Fatherhood 101

The end is in sight.

I just received a notice from the bursar's office at the University of Colorado. They also call it CU, which defies the previous moniker. In the four years that we have been associated with the Buffs in Boulder, I never seem to get it right. But that's not important.

What's important is that there are only two invoices left. When we started this whole college education mishigas there were significantly more.

Let's do the math:

Rachel (my oldest)

4 years of college.
3 payments per year (they're were on the trimester system)
= 12 units of of payment

Abby (my youngest)

4 years of college
2 payments per year
= 8 units of payment

All tolled, that is 20 total payments that really could have been put to better use for a vacation home on a lake in upstate NY, a moored yacht in Marina del Rey (boating makes me seasick but I like the very goyish idea of owning a yacht) or even a cherry red, 661 horsepower Ferrari GTB (though I might have back trouble getting in and out of the vehicle.)

But again, I digress.

The point is after this morning's check goes out for the 19th payment unit, there is only ONE left.

The implications are self evident. It means my wife and I no longer have to subside on Top Ramen and sneaker soup. It means we no longer have to saunter into fast food restaurants to steal condiments. And we can stop re-using old napkins and sun dried paper towels.

Of course I'm overstating the financial hardships. We don't steal ketchup packets, we're mustard people.

I will say none of this would have been possible had it not been for the smart decision to start funding the California 529 accounts a long long time ago. That and marrying my wife and not taking a job at _______ &________, stand amongst the wisest choices I've ever made.

I often pass this advice along to all the new young fathers I run into during the course of my freelancing adventures. And by the way, all the new fathers I run into are young. I rarely encounter anyone who is 44, like me.

Fund those 529's, I will say.
And while I'm dispensing fatherly advice I often add the following:

If the baby starts crying in the middle of the night you have to wake up with your wife and tend to it. She might have the breastesses. And you might be totally helpless. But if you don't drag your ass out of bed, you'll never hear the end of it. Never.

Change those diapers. Oh sure it's funny to make jokes about it. And to crack wise about the mysterious goo that comes of your kid, but you have to hold your breath and get wrist deep in the muck. And I'm not saying just one or two a week. If you're not carrying your fair share of the load --pun intended -- you will never live it down. Again, never.

And finally, and this is directed at fathers with daughters, if you take the time to get down on the floor and play Pretty Princess™ with your girls, and you put on the bracelets and the necklaces and such, make sure your wife takes a picture of it. Better yet, many pictures.

Because your daughters will quickly forget how cute you looked with the Royal Tiara and you'll want to have some proof that you took part in your child's rearing.

Trust me.