So true that you can't explain to people. You can try, but they will either get the horror, or the bliss, but they'll never understand the strange and gut-bustingly hard mix of the two, and how quickly it swings from one to the other.
When they are defying you and just threw food over the kitchen, you'll get grey hairs trying to fight the urge to blow your top. You'll say things you promised yourself you would never say, because you're all out of ideas how to handle a tiny creature who is intent on riling you, just to see what it's like.
Then they'll get sick and you'll need to carry them to a doctor and entrust them to medical staff you've never met, and you'll be so anxious you won't eat or sleep.
Then the next day you'll have the most wonderful conversation where your little charge asks you about the universe and you try and explain it to them, not knowing where to start or how much understanding they really have.
One thing though, you'll learn compassion, forgiveness and patience like you never thought possible.
One thing that surprised me immensely was the unexpected new perspective and sense of respect for my own parents who had obviously been through it all themselves.
And the funny thing is, I remember them telling me "one day, if you have kids, you'll understand how this feels". I didn't take them seriously because I thought I knew everything. Now sort of understand what they meant.
Now friends with older children keep telling me "little kids -- little problems, big kids -- big problems". I hear the words, but it doesn't really mean anything to me now, just a nice saying. But something tells me though, one day I will say to them too "Yeah, I know what you meant..."
My kid is a little sensitive. He was born prematurely and he also inherited a little allergic material from me. A month ago he had a very mild version of Lyell syndrome, most probably as an allergic reaction to an infection with staphylococcus aureus.
He's over it, he's doing great in general, he looks his age both physically and mentally and to us he's the best kid in the world (and I'm sure we aren't exaggerating much), but ever since he was born we have been freaking out, being extra careful not to catch cold, doing all kinds of tests for hearing, eye-sight, immunity, allergic reactions, bacterial infections and so on and so forth.
Imagine that in the case of this Lyell syndrome, the doctor warned us that he may lose all his skin, and that this is extremely dangerous because it will behave like being burned. Fortunately it didn't happen that way, but imagine the stress.
Now, I don't know what kind of problems I'll have later down the road, but I'm pretty sure health-related problems, especially when the child is between 0 and 2 years, are the worst ;)
I can't imagine how I would even handle that much stress and pressure.
I meant my comment to be more along the lines -- 'if you think crying and diaper changing is difficult, wait till you have to start worrying about them crashing your car, getting a call from the police when they are out with friends at night, or getting someone pregnant'.
I'd be less worried about your son getting someone pregnant, than your daughter getting pregnant. I would think that it would be easier to force your son to be responsible for the child that he's fathered, than to be the girl's parents trying to force someone else's son to be responsible for the child he's fathered (especially if his parents are resistant or apathetic to the whole thing).
I became a father 2 weeks ago and that's the thing that's struck me most. We're only 2 weeks into it and we are giving everything we have night and day to look after our daughter.
I don't recall ever hearing my parents using it against me or even mentioning it. You suddenly realize that ever parent has just taken it on the chin and selflessly put themselves second to their children.
As a father I completely understand why, as a child I just had no idea (until now).
For me, the first 6-8 weeks were the most difficult. It starts getting easier and you start getting better at it. Hang in there.
Your parents didn't mention it because they probably forgot how difficult that part was. It passes quickly-- even though it may not seem like it at the time-- and is mostly a blur when you look back. Take lots of pictures. Think about keeping a journal.
Then it gets worse... Then it gets better.. Then it gets worse.. Then it gets better... I'm not sure how long that loop lasts.. But dealing with teething, sickness, going from crib to bed, etc.
The hours of sleep change from time to time. But there is nothing quite like seeing your child look at you with a grin from ear to ear when you come home and they come running up to you saying "DADDY!" (or "MOMMY" -- but I'm not a mother ;) ).
Just to add to the many other comments here: Having just crossed a year, I swear it does get better, much, much better. Also you will honestly almost completely forget how intense those first few weeks are. You will have increasingly more and more time for yourself. In fact I'm pretty sure this year has been one of, if not the most personally productive and I've refused to sacrifice anytime with my son to make that happen. There will come a time soon where that baby is able to completely refresh you much faster than it can drain you, that first real smile... better than 3 nights of sleep :)
This hit me really hard when my daughter was born. My mother died when I was 14, and we were really close, but I didn't fully understand until my kid was born just how much she went through and put up with, fighting years of devastating illness and still being the most amazing mom on the planet. I wasn't prepared for it at all.
When they are defying you and just threw food over the kitchen, you'll get grey hairs trying to fight the urge to blow your top. You'll say things you promised yourself you would never say, because you're all out of ideas how to handle a tiny creature who is intent on riling you, just to see what it's like.
Then they'll get sick and you'll need to carry them to a doctor and entrust them to medical staff you've never met, and you'll be so anxious you won't eat or sleep.
Then the next day you'll have the most wonderful conversation where your little charge asks you about the universe and you try and explain it to them, not knowing where to start or how much understanding they really have.
One thing though, you'll learn compassion, forgiveness and patience like you never thought possible.