It was exactly five years ago when I married my beautiful Caroline. And I remember the day vividly. Every aspect of it. And, believe it or not, the thing that sticks out most isn’t the part where we said “I do.” Nor is it the reception. Or even that first night we spent as man and wife. Nope. The thing that sticks out is sitting with my soon-to-be stepdaughter in one of the church’s meeting rooms as I nervously pondered my future. It was all about to change, and I vowed that I’d be ready for whatever it was that would come my way. Yet try as I might, there was simply no way I could have ever imagined everything I was about to get.
Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Nappiness
Parenting is a tough gig. One which calls for many sacrifices. And surely a guy who went from carefree bachelor to father of four in just 13 months would know all about sacrifices, right? Wrong. At least not when it comes to one particular thing which I’ve never been asked to give up.
The Theory of Relativity as it Pertains to the Departure of Toddlerhood
Jack, Kirby and Sam back in the day.
Everything’s relative. This pregnancy should be a piece of cake compared to the last one, our friends would tell us. And they were right. Because this pregnancy was much easier. No scares. No progesterone shots. No round-the-clock contraction monitoring. No hospitalized bed rest. No problems.
Even so, this pregnancy was harder to endure.
Still, everything’s relative. Taking care of just one baby will be so easy compared to taking care of three, our friends would tell us. And they were right. I mean, there’s a reason for the faint smile that creeps across my face after each successful 2 am bottle. It’s because I remember the days when I’d still have two more hungry customers waiting not-so-patiently in line.
Even so, taking care of Grand Finale has been harder than taking care of the triplets. At least that’s what I’ve found to be the case so far.
You Don’t Know Who the Baby Looks Like. You Just Don’t.
Even when I look real close, I can’t tell!
Last night I went for a run and took my iPhone along because I wanted to listen to a new playlist that I had downloaded earlier in the day. About a mile into it, the music was interrupted by notification of a tweet I had received from a random woman who was commenting on a piece I had written for TLC which discussed the advantages of being an older parent. I actually fired back with a few taps of my thumbs without even breaking stride, and once I did, I was taken aback by the entire experience. I was essentially having a conversation with a woman I had never met before about the birth of my youngest child. While running. Through the use of my phone. (And I once thought call waiting was the shit…)
Yet as much as technology has changed the way in which I’m able to converse about my newborn, human nature has insisted that some of the conversations remain the exact same as they’ve always been. And I was reminded of this earlier today when Grand Finale and I ran into an old friend who engaged me in such a conversation.
The Return of Date Night
Date night, of course, means that someone’s gotta tend to Grand Finale…
Good News — Caroline and I are going out on a date tonight.
Bad News — I can’t remember the last time we went out on a date.
Good News — Caroline’s good at remembering stuff like that. So I asked her.
Bad News — Caroline did, indeed, remember and had this to say: “It was in December and you were a total jackass because your eyes were glued to that stupid football game the entire night.”
In my defense, it was the SEC Championship Game, so I sorta had to watch it. Plus, I laid the points and took the Tigers, and the number was in jeopardy until the very end of the third quarter.
Another Happy Birthday
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.
That’s right. Just days after we celebrated Grand Finale’s birthday, it’s time to celebrate yet another. And no, it’s not Alli’s, as the above picture might suggest. Nope, today’s birthday belongs to another girl. But not Kirby. Because then that’d mean that Sam and Jack would also be celebrating a birthday today, and they’re not. And it’s not my birthday. Nor is it the birthday of our faithful hound, Briggs. So that just leaves one person.























