Second coming

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It's been said a million times and is a cliche for a reason, but it bears repeating: Having a second child is like writing for "Saved by the Bell: The College Years." Sure, you may try a few different things at the beginning (baby goes in the crib first night home, Zack doesn't get the girl), but eventually you find a groove doing what you know works best for you (following my wife's lead on just about everything, bringing back Kelly Kapowski).

Unlike "College Years," however, having two children will run at least 18 seasons in prime time before continuing forever in syndication. Yet every day is a new episode with its own story arc and hopefully more laughs than tears.

I only came truly to appreciate this aspect of being a dad, the importance of stopping to smell the butt paste, when our son was born in June. I love my daughter, of course, but my mindset was totally different after three years of being a dad.

It started right at birth. As I was waiting to go into the delivery room three years ago, I got choked up thinking about how my daughter was going to change my life forever -- for the better and in ways I knew I could never expect -- mixed with the sheer terror of becoming a first-time dad. I was trembling as I took photos of her while she wailed on the heat bed. It was an out-of-body experience in hospital scrubs.

When my son was born, however, there were no tears before I entered the delivery room, just a few butterflies in my stomach and an eagerness to meet him. My mind was clear as I held my wife's hand and cried through my surgical mask as we saw him for the first time. I was not scared so much as excited to complete* our family.

(*Whether our family is "complete" -- and I don't mean getting a dog -- has yet to be decided. If I were a betting man, setting my money on fire would be the safest wager right now.)

To be sure, there was definitely an adjustment period after we came home from the hospital with our son. And by "adjustment period," I specifically mean "getting peed on like I was a fire hydrant next to a kennel." If our armed forces are looking for creative ways to train bomb defusers, have them attempt to change a newborn boy's diaper while staying dry. Even though we seem to have moved past that phase in his life, I am still wary every time his privates make a public appearance.

But after a few weeks and all of us developing new routines, my wife and I discovered what many had told us: the adjustment from zero kids to one is infinitely more challenging than from one to two. I found myself not sweating the small things the way I might have when my daughter was a newborn.

When athletes reach an elite level, they often describe how the game slows down in front of them. That's how I feel; the kids are growing up way too fast but I never forget just to enjoy my time with them. It could be going almost nose-to-nose with my son and making random noises so he starts giggling. Or it could be singing the ABCs like Brad Rogers from Crash Test Dummies while brushing my daughter's teeth before bed. (The song really kicks in right around the letter "M," naturally.)

All I ever wanted to do professionally was to work in newspapers, and I did that for 11 years. After my daughter was born, all I ever wanted to be was a good father. After my son was born, all I ever wanted to be was home for dinner at a decent hour. Changing careers ended up being a lot easier than I thought. And any doubts I had about my decision are erased when I get home to see both kids smiling -- and then start helping with dinner.

It makes me feel warm all over.

No, wait. Too slow on the diaper change again.