I’m excited that you’re actually going to take a vacation. You’ve earned it. For 6.5 months you’ve never been more than a few minutes away from me for more than a few hours. That’s extraordinary. That’s commitment. That’s who you are. That’s one of the things I know Daddy hopes I get from you (as well as your stunning and timeless good looks.)
I know you have some anxiety, also. Maybe I’ll start crawling? Or maybe I’ll say my first word? Or maybe I’ll start freestyling over a wicked beat laid down by none other than Eric B? Maybe I would have, but I want to take the pressure off of you and make sure you focus on you while you’re in Mexico. So here are some of the promises I’m making to you before you leave:
- I promise not to crawl. If I do, you’ll never know. Because we won’t talk about it. We won’t photograph it. We won’t acknowledge it. So it won’t happen. But even if it does, it never happened.
- I promise not to say my first word. Now, that means that there’s a high likelihood that my first word will be Daddy instead of Mommy, but I think you’re happy with that trade-off, right?
- I promise not to immerse myself too much in hip hop culture. It’s a promise I’m making but I can’t be held responsible for Daddy and his desire to start playing those hip hop lullabies he got from his friend at work last night.
- I promise not to walk. Mostly because you have to crawl before you can stand, and you have to stand before you can walk. Those lessons apply to me but apparently, they also apply to businesses looking to pursue hypergrowth — like where Daddy works.
- I basically promise not to do anything new until you get back. I got you, Mommy. I totally got you.
The one thing I promise to do is miss you like hell when you’re gone, dream about you until you get back, and smile like hell the second I see you. I know it’s going to be the best and biggest smile you’ve ever seen, because it’s going to be driven by how I’ll feel when that moment arrives.
So go have a blast, Mommy. Have the time of your life in Mexico and squeeze every bit of fun and relaxation out of every moment. Because we’re going to have a lot of firsts happening the moment you get back.
What a great weekend. And thanks for spending your birthday with me. I know you don’t like to talk about your birthday, so let’s make it our little secret? I know we’ll have plenty of those. I also think it’s good for you to start embracing the fact that you won’t be able to say no to me when I want to find a new way to celebrate your birthday. I mean, go ahead and try. Really. It’s going to be adorable to watch.
You are a man of few words, except when you have a lot of them to share, at which point, you become a man of many powerful and interesting words. I learn a lot from your words, so please keep telling me your stories. I’ll always listen. I’m promising you that now in advance of a future Mami (Nani and Nana made me write that!)
There are a lot of great memories formed from this weekend and many more to come (are we going to see fireworks at some point? What ARE those but they sound loud so I plan on crying, and I know everyone’s going to be ok with it.) But the picture below, well, that’s probably my favorite.
Happy Birthday, Mamu. Thanks for bathing me. Thanks for hanging out with me. And thanks for being my Mamu. I’ll cherish this picture for the rest of my life. Maybe we can talk about it that day when you’re walking me down the aisle (that’s what Mamu’s do, right?)
PS – What’s an aisle, by the way?
PPS – I know that Nana, Nani, Mom and Dad are going to put this in a frame for you so you can put it at your desk at work. We want to make sure it’s a good frame though and the stuff they found in Martha’s Vineyard was the opposite of classy. And we know you have high standards.
FINALLY! You started rolling so fast (5 weeks) we weren’t prepared. The first time you rolled over we actually didn’t believe it. So we put you back on some tummy time and wouldn’t you know it? You rolled again. I don’t care if you are ahead of the curve, on the curve, or behind the curve. In my eyes, you’ll be loved for being you, whoever you turn out to be and wherever that takes you. (There will be some expectations about the kind of person you are and the kind of effort you put in, but we don’t need to talk about that now. You also have it documented here for posterity so if I ever change, you can call me on it. Lucky. You.)
Ever since those back-to-back rolls we’ve been trying to capture your roll over in motion. We’ve come close. Sometimes my phone failed me. Sometimes my reflexes fail me. And sometimes you pump fake, back and forth on that roll so often that timing you on the turn is next to impossible.
The beauty of taking you to Savannah, little did we know, was that not only would the pace around us slow, so would your roll. (Slow your roll, girl!) I stood by your side with camera ready because I saw the roll coming. Like a vision. So I stood, camera pointed, and ready.
The results were beautiful, and as always, ended with your smile. I’m happy I caught this now because soon we’re going to focus on watching you turn the other way.
So today my love for you is on the rolliest of rolls. Keep on rollin’.
Heck of a finish, wonderful. Heck of a finish.
We are wrapping up our first vacation, my love. I am about to start a new job on Wednesday and so we decided to take some time and travel to a place where the people have really figured something out. We came to Savannah. Where the pace of the world is just perfect. The food is out of this world. And people are exceptional, taking Southern Charm to new heights (and our spirits right along with them.) There are few places where the host at a restaurant can set your mood for the whole day on such a rockin’ first step that it would take multiple acts of God to change course.
And wouldn’t you know it? You fit right in. You brought all of your magic with you from LGA and unleashed it upon this beautiful southern city like they have never seen. From the neighbors on our flight, to the people in line at Mrs. Wilkes. From the bellmen at the Forsyth and the Westin, to the wait staff at every restaurant from Local 11 Ten Food & Wine to The Olde Pink House. From the wedding party who saw me walking circles around the lobby to the random members of the International Oil Spill Conference 2014 who realized that my job as your dad trumped their wildest dreams 10 times to Sunday.
To everyone who saw you. To everyone who was lucky enough to be within earshot of your gurgles and sight of your smile. You make life grand, my genius, every single day for those who know you. But this vacation, you made life grand for everyone you came across. And for that reason, we could not have been more honored to be your parents.
Life is grand. Love is grand. Ain’t it? You be the judge.