Posts Tagged ‘
Sunday, April 28th, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
Last Thursday on the drive to school, I popped in one of my favorite CD’s ever, Mat Kearney’s Young Love.
In a random and successful effort to find a new way to entertain you, I handed over the jewel case with the lyrics; which instantly became a storybook to you.
While I’ve heard every one of those songs at least 273 times, a phrase from the very first song, “Hey Mama,” caught my attention:
“What are you doing for the rest of your life?”
It’s such an understated question. Naturally, though, the answer is simple:
You and Mommy. In other words, whatever I am doing for the rest of my life, it revolves around the two of you.
Granted, I had obviously given plenty of prior thought of spending the rest of my life with Mommy nearly five years ago when we got married.
But as for you, I hadn’t truly consciously put you in that same category; at least not since you were a newborn.
No matter what my calender says, your name is on every day for the rest of my life. There will never be a day that you don’t consume my thoughts.
It’s one of those things that every dad-to-be dwells on. I can remember now, how for the months leading up to your birth, I would constantly think about how you would forever change my life.
I would think about how my existence in this world would now cause a ripple effect which would be undeniable- simply because I was responsible in bringing you into this world, and more importantly, because the way I would raise you would make who you would become; for better or for worse.
So yeah, I haven’t given too much thought about that in the past nearly two and a half years. I’ve had so many other dad-related thoughts to consume my mind since then.
And that just goes to show you… you’re what I’m doing for the rest of my life.
Friday, April 26th, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
You are in the stage now where you’re piecing together catch phrases you hear Mommy and I say and incorporating them into your observations conversation.
Yesterday as I drove you home from school, I guess there was a gnat or something flying around you. This is what I heard:
“No way, bug! Get in the cheese!… You’re in trouble. No ma’am! Just chill out. Go find a home.”
From there, your conversation with the bug went from 2nd person perspective to 3rd person narration:
“The bug needs to find his parents. They hold him. They take care of him. That’s weird.”
I’m still a little confused about the cheese part. Do you want bugs to live inside of cheese wedges? Is that where they usually call their home?
The part I understand most from your conversation with/about the bug is this: The bug has a home where he belongs; where he has a Daddy and Mommy who love him.
Thanks, Son. That’s sweet of you to assume the bug’s parents love him the way Mommy and I love you.
I love your backseat radio show. That’s how I’m starting to think of it now.
In particular, I thought your rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” was pretty creative:
“Twinkle, twinkle, purple monster truck…”.
As you would say, “That’s weird.”
Monday, April 22nd, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
While my flat tire was being replaced at WalMart on Thursday morning, I decided to let you pick out a toy car. I was willing to spend some of my blow money (that’s Dave Ramsey lingo) on you; as much as $10.
You had been saying for the past month, “I want a purple monster truck.” So I figured you’d finally get it.
As soon as we stepped up to the toy car aisle, we stood before a wall of cool Monster Jam monster trucks, with a tough-looking purple one right there in our sight. You grabbed it.
Unlike U2 in 1987, you had actually found what you were looking for.
I thought, “Well, that was easy. How do we kill another 45 minutes?”
Then you saw a black monster truck… then a red one… and a green one…
Whichever new truck you discovered every 18 seconds, it automatically became superior to the previous one.
The original purple monster truck was 4 bucks, but now you were dipping into basic 97 cent Hot Wheels. I actually wanted to spend more money on you, distracting you with “Rasta Carian” from Mater’s Tall Tales, a $9 item.
You weren’t impressed with the dreadlocked Jamaican monster truck. (Really?!)
“Okay Jack, it’s getting about time for them to call my name over the speaker and tell me my car is ready. Go ahead and decide which one you want to take home,” I explained.
My own expectations had now been properly lowered. I guess I was just confused that you didn’t want me to buy what clearly you had been talking about for weeks.
And there it was, a purple… 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider with white and lime green flames.
That’s the one you just couldn’t let go of. So I spent 97 cents on you and you were completely happy.
I like spending money on you by buying you special gifts, but you don’t care how much money I spend on them. I mean, hey, I’m not complaining.
You just seem to like the adventure of obtaining and opening a new gift. Then you always trace that gift back to the event in which you got it.
Sure enough, you have been bragging to everyone you see about your new purple truck.
Not just any purple truck, but that silly purple 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider that Daddy got you when his tire got a nail in it and had to be replaced… or as you say it, “Daddy, yours tire fell off?”
Saturday, April 20th, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
Thursday morning as we pulled out of the neighborhood, you asked me:
“What’s that sound, Daddy?”
Minutes later, a man in a pick-up truck next to me motioned to my back tire. Fortunately, we happened to be very close to a WalMart, where we learned my tire had a big silver nail in it and that the tire would have to be replaced.
For months now, I have meaning to get my own diaper bag to keep in my car for you.
Given that you and I spend at least 7 hours a week together in my car, it makes sense that I should have a “daddy diaper bag” to remain with me wherever I am with you.
Interestingly enough, Thursday morning happened to be the morning I placed my new daddy diaper bag in my car, in the seat next to you. Then minutes later, the flat tire situation happened.
So during the 2 and a half hour event, I had books, toys, snacks, and of course, diapers for you; right there all in one place. It’s strange to think that before this week, I didn’t even carry diapers with me in my car!
But now, we’re all set. And not only do I have a daddy diaper bag, I actually have a really nice, trendy one from OkieDog.
I noticed that the particular bag I chose, the Urban Sphinx, is specifically designed for a man. Just like the way a man compartmentalizes his thoughts in a very cut-and-dry manner, the bag is evidently designed this way too.
The bag actually reminds me of my car itself, a Honda Element, in that it is simple, practical, efficient, and very low-maintenance.
Those are all adjectives that, as a man, are important to me in describing things I own.
Like a Honda Element, my daddy diaper bag contains no cloth or fabric, making it very easy to clean.
It has a plastic carabiner-type device on a key ring behind the main flap, making it very easy to find my keys. (That’s why I hate Mommy’s purse… I always have to dig around for her keys!)
Something else that made me smile about my daddy diaper bag is that it comes with a couple smaller zippered bags; perfect for wet wipes or snacks.
I like how nothing about it is hidden: All the pockets and compartments are easily visible and obtainable. (I am assuming it was designed by a man because everything about it speaks to me in my language?)
In other words, nothing about it reminds me of a purse, like our other diaper bag.
Son, this is our masculine diaper bag. It has already experienced its first adventure with the two of us.
Here’s to many more father and son adventures! Hopefully, they won’t involve me buying a new tire for my car…
Attention Dadabase Readers: Here’s a coupon code that gives you a 10% discount on orders from the okiedog.com site: 2296.
It will be good through the end of May 2013. Also, Okiedog will soon be offering free shipping on all products to Amazon Prime members.
Thursday, April 11th, 2013
2 years, 4 months.
I will admit I don’t always understand your logic.
Your newest tradition is to wave goodbye to Mommy as she pulls out of the driveway each morning. I gather that it is a time and tradition that helps you share a connection with her on a daily basis.
But this morning… as Mommy stood in the doorway, smiling at you, telling you to have a good day, telling you that she loves you, telling you that she will miss you, you just stared at her and said nothing.
The moment she walked out to her car, you got excited. You actually got giddy, even.
By the time she started backing out of the driveway, you were jumping with excitement, because finally, the moment had come when you would be able to… wave goodbye to her.
To spell out the irony here. you basically wanted Mommy to hurry up and leave so you could wave goodbye to her.
Your way of thinking is just different than mine, or Mommy’s, sometimes.
Like last night after I put you to bed and you were already overly tired to begin with, you sang at the top of your lungs for the next 15 minutes until I finally went back into your bedroom to remind you that it was time for fall asleep, to which you simply replied, “Okay,” then fell asleep a minute later.
I thought your song choice was pretty interesting, it was a medley of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,” and the “Alphabet Song,” all of which share the exact same tune.
As for me, when I am completely exhausted, like the way I am right now as I write this, the last thing I would feel like doing is singing songs at the top of my lungs.
Logic has yet to become a priority in your life. Enjoy that while you can, kid.