Tuesday, June 14, 2011

I finally get it.

Technically I got it about 3 years ago, but I REALLY get it now.  First of all I want to apologize to my friends and family, and I guess to some of my co-workers.  For about two decades people sent me pictures of their kids, told stories about them, and tried to share their experiences.  I was a single workaholic who wasn’t really interested in “distractions.”  I was the guy who heard a baby cry or a child yell, “Mommy! MaaaaahhhhhhMEEEE!  MOM!!”  in a restaurant and thought (or even said it out loud) “Can’t they shut that kid up?”  As my friends got married and continued sharing these things I still wasn’t as interested as say, who won last night’s game and what the lead was on SportsCenter.
Then after two years of trying to start a family we got pregnant.  I showed everyone our first sonogram picture.  I even made it my desktop background on my computer.  Then Connor was born.  I took pictures and videos of everything.  I made collages and taped them to the window of my golf cart.  I created a website so my friends and family could share in my joy.  (Yes I am in fact seeing what a jack ass I was.  There is no need to re-point it out). I told countless stories of his development and bragged about each little milestone he surpassed.  I purchased a two terabyte SAN to back up all his pics and videos.  I started rotating the picture collage in my golf cart which has now morphed into three full panels.  Of course then comes Josie and they both own me.  I get it. 
When we were planning our wedding, Nita informed me that two of her friend’s daughters would be flower girls and her cousin’s son would be the ring bearer I was thinking, “Really? They are going to be a distraction, they won’t sit still, they’ll be loud and we’ll have to worry about what they do around the altar.  (I was a groomsman for a friend’s wedding and was put in charge of the ring bearers… it didn’t go well, it was all I could think of).  Of course the kids at our wedding did great and they even had a really cute moment at the reception where they held a plate under the chocolate fountain and were feeding each other the chocolate.  Again, now I get it.
This weekend my cousin’s daughter was getting married.  We were honored that they asked Connor to be the ring bearer.  Imagine a whole bunch of Hispanics on either side of the aisle and Connor in a tux walking down the center with flaming red hair.  He was going to be a hit.  So Nita took him to church a couple of times to practice walking down to do it just right and not go off running or get nervous.  The morning before the wedding Nita took Josie with her to get her hair touched up.  I was to feed Connor.  So I took him to our golf club for tacos.  I thought it’d be fun to take him in the golf cart and even called my mom to meet us.  Connor wanted a granola bar and stuffed too much of it in his mouth.  Then before you could say, “drink some milk sweetie,” he started puking everywhere. I picked him up and tried to carry him as quickly as possible to the showers to have him do it there (sorry BCC, we almost made it) and he threw up just inches away from the shower entry one more time for good measure.  So I pulled off his little collared shirt, rinsed him off and used his socks to wipe off his little arms, cheeks, and legs.  So here I was walking back through the club with a no shirt, barefoot little boy and puke on my shirt and shorts and soaking wet shoes.  I had not one shred of embarrassment.  I felt bad for the folks who had to go clean up and apologized, but I only cared about getting my little boy some sprite and having him rest.
Fast forward to the wedding.  Y’all know a full on Catholic Mass is already a full hour, throw in wedding vows and a gift to La Virgin, and you’ve exceeded the attention span of a 2 ½ year old.  But Connor did great.  We showed him a couple of videos, played etch-a-sketch, and gave him some books to read.  He even kept his flower pinned to his lapel without tearing it up, picking the petals, or even stabbing anyone with the pins.  One time he started calling for mommy and wasn’t using his whisper voice so Nita took him to the front and they played out front for a while.  But he did great and even made it back for Communion. I was so proud of him.  He even stood relatively still and smiled for pictures. He even cooperated for re-enacting a few pictures with his sweet little cousin Sienna who was the beautiful flower girl you see.  We then took both kids to the reception and I’m glad I did.  Connor ate about 15 sugar cookies and basically had a three cameras following his dance moves (which mostly look like bat spin races) until he fell, laughed and did it again. 
For those of you who sent me the pictures 15 years ago, I’m sorry I didn’t look.  But I tell you this… I look at your sweet little Facebook posts now.  I read and share in your joy when your kids turn on a fastball, win gymnastics or swimming meets.  Sing, dance, or act in their latest recital or play.  I watch the cheering and the band formations.  I read your posts on their victories, heartaches, and crushes. I get it.

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