We’ve got 3 months living in the same house full time, you and I. We’re still going to see each other almost every day, but there will be days when I don’t get to see you. Your mom and I have worked out a great schedule so you can spend a lot of your time with both of us, because we can’t be selfish and keep you all to ourselves, even though we both want to. We’ve known this day way going to come soon enough, and when it actually does it’s going to be much harder for us than we can imagine. And we’re imagining something somewhere between really shitty and fucking awful.
It’s something we’ll have to get used to, and we’ll do our best to make sure you aren’t impacted at all. But I want you to know it wasn’t an easy decision for us, and you’ll probably get to read all about it, which is either cool or equally stuck between really shitty and fucking awful, depending on how old you are and how lame I am to you at the current time.
There’s No Reverse on This Vehicle
We go about our lives, trucking along, knowing we’re forging our path; we’re becoming our better selves, right? Sometimes we miss the bigger picture when we’re focusing on the bigger picture, if that makes sense. We have this ideal of the life we’re certain is our own, but we’re so blinded by the depiction of ourselves that we become consumed by it, shutting out the rest of life. This happens to people life me, the ENFP’s of the world. We see the future and dwell very little in the current lives, to our detriment usually. We don’t feel like we miss anything, but others, apparently, feel as though we do.
I’m pretty tired. This shit’s beautiful though, right?
The world is very objective, and despite our best efforts we can only be subjective. It’s a fault that some people learn to overcome. I have not.
Then a moment like tonight hits you and you know that every single moment counts. You’re mother and I have a bedtime ritual with you. We get you some grub, play for a bit, then we take you into our bed (or your moms, at this point because I’ve been breaking in the sofa; it’s comfortable, really) and we spend some really close mom-dad time. We talk with you, snuggle, tickle, and talk. It’s our favorite time of the day. That 30 minutes is what we look forward to. Then we kiss you good night, sing you a song, and try to figure out how to spend the next 5 hours. Far less memorable.
Don’t Get Too Comfortable
Those things will change, because they have to change. The decisions your mother and I have made have to change that, but not because we want it that way, but because it must be that way. We’re equally great, your parents, but we’re going to be awesome as we chase our own things, whatever they may be. Life, as you’ll learn, is complex and challenging and incredible. Sometimes tough decisions must be made, but we’ll always make the best decisions for you, and if you’ve read before, I would burn the world to the ground to ensure your well-being, and that includes my own. They say altruism doesn’t truly exist, but the closest I will ever get is ensuring your happiness. The least you can do is don’t bite the goddamn kids of any future love-interests. I mean, there’s a time and place for that, but not until much later. We’ll talk about it when you can drink legally.
I have a acute condition of saying a lot to say a little: we’ve got 3 months of this full-time biz, buddy. It’s eating me up, and I can’t help but see the next phase, the phase when I don’t get to see you every night, the phase when I’m going to have to share you with a new dad (which despite every atom in my body rejecting, I’ll have to get used to one day) and it shakes me. It humbles me. It redefines me and it makes me realize that I am not as invincible as I once thought. I can be strong for so many things, but not everything.
Feeling Weak Doesn’t Make You Weak
It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry, and I do it often—there’s solace in it, a sense of truly understanding what it is that makes you weak and you should embrace it, harness it—but only because the world is beautiful and crazy and complex. Sometimes you cry because you feel helpless, and only at our most helpless do we have the chance, the tiny window, to discover something, to create, to build, to transgress. Don’t miss those moments because they’re defining.