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I'm not sure which is more daunting: the number two, or the number three. Two represents the number of years I have been a father - or more importantly a Daddy. Three represents the height, in feet, of my Sammy.
People have told both my wife and myself that Sam will more than likely come very close to six feet tall when she reaches her full height, based on some formula or wive's tale. Could it also have something to do with the fact that I'm six-and-a-half feet tall myself and by God something of my DNA has to be dominant in this child?
Seriously! This little goofball has her Mommy's hair, disposition, palate, sense of balance, predilection for dance (and as such, taste in music)... I could go on. For example, my child loves bacon, but like Mrs. Sprat, Sam leaves some of the lean bits - just like her mommy. She eats black olives just like her mom. Sam may look like me in the face, but she is her mom's mini-me. She does have a little me in there, when she drums along to music. She's also becoming more of a ham and smartass as she grows up... Which I guess is my proof right there.
It has definitely been a wild and wonderful two years (well, two years and ten months). My life has changed dramatically since finding out my wife was pregnant. I went from gainfully and securely employed to taking a risk with a non-profit that asked me to be it's director (which then decided to follow none of my direction, leading me to leave both the organization and the industry entirely), to now working two retail jobs. I shifted from having a future that was relatively stable yet without a certain purpose to one of instability but of absolute intent. More importantly, I have gone from everyday married man to Daddy.
The most daunting part of fatherhood was the fact that I grew up without a father. Sure, my father was a physical presence for the first few years of my life, but for the most part he was an absentee father, and only really made an impact in my life in the few months he was responsible for my care. In those months between the time that my mom moved to Virginia and I finished the school year and moved to Virginia to be with her, I was given the stark education (whether I knew it or not) of how not to be a parent.
It was this time in my life that I would reference when trying to find within myself the ability and desire to be a father. It didn't take long to realize that any fool can be a father. It takes a lot to be a Dad.
My hope is that in about sixteen years, Sam will look upon me and find that I've been a good Daddy. And even then I will still be working on being the best Daddy I can be.
One thing is definitely certain: I love this little three-foot goofball with all my heart.
Which is a good thing, because as those of you with little children will attest, you have very little (if any!) time left to yourself, regardless of how many jobs one has. The one aspect of "Daddyhood" that I am still not used to is just how much of a time investment it requires (read: all of it). My wife and I haven't seen any of our "old" friends in ages. In fact, the only social interaction we've had has been with our former neighbors, whose daughter was born days before Sam, and that's just a couple of times in the past few months.
And yet...
I'm cool with that.
I have two brothers with children of their own. One of them (the eldest) got a divorce not long after the birth of my nephew, leaving the child to bounce back and forth between two parents who eventually put the boy on a graduated scale of importance that left him confused and dependant upon my mom for ultimate guidance. The other (roughly my age) didn't marry the mother of his kids, but struggled constantly through a series of jobs to make sure that his kids were provided for, and fought to maintain a positive presence in their life. He now has custody of the boys, and has since married a wonderful woman who has accepted them as her own, adopted two more with my brother, and borne yet another (the joke is that if my wife and I need a break, we just give Sam to him - he won't notice the extra mouth to feed!). By fighting the uphill battle of life to maintain that presence, his children have grown up to be successful and happy.
One of the regular customers at one of my jobs is a family that shops as a family. I've observed them and taken mental notes as to how they rear their two boys (the youngest is not too much older than Sam) because from my perspective they are a pretty happy family. Hobbies are shared across the family, and activities are as much as possible planned to be family inclusive. As a result, their kids are both good and happy. Seldom do their kids act up, and even when they have, the incidents have been brief, easily resolved, and handled both with care and fairness.
(Obviously, with no frame of reference, I take notes whenever I can about being a good father.)
Clearly, or at least it is clear to me, that at this point in Sam's life, it is of the utmost importance that we be together. While my mother-in-law watches Sam when we work, as well as in those all-too-rare occurrences when my wife and I have to do something where Sam would simply not handle the situation well or we just need to get away (two movies and a class reunion in the past two years), it is now a revival (for me anyway) of my life some twenty years ago.
After the incidents that led to the severing of ties between my father and mom and me, and our moving to Virginia, for a long time it was me and my mom. We were a team. No thanks to a bunch of jackass lawyers, I might add.
Now, after essentially kicking me in the tuckus and getting me out into the real world in a sense, I've come into the situation my mom was in, inasmuch as because of a screwed up work situation I am now fighting to help support my child, and raise her in a messed up world. However, there is one key difference...
Whereas my mom got royally screwed by my asshole father, I got royally lucky in having my wife here with me. I have no doubt that I could make this work if it were just me and Sam. My mom made it work for us twenty years ago - it's difficult but not impossible (despite the current political climate). But I am damned lucky that I do not have to. While it's no secret that I could do more to help were I not gone on weekends working or on a different schedule entirely than Sam and my wife, Sam does seem to recognize me as a part of her life, which is a good thing.
The worst thing I could imagine would be to be working all these screwy hours at odd times of the week and have the result be her not recognizing me. But that little voice calling out "Daddy!" and her running up to me and giving me a hug when I get home from work Saturday nights is just so neat.
And to be honest, that's why I don't mind spending all of my limited free time at home, playing with my kid, instead of visiting old friends or going out with my wife, or catching a movie.
I have the best show in town right here, and it's on a limited engagement.
I love my freakishly tall little girl.
Happy 2d birthday, Sweetheart.
PHOTO TIME!!
Alright already! Here are some new photos! I have been getting grief from a few people about when I was going to post new photos of Sam. There is something wrong, however, when one of those people is my mother-in-law, who sees Sam fairly regularly! So here! Happy?!
Irish Lass
Sam got a new shirt to celebrate St Patrick's Day, one that very subtly displayed her heritage.
Servin' at the Mount
Sam occasionally "works" as the great-granddaughter of Martha Washington at Mount Vernon. Her first acting gig, I suppose...
Easter Morning
Sam had a nearly full-on Backyardigans Easter this year. We probably should have gotten a couple of those Pablo shirts, in varying sizes...
Sammy meets Spidey
I work in a Comic Book store, and for Free Comic Book Day in early May we had an appearance by Spider-Man (in his black costume), and Sam was on hand to meet the web-slinger. He made such an impression (the same individual appeared earlier as Batman and also impressed Sam) that Sam had to get her very own Spider-Man and Batman toys that afternoon. Sam's nightly ritual now includes making sure that Superman, Batman, Spider-Man and Wonder Woman are all together and ready for bed.
Cookie Time
My wife made a batch of cookies recently, and on several occasions, Sam... indulged herself in the cookies. One evening, while I was at work, my cell rang, and I answered. I heard, "I just wanted to let you know that your daughter is a thief." Nice. Apparently, my wife had taken the cookies out of the oven and moved them to the cooling rack. Soon, Sam was asking (begging, really) Mommy for a cookie. She was denied, since dinner was almost ready. My wife turned her back, and when she turned around, she noticed a missing cookie. She located a grinning Sam, holding a half-eaten cookie, which Sam offered to my wife. I think "thief" is a bit harsh. "Mommy's girl" is more accurate - as I wouldn't turn my back on my wife when chocolate (or chocolate chip cookies) are out in the open...
1st Haircut
Sam finally got her first official haircut, performed by the very gent who not only prepped my wife for our wedding day, but who has cut my wife's hair for longer than either would like to admit. I think he needs a vacation.
Diapered Cow
Sam was a bit unwilling to have her diaper changed one night, so my wife decided to distract Sam by diapering Shakes. This caught Sam completely off guard, but resulted in some great shots of Sam in full laugh.
Annual Meeting with Martha
The Mount Vernon bit has also led to Sam having her picture taken with Martha Washington every year, instead of Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. My family is just weird, I guess.
Random Snaps
NEXT WEEK: Birthday (and Cake) Photos!
Yes... I do mean next week!
See y'all again soon...
No... Really... I mean it this time!
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