Ghosts

Hey Archer,

Let's start by me telling you that I don't believe in ghosts. This is a post about ghosts, after all. But I'm not entirely convinced that you don't believe. Every morning at breakfast you will randomly turn around and wave at the window.

(Exhibit A)

Now, it could be that you're giving a shout out to the neighbor's dogs. They leave them outside at all hours and they bark at everything. You know they're there and you do like dogs. But you also know the sound dogs make and will repeat it if you hear it. That usually isn't happening during breakfast when you like to give your wave.

It could be that you're having egg-induced hallucinations. You've moved up to 3-egg veggie omelettes for breakfast. With your typical five servings of fruit, of course. But sometimes we don't feed you eggs in the morning. And my research has indicated that egg-induced hallucinations don't last for 24 hours. They also almost always feature a seductive humpty dumpty, but maybe that part comes with age and/or exposure to the dark web.

So if it isn't the eggs and it isn't the dogs, what the hell is it?

Let me suggest the scariest of possibilities...

You're waving at the real live person you have occasionally seen staring in our window.

Now, I can't imagine this is actually happening. Our "yard" is a collection of weeds so intense that nobody is getting back to that window without two sprained ankles and a machete. The fence gate is tall and warped from age so getting to the latch on the back is not easily executed if you're under 6'3". Our large dog barks at everything that walks by on the road. If someone walked up on the porch or into the backyard unannounced I have to imagine she'd crash through the window like the Kool-Aid Man to protect the house. Or maybe just to get pets. Shit, she'd probably just lay down on her back for pets. Damn.

No, this has to be either ghosts or some sort of new dance move. It's no dumber than the whip or the nay nay (not sure how to spell it and I'm definitely not googling it). I'm sure you could get any one of today's terrible rappers to "write" you a 6-word repetitive "song" to go along with your new move. I'm sure Soulja Boy would be pumped to quit bagging groceries for the opportunity. I'll reach out to his people.

Before I go, a little advice..

You seem to really be taking to basketball. Your uncle Mike got you that hoop for your first birthday and lately it's been your favorite. At the park you are enthralled by the basketball players. Basketball on tv the other day at the restaurant almost blew your mind. So if this is going to be a thing you have to start early on your entourage. You need at least 3 guys. One to whisper your needs to when out in public. Never say things like "Yo dawg, I could go for a latte" out loud. Whisper that shit. Another guy is your very own Flava Flav. He hovers around you like a Beastie Boy, bouncing in and out of the picture to tell anyone nearby that you're "in tha house". He'll need to accentuate your statements with comments like "yeah boyeeeee". He'll definitely be wearing a track suit. The third guy never says a word, he just looks tough. He isn't even security but nobody knows that. Line these guys up and you're well on your way to superstardom. We'll just have to keep working on your dunks. I desperately want you to yell "WHITE CHOCOLATE" or "RAINDROPS" every time you dunk or shoot but so far you just sorta scream in excitement. We'll get there.

Cauliflower

Hey Archer,

This morning you made me very proud. It happened during breakfast.

You had your normal kind of meal, a 2-egg omelette with asparagus and spinach plus a whole banana on the side. When you signaled for more food after you were finished, I figured I'd give you some of the roasted cauliflower left over from fondue night. After all, you do pretty much eat anything. But with this, you took one bite and then frantically signed that you were all done as you spit it all back out.

This was the day that you truly became my son.

Listen, I'm with you on cauliflower. I don't want to eat it either. I don't even want to smell it. The problem, of course, is that you're going to grow up in a world where someone might try to serve you cauliflower and it won't be ok for you to slap it out of their hands. In fact, because you won't be taught to be a douchebag you're going to have to eat that cauliflower with a smile on your face occasionally. Smiling doesn't make it taste any less like a hot diaper but your dinner host won't be offended. So you'll have that going for you, which is nice.

As your life sensei, I will teach you the art of avoiding disgusting foods. You will become proficient at deflecting/redirecting through humor, improvising food allergies, and disappearing unwanted solids down your shirt sleeve like a goddamn magician.

But until that magical day where you're old enough to make your own choices about what does or does not taste like an NYC garbage water puddle, we're going to feed you everything. Especially the healthy stuff. It's the one portion of your life where you're fucked about what's for dinner. We have been, and will continue, feeding you all of the fruits, vegetables, and non-meat proteins we can find. You'll get to meat eventually, but for your first few years your menu is going to look like it was curated by hippies on a commune.

Chia seed is good for your soul, man. The government doesn't want you to know the power of superfoods. It's a conspiracy like how GMO's were behind the twin towers, man. Did you know that plum skins have more protein than an 84oz steak? Or that acorn milk is more effective than chemo for most cancers, man? Here, try this free range cauliflower...

There are things all of humanity can agree on like world peace, clean drinking water for all, and a ramen noodle fountain in every home (beef only). But when it comes to food there is far less agreement about what is or isn't delicious, or even edible for that matter. We plan to set the plate (pun intended) for you to begin life as the healthiest eater possible. We want you to try all sorts of things. Eventually you'll develop your own ideas about what you like and what you really, really dislike. Hell, one of these days we'll make fun of the same disgusting foods together. Your mom is going to hate it, but we'll win her over by beating it into the ground.

Here are a few of my dislikes. Should you some day find yourself hating the same foods as me I'm guessing we'll probably start with a chest bump and then somehow end up executing a theretofore, and unbeknownst to either of us, super complicated handshake. Mom will hate that too.

Anyhow...

Broccoli - Broccoli can go fuck itself. Its disgusting taste is one thing, but it's broccoli's cancer-like design that really sucks. Put broccoli in one side of the dish and HEY GUESS WHAT FUCK YOU BROCCOLI IS EVERYWHERE NOW ENJOY A COUPLE BROCCOLI TREE GRENADES IN EVERY BITE!

It also smells extra gross when being steamed, which leads me to another vegetable...

Cauliflower - This is just broccoli's bald, albino cousin. Now that it's bald it won't be dropping any cauliflower turds throughout your dinner, but it will smell like turd when you cook it. So you'd have that going for you, which is not nice.

Mustard - There's something seriously wrong with your tastebuds if you can enjoy mustard. You don't eat a sandwich with mustard. Once you put mustard on your sandwich it's a mustard sandwich. I can immediately taste the tiniest drip of accidental mustard on something I'm eating. So if you're telling me that if you slather an entire side of bread with a thick layer of mustard you can taste anything else on your mustard sandwich I'll show you the door and you can follow your mustard right out of it.

Blue Cheese Dressing - First, it's blue because it's gone bad. Don't eat it, it's rotten. Also, it's stinky and why wouldn't you want something that smells like creamy dumpster on your salad? A sane person wouldn't, but somehow there are common sense-defying people out there that love it. If you meet any of those people in public just watch and I will guarantee you something. They will ALWAYS order a second dressing. One is never enough for these psychos.

Look, this list could go on forever. We have plenty of time to discuss these things. I'll bide my time until you're old enough to have a thoughtful conversation about it. In the meantime I'd like to apologize in advance for the many disgusting things your mom is going to feed you and that, because I'm a savvy adult, I'll just be pretending to eat along with you.

Mmmm, yeah buddy, this "pizza" made out of cauliflower crust and soy-roni is delicious huh? What? No, I ate mine while I was in the living room grabbing something. No, a couple minutes ago. Seriously. Yeah, that DOES look like a cauliflower pizza on the floor by the couch but I assure you it isn't. No, it isn't a pile of "spaghetti" made out of zucchini from last night either. What, you don't trust your old man? Huh? Why am I now eating a full plate of meat that seemed to appear from out of nowhere when I am claiming I already ate a whole cauliflower "pizza"? Shuddup and eat your dinner.

Food

Hey Archer,

Turns out you love to eat. Mama taught you the signs for "more", "done", and though I can't prove it, I think she taught you a sign that means "Taylor Ham Pork Roll is disgusting" just to screw with me. She can hate on it all she wants but you, me, and Uncle Rattlesnake (code name, not an actual rattlesnake) are going to eat the shit out of some Taylor Ham egg & cheese sandwiches one of these days.

When I was your age I didn't eat like you do. Or rather, I don't think I did. Grandma doesn't seem to remember and Papa Petey isn't around any longer to fill in that gap. But considering the times, I probably had my fair share of jarred baby food and was on to cans of ravioli soon thereafter. It's just the way it was. Half the adults, or more, in this country likely inhaled a half pack of second hand smoke with each meal as well. I tried to name you Parliament, but like my other childhood-based name ideas (Schwinn, Swatch, Evil Knievel, Cavarrici, Beef Ramen) your mother didn't see the brilliance.

It's all good, though. Archer is a great name and you wear it well. But, I was talking about eating...

You eat as if Gywneth Paltrow's nutritionist partnered with the raspberry council and an Indian shaman on your menu. Lentils, nut butters (get your mind out of the gutter, pervert), eggplant, and garbanzo bean flour pancakes are common. You're personally putting a strain on the raspberry producers of america, and "is he supposed to be eating an entire sweet potato?" is a common question from those that help feed you. You usually start your meals in a delicate way, carefully selecting a single piece of something to try. But soon thereafter your hand turns into more of a ditch-digging shovel and the pace of the rest of your meal defies physics and kicks heartburn right in the nuts. If I ate like you for just two meals I'd either choke out or stroke out. It's impressive.

Here are a few food related points of interest from your first year...

• Eggs - One of my go-to dishes for your breakfast is a two egg omelette with a variety of vegetables inside. It's one of the few foods that you'll sometimes reach past raspberries to eat. I don't make it in the typical omelette shape. I go for more of a thick disc of egg so I can cut it into small pieces for you to grab and eat on your own. Sure, you could say I started cooking eggs that way because it didn't require me to physically feed you. But you could also say it was brilliant. That first omelette disc may have been the moment I truly became a dad. That or my first pun.
• Pancakes - You'll eat these in any style. It doesn't matter if we use garbanzo bean flour, buckwheat flour, or rice-a-roni. You love the shit out of a pancake no matter what it's made out of. It's a bonus if we add fruit. I made you a giant pancake for your first birthday and didn't cut it up because I was hoping you'd hulk-smash it. But no, you picked it apart piece by piece like a goddamn gentleman. You're already a better human than me and it's barely been a year.
• Berries - When I was a kid I, for who knows what reason, broke a classmate's finger. She was probably asking for it because I'm a lover not a fighter, but the exact details are lost to time. You're a loving, happy kid but if there's one thing I would bet on that could trigger your black rage it would be someone stealing your raspberries.
• Eggplant - It couldn't look more gross but you don't care. All credit goes to your mama for this one. I wouldn't have done it on my own. Too much time cutting and roasting just to compile soft (but healthy!) squares of food that resemble snot more than anything. 
• Sweet Potato - It was the first thing you ate and in between those first bites you would cry until we got the next spoon near your mouth. That love has not wavered. In fact, it honestly wouldn't surprise me if some day I returned home from a work trip right as dinner is being served and you stiff arm my hug attempt on your way to a plate of steaming hot sweet potato. 
• You've begun to sign for more food before you actually get started on the food you have. Because we don't always feed you everything at once (one part of your dish could be too hot still, or you've been playing with it too much so we're dishing it out slowly) it's like you want us to know that you aren't stupid. "Hey, big servants! You know this isn't going to be enough, right? You could fire up another pot of that goodness right now or you could let me get upset, and nobody feels like cleaning up a physics-defying shit that somehow travels straight up out of my diaper, do they? DO THEY?!?

Well, I've gotta run. NeeNee and Nay (the names you've given to your cousins) are sleeping over and everyone is expecting raspberry pancakes when they wake up and the way you've been housing food these past few weeks means I'll have to make a double batch. 

But before I go, some advice:

If you do decide to break another kid's finger, go for the pointer. You can get by easily without a pinky. Ring finger? Mostly for show. Middle fingers won't be important until you get older and start driving and dating. Even the thumb, which is my number two choice for snapping, isn't as important as your pointer finger. It's the focal point (pointer!) of every thing you do with your hand. It's how you pick your nose, the barrel of your hand guns (PEW! PEW! PEW!), and the only finger that can pull off sass. It's the star of the show when you use your hands to indicate sex.  You'll use it to stir things when you're too lazy to get a spoon and, I can't stress this enough, it's the finger you'll use over and over again to point at the slice of pizza you want from a restaurant so that you get the Arnold Shwarzenegger slice and not the Danny Devito one. That's a solid reference from the movie Twins, by the way. Movie quotes are going to be important in your life, but that's later. For now, just remember to go for the pointer.

Time Change

Hey Archer,

Right now you're sleeping upstairs with mama. Your morning routine has been frustrating, but consistent. You wake up at 5:30 every morning, almost on the dot, and fuss until one of us comes to get you. Once we bring you into bed you'll hunker down on mama's milkers, on and off, for around an hour which more than doubles daddy's lifetime best of 27 minutes. Thankfully you usually sleep through the night until this happens, lightening up on the parental requirements that once saw us (mama) getting up every hour or two to feed or soothe you.

But, like anything else we think we have figured out it all goes to shit at some point.

We fell back an hour recently, and now you magically wake up at 4:30 every day! I've never been one to care about the time changes, though many people argue that they're dumb and they probably aren't wrong. But I care now. Once you're up, I'm usually up. Mama falls back to sleep like a champ in the mornings but once my brain starts churning I'm awake. Stupid songs are to be stuck in my head, work things must be considered from all angles, and embarrassing dreams are to be compartmentalized and locked away, never to be thought of again.

It's tough work and it keeps me awake.

Which gives me some time to write this list of my ten favorite things you're currently doing!

1. You find it hilarious to fast-crawl away from us toward the kitchen. When we give chase and say "Where are you going?" or "I'm gonna get you!" it makes you start giggling in the most adorable way. This has been going on for months.
2. You love mimicking us and making us laugh. So far you mimic sounds, clapping, snapping, dancing, and sometimes you'll do what we call "strong man". This is when you raise clenched fists and yell.
3. You can climb stairs like nobody's business. Smooth as silk, but dangerous as all get out. I've built you a baby gate already and just need to get it stained and installed.
4. You continue to love being upside down. I've been playing crane game with you as the crane and your toys as the prizes. You're hit rate is nearing 50%.
5. The look on your face when you shake your head no is indescribable and adorable. If wielded correctly later in life this will likely convince your mama to give you whatever you want.
6. Your babble is finally containing the typical "ba-ba-ba-ba" type sounds but you still sound like you're trying to bypass single words for phrases. Elephant would be your first word right now if you could just figure out how to say it. It's not for lack of trying though, as you've fallen in love with the odd (Indian?) string of alternating bells and elephants hanging in your room.
7. When we chill in bed for a few minutes before getting up you sometimes spaz out and literally launch yourself at mama's milkers for a good old fashioned motorboating. Video evidence of this would be inappropes.
8. When you're getting close to finishing dinner you'll start leaning your head down on your tray (we serve dinner prison style) in this super cute contented way, staring up at us with pure love.
9. Peek-a-Boo still astounds you and a boop on the nose almost always stops the crying in favor of giggles. Even better, when I use my dad's patented technique (bobbing and weaving my finger while repeating "Where's he gonna go? Where's he gonna go?") you do it back and it maybe brings me all of the joys.
10. You love facetiming with me when I'm on the road. You try to grab the camera and give it kisses. I thank the flying spaghetti monster that we live in a time where we can do this because I can't imagine what it would be like traveling this much without the ability to see you in real time.

OK, I have to get moving. But before I go, a bit of advice...

Get comfortable taking yoga classes and shopping at Whole Foods. These are the two places I wish I would have spent more time as a young single guy with a hump switch permanently stuck in the "on" position. Unless of course you end up liking dudes. Although, no, you'd still want to go because I'd assume you'd be of the fit and fabulous variety. Yoga will keep you *shudder* flexible, and probably make you lots of bff's. And Whole Foods will keep your fridge stocked with fake milks. Those are the three most important things for gay men according to my limited (read: none) research. Hell, that can't be right. It's probably not even close to true for any gay men. I'm sure the same thoughts go through any man's mind, regardless of who they want to bone. Things like giddy excitement over eating some terrible but fondly remembered candy from your childhood, like circus peanuts or wax lips. But, as a future fyi, let me just end this by saying Fun Dip holds up extremely well.  

Unconditional Love

Hey, sweet baby Archer!

Overkill on the cheerfulness to try to mask the fact that it's been approximately 2 months since we have written anything here? Maybe. As you know, we have been very busy helping you grow from a helpless but adorable newborn into a giant, smiling infant who can sit up all by himself for at least a few seconds.

Archer, you are pure joy. You smile almost all the time. Your laugh is a sound all your own. It is a deep, rattly giggle that is impossible not to echo with my own laughter because it is so beautiful. You are so alert and curious and grabby with your sweet little hands. You eat actual food now! And you love it! From the first time we fed you, you were so greedy...in the sweetest way possible. Sweet potatoes are your favorite, but you haven't yet met a food you didn't like (at least once you tasted it a few times). Your current diet includes: avocados, bananas, butternut squash, lentils, pinto beans, peas, carrots, green beans, apples, mangos, aforementioned sweet potatoes, and I'm always looking for new things to add to the mix so you will like all sorts of food. I prepared some eggplant for you tonight, so tomorrow we'll try that!

This seems like a lot of detail about your eating habits, but it is actually related to the inspiration for this post. Sweet baby Archer, tonight, you pooped on me.  Not like I was changing your diaper and it was messy so I got some of your poop on me. Nope, that's happened on several occasions. You once had a pretty serious blow out that required the disassembly of your car seat for washing. There was lots of your poop that happened to touch me. No, this was not that. You actively pooped on me, after I took your diaper off and we were on our way to the tub. And you know what? It was almost cute. I mean, it was a little gross, because poop. And real food poop is waaaay stinkier than baby breastmilk poop. That is like pre-poop. If it was in school, breastmilk poop would be remedial poop. Your poop now is like junior high school poop. Still totally immature but it thinks it's all grown up. But this is what a mother's love is. It didn't really bother me. I laughed about it. I'm glad your daddy was here to help me clean it up, because there just weren't enough hands while holding a naked poopy baby to clean you and me and I wasn't about to introduce that situation to your little baby tub unless it was absolutely necessary.

My love is clearly unconditional. Let's just not make a habit of it, ok?

Love,
Mama

Dinner Plans

Hey Archer,

I know it's going to be a long time until you find yourself in the situation I found myself tonight, but I wanted to get it down on your blog before I forget. Tonight I am on the road and in Athens Georgia. It's a place I had big plans for. I wanted to walk around and try some local beers, see what the city has to offer, and give it the ol' college try as I've never been here before. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I got in a little later than I thought and ended up in the hotel bar.

In a perfect world you'll always do the right thing, eat in the best restaurant, and maximize your time.

(Quick side note: I'm in my hotel room and typing this as Shark Tank is on. The latest inventor introduced himself as a "dadtrepeneur" and I already hate him. It turns out his idea is stupid and now I feel vindicated for those feelings.)

But in an imperfect world sometimes you do the wrong thing, or a thing that deviates from the original plan that on paper seems disappointing. Tonight I gave in to the laziness of a late arrival in Athens but in return I had a wonderful experience. In a way, I feel a little bit like I was meant to be in the hotel bar to meet Julie and Earl.

(Also, just so you're prepared, I don't mean for this to be a bummer of a post but it may seem like that at times.)

It started with a free drink and appetizer offer thanks to my super duper double secret elite status with IHG. Once in the bar, taking advantage of the offer, I overheard a couple talking about the Big Ten Conference and their hatred of Ohio State University. Being a Big Ten alum in agreement with that sentiment I piped up and we were off and running.

Their oldest son is my age. Soccer was a huge part of their lives, as was mine. They've lived in some of the same places I've lived. Lots of parallels. That oldest son and his wife have been trying for five years to have a child and they're finally pregnant. Major parallel.

In a cruel twist, their oldest son also has been diagnosed with incurable brain cancer.

Life can throw you some pretty rotten fucking lemons. It's really hard to make lemonade from rotten lemons and I can only imagine how hard it is to even talk about rotten lemonade with people. As it turns out, I have a soft spot in my heart for people dealing with cancer. I also have a Flying Spaghetti Monster-given talent for engaging strangers and finding common ground.

I didn't have any advice for this 70yo couple that they wouldn't have already heard. But I did have a kind ear and the occasional commiserating story to make them laugh. It was pretty clear that they've had a really tough go of things and when the story unfolded to include both Earl and the grand-dog recently getting diagnosed with cancer I wasn't going anywhere. Dinner at the bar for your dad.

There isn't a way I can adequately explain how impressively positive and loving this couple was. Yes, we talked about cancer and how much it sucks. But we also talked about raising children, the importance of good childhood sports experiences, and even Lady Gaga. Through all of it they had this palpable energy associated with their stories that I found amazingly impressive in the face of their struggles. It was like they couldn't get out their stories fast enough, their eyes lighting up as they realized partway through one story that it reminded them of another.

Through all of it I couldn't stop thinking about how unlucky they've been but also how lucky they've been. They seemed to have developed a really fantastic grasp on living life to its fullest, enjoying everything, and making decisions based on compassion and common sense.

As a very new father I can honestly tell you that it isn't always easy to have that mindset. I think daily about devastating problems that could occur while raising you. What if I lose my job and can't quickly find another? What if I get sick, or your mom gets sick? What if you get sick?

It's the scariest stuff I've ever had to consider and nothing has even happened yet. For some people, probably a lot of people, it isn't just a fear but a reality. I hope your mom and I can raise you with the tools to persevere in the types of situations Julie, Earl, and many others have found themselves in but also the compassion to lend an ear when someone else needs one.

I gotta run, but before I go...a little advice...

Don't create a blog and be all fun and happy all the time and then randomly drop a sad post in the middle of it all. Your tens of readers might get bummed out.

~ Your Dad

Growing

It's been almost 3 months since you were born! It's not a wonder that I haven't written much here, as I've been busy staring at your sweet face and snuggling you. Also cleaning poopy diapers, feeding you pretty much constantly (you're a hungry little man!), and trying to get us out of the house occasionally. More than occasionally actually.  You come to yoga with me almost every morning. You sleep most of the time, but when you are awake, you love to watch the people. Everyone there is so sweet with you. They tolerate your interruptions, both cooing and fussing, equally.

You are growing very quickly. I'm determined to not miss any of your beautiful moments. Nothing in my life has ever been better than watching you discover the world around you. You wake up slowly, bleary eyed and hanging in that space between slumber and wakefulness for longer than I'd expect from a baby. The very moment you edge over into consciousness, you are all smiles. You awaken expecting nothing but good things to happen now that you're aware and ready to experience life. I hope so very much that stays with you. Optimism is lovely and too rare a trait.

You're a pretty good sleeper, unless of course, you are going through a growth spurt. This is happening now. You are currently ravenously hungry all the time and unable to sleep more than a couple hours because there must be more eating! The only thing equal to eating for you is snuggling. You are always a pretty snuggly boy, but during this growth spurt it is the only way you will sleep without nearly constant fussing. It is not a huge sacrifice to sleep with you cuddled against me. I know that these days will be behind us all too quickly, and I will miss these special moments when you are tiny and need me so much.

On that note, I will end this because you have woken up from your nap and are very unhappy about being alone.

Love,
mama