Coupla Random Things

It's interesting that the bands and music I feel exemplify my soul are usually ones my girlfriend finds annoying.

I hit the snooze button the other day when I shouldn't have, even though my girl and my baby were up, because I wanted nine goddamn minutes to just lay in bed and not do anything for once.

This guy in my office was asking me about headphones because he saw I use big old Sonys. He was asking how Bose headphones were and I told him the pair I had a while back I loved to death. He ended up getting some super nice ones and came by to let me try them out. He left these $300 headphones at my desk so I could see how they sounded for over an hour. I know on a certain level he could just be showing off, but on another level the kindness in this totally made my day.

The audience singing along with Tom Waits during "Innocent When You Dream" during his Glitter & Doom tour is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. If I ever meet Tom Waits I will totally cry and try to hug him. I'd never be able to express how much he means to me though.

I know it's my job and all, but it's really annoying when people come up to my cube and just start telling me to follow them because they need computer help. It's called manners, people. More than likely I will get right up and help you, but I'm less likely to cuss you out telepathically if you ask if I'm busy first.

American Sign Language makes more sense to me in terms of grammar and syntax than English does. I honestly feel for people learning English as a second language. This shit be crazy.

I've never felt uncertain about raising my kid. I have no idea where this confidence comes from.

You know what's nice? Butts. And cleavage. I don't know how you gay guys live without all that wonderful roundness. Unless you're a bear. Then you get soft roundness all the time. With hair!

I wish I was Internet-famous. Not even to millions or thousands of people. Hundreds would be good.

On a final cheesy note, whilst sitting on the couch with my lady, I still look over at her reading or surfing the Internet and just smile. Like, every day. I'm a lucky guy.

- David

Baby, Baby

My son finishes his bottle and turns towards me, putting his arms up around my neck. His eyes are already half-closed and I can feel the quiet in his body. He is ready for bed. We've had a long couple of days, weeks, months together, and it feels like we've reached some new plateau of mutual understanding. Like some major things have just ratcheted into place for both of us.

My son, my beautiful, intelligent, playful son is in my arms, one soft arm around my neck, one in between my body and arm. It's always thus. I'm holding him in a sling made from both forearms, rocking gently and bouncing from time to time. A burp escapes his body and I can hear from where it starts in his little stomach, up through his torso and out over my shoulder. I whisper and pat his back.

I turn to look at the clock now to see when I'll lay him down. 10:08. Two minutes. I always go by the clock so I won't rush it. Time is so subjective when you're waiting for it to pass. Tonight I have the presence to enjoy the two minutes instead of check the clock every ten seconds.

Suddenly it occurs to me, concrete and real, that I won't be able to do this much longer. Already he's a year old, so big and tall and growing all the time at an incredible rate. Physical attributes aside, how much longer will he even want to be held? One year old seems like the perfect age. He's perfect right here, right now. I want to stop his aging, keep him one forever. It'd be wonderful. He can walk, he's learning sign language so fast, he eats and sleeps pretty well, we have a system down. I could handle an eternal one year old.

I wonder briefly if there are any vampires in town, but the thought of feeding a baby blood puts me off. I don't want him to get any older. I hug his huge, tiny body against mine, press my face into the crook of his sleeping neck. My eyes begin to water. It feels like he will be leaving me soon, breaking up with me, moving away. It's too much. Is this what my dad went through? I want to hold and cuddle and sleep with him forever. But he'll get big and greasy, angry and too old for me. It's the tragedy every parent experiences; we all come to it on our own, it's never mentioned in Sex Ed or in any of the brochures.

10:10 clicks into place. I hug him tightly, lay him down in his newly-lowered crib, pull a thin blanket over his legs. I rub his head and stomach and tell him I love him. This time out of the many others feels more articulated, less rehearsed. You don't know what you got 'till you know it'll be gone.

- David

A Letter To My Son On His 1st Birthday

Jonas, Jonas, Jonas, you're a year old today! A year old... it seems like it's been longer than that, but at the same time I can't believe how big and smart you are already.

At 9:52 this morning you'll be exactly One. We were at the hospital before the sun came up and as the clean morning light shone into our hospital room you were born. Ten fingers, ten toes, which I guess all dads are compelled to check for. Which I did. To this day I look at your little toes and still see six sometimes, just for a second. They're so small they seem more numerous. I can't remember them cleaning you but you were warm and soft and clean from the moment I first touched you. Which was like five minutes after you were born, if that. We have pictures. I laid my hand on your warm little chest and took a picture. You were so perfect. Still are! I can't imagine a better baby. You constantly surprise your mother and me with your intelligence and charm. We get frustrated, sure, but even when we're mad you're just so fuckin' cute. In a short time you're going to be breaking hearts up and down this state. You already win everyone over.

You're walking so well now and know how to pet the animals. You recognize things on TV (don't tell your pediatrician we let you watch TV) and know how to sign "please" in sign language. I swear you signed "milk" this morning! Yesterday you picked your Elmo DVD out of a pile and gave it to your mom. How cool is that? You bring us books to read to you all the time, and even cry when your mom cries and know how to cuddle. Now if you could just figure out that your mother and I are not both "Mama" we'd be good. But I suspect you know who's who and just like to play the "Dada?" "Mama." "Dada!" "Mama." "DADA!" game.

I can't wait to see you grow up more and start talking, going to school, etc, but at the same time we wish you wouldn't get any bigger. You're so sweet now, and cute, and I can still pick you up and squish you if I want to. I know you won't be my little cuddle buddy forever but maybe I can hit you on the head real hard with something and slow that process down. I'll ask my dad, he'd know how.

But today you get cake and presents and all the hugs you can stand. Thanks for being our little man and the best surprise ever. We love you.

- Dadad (not Mama!)