes me awe-struck.

8 A dawning sense of contentment

After all the years striving to perform at work and doing the best job I can, a new ambition has emerged: to help my son feel his way into the world. I love him fiercely and fully. There is the awesome responsibility for a precious life – but the rewards a beaming, toothless smile can bring are heart-melting.