It was a typical Daddy/Son morning. Jake and I ate breakfast. We fed the pony (“Honna” in Jake language). And, we went for our morning stroll around “Da ‘Hood”. The weather was perfect. Birds were chirping. All the neighbors waved HI! Jake returned their greetings with a “Hey-O”. 

Our day was going along swimmingly, until… Upon arriving home and retrieving Jake and his accessories from the stroller, I instantly noticed one thing missing. The most important thing. MO’MO!!!! 

My heart raced. Jake looked confused as his head swiveled left to right, searching for his favorite companion. I nearly panicked the moment I knew Jake realized… “WE F**KING LOST ELMO!!!” 

I promised Jake everything would be OK as I quickly transferred him into the car seat. He was fitful and  starting to boil over. We had to retrace our route, and quickly! The thought of some neighbor’s dog defiling Elmo in his fuzzy, red behind made me dizzy. How could I ever explain to Jake how his Dad let that happen to his bestest friend ever!? I let my guard down. Our machine had failed! He would never forgive me, nor would I forgive myself. 

I shoved those thoughts aside as I stepped on the pedal, revving the car up to nearly 15 miles per hour! I prayed that Elmo would return to us, unscathed. My eyes scanned the streets and sidewalks. My senses were on full alert. I refused to lose this fuzzy f**ker on my watch! 

Just then, God himself intervened… I spotted that stuffed little bastard lying on the sidewalk where our last turn toward home would have been! “I FOUND MO”MO BUDDY!!!” I exclaimed to Jake! He yelled out ‘M’MOOOH!” I jumped from the car, after putting it in park of course, and hot-footed it over to the lifeless, little baby-calming aid. I checked Elmo for any signs of forced entry or bird shit. He was in pristine condition. Just a bit overheated from baking on the pavement. Crisis averted. 

It was a quiet, content ride home. Jake was so traumatized from the event that he gulped down a bottle and fell fast asleep with his arm around his best pal minutes after hitting the crib. 

Wait until after 7pm tonight. I think Daddy’s going to gulp down a few bottles himself!:)

You know how when you’re with someone every day, you don’t really notice them losing weight? But, if you run into them once a week or so, they look so different, you’d think they had their ass Lipo’ed!?

No, Jake didn’t get Liposuction. I’m talking about his personality!!! These last few weeks have been nutty. Other than my full days with him when Mama’s away, I only see Jake a few minutes a day before one of us passes out. Of course, I hear about his antics and triumphs every day. Although, they don’t really click until I get to hang out with him for a while.

Just since our last male-bonding blast, Jake has developed SO MUCH as a little person. I can tell that he’s really grasping words and concepts now. If I grab the car seat, he says “CAH”, and points to the door. When we pull into the driveway, he says “HUM”. When we go to feed the horsey, he points and says “HUSS”. I have to remind myself that he’s always listening! I dropped something during lunch and blurted out a “Shit!”. From behind me I hear “SHITH”. While shopping yesterday, Jake pointed out Elmo from a quarter mile away. “M’MO!”. It’s frightening how fast these little devils pick up on things! (And I can see how Marketing Execs create brand-loyalty, those sneaky bastards!:)



A new development that just occurred in the last few days, he has two new best friends! His bunny and his piggy. They are inseparable! If Jake’s sleeping or cruising in the CAH, one of those two stuffed companions must be present at all times! Very cute. Today it’s bunnies and piggies. Fifteen years from now, I can only imagine what animals he’s going to be chasing. My bet’s on the “kitties”, if you know what I’m sayin’!?

Lately, the question keeps coming up more and more, “When are you having number 2?” Those words alone stir up the same feelings of both excitement and fear as when the question was first raised, “When are you two having a baby?”

Yes, I said fear. I tend to fall a bit toward the analytical side, to put it lightly. I can talk myself out of almost anything if I think about it long enough. Sometimes it’s a matter of brains vs. balls. When the Wife and I were trying for baby number one, my brain constantly juggled thoughts around my head like lottery balls. “What if” questions like… Will I be a good Dad? Will the baby be healthy? Will my wife be healthy? Will there be complications? What about college? Will we have enough money? Am I responsible enough? Am I too selfish? What the f**k am I getting myself into!?

The list was never-ending. In my mind, I was already playing out consequences 18 YEARS down the road! Deep down, I knew the answers to all those questions. Everything would be fine. Just breathe dummy. More balls, less brains…

Yet still, with the mere thought of trying for number two, the lottery balls started rattling again.

Yesterday, Jake started getting cranky just as Matt Damon’s film, The Hereafter was starting. I put Jake in the “Sideways Sleeper Hold”, and let him fuss in my arms a little while I watched the opening Tsunami sequence. It was so powerful I could not take my eyes off the screen! I popped the pacifier in his mouth, he calmed down, and now I was rapt with attention!

Onto the scene where Matt Damon, a psychic medium, is reading for a distraught husband who had recently lost his wife to disease. Damon is seeing this man’s wife, and repeating the most intimate details of their circumstances to the widowed man. After losing my Mom at an early age to Cancer, and seeing the pain my Dad went through, this scene was bitter-sweet to watch. I was practically tearing up as I saw this man starting to cry as he heard such comforting advice from his lost love.

I just happened to glance down at Jake, assuming he was out cold. What I saw were two of the sweetest little eyes staring right back at me. He had been watching me the whole time. Now all I could do was stare back at him. I whispered a long, gentle “shooooooosh”into his ear, and his little eyes slowly closed.

The emotion was almost overwhelming. The thoughts of losing my own parent followed with the absolute feeling of love as I held a living, breathing miracle, my own son, in my arms.

What if I had let my own fears and insecurities prevent that moment from ever happening!? 

After experiencing such a miracle, I think this is the only question I should focus on: Why would two parents whom are physically, emotionally, and financially capable of having another child, not try?

Two years ago, I couldn’t imagine having child. Two years later, it’s hard to imagine only having one. 

Hmm. Maybe Dads get “Baby Fever” too?:)