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The apartment was dark and silent, I sat there awaiting the package. I was not sure of the exact time of delivery as the carrier was not committal, only that the delivery was expected and I was required to be there or I would face grave consequences. I sat in my chair, surrounded by very little. There was a small grey tattered couch, some cheap wooden end tables that looked like a dog had eaten parts of them, and a dilapidated kitchen table with a mismatched mix of chairs.
Then I heard it, the clack, clack, clack of high heels walking down the concrete hallway. I watched from my chair as the outline of the door darkened and a sudden knock echoed through the mostly empty space. I stood up, it was time for the package to be delivered. I turned on the light and walked to the door, unlocking the knob, deadbolt, and sliding chain lock. With trepidation, I turned the knob and opened the door. There she stood, proud, fearless, and confident as she looked at me, then over my shoulder into the slightly lit apartment. With an unpleasant scoff, she handed over the packages and a note.
“I'll be back Sunday night.” Those were the only words exchanged that night as she turned her back and slowly clacked down the hall, a slight taunt in her walk as she disappeared around the corner. I slowly closed the door and looked at the package. It was wrapped in a familiar wrapper, as I had helped to choose it. I unzipped the protective cover and watched my child sleeping in wonderful obliviousness to the world around him. I turned my attention to the note, it was a detailed explanation of feeding times, rituals, and bottle-warming instructions followed by an implicit threat that these were the only items she would provide as I needed to supply my own articles after this one-time special. The additional accompanying package had the required items of bottles, diapers, wipes, pacifiers, and a couple of small rattles. I looked back at my son and even the resentment that I felt for his mother melted away as I watched him comfortably sleep.
It was now official now, I have my first solo weekend as a dad.
As I reflect back on my initial solo parenting weekend as a single dad, the drastic comparison of the cold handoff to the profound pride I felt watching my peacefully sleeping son. Then the handoff of those sterile co-parenting instructions, as scribbled and brief as they were, failed to capture the real fatherhood challenges I faced ahead. I realized that I couldn't be the only divorced dad dealing with this new reality, equipped with nothing but the drive to excel in fatherhood and a hastily written note.
So fellow solo fathers, I know many of you face or will be facing similar trials. You now find yourself at a crossroads, of attempting to stay a partying youth or choosing a lifetime of unforgettable moments with your child. This critical choice defines us as men, and I believe that if you're here, reading this, your decision speaks volumes about your dedication.
Join with me as we navigate these uncharted waters as explorers together. I'll be sharing firsthand experiences and parenting tips for dads that I've gathered from my own personal journeys and the collective wisdom of seasoned single fathers. We'll tackle everything from the mystery of setting the perfect bottle temperature, to the art of dad and child bonding during bedtime routines. These insights are not just about making it through the upcoming sleepless and stressful nights, they're about defining what it means to thrive as a single father.