Before I was a dad, I went to sleep when I damn well pleased. Now, I’m lucky to make it through my favorite prime-time pro­gram­ming, and my son goes to sleep when he damn well pleases.

Before I was a dad, I could bump my knee, or stub my toe and have a cuss word or two. Now, I get a let­ter from his school about the vocab­u­lary words that they don’t teach.

Before I was a dad, I was “only going to let him watch Sesame Street. You know the stuff I grew up on. The real deal edu­ca­tional stuff. Children’s pro­gram­ming sucks these days.” Now, I catch myself singing songs from, “Go, Diego, Go!”, “The Imag­i­na­tion Movers” and “Phineas and Ferb” at work.

Before I was a dad, I answered to no one. Now, I swear I must answer my son at least 50 times a day. “You watchin’ TV, Daddy?” “Yes I am.” “You tying your shoes Daddy?” “Yes I am.” “You poopin’ Daddy?” “Yes I am, now get out of the bath­room and shut the door please!”

Before I was a dad, I could also uri­nate with­out an audi­ence. Well, unless I was drunk at a party, in which case, whatever.

Before I was a dad, I could quit my job on a lunch break because, well, just because. Screw ‘em. Now, I’d shovel human feces for 8 hours a day to make sure my kid has food to eat and a roof over his head.

Before I was a dad, a young, hot mom was nice to look at. Now, they still are, but when they catch me look­ing, I can pull the, “I have a lit­tle one myself.” and am no longer creepy.

Before I was a dad, I never trav­eled with a con­stantly run­ning tape recorder that never thinks to repeat the “but I love her” part, just the “My wife’s a pain…” part that pre­ceded it.

Before I was a dad, I used to look at other kids in pub­lic and think, “If I have a kid, they will never act like that.” Now that I have a kid, he never acts like that. What? You thought I was going to say that he does? Sorry! He’ll never pull any of that, because I’d whoop his lit­tle tail in pub­lic, and he knows it.

Before I was a dad, I watched Jack­ass the Movie and laughed at some­one shov­ing a Match­box car in their rec­tum. Now, I watch Jack­ass the Movie and it’s a painful reminder to never sit on my couch with­out look­ing again.

Before I was a dad, I tried to watch what I eat. Now, if my son doesn’t fin­ish his food, he’s “wast­ing money”. And even though I’m try­ing to watch what I eat, we “paid 4 dol­lars for that meal, and some­body had bet­ter eat it.”

Before I was a dad, smoth­er­ing my wife with a pil­low dur­ing sex was “kinky”. Now it’s a neces­sity because, “if you wake him up, I swear…”.

Before I was a dad, I swear that I had every­thing fig­ured out. Granted it was only wake up, work if you wanna, shower if you wanna, watch TV, eat, go to the bath­room, get drunk, get laid if you can, pass out and do it all over again tomor­row, but I had it fig­ured out.

Before I was a dad, I never felt so uncon­di­tion­ally loved by anyone.

Before I was a dad, I never felt so needed by anyone.

Before I was a dad, I never felt like somebody’s superhero.

Before I was a dad, what in the hell was I doing with my life? Being a dad rocks! Why didn’t I knock some­body up sooner?