I Watch My Son Sleep.

Sleeping Baby

This baby, while not mine, is cute.

This is actually the kind of thing that I’d usually throw at Twitter, but I’m feeling a little more verbose tonight. If you have a kid, you’ll understand what I’m about to say. If not, you might not understand it now, but if you ever have a child you’ll think back to this post (because it will have made such an impression) and realize I was right.

There is nothing in this world like snuggling up with your baby and watching him or her sleep.

Nothing.

There’s nothing that’s as peaceful. Nothing that will give you the same sense of serenity. Nothing that will make you forget every single worry in your stupid adult brain. At that moment, none of it exists. The bills, the to-do lists, the assholes you work with… all gone. The world disappears and every mundane task and responsibility you have vanish into thin air, and you’re left with nothing but awe. My little dude is 10 months old, and there’s still not a day that goes by that I’m not amazed by him. Amazed that I co-created him. Amazed that I see some of my physical features acting out my wife’s mannerisms, and vice versa. It blows. My. Mind. I know that thousands of people have babies every day, but… I mean, it’s fucking incredible, is it not? No matter how many times a day an incredible thing happens, it’s still incredible. We just forget how incredible it is, and we lose appreciation for it, stupid humans that we are.

Ah, I’m rambling now. My apologizes.

The point is, in this day and age (wow, I sound old) it’s important to remember to slow down every once in a while. For me, cuddling up with my son and watching him sleep kind of puts everything in perspective. None of the monotonous, obligatory shit that I do day in and day out matters. What matters is him. What matters is my family. Knowing that, really knowing that, gives me the perspective I need to deal with the aforementioned monotonous, obligatory shit.

For me, it’s my family that makes it all worthwhile.

What makes it worthwhile to you?

Washing My Mouth Out With Soap

The parental advisory logo

Time to be the Parental instead of the Content.

There’s something that you should know about me going into this, and it’s that in my daily life I use an extraordinary amount of profanity.

I mean… a lot.

To my credit, I do know when to avoid the usage of profanity so as not to lose my job, house, winning smile, civil liberties, etc… but up until recently I hadn’t really given much thought to not using profanity around Small Boy. My logic was thus: Small Boy doesn’t yet understand my words, therefore my words don’t matter to Small Boy. Seems logical, right? While that may or may not have been true initially, I’ve got the feeling that it’s rapidly becoming a moot point. The boy seems to notice everything around him. He wants to know so much already… like why daddy’s bottom lip won’t come off, despite his continued attempts to relocate it. He’s just naturally curious. For example, the first time we put him into a swing complete with little dangling animal things for him to play with, he ignored them entirely and chose instead to watch the hinges.

According to legend (read: parenting books), even if Small Boy isn’t quite sure what daddy’s saying, he’s already ingesting it. He’s incorporating it into the mixture of bits and bobs that he picks up with that incredible little brain of his, and he’s using it all to start turning into the person that he’s going to be. In four short months he’s already developed so much personality that it blows my mind. That growth led me to a realization. There’s a heavy weight placed on fathers that’s also our most tremendous gift… we are what our sons look up to and what our daughters look for. We have to be examples for them. I don’t take that lightly, and I’m striving to be the most virtuous example of a man I can be. To me, that means no more profanity around Small Boy. He’s going to grow up fast enough as it is.

Hell, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t explain to him what some of those words mean without using them in the definition, anyway.