I am 46 about to turn 47.  I am the father of a son who is 2 about to turn 3.  I am the middle-aged dad of a toddler.  And, I have no business being that.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my son.  I wouldn’t give up being his dad for one instant.  I’m just saying that there are people my age who are grandparents.  47 is not the age when you want to be engaged in full-contact toddler-parenting.

Yes, I am in pretty good shape, especially for my age. But, my age is also the age where things really start to go – testosterone, muscle mass, memory, hearing – all the stuff you need to take care of a toddler.

If you’re a 47 year old grandparent watching a toddler, you do it for a couple of hours and then you get to say things like “whoa grandpa can’t do that anymore.”  I don’t get to do that.  Because I’m not Grandpa.  I’m Pa.  And, Pa doesn’t get to tap out.  So, if my son wants to get up on my shoulders and have me transport him from Manhattan to Brooklyn like that, that’s what I have to do.

The problem is, as noted above, I’m not a kid anymore.  I’m just about to be 47.  Parenting at 47 is like fighting a war with outdated equipment.  I was born in 1967.  I’m fighting a 2014 war with VietNam era stuff.

And, it wasn’t always like this.  Like I say. I’m in shape. But, each year, it gets tougher and tougher to maintain.  Just a couple of years ago, I was still having kickass workouts and measuring them by miles run, calories burned, heart rate max achieved.  Now, when I work out, I’m worried if my A-Fib will act up again and whether I’ll be able to stop sweating after I get out of the shower.

On the other hand, it’s not all bad news.  Being a Middle Aged Dad does have some perks.  Mostly, it’s that I’m too tired to care about all the fun stuff I’m missing out on that I used to do when I was single and childless.