Dignity lost

I guess one of the oddest aspects of becoming a parent is the complete and utter loss of anything resembling dignity. Don't get me wrong, it is worth it, and I wasn't exactly dignified before the great event, but standards have noticeably dropped around Castle Studebake.

Changing soggy nappies (diapers) a few dozen times each day drops the bar dramatically. Shall I mention the spit up, gas and shitting sounds which seem to echo throughout the halls and towers of our grand estate, particularly around my dinner time? The conversation now revolves around projectile crap and what to do when he starts to pee when you are changing him. (I duck and blanket the flow like I'm defusing California brush fires.)

But what really bothers me, and what I wasn't prepared for is how the outside world turns into an infomercial. Every time I turn the corner some attractive female agent approaches me. Doesn't sound bad, but just as I've finished patting down my hair, zipping up my fly and wiping the spit from my shoulder she begins talking about some product I need to own in order to ensure the child will live beyond three weeks. Some Australian woman pulled me aside this evening and told me about something called the miracle blanket. Then there are the must-have creams and the videos about schedules, swaddling, breast-feeding, you name it. People swear by each and every baby-related product known to man. It's as if parenthood is just another excuse to become cultish, like junior high school.

I'm determined to maintain my dignity, although I just learned that our buggy (stroller) isn't as fancy as I thought it was. I guess I'll have to check that swagger on the high street next weekend. Oh well, one day I'll be dignified and old.