As a former first grade teacher and now the parent of our second first grade child… It’s pretty simple if you ask me:
All emptied out of our first grader’s backpack the day after a four day vacation (in which he was sent to school with a completely clean and organized bookbag.
PS: Insert eye roll 🙄
When I sat and held Buster as he passed away and then did the same for Max, I said I’d never do it again. I had been trying to write this for a week now and I couldn’t figure out exactly what to say, but then I read Stephanie’s post and realized I didn’t need to write anything, because she already said it so perfectly.
“You never know after losing a pet when you will be ready to replace them. It’s been 1.5 years since Buster and almost 1 year since Max. Once we saw this girl we knew it was time ❤️. We surprised the kids with a road trip to Maryland and they had no idea! When we finally met Wednesday Jax said he was so happy that he was confused why he was crying! Oliver has called her Buster at least a half dozen times… then again he’s also called her ‘Girl and Sunday’ ❤️ We will always remember Buster and Max, but we are ready to make new memories 🐶”
With that being said, meet Wednesday:
Pizza Rat is an internet sensation based of of the most famous NYC rat since splinter taught those crazy turtles karate. The thing is… how can this brown rat carrying a slice of pizza down the steps of a New York City Subway station in Manhattan be any cuter than our very own (above) pizza rat?!????
Thanks to the writers over at #MenWhoBlog for naming us a a TOP DAD BLOG for 2022!!!
Dear Jackson,
Eight going on EIGHTEEN! Seriously, when I woke up this morning I feel like you had a full beard and were reading the Wall Street Journal. It’s insane to me how much you have grown. You are such an exceptionally hard worker, a fierce, fierce friend and most importantly a loving big brother.
Eight years after you were born and we (mom and I) are still amazed by you every single day. Yes, you drive us crazy, there is a lot more talking back and many, many more “No’s” than all those years ago, but we wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Covid has put a damper on so much of your childhood, but you continue to persist. Masks, virtual learning, vaccinations and social distancing are as much part of your birthday as cake and balloons. Yet, here you are… eight years old and still making the best of everything.
I’ve watched you pick up your brother when he falls, then push him back down five minutes later, then pick him back up again! I’ve watched Oliver have a meltdown and you try to calm him, then laugh. (Always with him, never at him… just like a big brother should do and I would know!)
You have become such a leader in your school and among your friends. You know right from wrong and always make sure to advocate for anyone that needs help.
Mom and I want nothing more than you to be happy, healthy and grow into a caring, kind and respectful young man… and if the past eight years are any indication… then you’re already there!
Happy Birthday, Jackson. We all love you very much!
Love Always,
Dad
“It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.” -Albus Dumbledore
This is a post I knew I’d have to write one day, but never wanted to actually have to write. I have no idea how I’m going to get through without completely breaking down. But having just been through this awful course of events, if I can spare a few lines of sorrow, yet in some way figure out how to break the news to my kids, this will have been worth it.
Our Buster was our first baby. Steph and I brought him home when we were newlyweds 15 years ago. We were broke college kids and we would go to eat at Olive Garden and then go play with the puppies who were in need of of a home. It was a fun way to spend a Friday date night. Buster was there for a while. A few weeks maybe and he grew on us. I decided to bring Buster home as a surprise for Steph the day after our wedding. It was the perfect gift for both of us.
Through the years he ate through a few jackets (he preferred the taste of Northface), he was the reason for the demise of no less than 578 chapsticks, ate multiple meatballs and once farted out biscuits after eating a bag of bisquick.
Buster enjoyed many wall rides with his bestie Sadie and drank his fair share of spilled beer, but he always preferred a glass of Chardonnay to wash down a steak he had pulled off the counter (sorry Vinny)
He tolerated ear tugs from his younger brother Max and rougher than necessary “love pats” from young toddlers who didn’t know better. He kissed them and snuggled them and enjoyed eating all the food they spilled on the floor.
Over the last few months, when I imagined the end of Buster’s life (I know, morbid thought), I always pictured the vet telling me that he had some incurable disease. We never wanted him to hurt and I assumed the decision would be clear cut and obvious. But it wasn’t. I assume now it never is.
Buster’s struggles the past few months, specifically this week, we’re tough to watch. But even to the end, he was sniffing around looking for some scraps of food one of the boys left behind, or something Max might not have finished.
Everything happened relatively quickly at the end. We tried to gently tell the boys how Buster was getting old and really needed to go see the doctor soon. You can never prepare anyone especially kids for something like this, but somehow I think Jackson knew.
As I was about to leave for the vet, I had each of the kids give Buster a kiss. They did, and then they saw that Steph was crying. Jax walked over and gave her a hug and kiss.
This morning, I chose to speak to each of them separately, Jax after breakfast and Oliver tonight (we didn’t want to ruin his thanksgiving party at school today 🙄.
There’s no need to go into details about the conversation. That’s between a dad and son. But Jax took it well. He said he was sad, but I could tell he already had known. Oliver is still too young to “get it”. But I’m sure he’ll have questions I’m not sure I’ll know how to answer. But that’s ok because I’ve learned sometimes it’s ok to not have an answer. Just to say I don’t know and then give a hug and a kiss and be there. We always will be, just like the memories of the last 15+ years we have of Buster. They will always be there.
“We want bunk beds,” the boys said, “get them bunk beds,” family and friends said. Bunkbeds will teach them life lessons like sharing and respect and they will help brothers grown closer.
So we got them bunk beds… two months later they attempt their first night together in said bunkbeds.
They’ve now said good night to each other 57 times, I love you to each other 34 times and asked if it was time to go to sleep more than I can count… but, I think we might be on to something here!
Pray for our sanity (and patience tonight)!
⬇️⬇️⬇️ UPDATE ⬇️⬇️⬇️
Exactly twenty minutes after publishing this post:
“Dad I don’t think I’m ever going to sleep on the top bed again. Why did you ever get us bunkbeds!!??”
It’s been 20 years since the first time I wished you a happy birthday. I think I bought you a pair of plaid Abercrombie pants and a six pack of Smirnoff Ice. I probably took you to Olive Garden or Applebee’s and I’m sure we saw a movie afterwards.
It’s been years since that Olive Garden date and a long time since our time was our time. It’s no longer about birthday months or even birthday weekends anymore. As working parents we are tasked with so much more than just being a mom or dad. Parenting can feel isolating and lonely with its constant demands. Yet, somehow we balance it even if it’s not always perfect.
In my short stint as a parent, I’ve already wondered, more times than I like, if I’m doing it right, but one thing I do know is it’s hard. Yet somehow, even in the toughest times including giant tantrums or the occasional full on crying until they pass out, you stay strong. I appreciate you staying strong even when I’m a pain in the ass or act like your third child (or fifth if you count the dogs… then again at least I don’t pee or poop on the floor)!
You may not see it, but you are strong. You are strong for them… Jackson and Oliver will never forget that. It will make them strong and caring and most importantly, empathetic.
Twenty years later, the birthday presents that were plaid pants and Smirnoff may have turned into a teakettle for your night time chai and a travel coffee mug for your long commute after a Board of Eduction meeting… and dinner and a night cap has transformed into standing over a pot of Mac and Cheese and watching Frozen 2 for the 700th time… but no matter what, I loved you then and love you everywhere in between those Abercrombie pants and the teakettle.
Dear Oliver,
Another year has come and gone, yet this one, this year specifically is like none other that any of us have ever experienced. This year you spent almost all of 12 months in lockdown. The Corona Virus Pandemic and this Quarantine led the way for an unprecedented time for a three year-old to grow up.
However, this day isn’t about viruses, Covid, or vaccinations. It is about you. A little boy who seems to have grown three feet over the past year. While you still might spell your first name with two Ls and forget the numbers 13 and 14 when you count (and maybe say your favorite number is “blue”), you have developed into a voracious reader, who can’t get enough Chica Chica Boom Boom or Paw Patrol.
You have survived as the second child, which has to be so difficult… just ask your uncle Vinny. The thing is, you are forging your own path. You aren’t just a shadow of someone else, you have your own personality. You are hilarious, energetic and so incredibly brave. Braver than I think I could ever be (I’m scared that the bravery is just craziness, but that’s for a different blog entry). You follow your brother’s lead when you want to, but also kick him down the stairs when you want to lead the way.
I watch how others act around you and how they they react to you. Your aura is invigorating. You can turn a lazy, snowy Sunday by the fire into a dance party. You can raise anyone’s spirit, even after the most stressful day… and for that I owe you. You make being a dad so worthwhile. You make being your dad so rewarding… and for that I owe you more than you’ll ever know.
Oliver Peter, keep asking questions and defying the odds, keep trying things that other people don’t think are possible, but most of all… keep being you.
Happy 4th Birthday.
I love you,
Dad
“It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.” -Albus Dumbledore
We’ve lived by the shore now just about 3 years and the dog boys have never been to the beach. As they get older we wanted to make sure they experienced it, so that’s what we did today ❤️❤️
They very much enjoyed digging in the sand, barking at other dogs and also seeing a horse or two, which I believe blew their minds as they both stopped mid walk in awe and stared as they walked past (of course Max then added 45 minutes of high pitched barking).
All in all, it was a great way to spend an afternoon with the family.
Sorry Son: Chronicles of a New Dad 