On these pages we don’t normally deal with “emotions” and “feelings” unless it’s something along the lines of… Trixie is upset, and I’m feeling sick from not getting enough sleep.
However, against my better judgement, I feel compelled to address something I discovered recently. Babies screw up your emotional balance. Twice in the past week I’ve found myself completely caught off guard. First, Jenn and I went to see the movie The Incredibles. About halfway through, when the hero’s kids are in danger, I notice a stupid, panicky swelling of fear and love. From an animated movie.
A couple of days after that I was grabbing a slice of pizza and they had the movie I am Sam on the TV. I hadn’t seen this movie before and I was only in there for about 5 minutes. The scene playing was when they were in the courtroom taking away his young daughter. Everyone else is eating pizza; I’m ready to cry.
Now I don’t know if it’s the cumulative lack of sleep that’s battering down my emotional defenses, or if having a daughter has actually rewired part of my brain to respond to saccharine, family-driven events, but it’s annoying. What the hell kind of life is this? The next time I watch Beaches, what, am I going to need a box of kleenex?
This is messed up. And it’s ironic. Guys spend their whole life constructing intricate emotional defenses to the world. But these fortifications all face outward — you forget to watch out for an inside job by a 22-pound saboteur.