What just happened, exactly?

It has been the weekend of the grandparents... yesterday, my wife's mom came down, and today my parents were here. It's funny exactly how exhausting it is to have people over...not like we took them hiking or whit water rafting, but we're both conked out. And Aidan is tired too-- he's been sleeping since about 2, and it's almost 5 now. I feel like I got mugged by the yawn monster. But that's not really what today's post is about-- today's is about the change from fun-lovin' criminal to Parent, and from Parent to the all-mighty GRANDparent. It's funny.... I don't feel all that different as a parent, really. I have realized that there are some things that have changed, of course (for example, my collection of B-horror movies is gonna need to be moved, I probably shouldn't black/pass out from too many Jager bombs on the pool table anymore, and gone are the days of checking out some sassy new nubile and probably oiled-up ladies on the 'net before the wife gets home....er, not that I ever did that. Ever.) but for the most part life remains unchanged. I have more responsibilities, and someone who will probably, through no fault or poor judgement of his own, look up to me but in my mind none of this really changes how I see myself.

What REALLY changes how I see myself is when my own father calls me Dad. That kind of knocks me off guard-- the man I've looked to for advice, comfort, praise, money, and love for 27 years deserves that title. I, who have simply (though diligently) worked on not letting the baby get poop on his socks for a mere week and can be easily distracted by the slightest whiff of barbecuing dead things, most assuredly do not. I'm still busy saving Victoria's Secret catalogs in the downstairs bathroom in case they take us off the mailing list, fer chrissakes. Beyond that, when he refers to himself as Grandpa, it fully freaks my shit out. I only had one grandfather (the other passed away before I was born), and although I loved him dearly and stood in awe of his deeds and skills my entire life.....well, I only really understood what he was saying about half the time, and I can't really recall a conversation lasting more than 3 sentences with him and I alone. He was a fair bit older than my grandmother, and had a hard life, so he was kind of stooped and mumbled a lot. Not crazy- guy mumble, just slurry, quiet talking. Also, I'm not sure how much hair he had. He always had it cut really short, and it was hard to tell if it was thin in the back... he had this strange old-man mirage hair, and for my entire life I never remember seeing what I *thought* was the thin spot get any larger or more noticeable. I simply cannot picture my father like that. In fact, if ANYONE in this relationship should be stooped and mumble alot and have mirage-hair, it's me. As a matter of fact, I think I'll try that out tommorow.

Anyway, I guess that's all part of becoming a father-- realizing that your own parents will never be seen the way you see them by your children, and that someday you'll get to be the mumbling, stooped grandpa who wears the exact same green pants, green shirt, and suspenders every day of his life, and who plasters American flag stickers on everything he owns (including his chainsaw and tractor) yet inexplicalby drives only Saabs.

Man, I cannot WAIT to find my own eccentricities. I'm thinking it may involve cheese.....yeah, cheese and paperclips.......