Whoever coined the phrase “sleeping like a baby” either never had one or meant to convey a rather different meaning than that under common use. My son’s version of baby sleep is really a series of glorified naps that must be carefully protected lest a noisy step bring the brief moment of peace to an end.

Everyone says that having a baby changes your life, but no one can really communicate how. To me, it’s very simple. The baby takes over all aspects of your life outside of work. Exercise? Carrying the baby. Entertainment? Playing with the baby. Eating? Shoveling down food before the baby becomes restless. Sleep? I thought we discussed this already.

In some ways, this newfound focus can bring order to a chaotic life. I no longer need to worry about what to watch on TV since it has largely become a decorative piece of furniture. Which movie should I watch this weekend? The answer is none, as my vestigial Netflix subscription has appropriately been expunged.

A funny thing happens as one grows into the role of a parent. These apparent inconveniences aren’t annoying. The treasured indulgences of the past now seem irrelevant. Even the apparent futility of reading mindless children’s books to someone who is more interested in eating the book than looking at it becomes immaterial. Strangely, it seems I derive more enjoyment from even the routine activities than I ever did from my old hobbies.

Or perhaps its just the sleep deprivation talking.