Archive for June, 2010

To My Unborn Son (Part Three)

June 16, 2010

You see, other fathers may fret over having daughters, but that’s not who I am.  (The why and and how behind that is beside the current point of this letter, but should you ever end up with a sister, rest assured I’ll elaborate on that topic in my letters to her.) 

I fret over the idea that while all children naturally imitate their parents, at least for a while, because our genders match, both science and my own experiences tell me you’re likely to imitate me more than you will your mother.  This is far from a guarantee, of course, and while there’s much about me that’s worth imitating . . . I find the idea of watching my flaws being duplicated in you as well to be an idea I find, to put it delicately, “daunting.”  It was an idea I was concerned about from the beginning, but now it seems all the more real to me, and I find myself scrambling to correct any figurative “smoking habits” that I need to deal with before you arrive.

I hope you don’t feel bad about that, because you shouldn’t; it’s more than just my job, it’s my honor and my pleasure.  All I need you to do is be forgiving for the bad habits I don’t manage to keep in check, and end up saddling you with despite my best efforts.  Hopefully what I fail to accomplish, you’ll be able to succeed in when your time comes.

But that’s not the main reason why you being a boy is going to be the harder path for me.  It’s related, because it deals with one of my flaws that I may or may not have in check by the time you arrive, but it’s not the main reason.

To My Unborn Son (Part Two)

June 15, 2010

. . . and it turns out you’re a boy.

Good luck with that.

It’s not easy being a boy, let me tell you.  I understand it’s not easy being a girl either, but the challenges are different, and I can honestly tell you that you’ve picked the harder path — and not because it’s harder to be a boy than a girl, or vice versa.  Both paths have their advantages and their hardships, and while I suspect people will debate the point endlessly, in my opinion both paths even out to equal challenge levels in the end.

What I mean is that you picked the harder path for me.

To My Unborn Son (Part One)

June 14, 2010

Well, son . . . here we are.

Figuratively speaking, I mean.

I understand if the timing of the writing of this letter strikes you as a tad odd; you’re not even born yet, and here I am writing letters to you.  Heck, your mother and I haven’t even settled on a name for you yet!  (We’re working on it, I promise.  It’s just that names are important, and aren’t the sort of thing the decision should be rushed on.  If you don’t believe me, remind me sometime to tell you about some of the names I almost got saddled with.)

In any event, perhaps my writing this letter today is odd, but as I’ve said elsewhere, in many ways I’ve been writing to you for a long time now, so it doesn’t seem that odd to me — a fact that may strike you as even odder.  It would be more than fair of you to think that, but odd or not, as is usually the case, I have my reasons:

While I have plans to live a ridiculously long and full life that will provide us ample time to talk about anything and everything (very possibly to excess), I’ve seen enough plans for simple things like dinner and a movie go awry, that I’ve learned the value of saying/doing things as close to the time I’m thinking of them as is both practical and beneficial.

So like I said . . . here we are . . .

Baby’s First Ultrasound

June 11, 2010

He’s a boy.

“Undeniably” a boy, in fact.

Write your own joke here.

I Am Your Father’s Brother’s Nephew’s Cousin’s Former Roommate!

June 10, 2010

Another quick nephew story:

So Mom is showing him some pictures I took of her in front of my house when she was visiting for her birthday, and he points out that the first two digits of the address are her current age.  She ponders this for a moment, then realizes that the last two digits of the address were her age when I was created.

Which means (and say it with me now if you recognize what I’m quoting in the title) . . .


But as coincidences go . . . I’ve seen less amusing ones.

To Be Clear

June 9, 2010

Just in case Monday’s post came across with any ominous undertones accompanying my mentioning of me not seeing much of my legion of nieces/nephews, I wanted to point out that 90% of that is because my closest niece and nephew clock in at well over 500 miles away from where I currently reside, and most of the rest are in the 1000 to 2000+ miles away range.

In other words, just meeting for Sunday dinner now and then would take some serious pre-arrangement.

If I were the “meet for Sunday dinner” type.

Which I’m not. (Which accounts for at least another 5%.)

And I Did Too . . . But How Would THAT Be Funny?

June 8, 2010

So I was talking with “she who is pregnant” last night, and she informed me that a lot of people that she works with are pregnant right now.  While this was hardly earth shattering news to me, what she said next was.

“And the funny thing is,” she added.  “Nine out of ten of them are girls!” (1)




(1) At my incredulous look, this statement was quickly followed by “You know what I mean!”

She Doesn’t . . . But I Do

June 7, 2010

I should begin this by explaining that at last count, I believe my nieces and nephews number somewhere in the ten thousands (perhaps I exaggerate just a tad), most of them having never met me, and having only the vaguest awareness of my existence.   (Why that’s the case is a story — or perhaps several stories — for another time.)   Despite/because of this fact, I always listen with great interest to any stories of their exploits that come my way, and I suppose it’s only fair to warn them now that I do far more than just listen to their stories . . . I remember them.  

Case in point:

At one point Mom was explaining to this young nephew of mine that when she was a girl, she didn’t watch television, she listened to her radio.  He seemed distinctly unimpressed by this idea, until she explained to him that in those days, the radio didn’t just play music, it told stories as well — all kinds of stories, from dramas to comedies, from tales of the old west to tales pushing the frontiers of science fiction. 

Now suitably impressed, my nephew pondered what she had said for a moment, then asked what I thought was a very reasonable question:

“Do you still have this radio?”

Ah . . . Prom (PG-13ish for barely-a-point euphemism)

June 4, 2010

Since I saw someone’s Prom pictures today, I found myself reminiscing about my own prom days. 

I didn’t go. 

No great reason behind it . . . I just didn’t feel like it; I dislike tuxedos, and if I want to hold a girl close, I’ll generally just ask her.  I don’t need music as an excuse.  

But the closer the date of prom approached, the more friendly flak I took for my decision.  For instance, one of my teachers told me that while I might not regret right away not going to prom, that I would regret it “someday.” (For the record, “someday” has still yet to arrive.)  It reached the point that I started having to decline invitations to go (to be clear, these invitation were far from legion, but it was “invitations,” plural), which prompted me to be all the more . . . “fervent” in my explanations that I really didn’t want to go.   Eventually, I ended up saying in no uncertain terms that I had better things to spend my time and money on than an “f-ing” prom date.  Naturally, I was then asked what if she was an “f-ing” prom date?

“In that case,” I answered.  “I’d still rather just skip the prom and get straight to the f-ing.”

Schedule Officially Returning To Normal

June 3, 2010

Well . . . to the “new” normal, at least, and just in time for me to wrap up everything that needs doing before little “plus one” arrives (at which point all ideas of a “normal schedule” will be thrown out the window, and I know it).  Current plan is to wrap up my final “nitpick” edit by no later than the end of this month, and then start fishing for an agent.

As I told someone recently, I’m hoping the fish are biting and it’ll be a short fishing trip.  Like any smart fisherman though, I do have back up plans if need be, but I’d still rather have fresh fish for dinner.

Particularly with a guest arriving soon.