My son is 3.  I’m 47.  I’m a middle-aged dude.  Worse, I’m a middle-aged dad of a toddler.  He’s not even in kindergarten, and I’m this close to being in AARP. (SEE VIDEO TO SEE WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT)

I’m in pretty good shape . . . for my age. But, that isn’t hard.  Most 47 year old dudes I know have bigger boobs than their wives.

So being in better shape than them is easy.  But, that doesn’t make me fit to be the parent of a toddler.  Parenting is an extreme sport.  It’s like UFC cage fighting against who someone who doesn’t sleep and who might poop on you at any moment.

To do that right, you need to be in great shape.  Thing is, at 47, I’ve lost so much muscle mass I have less meat than a Chicken wing.  I’m losing testosterone so quickly, my voice is gonna change back.

You know those Animal Planet documentaries, where the alpha male wanders off ‘cause he just doesn’t have it in him to fight the young bucks anymore.  That’s me.  My manhood is gone.   At this point in my life, my balls have no purpose other than to balance my center of gravity and keep me from tipping over when my wife pushes me around.

I’m getting smaller, slower and weaker everyday, which is natural for a 47 year old.  What’s not natural is that while this is happening I’m raising a 3 year old who’s getting bigger, faster and stronger all the time.

And, what makes this even more difficult is that I used to be in great shape. But, each year, it gets tougher and tougher to maintain.  Just a couple of years ago, I was still having kickass workouts.  Now, when I work out, all I’m worried about is whether my A-Fib is gonna act up and whether I’ll be able to stop sweating after I get out of the shower.

Do you understand? I was born in 1967.  I’m fighting a 2014 war against a toddler war with VietNam era machinery.

On the other hand, it’s not all bad news.  Being a Middle Aged Dad does have some perks.  Mostly, it’s that my memory is going, so can’t remember all the fun stuff I used to do when I was single.