I became a father again at 65 years old and I had no clue about what to do next..

I have two grown children, whom I love more than life itself, and looking back I recognize I missed out a lot of their growing-up years. As a producer and distributor I was always on the road so I only got to see them on my returns - and as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder so whenever I arrived I would be hugged and kissed and hugged and kissed and I would lap it all up and my role as a “dad” would feel fuflfilled.

Truthfully, I never changed a diaper, or had to feed them, bathe them, nurture them, put up with their ups and downs on a daily basis. As far as I was concerned my kids loved me and that was all I cared about. My understanding of how stay-at-home moms coped with the constant mess and chaos was pretty limited to what I’d seen in my own upbringing and, ironically enough, in the movies. I can say I was basically removed from the shitshow that rearing up kids is.

Becoming a father again had me scrambling to understand what that meant. I knew I loved this child and I wanted to be there for him, so that part was clear to me (check). I also knew I would have to make changes to my lifestyle and in my personal life, and I was willing to do that (check).

As I held this tiny, warm beautiful baby boy in my arms my heart was flooded with such love! I dreamt of playing baseball with him, wondered about when to introduce him to baseball cards and The Beatles, daydreamed of building a model car together. I raised him up a little higher, to look into his face when, without warning, he puked on me. The nurse had stepped in to check in on us and witnessed the moment.

“Yeah, babies do that.”, she said trying not to laugh at my shock-horror face.

“What else do they do?” This was redundant, I had seen what they could do in Three Men and a Baby. But somehow the question splurted from me without me thinking about it.

“Oh yes. Feeding, burping, diapers, cleaning, they’re a handful”. I swear she was now driving the screw home. “And sometimes they don’t sleep at night, yes, they’re up all night and sleep all day, or don’t sleep much. Aren’t they amazing?”, she said with a little bit too much glee.

I made a choice right then and there, and I wasn’t aware, at least not consciously, that I had.

“This is my son’s vomit, and it’s the best vomit I’ve ever seen.”