So, my favorite job

Today my son, aka Stud/Luke William/the next great baseball soccer player, turns seven years old.

I am going to spare you all the post that says I am amazed at how fast he has grown up (seriously, I am amazed at how fast he has grown up).  I am instead going to focus on myself, because really that is what I do best.

All I really ever wanted was to be a dad.  I can remember being in high school and thinking this.  I know it was partly because my father and I did not have the best relationship and I wanted a chance to show a son the love I did not feel I was getting.

So when Luke was born (wow...he's growing up so fast), I literally got the only job I ever wanted, father.  Of course like any other job, there is a honeymoon period, followed by the harsh reality of what you are really getting into.

For me my honeymoon period last about five minutes, no kidding.  I was dead set that I would never name my kid after me.  I was named after my father and I was always referred to as Little Marc.  I did not want my son to be in my shadow or have that terrible nickname, so I chose Luke (my ex chose my daughter's name).  As I held him for the first time, I looked into his perfect little face with his perfect little nose and I immediately thought he looked like a Marc.  My son was five minutes old and already he was causing me stress (don't worry I grounded him).  Luckily for me, and more for him, I came around and realized that he was a Luke.

I still remember bringing him home in his little Winnie the Pooh outfit and then not sleeping at all for the first two days (now I can sleep thru just about anything).  First I, along with my ex, would immediately react every time we heard a noise.  Of course when he was quiet we hovered over him even quicker.

I used to have a weak stomach...yeah, that went out the window within a day.  When you change as many diapers (where do those mustard-looking things in a newborn's poop come from) as I have, you start to get an iron stomach.  This kid pooped all the time and his farts sounded like he was a drunken fat forty year old.

Reality was so much different than I what I envisioned, but it was not just extra poop and anxiety.  I knew I would love him, but until I had him in my life I did not realize how strongly I would love him (or anyone for that matter).

For me, my emotions have just been magnified by 1,000.  I can not tell you how much pride I had when he came home from school and had a teacher's note saying how much he had improved his hand writing (he worked so hard).

When I started him in baseball this year, he was the youngest and smallest, by far (he is a little peanut).  So when he gets a hit, it is all I can do to not run from coaching third and squeeze the little booger.

And when he is sad (think dead Olaf sad), it crushes me.  I want to just hug him until he feels better (and in the process until I feel better).

The harsh reality of being hired for this job has been amazing, frustrating, grounding, invigorating and especially humbling.  I would not change anything with how it has gone with him.

It also helps that he can not fire me...stinks to be him!!