Just one piece of advice? Okay, here you go: PATIENCE.
Your kid will test your patience in many ways. As an infant, it might take the form of crying for no apparent reason. As a toddler, it may be asking the same question over and over, or throwing a tantrum. If you want to get through it all, you need patience. Recognize that you are an adult, and you can control yourself. Be a bottomless pool of patience. Sing and rock that crying infant as long as it takes, instead of freaking out that “it’s not working, what now?!” Answer your toddler’s question every time, the same way; they get bored of the repetition way sooner than you will, I promise. And ride those tantrums out; if you’re at home it’s easy, in public a bit harder, but just remove the kid from the situation that’s creating the problem and if she’s still throwing the fit, let her carry on. Yes, tantrums are noisy and unpleasant, but hell, you’re an adult, a few minutes of “noisy and unpleasant” is nothing. You have tons of patience, your kid has none, and you can outlast any tantrum. Ride it out, with no talking or anything from you until it’s over; interaction and reaction is what they want. When the kid’s done, talk it out, figure out what’s wrong, correct it. When they learn that the tantrum really doesn’t do anything but delay the conversation at the end, they’ll taper off. Patience. It’s the key.
That last bit is the second piece of advice I’d give, by the way, if I were allowed more than one: don’t talk down. Baby talk isn’t even for babies, it’s made-up crap that grownups think is cute. Use normal words and complete sentences, and talk to your kid like a person, like she has an opinion and she matters. It pays off.
One last thing that isn’t advice, just some information. This’ll be kinda scary. Ready?
As a parent, you are more vulnerable than you have ever been.
It may take a while to realize it, but when you become a parent, you open yourself to a world of things that can go wrong, things you have no control over, and it makes you kinda helpless. A lot of your happiness, a lot of you, is locked up in that little bread-loaf-sized package. It’s scary. You know how you hear about parents who don’t eat so that their kids will get enough? I never understood that until I had a kid. You hear, “Everything changes,” but I don’t think you’ll really get that until it actually happens.
The trade-off for that vulnerability, though, is the little red-haired streak that slams into me when I get home and yells, “Daddy!”