New father now one of 'those people'

Jon Rabiroff’s son is surrounded by some of the trappings of parenthood. Despite vowing not to become one of those new parents whose lives, and homes, are dominated by their baby, Rabiroff’s apartment has started to look like a miniature toy store. / Courtesy of Jon Rabiroff

By Jon Rabiroff

Before becoming a first-time father at the age of 55 five months ago, I vowed to anyone who would listen that my wife and I were not going to become a couple of “those people” ― new parents for whom every aspect of life is consumed by their baby.

You know the type. Every conversation is about diapers, breast-feeding or the like. They bring the baby everywhere, even to the most “adult” of gatherings. They pull out their baby photos faster than Billy the Kid drew his gun, and are not satisfied until they have shown you every last photo they have of their little bundle of joy smirking, smiling, staring and sleeping. And their home looks like a Toys “R” Us blew up inside, with every nook and cranny filled by the brightly colored plastic of various gadgets guaranteed to turn their drooling little fart machine into the next Albert Einstein.

Of course, our baby was going to be the most important element of our lives, but that was the point. He was joining our lives, not taking them over. Most of our time and focus was going to be on the baby, but we were going to set aside time and space so that we could still be a vibrant married couple, and we could pursue our individual interests and hobbies.

Piece of cake, right?

Not so much.

I realized I had become a charter member of the Boorish Baby Battalion on a recent Saturday night when I found myself at an Itaewon bar in front of more than 100 heavy-drinking members of a recreational sports league to which I belong, holding a microphone to my baby’s mouth so those in attendance could experience the “thrill” of hearing my son's latest lines of gibberish.

Oh, how excited they must have been to share a crowded bar with a baby ― the only one there under 21 ― brought by me, a newly minted one of “those people.”

My wife and I got off to a pretty good start in our quest to keep all the baby business in perspective, taking turns tending to our son as the other went off for some alone time. And, while we brought the baby with us, we also made a point of continuing to go out occasionally for meals like we always used to do.

But, slowly but surely, I noticed that when we were off doing our own thing, we were thinking about the baby or calling home to find out how he was doing. And, at our “grown-up” dinners out, we were spending most of our time either trying to get the baby to go to sleep or, at the very least, keeping him from crying and bothering others in the restaurant. Even when our son did sleep quietly in the stroller next to our table, our conversation invariably found its way back to our boy's latest facial expression or how one of us got him to giggle.

These days, more than a few times I have looked up to find that my wife has stopped eating and is staring lovingly at our sleeping baby. When I oh-so-maturely point out that we are supposed to be taking advantage of the boy’s nap time to focus on us, my wife responds, “But he's so cute!”

So much for exchanging thoughts on Caitlyn Jenner, race relations or the crowded field of Republican presidential candidates; let's both just stare at the boy like he is some kind of oil painting.

And, as if that is not enough, while we are out my wife will often sit scrolling through the photos of our boy on my phone ― with the actual baby just a few feet away.

As for “our” home, the baby’s things were initially kept in corners and only pulled out into the center of the room when it was time to use them. At my somewhat advanced age, my plan has always been to live a clutter-free life whenever possible. But, as the months have passed, those corners have filled up and the baby paraphernalia has started to gobble up large portions of our floor space like Pac-Man plowing through dots on a video screen.

It’s bad enough to have one of everything our little man needs, but I recently noticed that we are beginning to double up on some things.

On one side of our bed is a bassinet in which our baby always sleeps. On the other side is a never-used co-sleeper ― the fancy term for a crib that attaches to the parents’ bed ― which my wife insisted on buying, but that has since been turned into the world's most expensive laundry hamper.

We have a play mat on which our baby lays and grabs, pulls and spins an assortment of toys that hang down over him. Then we have an oh-so-different toy which holds him more or less standing erect as he grabs, pulls and spins an assortment of toys laid out around him.

I assume once they hear about our boy's plastic playthings pedigree, the rocket scientists at NASA will immediately set aside a job for our son, in assuming that he will earn his first Ph.D by the age of 16.

So, now that I recognize I am one of “those people,” a natural question arises: How do I feel knowing others think I dote too much on my baby, take him with me all the time, talk incessantly about him and spend too much money on stuff hoping it will help him develop into a smart and coordinated young man?

Not bad at all.

I think I am going to like being one of “those people” after all.

Jon Rabiroff is a copy editor for The Korea Times who writes an occasional column about being a middle-aged, first-time father.