L.W.,
Something happened on Sunday. When you are older, I imagine that you will read about it in history class. I won't go into it much right now, except to say that a very bad man hurt very, very many people some time ago, and on Sunday something happened that will keep that man from ever hurting any more people, ever again. Nobody else. Never, ever again.
That means you, Cooper.
And so the world gathered when this news was announced. In front of televisions, and on the internet. We talked about it, and texted about it. Facebooked and tweeted about it. More than anything else, though, we rejoiced.
That means me, Cooper. You mother and I rejoiced that this particular bad man will never have the opportunity to hurt you. Anyone else, for that matter. But especially you.
Since then, some people have begun to wonder if celebration was the proper response. Whether jubilation was really appropriate. Is relief not sufficient? Would satisfaction not do? It's a fair question, Cooper, and one I've given some thought over the past 48 hours. The best answer I've come up with, and I can speak for only myself, is that I can speak for only myself.
That very bad man personifies some ideas and emotions that in a perfect world I would never have to introduce or explain to you. Certainly at not yet ten months old, you're not ready for them. Nor will you be at ten years old. And yet, nearly a decade ago, the actions of this bad man forced this premature lesson on thousands of ten-year-olds across the United States. Worse than that, after prompting this rude awakening of ten-month-olds and ten-year-olds and every other age of an entire generation, he cruelly denied some even the chance to learn about it from their parents. I cannot even fathom.
As Sunday's news spilled over into Monday, and then into today, I reflected on the actions that bad, bad man took to cause pain to so many. I recalled wondering why. Even now, a decade later, the same question reverberates. There is no sense to be made from it. No character to be built. It's nice to think that our country is stronger by having gone through something so awful, but if it is, that strength was forged in a fire fueled by a determination to seek retribution. To enact revenge. To serve justice.
It's not something I'm easily comfortable with, Cooper. Certainly not an emotion that I want you to rely on regularly. I understand the sentiment of those uneasy with the jubilation. At the end of the day, though, what I return to is the certainty that this very bad man can never, ever, EVER hurt you. After witnessing the hurt he is capable of producing, relief or satisfaction will not suffice. I will rejoice that you will only read about Osama bin Laden in history books. I will celebrate it. Unabashedly.
Sleep soundly, L.W. I love you!
BW
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Coming In Like a Lion...
L.W.,
The wheels on the bus go round-and-round. That's what they do. Round-and-round. Round-and-round. And when they do, your eyes turn to mine and you just stare at me.
Watching.
You stare while the wipers go swish-swish-swish. You stare while the doors go open-and-shut. You stare while the windows go up-and-down. All through the town. You stare.
If I'm lucky, the first crack comes while the people on the bus get off-and-on. You blink, and those eyelids hitch the tiniest bit on their way back up, and I know I have you. But there's still more staring to do.
After you learn about each and every component of the bus, we go the bribery route. Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird. A diamond ring. A mirror. And on. And on. And on. After purchasing you every conceivable item known to man, I decide to give up because every single thing has some freak tragedy befall it. Whoever heard of a mockingbird that won't sing? Those things never shut up!
At this point, though, you're starting to fade. Those eyes are still big, and they're still staring, but your breathing is deep and you're blinking more often. And you're not even concerned with looking around for Callie the Cat anymore. I pull out my hole card.
The states and capitals.
The capital of Florida is Tallahassee. And the capital of Georgia is Atlanta. And the capital of South Carolina is Columbia. Up the eastern seaboard, all the way to Maine. Then skipping over to Wisconsin, across the Great Lakes to Michigan, then to the Ohio Valley. The Southeast. Once we get west of the Mississippi, I snake my way up and down each row, reciting each state and its accompanying capital with a cadence that hasn't changed in seven months. My eyes are drooping when we reach Mountain Standard Time, and by the time we roll through Olympia, Washington, my head is lolling and my voice is no more than a whisper. I finish up with Alaska and Hawaii and I look down and I am met with a sleeping little boy. Mouth agape. Pacifier perched precariously on your chest. Snoring so softly and sweetly that it should be called something else.
Out. Like a lamb.
I love you, Cooper. Good night!
B.W.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Happy Birthday!
L.W.,
Today you are exactly six weeks old. You are celebrating by screaming, crying, and pooping your pants. It's pretty freaking adorable, especially considering your mommy gave me a pass to come upstairs and blog about you.
My last letter to you was written hours before your mommy and I went to the hospital, now seven Tuesdays ago. We woke up at 3:30 a.m. that morning and got ready to leave coupledom behind, and begin a new chapter as a family. With you! Your Pops graciously came over to take pictures of the occasion.
We got to the hospital and checked in at 5:00 a.m. There is a lot of paperwork involved in bringing a new person into the world, and we sleepily filled that out while waiting for the nurse to come see your mommy. We didn't know it at the time, but "waiting" would become the theme for the day. Around 7:00 a.m., they set your mom up with an IV, and began giving her medication that would induce labor. Around 7:30 a.m., Dr. Simmons came in and introduced himself to me, and we all prayed together. Then he broke your mom's water, and we were off!
Except we really didn't go anywhere. Things happened pretty slowly. Truth be told, we just watched a lot of bad daytime television. We had a few visitors. You received a few gifts. The hours languished by without anything really happening. Your mom was a trooper as her discomfort increased in the afternoon hours. Her labor went from being very passive to something that we were all definitely aware of. She was working! And it was hurting! Finally, around 5:00 or 6:00, after finding out that she was the lone remaining holdout without an epidural, her nurse Karen convinced your mom to take some relief. Once your mom's pain subsided and she was able to relax a bit, things started happening more quickly.
Your Uncle Bryant brought your dad some dinner around 9:00, and I stepped out into the waiting room to eat and visit with family and friends. When the gaggle of females who were visiting with your mom returned, they sent me in a rush back to the labor and delivery suite with the news that it was almost time for Stephanie to push!
Almost time.
When I got back, I encountered a different version of your mom than I had seen all day. She was in a great amount of discomfort, and I could tell she was a little scared. The nurse checked her out and told us that you were turned "sunny-side up", which means that you were looking up at the sky, instead of face-down like most babies. You still like to look up at the sky!
Your mom was in so much pain that she thought she wanted to push, but it turned out she just wasn't ready. Try as she might, she could not get you to a position where you would be able to make it out. She was so exhausted at this point that she was convinced she wouldn't be able to deliver you, but the nurses and Dr. Simmons asked her to give it one more try. Like the tough momma that she is, she gave it her best, but you just wouldn't come down, Cooper! Dr. Simmons reluctantly decided that he would have to deliver you via Cesarean delivery.
Well, LW, I can tell you that I have been in some lonely places before. I got stranded on the beach in a storm once, and that was very lonely and scary. And I felt soooo alone during my first night in my upstairs bedroom away from my mom and dad when I was a little boy. But I have never felt more alone than I did when I was sitting outside the operating room while they prepared your mom for surgery. A cold, sterile hallway, left alone to me and my thoughts. I was terrified.
Finally, you were prepped and the nurse came and got me. A partition had been set up, and I was seated behind it, beside your mommy's head. I could look at her and talk to her and hold her hand, but her belly was hidden from view. Dr. Simmons began working, and I worked to, trying to keep your mom and myself calm as everyone did their part to get you out.
Everything seemed to be going as it was supposed to go. Because these things, when they FINALLY come, seem to happen in an instant, we very quickly got to the climactic moment. The anesthesiologist, behind the curtain with me and your mom, motioned for me to stand up and watch as Dr. Simmons extracted you from your mom's uterus. Of course I did. I was so excited!
Dr. Simmons reached into your mom's belly and pulled...and nothing happened. He pulled again, grunting with exertion this time. Nothing happened.
I sat back down in order to keep an eye on your mom. I assume they were widening the abdominal incision on your mom, but I'm not sure. I do know that Dr. Simmons tried once more to pull you out, and was unable to. At this point, he asked the nurse for forceps. I have NEVER heard of using forceps in a c-section. I'm not even sure they were prepped. Anyway, I'll never forget what I heard next.
The nurse asked Dr. Simmons what size. And he replied "Whatever size you can get QUICKLY!"
She retrieved them, QUICKLY, and he fit them around your head and pulled and pulled, and finally was able to get your noggin out of your mom's belly. But just your noggin. The rest of you was still stuck, but I could finally see your beautiful head. Your big, fat beautiful head.
Do you want to know your daddy's first words to your mommy when he finally saw you for the first time?
It's not recorded or anything, but I'm pretty sure I said "Oh my God, Stephanie, I am sooooo sorry. It's all my fault. His head is gigantic!"
So there you have it.
Dr. Simmons managed to pull the rest of you out, and everyone in the room gasped. Your head wasn't the only big thing on you. EVERY part of you was huge! But there was one last surprise.
There was a knot in your umbilical cord. What the doctors and nurses called a "true knot". I looked it up, and it apparently happens in less than 1% of babies. It can be extremely dangerous, and makes me so grateful that your mom didn't continue to keep trying to push you out. If that cord pulled taut before you were out, it could have gotten very bad for you, LW. We thank God for how things worked out every day.
They rushed you over to a table to start cleaning you up, and I stared after you, intent on soaking up every detail. Finally, I was able to come over and see you. I had my iphone and a digital camera. One of the nurses graciously commandeered the camera and started snapping.
Everyone remarked how big you were, and I commented that I was 10 lbs at birth. They assured me that you were big, but not 10 lbs big. Probably close to nine. Finally, they put you on the scale....
10 lbs 6 oz!!! Can you believe that. You were huge, baby boy! 22.5 inches long, as well. No wonder your mom had been so uncomfortable for the past few weeks. She had a two month old inside her!
As they finished cleaning you and were preparing you for me to hold for the first time ever, I snapped a picture and got off a facebook post with your information. To this day, I get chided about that, but I cannot think of a BETTER application for new media.
Finally, after a 20 hour day, your mom was able to look into your eyes and tell you that she loves you. She hasn't stopped saying it since.
At some point, we were transferred back to the labor and delivery suite. Dr. Simmons went outside to visit the family and inform them everything went well. He told them that you had the broadest shoulders of any baby he had ever delivered, and that we should contact Coach Petrino in Fayetteville immediately to set up a scholarship for you in his 2028 recruiting class. That's my boy! We love Dr. Simmons!
Cooper, your dad was so exhausted at this point that it's impossible for him to write intelligently about what happened. It honestly is all a fog. I can promise, however, that you were surrounded with love. The love and support that your mom and I have received from our families from the moment you were born, and every moment since, has been such a blessing to us. We have been able to enjoy all the intense joys of being new parents, with very few of the obstacles. For that, your parents are both very humbled and very thankful. We know you're thankful, too.
So that's the story of your birth, LW. What do you think? Pretty cool, huh? The crazy thing is, as amazing and incredible as the story of your birth is, you never fail to amaze us in a new way every single day. And as your daddy and your Big Wooly, I knew that would happen, and yet it still floors me every single day.
Just what will you do tomorrow? I can't wait to find out!
I love you,
BW
Today you are exactly six weeks old. You are celebrating by screaming, crying, and pooping your pants. It's pretty freaking adorable, especially considering your mommy gave me a pass to come upstairs and blog about you.
My last letter to you was written hours before your mommy and I went to the hospital, now seven Tuesdays ago. We woke up at 3:30 a.m. that morning and got ready to leave coupledom behind, and begin a new chapter as a family. With you! Your Pops graciously came over to take pictures of the occasion.
We got to the hospital and checked in at 5:00 a.m. There is a lot of paperwork involved in bringing a new person into the world, and we sleepily filled that out while waiting for the nurse to come see your mommy. We didn't know it at the time, but "waiting" would become the theme for the day. Around 7:00 a.m., they set your mom up with an IV, and began giving her medication that would induce labor. Around 7:30 a.m., Dr. Simmons came in and introduced himself to me, and we all prayed together. Then he broke your mom's water, and we were off!
Except we really didn't go anywhere. Things happened pretty slowly. Truth be told, we just watched a lot of bad daytime television. We had a few visitors. You received a few gifts. The hours languished by without anything really happening. Your mom was a trooper as her discomfort increased in the afternoon hours. Her labor went from being very passive to something that we were all definitely aware of. She was working! And it was hurting! Finally, around 5:00 or 6:00, after finding out that she was the lone remaining holdout without an epidural, her nurse Karen convinced your mom to take some relief. Once your mom's pain subsided and she was able to relax a bit, things started happening more quickly.
Your Uncle Bryant brought your dad some dinner around 9:00, and I stepped out into the waiting room to eat and visit with family and friends. When the gaggle of females who were visiting with your mom returned, they sent me in a rush back to the labor and delivery suite with the news that it was almost time for Stephanie to push!
Almost time.
When I got back, I encountered a different version of your mom than I had seen all day. She was in a great amount of discomfort, and I could tell she was a little scared. The nurse checked her out and told us that you were turned "sunny-side up", which means that you were looking up at the sky, instead of face-down like most babies. You still like to look up at the sky!
Your mom was in so much pain that she thought she wanted to push, but it turned out she just wasn't ready. Try as she might, she could not get you to a position where you would be able to make it out. She was so exhausted at this point that she was convinced she wouldn't be able to deliver you, but the nurses and Dr. Simmons asked her to give it one more try. Like the tough momma that she is, she gave it her best, but you just wouldn't come down, Cooper! Dr. Simmons reluctantly decided that he would have to deliver you via Cesarean delivery.
Well, LW, I can tell you that I have been in some lonely places before. I got stranded on the beach in a storm once, and that was very lonely and scary. And I felt soooo alone during my first night in my upstairs bedroom away from my mom and dad when I was a little boy. But I have never felt more alone than I did when I was sitting outside the operating room while they prepared your mom for surgery. A cold, sterile hallway, left alone to me and my thoughts. I was terrified.
Finally, you were prepped and the nurse came and got me. A partition had been set up, and I was seated behind it, beside your mommy's head. I could look at her and talk to her and hold her hand, but her belly was hidden from view. Dr. Simmons began working, and I worked to, trying to keep your mom and myself calm as everyone did their part to get you out.
Everything seemed to be going as it was supposed to go. Because these things, when they FINALLY come, seem to happen in an instant, we very quickly got to the climactic moment. The anesthesiologist, behind the curtain with me and your mom, motioned for me to stand up and watch as Dr. Simmons extracted you from your mom's uterus. Of course I did. I was so excited!
Dr. Simmons reached into your mom's belly and pulled...and nothing happened. He pulled again, grunting with exertion this time. Nothing happened.
I sat back down in order to keep an eye on your mom. I assume they were widening the abdominal incision on your mom, but I'm not sure. I do know that Dr. Simmons tried once more to pull you out, and was unable to. At this point, he asked the nurse for forceps. I have NEVER heard of using forceps in a c-section. I'm not even sure they were prepped. Anyway, I'll never forget what I heard next.
The nurse asked Dr. Simmons what size. And he replied "Whatever size you can get QUICKLY!"
She retrieved them, QUICKLY, and he fit them around your head and pulled and pulled, and finally was able to get your noggin out of your mom's belly. But just your noggin. The rest of you was still stuck, but I could finally see your beautiful head. Your big, fat beautiful head.
Do you want to know your daddy's first words to your mommy when he finally saw you for the first time?
It's not recorded or anything, but I'm pretty sure I said "Oh my God, Stephanie, I am sooooo sorry. It's all my fault. His head is gigantic!"
So there you have it.
Dr. Simmons managed to pull the rest of you out, and everyone in the room gasped. Your head wasn't the only big thing on you. EVERY part of you was huge! But there was one last surprise.
There was a knot in your umbilical cord. What the doctors and nurses called a "true knot". I looked it up, and it apparently happens in less than 1% of babies. It can be extremely dangerous, and makes me so grateful that your mom didn't continue to keep trying to push you out. If that cord pulled taut before you were out, it could have gotten very bad for you, LW. We thank God for how things worked out every day.
They rushed you over to a table to start cleaning you up, and I stared after you, intent on soaking up every detail. Finally, I was able to come over and see you. I had my iphone and a digital camera. One of the nurses graciously commandeered the camera and started snapping.
Everyone remarked how big you were, and I commented that I was 10 lbs at birth. They assured me that you were big, but not 10 lbs big. Probably close to nine. Finally, they put you on the scale....
10 lbs 6 oz!!! Can you believe that. You were huge, baby boy! 22.5 inches long, as well. No wonder your mom had been so uncomfortable for the past few weeks. She had a two month old inside her!
As they finished cleaning you and were preparing you for me to hold for the first time ever, I snapped a picture and got off a facebook post with your information. To this day, I get chided about that, but I cannot think of a BETTER application for new media.
Finally, after a 20 hour day, your mom was able to look into your eyes and tell you that she loves you. She hasn't stopped saying it since.
At some point, we were transferred back to the labor and delivery suite. Dr. Simmons went outside to visit the family and inform them everything went well. He told them that you had the broadest shoulders of any baby he had ever delivered, and that we should contact Coach Petrino in Fayetteville immediately to set up a scholarship for you in his 2028 recruiting class. That's my boy! We love Dr. Simmons!
Cooper, your dad was so exhausted at this point that it's impossible for him to write intelligently about what happened. It honestly is all a fog. I can promise, however, that you were surrounded with love. The love and support that your mom and I have received from our families from the moment you were born, and every moment since, has been such a blessing to us. We have been able to enjoy all the intense joys of being new parents, with very few of the obstacles. For that, your parents are both very humbled and very thankful. We know you're thankful, too.
So that's the story of your birth, LW. What do you think? Pretty cool, huh? The crazy thing is, as amazing and incredible as the story of your birth is, you never fail to amaze us in a new way every single day. And as your daddy and your Big Wooly, I knew that would happen, and yet it still floors me every single day.
Just what will you do tomorrow? I can't wait to find out!
I love you,
BW
Monday, July 19, 2010
T-minus... One
L.W.
It was a Tuesday that I found out about you. 36 Tuesdays. 258 days. Tomorrow will be the 37th Tuesday. The 259th day. There have been so many changes in that time, nearly all of them in preparation of you.
This is what your mom and dad looked like back then. Just a few days before that wondrous Tuesday, in fact. You were the size of a poppy seed back then! Or, since you probably don't know what a poppy seed is yet, the size of the period at the end of this sentence. Just that big. Isn't that amazing? You have really grown! And because your mom and daddy would NEVER let you do anything alone, we've grown too. Your dad has grown a little bit, and your mom.... well, she's grown a little, too.
There she is at 17 weeks...
And here she is at 22 weeks...
And at 27 weeks... Still growing...
And her at 35 weeks...
Here she is at 39 weeks...
And finally, here we are two days ago, at 41 weeks. I've grown out of a couple pairs of shorts. You've grown to the size of a pumpkin. And your mom... well, there she is. Isn't she beautiful?
However, at 41 weeks, you are late, son. That's something we'll work on in the future, but we'll let you slide for now. We are, however, so very anxious and excited to meet you that the doctors are going to help you come out and greet the world tomorrow. In just a few hours, in fact. In a few minutes, I am going to put this computer up, and in about six hours we are going to be driving to the hospital to start the process. If everything goes the way that we hope and pray it does, by this time tomorrow, I will be holding you in my arms and maybe even reading you your first bedtime story from this blog. Or you'll be screaming. Either way. It'll be wonderful.
In the past 258 days, L.W., we have done everything possible to prepare for your arrival. Your mommy has prepped and planned and vitamined and prenatal-ed, and your daddy has put together more things than he has ever put together in his life... all for you. We have read and we have prayed and we asked those who know better than us. We have gotten so many answers, but what we don't know is so much greater. So just remember, as you are learning, so are we. You will be teaching us. Fortunately, we got the most important lesson out of the way about 36 Tuesdays ago. You won't have to waste any time teaching us how to love you... we took care of that one early. So no matter what we screw up over the next 258 days... 258 weeks...258 months, and even beyond that, just know that it was motivated out of pure, unadulterated, sometimes blinding love.
Love. Always.
Get some rest, L.W. Tomorrow is a big day.
I love you!
BW
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Happy July!
L.W.!
B.W. here. Just checking in. How are things going in there? I know you're feeling a little cramped. Your momma is, too. We are both anxiously awaiting your arrival, so please hurry!
How am I doing? Well, I'm currently somewhere that you will become familiar with very soon. Your home...and more specifically, your chair! I'm sitting in the chair where your mommy and Gangi and Nana will rock you to sleep. And me too, of course! It is so very comfortable. Your mom picked it out, and it is a magic chair. It can put anyone to sleep, no matter how much they fight it or how awake they seem to be when they sit down in it. This may aggravate you at first, but I promise that you will grow to love it as much as your mommy does. Well... I promise you'll grow to love it a lot.
So, anyway, I'm sitting here in this chair and I just realized that we are about to close the books on June. Just another hour or so. That means you are almost certain to be born in July! I have a friend named Scott that believes not in celebrating birthdays or birthweeks, but instead birthmonths. Why celebrate for 24 lonely hours, when you can go a full 30 days! I like it. And you will, too. So Happy July! It's a great month to be born in, and you get to share it with some really special friends. Your Nana Mel was a July baby. So was your cousin Jackson. And last but not least, you get to share your birthmonth with your country! Yep, the United States was born in July, too. Your dad cannot wait to teach you all about it.
Best of all, though, July is MADE for little boys. If a month could be a person, July would totally be a little boy, and truth be told, he'd probably be your bff. You see, July is nothing less than a clean slate. It's a month made for you to fill, and nobody can pack stuff into something like a boy. June is busy with finishing school and getting your summer started off with a bang, and August is when people get frazzled trying to cram that last bit of fun in before the drudgery returns. But July, son... July is lazy. That's not always a good thing, but for July, it just works. Days upon days where little boys wake up and see nothing but a blank canvas. Let me tell you, it's amazing how much happens when there's nothing else to do.
Do you want to know what July was like when I was a little boy? I would wake up practically at a dead run, throwing on shorts and a shirt and tennis shoes. Inevitably, I'd be called back to brush my teeth. Tie my shoes. Eat breakfast. Ugh...everything my mom could think of to slow me down. When I FINALLY made it outside, I would meet up with my friends and we would play baseball. Where was always an adventure. Equipped with only a couple of tennis balls, one aluminum bat, and a set of orange plastic bases, we had to be pretty discerning. A backyard might work, but the thicket right of first base ensured that any foul ball over there meant game over. The street sometimes was decided on, but a tennis ball will roll forever on asphalt, and besides, what's a home run with nothing to hit over? The ideal spot for us was a vacant lot a block away. It was perfect. A neighbors storage shed provided a backstop for errant pitches. A small row of 20-foot pines in left provided us with our own Green Monster. The only drawback was the Rottweiler that was usually chained up at the house next to the lot. He wasn't friendly, and more than once he wasn't chained, and we'd be chased back all the way back to our house.
When we weren't playing baseball, we were playing golf. Your Nana would drop me off at the course, and I'd be there until dark. We would walk 18 holes, have lunch, and then walk some more. Sometimes even a setting sun couldn't dictate the end of our day. I remember receiving more than one lecture from a worried parent after putting out in what could only generously be called twilight. After making it home for a quick dinner, me and my friends were back outside, stringing up the floodlight to illuminate the basketball goal in our driveway. We knew that the thump-thump of that rubber ball on the pavement of my driveway had to drive our neighbor lady crazy, but we didn't care, and you won't either.
When it was really hot, a dip in my friends' pool was the only cure. I remember passing the requisite half-hour after dinner, and thinking that somehow the clock was actually moving backwards. When you ask me why I am making you wait, Coop, I'll tell you it's because you'll cramp. But really, it's just because I had to. I have no idea. Sorry, pal. If I had to wait, you gotta wait. It builds character, or something. We'd play Marco Polo and have cannonball contests and run around the outside of the pool and jump on each other...everything that the lifeguard will blow his whistle at you for, which happens to be all the fun stuff.
When I got a little older, we'd follow swimming up with Spades. I will teach you how to play, L.W. And then me and you can beat your mom and whoever she can wrangle up to be on her team. It'll be a blast! Anyway, I remember sitting in my friends' house, playing spades at the kitchen table. The open window behind me pushing a sticky breeze into the room that was still somehow refreshing. It smelled like summer and competed with the popcorn in the microwave for olfactory dominance. We would drink Coca-Cola and eat salty popcorn and play cards until what would be way, way past my bedtime in the school year. Finally, I would sprint home, precisely the length of three front yards, and bolt breathlessly through the front door.
After a night chock full of energy-renewing sleep, I'd awake the next morning to a chasm of opportunity only a hazy, lazy July day can present. A day so open and free that it could only be met with one initial thought: Where did I take my shoes off last night?
I hope you enjoy your birthmonth as much as I do, L.W.! I can't wait to celebrate it with you every year!
I love you!
B.W.
B.W. here. Just checking in. How are things going in there? I know you're feeling a little cramped. Your momma is, too. We are both anxiously awaiting your arrival, so please hurry!
How am I doing? Well, I'm currently somewhere that you will become familiar with very soon. Your home...and more specifically, your chair! I'm sitting in the chair where your mommy and Gangi and Nana will rock you to sleep. And me too, of course! It is so very comfortable. Your mom picked it out, and it is a magic chair. It can put anyone to sleep, no matter how much they fight it or how awake they seem to be when they sit down in it. This may aggravate you at first, but I promise that you will grow to love it as much as your mommy does. Well... I promise you'll grow to love it a lot.
So, anyway, I'm sitting here in this chair and I just realized that we are about to close the books on June. Just another hour or so. That means you are almost certain to be born in July! I have a friend named Scott that believes not in celebrating birthdays or birthweeks, but instead birthmonths. Why celebrate for 24 lonely hours, when you can go a full 30 days! I like it. And you will, too. So Happy July! It's a great month to be born in, and you get to share it with some really special friends. Your Nana Mel was a July baby. So was your cousin Jackson. And last but not least, you get to share your birthmonth with your country! Yep, the United States was born in July, too. Your dad cannot wait to teach you all about it.
Best of all, though, July is MADE for little boys. If a month could be a person, July would totally be a little boy, and truth be told, he'd probably be your bff. You see, July is nothing less than a clean slate. It's a month made for you to fill, and nobody can pack stuff into something like a boy. June is busy with finishing school and getting your summer started off with a bang, and August is when people get frazzled trying to cram that last bit of fun in before the drudgery returns. But July, son... July is lazy. That's not always a good thing, but for July, it just works. Days upon days where little boys wake up and see nothing but a blank canvas. Let me tell you, it's amazing how much happens when there's nothing else to do.
Do you want to know what July was like when I was a little boy? I would wake up practically at a dead run, throwing on shorts and a shirt and tennis shoes. Inevitably, I'd be called back to brush my teeth. Tie my shoes. Eat breakfast. Ugh...everything my mom could think of to slow me down. When I FINALLY made it outside, I would meet up with my friends and we would play baseball. Where was always an adventure. Equipped with only a couple of tennis balls, one aluminum bat, and a set of orange plastic bases, we had to be pretty discerning. A backyard might work, but the thicket right of first base ensured that any foul ball over there meant game over. The street sometimes was decided on, but a tennis ball will roll forever on asphalt, and besides, what's a home run with nothing to hit over? The ideal spot for us was a vacant lot a block away. It was perfect. A neighbors storage shed provided a backstop for errant pitches. A small row of 20-foot pines in left provided us with our own Green Monster. The only drawback was the Rottweiler that was usually chained up at the house next to the lot. He wasn't friendly, and more than once he wasn't chained, and we'd be chased back all the way back to our house.
When we weren't playing baseball, we were playing golf. Your Nana would drop me off at the course, and I'd be there until dark. We would walk 18 holes, have lunch, and then walk some more. Sometimes even a setting sun couldn't dictate the end of our day. I remember receiving more than one lecture from a worried parent after putting out in what could only generously be called twilight. After making it home for a quick dinner, me and my friends were back outside, stringing up the floodlight to illuminate the basketball goal in our driveway. We knew that the thump-thump of that rubber ball on the pavement of my driveway had to drive our neighbor lady crazy, but we didn't care, and you won't either.
When it was really hot, a dip in my friends' pool was the only cure. I remember passing the requisite half-hour after dinner, and thinking that somehow the clock was actually moving backwards. When you ask me why I am making you wait, Coop, I'll tell you it's because you'll cramp. But really, it's just because I had to. I have no idea. Sorry, pal. If I had to wait, you gotta wait. It builds character, or something. We'd play Marco Polo and have cannonball contests and run around the outside of the pool and jump on each other...everything that the lifeguard will blow his whistle at you for, which happens to be all the fun stuff.
When I got a little older, we'd follow swimming up with Spades. I will teach you how to play, L.W. And then me and you can beat your mom and whoever she can wrangle up to be on her team. It'll be a blast! Anyway, I remember sitting in my friends' house, playing spades at the kitchen table. The open window behind me pushing a sticky breeze into the room that was still somehow refreshing. It smelled like summer and competed with the popcorn in the microwave for olfactory dominance. We would drink Coca-Cola and eat salty popcorn and play cards until what would be way, way past my bedtime in the school year. Finally, I would sprint home, precisely the length of three front yards, and bolt breathlessly through the front door.
After a night chock full of energy-renewing sleep, I'd awake the next morning to a chasm of opportunity only a hazy, lazy July day can present. A day so open and free that it could only be met with one initial thought: Where did I take my shoes off last night?
I hope you enjoy your birthmonth as much as I do, L.W.! I can't wait to celebrate it with you every year!
I love you!
B.W.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Happy Paisley Tie Day!
L.W.!
Thank you so much for my Fathers Day gift! And like any great gift, I just had to put it to use as soon as I could. Since actually putting it on you wasn't really a viable option, I had to settle for the next best thing. You're underneath there somewhere, just waiting to come out. According to me, at least. According to your momma, you're underneath there everywhere, and in no hurry whatsoever to come out. Details. I think that's a beautiful picture of you and your mom and your sweet gift for your daddy. So thank you again!
I know you might be a little sketchy on exactly how you earned the accolades I'm giving you, so I'll catch you up to speed. You see, everybody in this country gets a holiday. Some get a day...others a week...some even get a month. The American culture is very big on gift giving and the acknowledgement of a job well done, and for all of our exclusionary attitudes toward other things, we don't want anyone to be left out when it comes to greeting cards. Your mom and dad both get their own day. Mothers Day is in May, and Fathers Day is in June...both are on Sundays. On Mothers Day, little children and their dads make a big fuss over mommy, and bring her breakfast in bed and lavish her with compliments, flowers, chocolates, and everything else that makes women happy. The whole day is geared toward giving her whatever she wants. Fathers Day is pretty similar to that, except it starts off with a gift for Dad. The rest of the day is a blissfully exhausting session of Dad trying to figure out exactly what it is that Mom wants him to want, so he can ask for it, she can supply it, and he can get everything "he" desires on "his" special day. Nevermind the fact that Five Guys really did sound pretty darn delicious to him, and On The Border after that, but in the end, Chili's was "his" choice, what "he" really wanted, and it was very good. But I'm not bitter or anything.
So, yeah, that's how this stuff typically goes.
One thing, L.W., that your dad really does love to do is to watch the United States Open Golf Championship. The U.S. Open. It is always held on the weekend of Fathers Day, and your mommy has always been very good about letting me watch it in peace. I really love golf, Cooper, and I hope that you will love it, too. I hope that we can watch the U.S. Open together every year on Fathers Day, just the same as I did with my dad. Maybe one day we could go and watch it in person. Together. Maybe one day you'll even play in it. That is a big maybe, but you never know. Today, a young man by the name of Graeme McDowell won. And just as soon as his final putt rolled into the cup, Graeme's father was rushing out onto the green. He gave his son the most joyous hug, and kept repeating the keenest phrase. Instead of saying how proud he was, which is how most of these scenes go, the elder McDowell kept saying "You're some kid!",
"You're some kid! You're some kid! You're some kid!" It reminded me of E.B. White's Charlotte the Spider, who I will introduce to you later, if your Nana Mel doesn't beat me to it. Anyway, I thought it was a very sweet and a very neat father-to-son exclamation on the 18th green of the Pebble Beach Golf Links. I wonder if Graeme's father ever dared to dream of his son winning the U.S. Open. It must have seemed like a gargantuan maybe to him, as well, but it turned out to be one that miraculously played out. Maybe we'll be so lucky. Probably not, but that's okay. I know just as certainly as Mr. McDowell does about his son, you're some kid, just the same.
I love you, L.W.!
BW
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Story time!
Cooper, I think it's time that you meet some of the friends that are very, very excited and anxious for you to get here. Just like your mommy and daddy and the rest of your wonderful family, these friends CANNOT WAIT for you to get here. You are going to have so much fun with them! Are you ready?
This guy is Mischief the Monkey. He is very excitable, and will always seem to be the one behind the adventures you'll go on. He is always FULL of energy. Do you know how hyper you are after Momma Wooly eats a bowl of Cocoa Puffs? Well, Mischief is like that ALL of the time. He talks a lot, too. If you are anything like your dad...or your mom, for that matter, you will probably give him a run for his money in that department. Even though it will seem at times that Mischief likes to do nothing but run his monkey mouth, it's important to remember that Mischief is also very smart. His brain works just as quickly as his mouth, and he is very good at coming up with plans. Even when it looks like he is goofing off (which is most of the time), he is always paying attention, and he doesn't miss a thing. If you let him, Mischief can teach you that having fun and being silly doesn't mean you have to stop learning from the world around you. Hopefully, your mom and dad can help out with that, too.
This pretty giraffe is Grace. As wild as Mischief can be, Grace is just that calm. A stark contrast to her monkey friend, Grace is all legs and neck. Believe it or not, she looks very much like your dad did when he was your age. I'm not sure about the neck, but I was certainly all legs. Right now your mom is hoping otherwise, but all indications are that you will take after your dad and be a long, lean baby.... just like Grace. One thing I hope that Grace teaches you is to always be comfortable with who you are. Sure, she may look a little bit different with her long legs and long neck, but Grace just focuses on the positives. Living a happy life is all about how you look at things, and Grace takes advantage of her different vantage point. The fruit at the top of the tree is never picked over, and she gets the sunshine before anyone else. What's not to be happy about?
The last of the triumvirate that I want you to meet is Tireless the Turtle. The first thing that you'll notice is that Tireless is very, very slow. He prefers to be called meticulous, but he's really, honestly, just slow. Glacial, even. You'll learn that's no surprising characteristic for a turtle. What may surprise you is how much Tireless LOVES to race. He lives for it. He challenges Mischief to a race every single day....and Mischief beats him every single day. That doesn't keep Tireless from finishing the race, and challenging Mischief again the next day. When you are older you will learn about words like perseverance and determination, but those are pretty fancy words that you will learn to pronounce and write long after you know their meaning. What you will see in Tireless is that he isn't worried about never quitting, but instead he focuses on finishing. As long as you are working toward getting done what you want to get done, not quitting will be the least of your worries. Who has time to worry about that when you are busy accomplishing things?
So there they are. Mischief and Grace and Tireless. They are all best buds, Cooper, and they are all very excited about adding a fourth to their little group. There are so, so many things that they want to teach you, and so, so many adventures they want to go on with you. I made them promise, though, that no matter where they take you, that no matter how great the adventure is, they always bring you back safe and sound. And they told me not to sweat it, Big Wooly. That if I keep you safe during the day, they will always watch over you at night.
So we've got that going for us, which is nice.
I love you, LW. Goodnight!
BW
This guy is Mischief the Monkey. He is very excitable, and will always seem to be the one behind the adventures you'll go on. He is always FULL of energy. Do you know how hyper you are after Momma Wooly eats a bowl of Cocoa Puffs? Well, Mischief is like that ALL of the time. He talks a lot, too. If you are anything like your dad...or your mom, for that matter, you will probably give him a run for his money in that department. Even though it will seem at times that Mischief likes to do nothing but run his monkey mouth, it's important to remember that Mischief is also very smart. His brain works just as quickly as his mouth, and he is very good at coming up with plans. Even when it looks like he is goofing off (which is most of the time), he is always paying attention, and he doesn't miss a thing. If you let him, Mischief can teach you that having fun and being silly doesn't mean you have to stop learning from the world around you. Hopefully, your mom and dad can help out with that, too.
This pretty giraffe is Grace. As wild as Mischief can be, Grace is just that calm. A stark contrast to her monkey friend, Grace is all legs and neck. Believe it or not, she looks very much like your dad did when he was your age. I'm not sure about the neck, but I was certainly all legs. Right now your mom is hoping otherwise, but all indications are that you will take after your dad and be a long, lean baby.... just like Grace. One thing I hope that Grace teaches you is to always be comfortable with who you are. Sure, she may look a little bit different with her long legs and long neck, but Grace just focuses on the positives. Living a happy life is all about how you look at things, and Grace takes advantage of her different vantage point. The fruit at the top of the tree is never picked over, and she gets the sunshine before anyone else. What's not to be happy about?
The last of the triumvirate that I want you to meet is Tireless the Turtle. The first thing that you'll notice is that Tireless is very, very slow. He prefers to be called meticulous, but he's really, honestly, just slow. Glacial, even. You'll learn that's no surprising characteristic for a turtle. What may surprise you is how much Tireless LOVES to race. He lives for it. He challenges Mischief to a race every single day....and Mischief beats him every single day. That doesn't keep Tireless from finishing the race, and challenging Mischief again the next day. When you are older you will learn about words like perseverance and determination, but those are pretty fancy words that you will learn to pronounce and write long after you know their meaning. What you will see in Tireless is that he isn't worried about never quitting, but instead he focuses on finishing. As long as you are working toward getting done what you want to get done, not quitting will be the least of your worries. Who has time to worry about that when you are busy accomplishing things?
So there they are. Mischief and Grace and Tireless. They are all best buds, Cooper, and they are all very excited about adding a fourth to their little group. There are so, so many things that they want to teach you, and so, so many adventures they want to go on with you. I made them promise, though, that no matter where they take you, that no matter how great the adventure is, they always bring you back safe and sound. And they told me not to sweat it, Big Wooly. That if I keep you safe during the day, they will always watch over you at night.
So we've got that going for us, which is nice.
I love you, LW. Goodnight!
BW
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