It's a Dad's Life:I am up for a fight. Not about anything in particular, but about everything.

Since Christmas I have been railing at the world, getting involved in arguments just for the sake of having them. My previous "yeah man, if that's your opinion that's cool" persona has been superseded by Mr "you have to be off your face to think like that, let me tell you what's going on".

In the last 24 hours alone I have argued the cause of alternative medicine over conventional hero worship of the local GP, despite having serious reservations about the increasing stampede to transfer all our faith to New Age gurus.

I have fought with my wife about my "right" to go to a party should I wish at 2am, even though the kids would be awake five hours later and, in reality, I wanted nothing more than my bed.

And I have torn strips off a waiter for disdainful service in Fallon & Byrne when the rest of the table were ready to let it go. Having paid through the nose for average food, I was unable to walk silently out the door.

All this isn't really like me. I am a narky man, but have spent my life avoiding conflict because I found it difficult to manage confrontation in a level-headed manner. Over the last year this has steadily changed to the point where I'm relishing the next bit of verbal argy bargy because it beats the hell out of smiling inanely to maintain the status quo. I walk out my front door and argue the toss with my neighbour as to whether it's a soft or a mild day.

What's going on? I sat down with the Missus this morning and talked it through. It could be any number of things, as we are in a period of change where both our roles within the family will be re-assessed in the coming 12 months. But one thing leapt out at me. It's five years this month since I quit my last full-time, pensionable job to look after a baby.

Yet, only now am I being really irritated by the alpha male. The provider, the worker, the man with the answers because he's out there dealing with the world. That's the role I walked away from and many times over the last five years I would have crawled over hot coals to have it back.

Maybe my anger is rising because until recently I felt that was still me, I had just stepped out of the suit temporarily.

Now, though, it's becoming clear I will never put it back on, at least not in the way I wore it before.

So, suddenly, the posturing of "The Big Guy" is winding me right up. An old school friend told me recently he only sees his six month old son on Sunday mornings, as he is working such long hours that is the only time they are in the house and conscious at the same time. But, he argued, this is okay, because he himself doesn't remember anything before he was three or four so the kid won't notice. I disagreed with him so emphatically on every point that I couldn't even speak.

But his point is valid, if daft, and he has a right to it. His is an extreme situation, but we all have to work. My concern is my reaction to this posturing, my gradual inclination to shake things up because that is better than letting things stay at rest. My greatest influences, it turns out, are my children. How we live has great impact on others, and for that realisation after 34 years of not noticing, I thank them.

abrophy@irish-times.ie