Nostalgia

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Dad Gets Trapped In Parallel Universe With Son

November 27, 2012 at 12:30 am , by 

2 years.

Dear Jack,

Had you been born a girl, I know I would have loved you just as much. But instead, you’re a rough-housing, toy train-holding, spiky-haired little boy.

And I really like all that about you.

I daydream a lot about our future together and what all adventures we can tear into.

There’s a monster truck rally coming to town in a couple of weeks that I’d love to take you to…

Unfortunately, it doesn’t start until after your bedtime and I already know there’s no way that would go well.

But as soon as you’re old enough, I can’t wait to see your eyes light up in excitement as an unnecessarily large truck runs over 1980s Buicks. As for now, you like to watch clips of monster trucks on YouTube with me.

You also love to watch donkeys, buses, and “French trains.” I’m not sure why it’s important to you that the trains are French, but I type it in and clips pop up, so we watch them together.

On the day this picture was taken, I taught you to throw sticks in the water. You were obsessed with the new skill. The truth is, you were actually really good at it.

Just wait a few years and then I’ll teach you the impressive ability to skip rocks across the water.

See, I’m not sure those are the kinds of things girls really care about. But you, you get me.

At only 2 years old, you understand where I’m coming from. I really appreciate the fact that you’re okay with listening to Weezer on the 45 minute drive home from daycare as the two of us silently contemplate life.

We can be in our own little weird worlds, together. It’s like we’re trapped in some parallel universe, you and I, for the rest of our lives. Though we live among the rest of the world, even Mommy, we still speak a strange exclusive language between the two of us..

If only you knew how much I look forward to the two of us building f0rts, having snowball fights, practicing sports, having afternoon-long video game battles, and just simply going on long walks in different neighborhoods as we explore a new mediocre environment. Man, all those things are so important and crucial in understanding what life is really about.

The way you get me, I have a feeling I’ll get you too. I’m going to instantly understand you when others don’t even come close.

I’ve been where you are now. Granted, it was 1983. But hey, Smurfs are still cool, right?

Just know this: The way you think, the way you feel, the things you think are fun, chances are that I did and still do feel the same.

Maybe even now, I’m standing with one foot in 1983 and the other in present day. I’m transcending time and universes just to be close to you.

Pretty cosmic bond we have, huh?

 

Love,

Daddy

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3 Simple Rules For Planning A 2-Year-Old’s Birthday Party

November 20, 2012 at 10:22 pm , by 

2 years.

Dear Jack,

There’s a decent chance you will begin actually remembering certain events now. I say that because my own 2nd birthday party in April 1983 is the very first memory of my own life.

I remember my Italian grandfather holding me in his lap as everyone around the table sang “Happy Birthday” to me. It was somehow overwhelmingly sad, so I cried until it was time to open presents.

It is from that experience that I planned your 2nd birthday party. I wanted to make sure that you would have a fun, memorable party for you, your friends, and our family.

So I implemented 3 simple rules for planning your 2nd birthday party:

1. Find the right-sized location for the amount of people invited.

We invited about 30 people and they all showed up. (Yes, Jack, you’re that cool of a kid!)

Fortunately, our church had a mini basketball court for you and your friends to chase each other around in. My top priority was making sure you didn’t get antsy.

I also wanted to make sure you didn’t get overwhelmed by the amount of people there. With a location that open, you never felt closed in or crowded. That kept you happy.

2. Downplay the eating and singing part.

I think the real reason I got scared and starting crying at my own 2nd birthday party was because I couldn’t understand why so many people surrounded me and were singing a song I didn’t know. It freaked me out.

So as non-traditional as it was, I made sure we purposely didn’t sing “Happy Birthday” once it was cake time.

We didn’t even have you blow out candles in front of everyone. We just let you enjoy your cake while we served the guests.

Actually, you were more excited about sampling the Teddy Grahams, Animal Crackers, and Angry Birds crackers.

You were actually quite proud of them; as you see in this picture I took of you.

3. Speed up the gift-opening.

When it came time for you to open your gifts, your Mommy was equipped to jot down who gave you what. Then as I quickly read the cards to everyone, you opened your gifts.

I wanted to prevent stop-and-go action, ensuring a continuous flow instead.

That gave your guests time to see you actually react to and play with your new gifts beyond your initial reaction of opening them, because you didn’t necessarily know what everything was at first.

So that’s it. I’m not sure you actually will remember any of it, but in an attempt to help jog your memory, I conveniently saved the pictures from your 2nd birthday party for you on this link to The Dadabase Facebook page.

You didn’t cry at your 2nd birthday party like I did 29 years ago. Good job, son.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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A Dad’s Letter To His Son On His 2nd Birthday

November 16, 2012 at 12:03 am , by 

Two years!

Dear Jack,

I know you still won’t be able to read this for a couple of more years, but I wanted to write you a Happy Birthday message on your 2nd birthday anyway.

Since your Mommy and I found out we were having you, back in April 2010, I have been writing a blog entry at least once a week, and often once a day.

The rest of the world has had access to virtually every moment of your process of growing up, but the words were mainly written for the rest of the world.

However, this is just for you. I’ve never written directly to you, until now, on your 2nd birthday.

This day is especially monumental for me. It signifies you officially leaving the days of being a baby and entering the days of being a little boy.

I noticed recently you started calling me “Daddy” now, instead of “Dada.”

Right now as I look at your picture of you holding your birthday balloons and wearing your necktie, which you very willingly wore to be like me, I am so proud of you and love you so much that… it comes out in the form of sadness, somehow.

Everybody told me not to rush any stage of your life. I tried not to.

Of course, the younger you were, the more difficult being a dad was. I was so clueless, even a year ago.

I’ll never forget when you turned 15 months old. That was the first time you really asked for me. That was the first time you wouldn’t cry if Mommy left the room.

Since then, I could tell so obviously that you wanted me and that you loved me.

So while I’ll try not to rush your life along too quickly, I have to admit, I love seeing you grow up.

The older you get and the more you come to life, the stronger of a connection I feel with you. I’m pretty sure it’s a father/son thing.

I love taking way too many pictures of you. I love writing about all the funny things you do and say.

I love you, son. So much.

Though you probably never see me cry, if you could be here right now as I write this, you would see a 31-year-old man who can barely keep himself together.

It’s funny- I didn’t cry a single tear the night you were born. You were just a strange baby who couldn’t talk. My job at that point was basically just to keep you alive.

But today, I can’t hold back the tears for anything. This is the first time I’ve simply been overwhelmed by my love for you.

What most fathers seem to experience the day their son is born, I guess I’m experiencing right now. To me, this is you being born.

That’s because you and I have gotten to the point now where I can actually see my influence over you. Like with wanting to wear the necktie, you want to be like me.

Man. That humbles me and breaks me. Thank you.

Thank you for being my son. I can’t thank God enough for you.

Today you will receive gifts from Mommy and me: some metal trains and tracks to ride them on.

I know you’ll really like them. You’ll carry around your trains with you everywhere you go. But eventually, they’ll be at the bottom of some drawer.

What I will remember most about your 2nd birthday is the way I feel about you right now. And that’s why I’m writing you this letter. I want to be able to capture what I’m feeling right now. That’s what I think is the best gift I can give you today.

Maybe it’s a dad thing, or maybe it’s just me, but in the likeness of a learning curve, I’ve had a “loving curve” with you.

Two years into this, I am experiencing love for you that I have never felt for anyone in my life. So different than the way I love your Mommy.

The love I have for you is wrapped up in some unspoken bond I can’t quite express in words right now. But I promise you I will spend the rest of my life trying to.

Happy Birthday, Son. I love you with all I have.

 

Love,
Daddy

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Is There An Echo In Here Or Is That Just My Son Mimicking Me?

November 5, 2012 at 9:49 pm , by 

23 months.

From what I remember about the Eighties, and maybe I’m making this up, but I feel like there was this plush parrot toy that immediately repeated whatever you just said. You didn’t even have to squeeze its wing to make it do it.

Well, that’s what my 23-month-old son currently reminds me of.

One night Jack had just gotten out of the bath and was stumbling around the bathroom, in desperate need of sleep.

“He’s like a drunk baby,” I commented to my wife.

“Drunk… baby,” Jack repeated.

What made it especially hilarious is that he said it so monotone and melancholy, like Ben Stein, or at best, a sad cartoon puppy.

Now I know I can’t say “drunk baby” out loud in front of him.

I also realize now that one of my wife’s catchphrases is, “That’s creepy.” Whether referring to a segment on the local news about a haunted ghost tour or just driving down the road and seeing vultures eating the remains of a possum, Jack recognizes the phrase as something he needs to include in his vocabulary.

There’s something funny about a toddler saying, “That’s creepy.”

He doesn’t know the word “scary” yet, but he knows “creepy.”

Last weekend while on vacation in California with my wife’s family, we had to keep reminding everyone that Jack would definitely repeat any new words he heard.

And he did.

Hopefully he’ll forget all about “the s-word” for a while.

While Jack can decently repeat any phrase he hears, that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows the meaning of the words he uses. I assume that eventually comes next.

As for now, he is having fun repeating the words he hears adults use. And to be honest, I’m having fun hearing him repeat all the random stuff I say throughout the course of a day.

For example, at this point could I probably teach him to say, “Beam me up, Daddy?”

Yes, and I shall.

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Experiencing India Syndrome While On Family Vacation

November 4, 2012 at 10:15 pm , by 

23 months.

We left first thing this morning to fly back home to Nashville, after 8 days of visiting my wife’s family in California.

That means that now my family will be undergoing a reverse culture shock.

For the past week, my wife and I haven’t worked and our son hasn’t gone to daycare.

While we made it out of the house most days for some kind of adventure, like seeing the California State Railroad Museum, for the most part, there was definitely a major lack of structure.

And that’s basically the whole point of taking a week-long family vacation: to chill out and enjoy spending time together as a family.

However, when you do that as a family, it sort of messes with your head.

The thing I’m tempted to compare it to is an article I read this week in Details magazine called “Death on the Path to Enlightenment: Inside the Rise of India Syndrome,” by Scott Carney.

It explains how when Westerners, especially Americans, visit the mysterious and ancient country of India, they are prone to… classicly freaking out:

“This quest to become superhuman—along with culture shock, emotional isolation, illicit drugs, and the physical toll of hard-core meditation—can cause Western seekers to lose their bearings. Seemingly sane people get out of bed one day claiming they’ve discovered the lost continent of Lemuria, or that the end of the world is nigh, or that they’ve awakened their third eye.”

In essence, short-term delirium can set in when we find ourselves in unfamiliar environments, especially when the new locale is perceived as exotic or at least completely the opposite of the culture we live in every day.

So let me just say that after a week of not working, staying with family with free room and board and no real schedule, it took me about 4 days to overcome my India syndrome.

Therefore, it should be no surprise that my son absolutely had to battle through his own version of of short-term delirium.

That’s something my son and I definitely have in common: We don’t do well when there is no plan or boundaries.

So it did take the two of us about half the week to get into the new groove.

I made it part of our morning routine to push him around the neighborhood in his stroller while we looked for dogs and owls, while my son clenched tightly his toy rubber eyeball and Jeep.

He also learned better the concept of watching TV, which is something we pretty much deprive him of back home.

Of all things, he particularly liked an old black-and-white western show called Lawman. He even learned to sing the theme song, which basically consists of saying, “Law-man…”

As for my wife, well, we were staying with her family who she only gets to see about once a year, so she was fine in what, to her, was a familiar environment.

We had a wonderful time in California, no doubt about it. But I think my son and I learned a valuable lesson for next summer when we go back:

The two of us will need to mentally prepare for the cultural shock by mapping out a schedule and creating a routine for a vacation where the lack of boundaries and routine is basically the reason you go in the first place.

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