“This Is When I Knew He Was Growing Up”

“This Is When I Knew He Was Growing Up”

So I have a son. His name is Alexander. In past blogs, I’ve discussed meeting him for the first time, the terror that comes with being a new dad, and then the joys that are sprinkled in as well that make it all worthwhile. I would call Parenting   “Constant Worrying and Terror with Dessert”.  You really know nothing but you also know everything. Everything I say here would make sense to a new parent and sound like complete gibberish to the people with their freedom still intact.  God Bless.

We've  fast forwarded and Alex is now 1 Year old.  He no longer eats out of a bottle. He no longer drinks formula or is amused by laying under a baby gym.  He likes real food, he likes girls, and he likes to quite frankly be a jerk from time to time.  I love him, but I'm pretty sure he’s mocking me on almost a daily basis.  I told myself that when my baby got old enough to throw his Sippy cup on the floor during meals, I would let it sit there and let him cry. I was a big fat liar.  You do whatever it takes to make him happy in that moment.  I can't wait until he can talk so I can argue with him in public. Right now it’s me yelling and him grinning and throwing it on the floor again.

This all ties in to the moment that I knew he wasn't a baby anymore.  This past weekend, he really took his first steps. He’s done some drunken sloppy flops but this weekend he walked multiple steps to and from his Mommy and me.  It was amazing.  I was so pumped like I just won the big game. His Mother was being consoled by family crying that she basically lost her little boy.  I felt that too but hid it better this time.  I was excited and was starting to plan our summer home for when he made the NBA and put us up there when I was too old to want to do anything for myself.  Me and him and his Mommy were together FOREVER!!!!!............. not so fast.

We are at my cousin’s softball game.  He sees the playground and starts pointing and hooting and hollering. We saunter over. There are about 5 little girls over there ranging from 7 to 2.  Alex lights up like a Christmas tree. They ask his name and if they can carry him. I say no but you can walk around with him. Alex proceeds, beaming mind you, to go walking off with a gaggle of girls surrounding him. He wasn't scared, he wasn't unhappy, and he could have cared less where Daddy went.  The kid was in the freaking zone.  I let that one shake off me until we got back to our area for the game and the girls come over to play catch.  He’s showing off, standing up throwing, really showing his A Game to the ladies.  The girls then leave. I go over to play with him. It’s my turn.  He’s going to be so psyched. Daddy and Alex!.  I might as well have been a brick wall.  He turned away from me, our ball throwing game we've played for months in his room and at parks, to find the cute blonde 2 year old he was just flirting with.  I guess I was ok with Mommy winning over Daddy when it came to his affection but now he'd rather play ball with the little girls.  This is NOT ok.  This was a wake-up call.

”This Is When I Knew He Was Growing Up”

" I Think My Two Month Old Son Might Be Gay"

       Now before we start here, i want to apologize for a couple things. One, I have not upheld my responsibility to this blog. I blame it on work, sleep deprivation and most importantly the person i gave birth to (with help) 10 months ago.  Secondly, i want to be clear that this blog is meant to entertain . I don't think my son is gay, i wouldn't care if he was gay, and i know that there is no way to compile the necessary proof to deem a baby gay. OK.. I'm glad that's settled. Let's move on,

       Alexander Mason is perhaps one of the happiest babies you'll ever meet. I"m sure a lot of parents say that, but we really hit the jackpot as he is just forever happy. He literally cries when he is sitting in his own poop, he's hungry (which is often) and on a July afternoon, i was hoping for a third reason : when we inserted a thermometer in his bum.

      Now let me be clear, if it was up to me, all temperature readings would be done through putting it in his mouth or under his armpit. However, the people that know things i.e  the doctor, his mommy, my mommy, most other people in the world, insisted the most accurate reading required us to insert this cold metal/plastic contraption into his hiney.

     This is the part of the story where i really get a chance to show my maturity and fatherly instincts. I said to myself "Lenny, what reaction are you looking for from your son when this thing is put where things aren't supposed to go in? ".   A good mature parent would say, "i want him to be OK and not cry over it and just get through it and we get his reading and that's it" .  Well that parent doesn't work here. (She does, but that FATHER doesn't work here).  The guy that works here felt as though my son should cry when things are going in there and perhaps even sit up at 2 months old and say "HEY get that outta there sucka.... not that there's anything wrong with that (Seinfeld reference).

     So let's fast forward to that day that will live in infamy.  We put young Alex face down on the changing table and we pick his legs up in the air. He gives me this look like "Dad Help". I could do nothing but watch in dreaded anticipation of his outburst of tears and discomfort and then I'd save the day and pull him off, berate his mother for doing it and we would go look at Victoria's Secret Catalogs while farting and grunting . The moment has now arrived.......

     Alas the moment did not exactly turn out the way i expected. Mommy put the contraption into his caboose and Alex paused, looked at me, looked at Mommy and then started giggling like a schoolgirl when she finds out the boy she likes thinks she's cute.  He appeared to be enjoying the surgical procedure that was happening.  His mommy looked relieved (remember she's mature and not insane).  I on the other hand buried my head in my hands in disbelief and shock. I love my son, i will always love my son no matter what, but it was a shocking day when I looked down at him giggling and grinning and said to myself:

                                         "I Think My Two Month Old Son Might Be Gay"

Please tune in next time for " I Remember When My Family Used to Care When I Showed Up"

"I Now Have A New Best Friend"

              So I hit a bit of writer's block a month or so ago and wasn't sure what to write next.  This blog was dedicated to my journey to becoming a father, but now the baby is here and now what.  Do i talk about the first month where he moved his finger on occasion and pooped and peed and that's about it?  Do I talk about the insane paranoia that encompasses you once you become a father?  Do I talk about how his mother apparently can function on zero sleep per night ?  I could do that.  But I'd rather dive in to the day your son or daughter (i guess) comes into your world and he becomes your new best friend.

Alexander James was born on May 3rd 2013 in the early morning. I think it was 5 something but i really don't remember. I think that's a mother's job to know. That fact would be more important if I was one of those obnoxious parents that celebrate the time their baby is born. I will not be one of those obnoxious parents. HOWEVER, I am an obnoxious parent. We all are but I would say I'm definitely one those dads that's so gushingly proud of his kid, that it's rather nauseating to those parents that do not love their kids as much i.e dads that somehow can manage to not be a part of their kid's lives. I like to call those people "scum of the earth" . There's a special home in dirtbagville for them. The only silver lining is it just brings more attention to how amazing those single mothers are out there.


Sorry for going off on a tangent, but let me digress.  I said before my son was born.... "it's dumb to say how many weeks and months a baby is... I'm calling him 0 until he's 1".  Everyone laughed but i was serious.  Am I 1768 weeks old as a 33 year old? (PS i did that in my head).  No I'm 33 years old. So I'm not doing what others do.  Fast forward to May 10th.. and I'll be damned if i wasn't posting some gushy crap about my son turning one week old. Facebook has become the world of drunken comments and baby pictures. There is literally no in between. i Mean you get your occasional Lebron Argument or Red Sox/yankees diatribe.  But basically Facebook is a battle of parents showing who has the cutest kids.  Boy did that sound obnoxious before May 3rd. Now it's "look how big Aspen is getting... it's so cute when she makes that face " .  Your world changes when you have a child, and my life changed for the much much better.


Now to at least show my loyal readers who literally refreshed their Facebooks every 5 seconds for the last 6 weeks for my next article, I'm not just an emotional softy. I do still have a bad boy edge.  I still have that "swagger" to me as the kids say.  My son doesn't define me. I'm still a young happening hip dude that's got it goin on. I proved that just the other day.  I was making sure he had enough diapers in his diaper bag and that he had his Paccies in there.  Once it was closed up, I threw it over my shoulder like a louis vuton purse and headed out to the car, car seat and baby in tow. Once i got in, and got him tucked in and turned on his music mirror to keep him busy, i did what any "gangsta" does.  I reclined my seat... turned on the Disney station and turned up the Bass. Real Talk my friends. Real Talk.   Tune in next week for my most controversial blog yet:
                                          "I Think My Two Month Old Son Might Be Gay".