At times, you can count on feeling just beaten down and probably a little bit whiny. But then... they'll start kindergarten. They'll finish their first book report (and make an A). They'll graduate high school. They'll get their first job (I'm still waiting for this one, the lazy shits). They'll start college. They'll get dumped by their boyfriend (or girlfriend) for the first time and come through it just fine. They'll dump a boyfriend (or girlfriend) for the first time, for damned good reasons. Those are the moments that push you forward, that keep your morale up, that let you know you're doing an OK job. It's worth it.
Having said that, would I do it again? No. It's not that I don't love my kids, but I think I'd just be... going through the motions with another. Those experiences have been had, and we all had them together. I've been a great dad, and at times, I've been a shitty dad. I learned. They learned. And they're coming out just fine.
Also, you can expect (if they're around and they didn't beat the shit out of you) to gain a greater respect for your own parents. When I was younger, I hated mine. Both Pentecostal ministers, both borderline abusive with the forced Bible readings (tape recorder in your bedroom on a Friday night, anyone?), the "called to the altar for public prayer sessions because you said the word -shit-" moments... but when I look back, they did the best they could. They learned, too. They saw me become an Atheist. They watched me nearly drink myself to death, until my wife threw me a lifeline. They learned, and I learned too. Be a better parent than your own, but remember.... we learn as we go, and give them a break. I love my parents now, because I know they did what they thought was right. They were wrong... but they thought they were doing the right thing. And all in all, I have a strong moral perspective and I like to believe I'm a good man. They did all right.
Good luck, and don't ever hesitate to ask if you need advice or just need someone to vent to because your wife is being lazy.
