Happy 1st Birthday, Grayson

Dear Grayson,

For 32 years I thought primarily about me, myself, and I.  Ask anyone.  I was my favorite topic.  Then I married your mom and she got a lot (not all, not half, but a good amount) of my attention.  We had only been married a short time, but in that time we traveled (her favorite thing), moved around, and did pretty much anything we wanted.  And then you came along.  Long and fat.  Pasty-white like your daddy.  And suddenly my time and attention began to drift from me to you.  A tiny human whose accoutrements filled my car and whose ownership came without instructions for use.  Our son.  You are now one.  Where has the time gone?

When your mom told me she was pregnant with you it was my sister’s birthday.  It was also the day the Florida Gators were to play (and soon win) for the National Championship.  I was rushing home to help set up for a party at our house.  My hands were full when I walked into the kitchen through the garage; a computer, paperwork, and party napkins were filling my arms as your mom said to me as I passed, “Guess what?”  I spun around, jokingly, and instantaneously: You’re pregnant.  “Yep.”  Chapter Three of my life was closed.   Chapter Four:  The Pregnancy, had begun.  My life had changed forever.  For the better.  I was soon to be a first-time father.

In the past year you opened your eyes for the very first time in West Palm Beach, Florida.  You flew on your first plane to Texas, and a car ride to New Mexico.  You saw you first college football game at Texas Tech when you were just two months.  You were dressed as a Tree Frog for Halloween (your daddy’s favorite holiday).  You traveled back across the country as we returned to Florida.  You were perfect. 

After our first Christmas together you saw your daddy leave for three months to Iraq.  You will never remember that.  It caused you no issue.  But I was very torn inside and out.  I hated leaving you and missed you every second I was gone.  You got to see me on the computer each week when mommy placed a DVD recording of me reading children’s books to you.  When I got home I learned about how you visited the aquarium and played with penguins and how you went to EPCOT but didn’t drink any beer. 

You saw your first baseball game in person in June and caused zero fuss.  We even ran the bases after the game!  In fact, nearly most of your first 52 weeks with us have been without cause for alarm.  But chronic ear infections made your mom and me worry about you.  You had fevers, multiple anti-biotics didn’t help much, and occasionally you couldn’t sleep.  We got you tubes for your ears a couple weeks ago and all is well.  All…is…well.

You have been a dream of mine for sometime, but the reality of being your dad is far greater than I could have ever imagined.  You have revealed in me a truer self.  I seem to be cutout for being your dad.  But I am not excelling at it alone. 

Without your mom I would fail.  She has patience when I don’t.  She soothes where I am unrefined.  She cared for you every day, mostly alone, for three months, and she kisses your feet every night when she is not working.  Your grandparents have been amazing, too.  Without your mom’s help I think I’d eventually figure things out.  Without her parents (your Abuelos) she may have had a harder time.  But family is the point.  You will see as you get older that things (ninja turtles, trapper keepers, and baseball cards) may come and go, but love for and of your friends and family make a healthy life whole.  You have been greatly loved by your aunts and your cousins, Facebook friends, and smiles appear on strangers’ faces as they pass by just because of your tiny face.  Our beautiful boy. 

You are one.  One year has passed and the time cannot be retrieved, only remembered in photos and the journal I have kept for you since the day I learned you were on your way.  I have so many great memories already and look forward to so many more terrific times in the next year to come.  Like your first real solo walk (you are step, step, st—falling now) in the next few weeks and the inevitable heartbreak of saying “No” to you and meaning it. 

Finally, as I close this letter to you, Grayson, I want to remind you that I am a cool guy.  You need to know this because I worry about how you may possibly shut me out in about 12-15 years.  You won’t do this because you hate me; just because it is your job to that when you are a teenager.  Why?  Because I will embarrass you and your friends and you will be mortified, but it will be because I love you and want to hang out with my son.  You won’t want to hang out with me, so if you don’t mind I (and your mom) will be giving you a thousand or so kisses and hugs a month between now and then.  You have no say in the matter; it’s our job as your parents. 

Happy Birthday, Grayson.  We love you very much and look forward to getting to know you even better tomorrow than we do today. 

Love,

Da-Da!