I’ve never been especially close with my grandparents, partly cuz at least one of my grandparents is a nut job, but mostly cuz my grandparent always lived on the other side of the world from me and/or are dead. Despite my meh relationship with my own grandparents, it’s important to me that my son has a good one with his.
We don’t get to see the boy’s grandparents very often and they’re getting older now, so it’s hard for them to visit us on the east coast. That’s why it’s important to busy daddy and me that the boy spends time with grandpa Bernie and grandma Ruth just hanging out when we’re in Nebraska.
Last night, they built a monster truck together. In the grand scheme of things, working on a craft project is NBD, especially for peeps who have lots of access to their grandparents, but for a kid like mine who doesn’t have that privilege, it’s a fond memory that he’ll have about his grandparents.

I’ve never been especially close with my grandparents, partly cuz at least one of my grandparents is a nut job, but mostly cuz my grandparent always lived on the other side of the world from me and/or are dead. Despite my meh relationship with my own grandparents, it’s important to me that my son has a good one with his.

We don’t get to see the boy’s grandparents very often and they’re getting older now, so it’s hard for them to visit us on the east coast. That’s why it’s important to busy daddy and me that the boy spends time with grandpa Bernie and grandma Ruth just hanging out when we’re in Nebraska.

Last night, they built a monster truck together. In the grand scheme of things, working on a craft project is NBD, especially for peeps who have lots of access to their grandparents, but for a kid like mine who doesn’t have that privilege, it’s a fond memory that he’ll have about his grandparents.

We have a kinda sorta not-at-all-strictly-enforced No Electronics or Screen Time Before School Policy at our house. TBH, it’s much easier to lay down the law during the regular school year, but we try to stick to at least the spirit of the policy during summer school days.
This morning, the boy asked if he could play Roblox on his computer before summer school (a request he makes every morning before school), and I said no. Then he asked if he could watch TV, and I said OK, as long as he finished his breakfast, brushed his teeth, and was completely dressed and ready to go when his nanny arrived for summer school drop off.
The boy chose to watch the episode of Modern Family where Mitch and Cameron (finally) get married. Afterward, the boy asked me, “Dad, when are you and daddy gonna get married?” And I said, Do you think we should get married? And the boy said, “Yeah, it’s better if kids’ parents are married and stuff.” And I said, Probably one day, soon, I dunno, whenever.
And the boy said, “Dad, are you afraid of commitment or somethin’?” And I said, I don’t think being with daddy for nearly 20 years says I’m afraid of commitment, yo. And the boy said, “Yeah, but being together and being married are different.”
And I said, Yeah, I guess. And the boy said, “So when are you and daddy getting married?” And I said, First I need to figure out how I’m gonna clean our house before I can plan a wedding. And the boy said, “You can ask my nanny to help cuz she’s good with organizing and stuff.”

We have a kinda sorta not-at-all-strictly-enforced No Electronics or Screen Time Before School Policy at our house. TBH, it’s much easier to lay down the law during the regular school year, but we try to stick to at least the spirit of the policy during summer school days.

This morning, the boy asked if he could play Roblox on his computer before summer school (a request he makes every morning before school), and I said no. Then he asked if he could watch TV, and I said OK, as long as he finished his breakfast, brushed his teeth, and was completely dressed and ready to go when his nanny arrived for summer school drop off.

The boy chose to watch the episode of Modern Family where Mitch and Cameron (finally) get married. Afterward, the boy asked me, “Dad, when are you and daddy gonna get married?” And I said, Do you think we should get married? And the boy said, “Yeah, it’s better if kids’ parents are married and stuff.” And I said, Probably one day, soon, I dunno, whenever.

And the boy said, “Dad, are you afraid of commitment or somethin’?” And I said, I don’t think being with daddy for nearly 20 years says I’m afraid of commitment, yo. And the boy said, “Yeah, but being together and being married are different.”

And I said, Yeah, I guess. And the boy said, “So when are you and daddy getting married?” And I said, First I need to figure out how I’m gonna clean our house before I can plan a wedding. And the boy said, “You can ask my nanny to help cuz she’s good with organizing and stuff.”

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned in my seven-and-a-half years of being a dad, it’s that as a parent, I have a huge impact on the kind of person that my kid will grow up to be. Like, if I’m stressed out, my kid is stressed out. And if I’m happy, my kid is happy. It’s obvious, I guess, but the older my kid gets, the reality has really started to sink in that pretty much every choice I make (or don’t make) directly affects his well-being and his perspective on the world. 

It’s also clear that the kinds of traits that I value and love about my partner, I also reinforce in our kid. So even though I’m not an especially forgiving or fun-loving or adventurous person, the fact that busy daddy is all of those things means that I value and validate those qualities in our kid. It’s a virtuous circle, I suppose. 

Busy daddy and I were talking the other day about how our son will probably face greater challenges throughout his life because he has two dads and because he was adopted, but I’ll tell you what, I am amazed every single day at what an even-keeled, kind-hearted kid he is, even with a cranky-old, anti-social dad like me. Despite having to deal with more shizz than a seven-year-old  should have to deal with at school or out in the world, the boy always takes it all in stride.

My kid is such a funny, empathetic, and smart boy, I don’t think I could have made a better kid, even if I wanted to do. I dunno what kinda magic mojo the boy’s birth parents possessed, but if they are anything like the kid that they created, my kid’s birth parents must be some pretty remarkable people.

After a few more fruitless, aimless hours mindlessly staring at my computer screen, I finally decided to give up the ghost, leave my unfinished werk project as it stands (which is kinda sorta craptastic, TBH), and let the chips fall where they may at my meetings tomorrow.
This afternoon when the nanny brought the boy home from school, she told me that she asked the boy why the house was so quiet this morning. And the boy told his nanny that I was busy working last night, that I went to bed late, and I got up early so that I could continue working, thus everyone in the house was in a bit of a daze. The boy’s nanny told me that he told her that he thinks I work too much, which was both surprising and alarming to me.
Truth is, I don’t think that I work more than the average person, but I suppose even the average person is probably a bit overwhelmed with work these days. When I started my current gig, I imagined that I would be able to have a better handle on work-life balance, but the frequent travel and blurry lines between work time and home time have made the balance increasingly more difficult for me lately.
When the boy was a baby, I rocked him to sleep in my arms every single night, despite advice to the contrary. I was told that babying my baby would train him to expect a high level of attention from me forever (or at least for a long while), and would render him incapable of falling asleep on his own.
But that period of rocking my son to sleep each night didn’t last long, and definitely not as long as I would have liked, so I guess the joke is on the naysayers who advocated the cry it out method or something equally hands-off so that they can get in their evening grown-up time to do things like have cocktails and watch TV.
There’s a distinct possibility that I will have only one kid, which is sad and complicated for myriad reason, and as the days pass and my kid gets older and more independent, I highly doubt that he is going to fondly remember the times when I did an amazing job at work or when I got a promotion or when I closed a very important deal. Kids don’t care about or remember those kinds of things about their dads.
What my kid will remember, I hope, are the times when I was there when he needed me, when he would tell me his secrets late at night, when I would rock him to sleep in my arms way past the time when he needed or wanted me to.

After a few more fruitless, aimless hours mindlessly staring at my computer screen, I finally decided to give up the ghost, leave my unfinished werk project as it stands (which is kinda sorta craptastic, TBH), and let the chips fall where they may at my meetings tomorrow.

This afternoon when the nanny brought the boy home from school, she told me that she asked the boy why the house was so quiet this morning. And the boy told his nanny that I was busy working last night, that I went to bed late, and I got up early so that I could continue working, thus everyone in the house was in a bit of a daze. The boy’s nanny told me that he told her that he thinks I work too much, which was both surprising and alarming to me.

Truth is, I don’t think that I work more than the average person, but I suppose even the average person is probably a bit overwhelmed with work these days. When I started my current gig, I imagined that I would be able to have a better handle on work-life balance, but the frequent travel and blurry lines between work time and home time have made the balance increasingly more difficult for me lately.

When the boy was a baby, I rocked him to sleep in my arms every single night, despite advice to the contrary. I was told that babying my baby would train him to expect a high level of attention from me forever (or at least for a long while), and would render him incapable of falling asleep on his own.

But that period of rocking my son to sleep each night didn’t last long, and definitely not as long as I would have liked, so I guess the joke is on the naysayers who advocated the cry it out method or something equally hands-off so that they can get in their evening grown-up time to do things like have cocktails and watch TV.

There’s a distinct possibility that I will have only one kid, which is sad and complicated for myriad reason, and as the days pass and my kid gets older and more independent, I highly doubt that he is going to fondly remember the times when I did an amazing job at work or when I got a promotion or when I closed a very important deal. Kids don’t care about or remember those kinds of things about their dads.

What my kid will remember, I hope, are the times when I was there when he needed me, when he would tell me his secrets late at night, when I would rock him to sleep in my arms way past the time when he needed or wanted me to.

It’s almost exactly a year to the day since our adoption of baby A was disrupted, and we still continue to get mail about her. For a while we got medical bills that were left unpaid, but after months of wrangling, we were finally able to convince the hospital where she was born that we were no longer her parents.
The last correspondence I had with baby A’s mother was a text exchange last May where I reminded her that baby A’s initial set of vaccinations were coming up. It was bittersweet to receive a vaccine reminder in the mail today, which pictures a little girl who looks a bit like what I imagine baby A will look like when she’s older.
I hope baby A and her mother are doing well, but I especially hope she’s getting her vaccines cuz, you know, vaccines are important and stuff.

It’s almost exactly a year to the day since our adoption of baby A was disrupted, and we still continue to get mail about her. For a while we got medical bills that were left unpaid, but after months of wrangling, we were finally able to convince the hospital where she was born that we were no longer her parents.

The last correspondence I had with baby A’s mother was a text exchange last May where I reminded her that baby A’s initial set of vaccinations were coming up. It was bittersweet to receive a vaccine reminder in the mail today, which pictures a little girl who looks a bit like what I imagine baby A will look like when she’s older.

I hope baby A and her mother are doing well, but I especially hope she’s getting her vaccines cuz, you know, vaccines are important and stuff.