The Daddy Diary

I’ve always loved Thanksgiving. It’s the one day of the year that I don’t regret turning my stomach into a gastrointestinal clown car to see how much I can fit it in. In the midst of my second round of belt loosening and a serious case of the meat sweats, I display the triumph of the human spirit and find room to stuff in one more piece of pecan pie. And my love of Thanksgiving isn’t just because I get to spend time with my family and eat enough to feed several herds of elephants, It’s also the start of the most wonderful time of the year.

Ella: “Daddy, are you getting older?”

Daddy: “Yes, Sweetheart. We are all getting older.”

Ella: “How old was your daddy when he died?”

I knew where this was going. Ella has been talking about death quite a bit lately. I don’t think it’s a morbid curiosity. They’ve been talking about heaven in Sunday school, and after Gus died, I think her five-year-old brain is trying to process life and death.

Daddy: “He was 73.”

Ella: “You aren’t close to 73 are you?”

Daddy: “No, Sweet Pea. Daddy is a long way from 73. I’m going to be here a long time.”

Ella: “That’s good. I don’t want you to die.”

I don’t know the proper age to start being fully open and honest with your children, but I decided that it wasn’t five years old. So I didn’t tell her that I was waiting on the results of a prostate biopsy.

I read this article in the Dallas Morning News a couple of weeks ago.

https://edition.pagesuite.com/infinity/article_popover_share.aspx?guid=b137bcf5-a23b-455f-976c-7297f291cc14

No need to fret if the link doesn’t work.
The article discusses how the birth rate in the U.S. is declining. Several of the people interviewed cite global issues like the economy and climate change for not having children.

I’ve heard this argument before. The cynical side of me says these people are saying this because they simply don’t want children and use external factors to give them justification for their decision.  It makes them sound like they are doing a favor for the unborn child. “Why would I bring a child into a world like this?”

Believe me, I get it. Society seems to look down on you and deem your life incomplete if you don’t have a family. I didn’t have children until much later than most people, and I can’t begin to count the number of times someone asked me, “When are you getting married and having kids?”

If someone genuinely did not want to have children, I would tell them please don’t give in to peer pressure – don’t have children. Despite what society might tell you, being a parent isn’t for everybody.  Raising a child is not a take-it-or-leave-it proposition. You have to be all-in or all-out. So, if someone has personal reasons or preferences for not having children, no judgment from me.

Here’s my problem with using external factors like climate change to justify not having children – you can make this argument for any year in human history. Try to find a specific year when you couldn’t throw out a litany of reasons to be pessimistic about the future.

Humankind has survived much worse, and we still find a way to keep evolving and increasing our standard of living. People were having babies during the Bubonic plague, famines, natural disasters, and world wars.  We have persevered through very difficult times.  We even survived the 14 weeks when the Macarena was #1 on the Billboard charts.  We can survive this.  I’m not saying today’s issues aren’t concerning, I’m just saying we will find a way to prosper.  It might not be easy, but we will.  And your children will do just fine.

I can look at my own parents as an example. They decided to have their first
child in the late 1960s. What an optimistic time in human history to have a
child:

·        We had the Six-Day War in the Middle East

·        The U.S. was mired in the Vietnam War. In fact,
LBJ just asked for a 6% increase in taxes to support the Vietnam War. That’s
how great the war effort was going.

·        There were race riots in Cleveland, Detroit, and
Newark.

·        China tests its first hydrogen bomb.

I could go on.

Good times, huh?

Despite all that, they decided to bring a child into that world.  And then my parents decided to have another child (they weren’t aiming for two, but they got lucky) in the early ’70s when things were looking so much better.

·        The Pentagon Papers were published proving that
the U.S. government had been lying to the American people. We also had the Kent
State massacre. Things were definitely getting better in Vietnam.

·        President Nixon declared a “War on Drugs” because the drug culture in our country was out of control.

·        And worst of all, the Beatles broke up. Who in their right mind would bring a child into a world where the Beatles weren’t topping the charts?

When speaking to people like those interviewed in the article, I won’t even discuss the geopolitical ramifications of a country having a declining population or the hypothetical “but your kid might be the one who solves the climate change issues and saves the planet.” No, I would just tell them that my life became infinitely better after I became a dad. Not easier, not less stressful, but infinitely better.  There are numerous ways in which my life improved after becoming a dad, but it would take an entire book to list them all.

I don’t know any people who regret having children.  I’m sure some people do, but my guess is the regret is due to personal reasons and not global warming.

So, I would just tell those people, I see your inflation and climate change, and I’ll raise you an Ella and an Audrey. You might want to fold if you know what’s good for you.  No hand can beat this pair.

Dad loved to fish. He grew up in Biloxi where fishing is a way of life. It’s hard to understand for those who don’t fish, but it was in his blood. He was happiest when he was on the water.

So Scott, our cousin Craig, and a friend Steve and I went fishing last week. I debated going because I’m so dang busy right now, but something kept telling me that I needed to go. Maybe I’ve got some of my Dad in me because something kept pulling me to the water. At times it felt like he was sitting in the boat next to me. At other times I kept saying to myself,

I’m the early riser in our family. Michelle gets up a couple of hours after me. I went on my usual run that morning and got back home around 5:30 am. When I opened the door, I felt a dagger plunge straight into my heart. I saw Michelle sitting on the edge of the couch, and I immediately knew.

There was no other reason for her to be up that early. She told me the vet called and said Gus’s heart stopped last night. They tried to revive him but couldn’t.

They say that you never fully get over your first love. I’m pretty sure that I will never fully get over my first dog, and Gus was the first dog that I ever had. His addition started our transition from a couple to a family. And now he’s gone.

Because I lost my little buddy last week, It seemed appropriate to share another excerpt from the book. This post is a little long, but Gus deserves an entire chapter to himself. I’m sure I’ll have more to say about Gus in the near future.

I wrote this over two years, and I had no idea at the time how true that last line would be.

Chapter 3: Gus – The Bulldog Beta Test

Since Michelle and I were both considered geriatric in terms of baby making, we thought it might take a while for us to get pregnant.  We assumed that we would have to wait a year or two until my little swimmers did their job.  We made the decision to move downtown into a high-rise loft figuring this would be the only chance we would have to live that urban lifestyle.  It sounded like fun – not needing a car, walking everywhere, going to a different bar or restaurant every night, working our way through a line of panhandlers like a running back breaking through the line of scrimmage, watching drunks throw up in the street, driving at .01 mile per hour during rush hour. 

I finally got Covid. Tested positive on Tuesday. Much like Wordle, I was late to the game with this one. While most of the world was getting infected, I held out as long as I could. Dare to be different, that’s what I say. But I finally caved to peer pressure and went ahead and got infected. As did everyone else in my family. Even little Audrey. Don’t worry, she’s fine. If you think a little virus is going to slow her down, you haven’t been reading my blog.

The silver lining of being quarantined with my entire family is that I get to eat lunch with my girls. And today, for some reason, it was extra special. Sometimes the smallest things stop me in my tracks. There is nothing more ordinary than watching a child take a bite of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and yet nothing hits me harder. As I watched Audrey eat her sandwich, a smile covered my face from ear to ear because I remember a time when I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to see this.

My mind took me to a park bench outside Cook’s Children’s Hospital. It was there that I sat by myself waiting for the results of Audrey’s swallow study. Because of CHARGE, we didn’t know if Audrey would ever be able to swallow. Think about that. Some people with this syndrome spend their entire lives having to feed through a feeding tube. Audrey had to take a test to see if she was even physically able to swallow.

There are issues in society that deserve a healthy, intellectual discussion. Religion. Politics. The designated hitter rule. Whether chili should be made with or without beans. Whether Van Halen was better with David Lee Roth or Sammy Hagar. I used to love a healthy debate, but now it seems now that society demands that the first move in any debate is to choose a position as far to the edge of either pole as you can go and then put that pole in a bear hug with both arms and never let go. And I hate that. Mainly because I really liked Van Halen with Sammy Hagar. I preferred David Lee Roth, but why do have to choose one? I mean, they were more energetic and fun with Diamond Dave, but they were probably a better band musically with Sammy. But I can’t say that because there is no room for nuance anymore.

With my blog, I’ve avoided polarizing or controversial topics for one reason – I don’t want to lose readers. To get a book published, a writer has to have a huge following. That’s the only thing you need. The writing can be complete crap, but if you have 50,000 readers you will get a book published. I get it. It’s a business and I have to play the game. I thought if I wrote something that could possibly offend someone, I might lose readers and any chance at a book deal. Well, screw it. I don’t have that many followers, and my odds of getting a book deal are about the same as Vladimir Putin winning the Nobel Peace Prize this year. So, if I lose all my readers because of my thoughts on the following topic, no hard feelings. I wish both of you nothing but the best.

The recent Supreme Court decision reminded me of a question I was asked after we learned about Audrey’s diagnosis. I addressed one of the nuances of this topic in my book. I’m not going to solve this problem or change anyone’s mind, and I don’t really want to do either. When you write a memoir, it has to be all or nothing, and this is a decision that every special needs parent has to deal with.

Here’s an excerpt from the book. Note: I wrote this a couple of years ago. As I’ve spent more time with Audrey, my thoughts haven’t changed, they’ve only strengthened.

Think about what you can accomplish in just 10 minutes.

You can dance the Wobble 1.8 times.

You can make ten batches of minute rice.

You could listen to the Macarena twice and still have one minute and forty-two seconds left to wonder how that song reaching #1 didn’t lead to the complete downfall of humanity as we know it.

(Note: If you are really in a hurry, you could make the minute rice while listening to the Macarena.)

You can stop and count all the politicians you truly admire and have ten minutes left to scroll through Twitter.

Or you could foster a relationship.

Every morning we put Audrey in her little kid’s chair on the couch and let her watch TV before we take her to Nana’s house. On her own, she got out of her chair, down off the couch, and did this. No prompting, no encouragement from Mom and Dad. Just did this on her own.

And to think there was a time when we weren’t sure if she would ever walk.

Red from “Shawshank Redemption” was right. “I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged.”

When Audrey was diagnosed with Charge Syndrome, I thought she would probably live with us forever. And I was totally okay with that. Now, I think she might leave the house way before Daddy is ready for her to go.