Tag Archives: son

TYMMPB… | We Chilled

You’re one. WTF.

This is how you turned one. Rough night for you. Rough few days (week?) You woke up crying at 1045. I picked you for the long haul at 1115 after some pick ups and put downs.

Jaanu 1

But you know? It’s all good. You’ve earned it. You have had such an understated year.

You were born in the shadow of a job switch and your sister going to school.

You were so quiet on our first vacation people wondered where you were.

You moved between nannies while smiling at each and every one.

You waited to crawl until nobody was really watching probably because you didn’t want to be a distraction.

You moved houses before you moved yourself.

You’ve been teething for 8 months and just got a tooth.

The sourest demeanor you ever have is cured by taking you outside so you can wave … to everyone.

You take meds with a smile (like you take everything else.)

You love your sister and let her make you smile like I never knew smiling was possible.

You are a momma’s boy. Keep that, homie. It will get you far. Or at least, protect you forever.

You have your grandfathers in you (and in your name), linked to them forever (and ever.)

You take your time. The more we rush and hustle around you the more you naturally, instinctively, and subtly, humble our pace.

You are everything this whole family needed.

You are what your mom ordered but what I needed. #iamgrateful and #iamthankful for this moment. Some rare QT.

And I get to brag that you turned one in my arms. (Note: I put you back in your crib peacefully a second before posting this. You probably woke up and faked some tears so I could have this moment and story to tell.) HBD, Jaanu!

This, by the way, was how you woke up. Not so bad, huh?

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under #TYMMPB..., Uncategorized

TYMMPB… | You’ll Take Care of Them

There are two people in your life you have absolute, undeniable responsibility for, from the moment you’re born. Your Mumma. And your sister.

I don’t want this to sound overly dramatic; I simply want to make clear the role you play in their lives. (Note: I have the same conversation with your sis lest you think there’s some slant or bias here.)

There’s a one month period every year where this will be more important than ever: January 12 – February 15. Why? Because you’ve got Anaiya’s birthday, Valentine’s Day, and your Mumma’s birthday coming at you faster than you’ll know what to do with.

Keep calm. Give hugs. Sit in laps as long as you can; and when you can’t any longer, sleep in them. That last one lasts forever; I know, because I still sleep in my Mumma’s lap.

You did a bang up job of it this year. You let them get whacky while you just smiled, and chilled, and hugged, and loved.

Sometimes, it can really be that simple. You found a way to make their day about them, but making sure you never made it about you. So young, and already, so wise. Keep it going, Jaanu.

TYMMPB | Feb

And Happy Birthday, Mumma. Also, the house didn’t always look like that mess behind you. We’re moving soon.

Leave a comment

Filed under #TYMMPB...

#TYMMPB… | of your “A” Game

You look good. But you can’t help that.

What can you help is how you carry all that good looking.

The past few weeks we’ve had a range of events that required you to flex styles, and you did them all seamlessly. Flexing styles and fitting in require more than simply changing clothes. That would be like saying my old school Subaru GL hatchback would win an F1 race because you painted it like Nico Rosberg’s Mercedes.

Also, I totally had to look up that last reference. I know nothing about Formula 1.

At the ripe old age of 7 months you’ve found a way to change colors while also, adapting your personality to accommodate the event. Sometimes it’s as simple as how you sit. But it’s alway as simple as how you feel.

Today you make me proud because I see in you a person who has this ability to fit in, to be present, and to find happiness in any environment. You’ve got a smile that can change the world — it’s already changed ours.

Keep that adaptability and awareness at your fingertips, Jaanu. It will serve you well. And it will serve the people around you, even better.

Also, keep making your sister laugh. It’s awesome.

Leave a comment

Filed under #TYMMPB...

TYMMPB… | You Build Bridges

It ain’t right.

It.

Just.

Ain’t.

Right.

Jaanu, there are some people who are trying to turn us into a world of walls. Walls have sides. Not the good kind. The kind you take. Not the kind you leave.

I’m not a fan of walls. Your Mom and I are looking at buying a house soon and every time we walk into a place the first thing I’m looking at is what walls we can take down. I get them. Walls are necessary. Like medicine is necessary. Like funky cheese is necessary.

But too many walls and they lose their purpose. You move from a place where you’re keeping the bad things out, to a place where you’re keeping only you, in.

That’s why I prefer bridges. Bridges have sides too. The kind you talk about because you’re committed to leaving from or going to. The bridge isn’t the end goal. It’s the vehicle that enables the ultimate end goal: connections.

TYMMPB | September Sandwich

Today you make me proud because, just a few months in, and you already get the value of bridging. Keep doing that hard work and heavy lifting, BBCC.

Leave a comment

Filed under #TYMMPB...

TYMMPB … | Touch Matters

I’ve had lots of discussions about the power of human influence. There’s much to cover. What is it that we can do that puts us in the greatest position to impact another person. To affect another person.

Quote after quote talks about the power of words. The impact of words. Our greatest drug. What they have more power then.

Words.

But there’s a funny thing about words. They’re easy. And so, though on the high end, they may have the ability to move, to build, to halt, to destroy, to inspire, to elevate, to bewilder, to deflate. On the highest of ends I see that. I get it.

But you can also throw words away. You can lose them. They can leave you before you pass a thought.

That’s the range of words. You know what does words one better?

TYMMPB | August - Hand

Touch.

Touch can be beautiful. Touch can be devastating. But it is always acknowledged. It is powerfully deliberate. And as a result, it’s rare to have touch that isn’t meaningful. Impactful.

I’m not saying it can’t be accidental. But you give it your own whirl and tell me, in the end, which made the greatest impact. A casual word, or casual contact.

Elbow. Cheek. Hand. Head. Shoulder. Waist. Knee.

More than a thousand words, son, I tell you, placing your hand on any one of these places can erase the need for words. Can show us the limitation of words.

Today you make me proud because you get it. I tried telling you that, but I grabbed your two fingers and held on through the night instead.

Because. Touch.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under #TYMMPB...

TYMMPB… | Being Silver and Exact

I don’t think you will ever realize the weight on your shoulders. Actually, the expectations cast as glances, shadows, dreams upon you. Even at this age — 2 months today — every person who looks at you has expectations.

It’s not easy. I failed often, and miserably — often miserably, miserably often — with that same weight on my shoulders. But watching you this past month gives me extraordinary peace. Because I realize something you do extraordinarily well already is reflect back to all of these people what they expect of you.

When your sister sings to you, you indulge her voice, her pitch, her volume, her passion and even, her sometimes unknowing heavy handedness. She can’t help it. It’s love.

When your mother feeds you, you indulge all she has to offer you. Her nourishment, sure, but her love, her warmth, her hold, her comfort. You take it all in furiously and give it back, cheek to cheek.

When your Dadiji and Naniji come to visit. And know this, between them, you’ve had a grandmother here for about 7 of your 8.5 weeks. When they come to visit you let them hold you, hug you, change you … you reflect back all of the extraordinary, pure and intense love they direct your way by being. In their arms. Being.

I mean wow. Look at how much happiness you bring people by doing nothing other than being?

That’s you. A mirror for all of our love. Incredibly patient. Hell, you went 6 days without dropping a deuce, going to borderline jaundice, and the only thing we could tell the doctor was “yeah, he’s … a little fussy? we guess?” At two months you managed to calm our nerves by not letting the world phase you. A mirror that managed to bend and reflect back even our own insecurities in beautiful ways distorting them into something calm, simple, beautiful. Handsome.

Maybe you’ll go a life time being that reflection to all around you. It’s something powerful. People need to see in you their best selves. People do see in you their best selves.

Watching you work your way through month two has made me realize that I can be that better mirror, too. For your mom. For your sister. For your grandparents. For all the people in our lives. Thank you for making me proud, Jaanu. But thank you more for teaching me the importance of reflection … and reflecting. Literally, in some cases. Like this video.

Happy second month, son. You continue to change our lives in ways we never thought possible.

 

1 Comment

Filed under #TYMMPB...

TYMMPB… | Embracing Kipling

BLOG--Jaan ChillingMy son. It’s amazing to say that. The my part is incomparable. The son part was one half of a win:win.

And winning is all it has felt like. One month ago today, and precisely one month ago from the moment I started writing this post (10:49), you were born to us. And you went straight to your mother’s chest where you spent quite a bit of time — and have spent quite a bit of time since. There’s no denying that you will be a momma’s boy. And as a momma’s boy myself, I can tell you, there’s no love like the love you’ll get from your mother.

When you’re old enough to read this, who knows when I’ll share it with you. You may feel slighted. For the first year of your older sister’s life, I wrote frequently. Because the time to do so existed. Such is not the case for you. With you. So instead I’ve decided to write you 12 letters, each on the monthly anniversary of your birth and into your first birthday.

Today, I start by telling you how proud you’ve made me already.

People define masculinity and manhood in very different ways. My definition as always run closest to how Rudyard Kipling encapsulated it in his poem, “If…” Especially the lines I’ve bolded below.

You have managed to make it through the month without being the least bit of hassle or burden. You sleep in the family room. That’s where you make your home. Sister running around the house. Visitors in and out the door. Sunlight through the windows. Pans clanging in the kitchen. TV sometimes on sometimes not. And yet, you go about your day unfazed and unbothered. Attributes that will serve you well.

You have managed to make us feel like great parents even with all the scrambling and distractions around us. You take solace in our arms and by our voices. You make your  mother’s arms your home. You make your sister’s voice your lullaby. You make your nani, dadi, and foi feel like they are absolute experts when it comes to baby whispering.

Don’t believe me? Check out how much your sister adores serenading you. 🙂

At one month, you’ve managed to do what no one month old can ever be expected to do: you’ve managed to enter the world with such fine humility, that even your birth is somehow about everyone else feeling good, valued, helpful, loved.

Today You Made Me Proud By … embracing the spirit of Kipling’s If. I promise to make you proud by learning from your humble lead.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Leave a comment

Filed under #TYMMPB..., Uncategorized