Happy Birthday Jake!
We forget the miracles.
It's weird, but Kathy mentioned just a couple of words last night when she was thinking of Jake's early days.
"Remember how sweet he was?"
Well, that set me off...thinking...about the day of Jake's birth.
The moment when the doc handed him to me and thought about the miracle that I was actually witnessing.
His tiny, perfectly formed feet.
I'm not a man who cries.
At that very moment, I did.
I recall the very thought in my head:
If someone witnesses the birth of their child and doesn't believe in miracles, or God, that man is an idiot.
And as a new Dad I thought about all the things I'd share with my boy as he grew.
Family, sports, my love of reading and writing, the traditions handed down by my parents.
The good things.
Jake caught me as soon as I walked through the doors yesterday afternoon and we talked about a few things real quickly. I had some work to finish, but one of my promises (to myself and my boys) was that I'd be there for them.
Jake showed me a couple of Internet clips.
He's turning 18.
Jake was a good boy.
I thought of the moment when the docs handed him back to us just a few years later.
He'd been really sick.
He was as good as new.
We got two miracles that we'd been counting on.
I cried that day too.
The 18 years have flown by.
I thought of another promise:
As much as possible...I'd raise them without yelling at them.
We'd arrived there without too many crazy outbursts.
"Go grab my wallet out of the car," I said to Jake.
He brought it to me.
I handed him a couple of bills so that he could go to a movie or something.
"Don't tell your mother," I said.
It was something I remember my Dad doing for me...it always made me feel special.
"Aw, man, thanks," he said.
"What do you want to do for your birthday?" I asked.
"I'll go to the breast cancer run," he said. "Aunt Corinne's too."
Family.
We'd done just fine.
(He's not much of a reader though).
Jake's a good man!
Happy Birthday, buddy.
We love you.
Man...miracles make me weep.
(By the way - Matt didn't get his Happy Birthday blog because that week I'd written him two...count 'em two...graduation blogs...besides he's like 30 now...and a big dope).
It's weird, but Kathy mentioned just a couple of words last night when she was thinking of Jake's early days.
"Remember how sweet he was?"
Well, that set me off...thinking...about the day of Jake's birth.
The moment when the doc handed him to me and thought about the miracle that I was actually witnessing.
His tiny, perfectly formed feet.
I'm not a man who cries.
At that very moment, I did.
I recall the very thought in my head:
If someone witnesses the birth of their child and doesn't believe in miracles, or God, that man is an idiot.
And as a new Dad I thought about all the things I'd share with my boy as he grew.
Family, sports, my love of reading and writing, the traditions handed down by my parents.
The good things.
Jake caught me as soon as I walked through the doors yesterday afternoon and we talked about a few things real quickly. I had some work to finish, but one of my promises (to myself and my boys) was that I'd be there for them.
Jake showed me a couple of Internet clips.
He's turning 18.
Jake was a good boy.
I thought of the moment when the docs handed him back to us just a few years later.
He'd been really sick.
He was as good as new.
We got two miracles that we'd been counting on.
I cried that day too.
The 18 years have flown by.
I thought of another promise:
As much as possible...I'd raise them without yelling at them.
We'd arrived there without too many crazy outbursts.
"Go grab my wallet out of the car," I said to Jake.
He brought it to me.
I handed him a couple of bills so that he could go to a movie or something.
"Don't tell your mother," I said.
It was something I remember my Dad doing for me...it always made me feel special.
"Aw, man, thanks," he said.
"What do you want to do for your birthday?" I asked.
"I'll go to the breast cancer run," he said. "Aunt Corinne's too."
Family.
We'd done just fine.
(He's not much of a reader though).
Jake's a good man!
Happy Birthday, buddy.
We love you.
Man...miracles make me weep.
(By the way - Matt didn't get his Happy Birthday blog because that week I'd written him two...count 'em two...graduation blogs...besides he's like 30 now...and a big dope).
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