Dear Son,
The last 8 weeks have been pretty crazy, and even that is an understatement in many ways. Your presence has really reshaped, refocused, and redefined much of how I look at life, and my relationship with others (more on that in another post). Honestly, the bottom line - you're number one in everything. Like, EVERYTHING.
I'll never - EVER - forget the month of July 2018. I spent an incredibly vast amount of time with you in the earliest days of your life. Luckily, I was able to be awarded four weeks of paternity leave from work to bond, to help, and really, to fall in love you with you - and let's be honest, it didn't (doesn't) take much.
Throughout that month I've watched countless hours of television with you on my chest or in my arms, and anyone can tell you, I don't watch much television. So let that speak for itself. I've done multiple laps around our apartment giving in to your obsession of needing to be moving and in motion. I've fed you, fallen asleep with you, and even at times, watched you sleep. Creepy, I know...
I've endured you peeing on me several times, pooping on me, spitting up on me, throwing up on me, drooling on me, farting on me, and the occasional sneeze in the face. You're absolutely gross, by the way. The worst mannered human I've ever come across. We'll hopefully work on all of that going forward. But again, you're terrific. Let that balance sink in.
I've watched your body developed drastically, I've witnessed you discovering your tongue, and I have experienced your odd love for sunrises, for the view of Nostrand Aveneue and Manhattan from our kitchen window (the apartment vista point for those who have visited the historic 7L), and your unique acceptance of some kinds of music, as well as your utter distaste for others.
Lest we never forget your grumpy disagreements with the sounds emanating from the television when mom watched some CMA CountryFest show, and the horrors you experience when Midland performed. Don't worry, I wasn't a fan either.
Even after all of that, truthfully, one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life was having to strap on my backpack, throw on my hat - everyday norms on what used to be a normal everyday sort-of-thing - and try to walk out the front door to head to work. It's sounds sad, maybe even slightly pathetic on my part - but it was so hard.
After being with you for every single moment of the day, I had to kiss you goodbye, kiss mom goodbye, and head out for ten hours of the day. Again, it was so incredibly hard. For some reason, I felt that was ten hours I was missing out on. Ten hours of doing without my favorite thing in life. Ten hours of thinking about getting back to you to do our thing - you peeing, pooping, spitting up, drooling, farting, and sneezing on me. But of course, giving me that smile and displaying that already crazy personality of yours - it makes it all worth it.
July was tough, extremely tough at times, no doubt about it. I bear those sleepless nights as a badge of honor for my initiation to parenthood - the first of many to come for sure. But it came time for me to rip the band-aid a bit, and man was it hard. Going back to work - easily one of the toughest days of my life thus far.
But you know what, it sets up one of my favorite things in life - coming home after a hard day and holding you. I'll take the good with the bad, as I'm learning the currency of Ace is worth much more than the heartbreaks of life.