Our first day back at home as a little family sitting on our porch swing. A place we would spend so much time together in the following years.
Your birthday was yesterday. The following was supposed to be posted yesterday, but alas it wasn't. I will tell you that as we loaded the cars up to heads towards your party on Saturday, I glanced up on one of the many trips from the table to the car and saw the picture above the china cabinet of you at 18 months holding onto our hands and teared up some. I know. I know. Pull it together. Be a man and all that. But that is all a lame definition of a man. David in the Bible wept and he was a warrior. I cried a little as I woke you up and dressed you for the party and tried to take in every second as we rode in that old, crappy truck to meet your Aunt Amy, Jackson, and your Nana to ride to the party. I kept looking over as you talked about all of your things and as we talked about your coming party. There you were sitting in your seat talking to me and asking me questions; just a couple of guys talking in the front seat of a truck Except we weren't just a couple of guys talking. I was your father and you were my son. I am the father to a three your boy. You had already lived three full years of your life. And all of it made me think about all that those three years had contained and made me think about when your sweet mom was pregnant with you and when you came to us. I am pretty sure that I will feel the same when someday we are driving down the road in some other old, crappy car or truck and you are a young man and I am much older. I will still be your father and you will still be my little boy, but you will be grown and I will wonder where the time went.
Pancakes and chocolate milk: the breakfast of the happiest of champions.
And so, I'm not exactly sure what to say to you, my dear little boy. Three full years ago, I stood in a room holding onto your dear and brave mother's warm hand waiting for you to arrive. We had been in that room for hours. I was so very excited and yet, I was so very scared. I was not ready for you. I knew nothing about being a father and didn't know if I had what it took. I was so very nervous because I love your mother so very much and was not sure my heart had room to love someone else the way I love her. I was not sure if I could it all right. and then you arrived at 10:06 am and they handed you to me after I'd cut the umbilical cord and I looked at you and tried to see who you would be and wondered what I'd be and who I'd be in light of you. I will never forget those moments. I still feel as if those moments are still happening.
In the co-pilot seat.
And I remember those first few days and what it felt like to put that seat into the car and then take you out of your mother's hands and place you into the seat of the Subaru and then help your mother in and then go sit in the driver's seat thinking that we'd never really drive another foot as just two people, but now we'd be three and how odd it was that when you go to have a child you come with two people and leave with three. I know this sounds like the dumbest things to think about and they may be and I'm sure everyone has it figured out long before, but I never do. I remember driving back to that house with you and your mom and spending most of that ride looking in the rear view mirror checking you out and being so excited to show you your new room and hoping you'd like it.
One of the many great meetings of the Saturday morning breakfast club.
I also remember so many things from those first few days. It is a very surreal feeling to live with someone for six full years and think that just two people can make a family, and that may be, but then have a third person suddenly come to exist, and live, and share those walls with you is a strange and wonderful thing. I remember all those many nights when you wouldn't sleep so well and cry out and you and I would sit in the swing or walk around the block in the darkness of the night and I would hold you close to me trying to tell you that everything was ok and that sleep would make you feel better. I would try to rock you on that porch swing and sing to you songs that I love so much, but never really remember the words to and now each night I lay beside you and read you little books and cannot really fathom how that little baby grew into the little boy who is next to me. So much has happened and I feel so much has changed and yet it feels like no real time has past and at times I too feel unchanged, but I know that isn't so.
Love sharing the breakfast counter with this guy.
I have truly never smiled so much nor laughed as hard.
And now today, you are turning three. As I type this, I can't believe its real and many of my feelings are the same. I'm still wondering if I have what it takes because I still do not know about kids and I still don't know how to be a father. I still hold onto your dear and brave mother's warm hand and look at you and into your big brown eyes and try to see who you will be and who we will be in light of you. I'm often tempted to feel inside, but worry it is too sacreligious, that I must echo the Great God who looked down upon His Son and said, "this is my son, in whom I am well-please". I hold you and you seem to make all things better even if just for a brief moment. You bring your mother and I so much joy and happiness. I used to wonder what life would be like with you and now I often wonder how we did life without you.
A little clowning around.
So, I wish you the best of birthdays. I wish you a wonderful third year of your life. I look forward to a full year of life with you. I am sure I will be sitting here doing much of the same when you are getting ready to turn four. I love you very, very much. I am both humbled and honored to be your father. Hope you enjoy your party and enjoy the cake!
My brown-eyed boy.
Your Dad
