Lessons

Ethan,

Your mom has been out of town for business for the last ten days and I've missed her terribly.  You have probably been slightly aware that something is not quite right in your world and with so many teeth coming in (5 or 6 you won't let me count.) it has been a trying time for you.  Thankfully you probably won't remember what you have been going through.  It has been a difficult time for me as well, you've grown and changed so much since the last time your mom went out of town.  You are becoming a person, your personality is starting to show a little more each day. 

I am sure there will be many many more to come, but here are a few lessons I have learned from you over the last ten days.

Lesson 1:  I love you more than I could ever tell you.  You are in my every thought all day long.

Lesson 2:  Patience.  You don't always want to cooperate with me, and I am sure that this is just the beginning, but I can't get angry with you or lose my temper because that gets both of us nowhere.  It upsets you more, which upsets me more and then a vicious cycle has begun. 

Lesson 3: The simple things can be more fun than you can imagine.  Your favorite game at the moment is to hide behind the curtain and have me or Aillinn play with you.  You giggle and laugh, then poke your head out from behind the curtain as if to say "I'm still here! Keep playing!"  Last night you were at the back door playing and all I could see were your legs sticking out from underneath the curtains.  I was standing watching, and you poked your head out a few times to see if I was still there.  You were so content to just sit there and play, who was I to argue?

 Lesson 4: Your pain is my pain. Your suffering is my suffering.  You were in so much pain this week from your teeth that you were really not yourself.  The hardest thing to deal with was that while you were enduring it there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.  I was in agony watching you sitting in your crib crying, or in your high chair crying, or even sitting in my lap crying.  No matter how hard I try I can never spare you from pain and suffering, but what I can offer you is love.  Pain, suffering, and love shape us into the people we are, and the people we can become.  It will never be easy to see you hurting, but if I had not witnessed what I did, I would not be writing this and understanding how much I love you.

Lesson 5:  I miss you when you're not around.  You spent the night with your grandmother over the weekend for the first time.  It was very difficult to let you go.  I found myself thinking when I passed your room that I needed to check on you.  When I was making dinner I caught myself thinking "What should I make Ethan for dinner?" and when I woke up the next morning I went to your room but you weren't there.  I missed you.

Love,

Dad

First Birthday

Ethan,

A few weeks ago we celebrated your first birthday.  Your grandmother from New York and Aunt E, from New York both came down to help you celebrate.  It seems like such an incredible milestone.  I have survived, you have survived and your mother has survived.  I can't believe how fast the time has gone.  I look at your pictures and the video from month's ago and you only have a passing resemblance to your younger self.   You are becoming so independent.  You want to feed yourself, you want to walk instead of crawl, and you stomp your feet or fall down when you don't get what you want.  As I think about it I miss those times when you were completely dependent on us, but I am so much more excited about what the future holds.


Love,
Dad

Halloween

Ethan,

So last weekend was your first Halloween.  I'm still not sure, after 30 some odd years, what the holiday is all about, so we'll just say that it's for having fun and getting strangers to give you candy.  As an aside, this day is the only day you are allowed to take candy from strangers, but only from their houses not their beat up jalopy.  I remember my first Halloween.  We were living in an apartment complex and I must have been about 5 years old.  There is a picture somewhere of me and your Uncles and your Aunt dressed up.  The costumes were the kind that you buy and were all plastic with a plastic mask.  We probably got them at the Mott's 5 and Dime from around the corner.  Uncle Derick was dressed as Sylvester the cat from Looney tunes, and I was dressed as a Devil complete with a pitchfork, and I think Owen was Spider Man, and I'm sure Fleur was some kind of princess. People may say that I really didn't dress up as a devil, or that not much has changed, but don't you believe them.

We dressed you in a skeleton costume that your great aunt Erica bought for you.  Mom wanted to paint your face but I thought you might try and eat the paint, because that's the phase your in.  I built a box and painted it black to be your coffin. We put the box and you in the wagon and pulled you around the street.  Your cousin Zara (who was dressed as a pumpkin) was also in the wagon.  We only went to a few houses, mostly neighbors, because you're not even one yet, so what's the point?

Here are 10 rules for your future Halloween's:

10. If the porch light is off don't go to the house.

9. It's time to stop "Trick or Treating" when your voice changes.

8. Always wear a costume. Creativity counts! No costume, no candy

7. Save some of the junk candy (you'll know what that is) to give away.

6. Always be polite and say "Thank You" 

5. Resist all temptation to "Trick" someone ( it just isn't right and I've done enough for the both of us)

4. Always carry a flashlight.

3. Find some way to remove candy from your bag (without eating it) so it looks like you have less and people may give you more.

2. If you do "Trick" someone don't get caught.

1. Hide the good candy from Mom and Dad.

Happy Halloween!

Dad

Traditions

Ethan,
 I have been reading a book on Jewish holidays and traditions and I wanted to write to you about the importance of traditions.  Traditions help to define your life, remind you who you are and where you come from.  A birthday celebration is a tradition where people who love you, celebrate you coming into their lives.  One of my favorite traditions growing up was when we celebrated Thanksgiving.  I was not born in America but your grandmother and grandpa Sol brought the family here from Rhodesia, now called Zimbabwe, when I was four.  I am a first generation immigrant.
      As I look back now I understand the sacrifices that were made so that my family could have the life that we have.  It was difficult, we did not always have new clothes or toys, and your Uncle and I were sometimes made fun of because we spoke differently than other kids.  Eventually your great grandmother and great grandfather came to the States, as well as a myriad of step-brothers, step-sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins.  Many of us would gather, usually at our house, on Thanksgiving Day and give thanks to some special people for helping us come to this great country. A. Barnes, and B.Owen were two of the people responsible for helping grandpa Sol get started in Texas.
     The early years of our Thanksgiving tradition were always special but as we grew older and many of the family moved further away, we began to lose sight of the importance of our Thanksgiving tradition.  The last few Thanksgivings just seem to be reasons for the family to get together and the importance of why our family gives thanks seems to have fallen by the way side.  This year will be different.  For you, I will remind everyone why we are here and the importance of the holiday.  Thanksgiving isn't the only tradition though.  As you grow up there will be more traditions, some old and some that we create just for us.


Dad

Ritual

Ethan,

Every night before I go to sleep I come in and check on you.  You have usually been asleep for a while and you're completely out.  I stand there and think about where we have been and where we are going.  I so look forward to the days when we go camping together and fishing and hopefully soon, flying together.  I also can't wait to play a game of catch with you, that's why my old glove is in your room.  

When I was growing up I played baseball for a season.  I loved it.  I had more fun playing baseball than I did soccer, but it just lasted one season.  Looking back on it now I think a reason I played one season was because the coach said I needed some practice catching and throwing.  Your Uncles weren't interested in helping me and your grandfather was either too busy or just not willing to help.  So for a few days your grandmother and I played catch.  

The coach asked how my practice was going and I was too embarrassed to tell him who my partner was, so I just said "Ok"  Let's face it mothers and sons are not supposed to play catch.  I felt like the pariah of the team, and any other team I joined would be the same.  I learned too late that it's not who people think you are that matters, it's who you know you are.  Keep your glove open and your eye on the ball.

Dad 

The Beginning

I have decided to document your days.  Whether I'll continue to stick with the 21st century and do this on-line, or the old fashioned way with pen and paper has yet to be determined.  It will probably end up being a mix of both, because I will not always have access to a computer but I will always have access to a notebook and a pen.  

I look back on my life and there are so many holes in my memory.  I can't remember many of my birthdays, where I was and what I was doing.  In fact I look at photographs of my childhood and the memories play back in my mind like a movie that I am watching.  There are no emotions attached to the photographs, they are exactly as they appear to be, fragment's of time frozen forever.  I can't attach a meaning to many of them, only stories that I have been told about them.  I want you to be able to look back and remember what your childhood was like, although it will be through my eyes I hope it will keep fresh in your mind where you have been, so you will always know where you are going.  Some letters will be long and some will be short, and I am human, so some days there will be none.  I promise to do my best which is all anyone can ask.

It has been almost a year since you came into our lives and I have changed so much because of you.   When your Mom and I were on the way to the hospital I was driving well over the speed limit, and in between contractions your mom said, through clenched lips, "Drive faster!" So I did.  We weren't at the hospital for long before you arrived and as I write this it brings tears to my eyes.  You were so small and delicate, I was scared to hold you.  When we brought you home I drove well under the speed limit, and I'm sure I swore a lot (which I tend to do often) at drivers who I thought were being too reckless around my son.

 

I was actually scared for a long time to be left alone with you.  We had you sleeping in the pack-n-play for a while and I would actually let Mom sleep while I stayed up for your next feeding, it was too hard for me to go to sleep and then wake up in the middle of the night to feed you.  There were many nights where I would fall asleep on the sofa with you on my chest, but I never really felt like I was asleep because the moment you stirred or made a noise I was wide awake.

 You have been such an amazing child and very little gets you upset.  You have yet to have a meltdown in public but I know that may come sooner rather than later.  When it does I'm sure it will be a spectacular show.

You're growing up so fast.  It feels like there is very little transition between achievements.  July 3rd 2010, you were army crawling, and July 4 you were up on all fours speeding around the house!  Now you are almost walking!  You push around your little buggy, cruise around balancing yourself on the furniture and walk in your walker all over the house,  even on the carpet! 

Some of my favorite things are when I come into your room in the morning and you smile at me.  When you raise your arms up in the air because you want to be picked up.  When I pick you up you pat my shoulder with your hand as if to say, " Thanks Dad!" 

No, thank you Ethan.

I love you,

Dad