I was making some changes and updates to this site when I realized that Write To Mean has been online for just over a year now! It took me a bit by surprise to realize that almost exactly a year ago I wrote How to Start, a simple, unassuming post on a blog about putting some f*cking ink on paper.
And now I have this huge online legacy… oh, wait. A year later I don’t have much to show in terms of “moneys”, but this blog has accomplished some cool stuff…
I got to thinking quiet a bit about becoming a dad… and I got to bitch about putting together baby furniture.
Remember that baby that was born? This blog was the information channel throughout the whole labor process. [click to continue...]
He’s looking up at me… Holy shit, man. Here’s this little boy, this son of mine, pulling himself up on a pile of dishes in the kitchen to show me how he can stand. And it really seems like he’s looking up at me with a “hey dad, are you looking at this” kind of look.
Naw, he can’t be thinking that. He’s only 8 months old. I’m sure I still look like some blurry tree to his developing eyes. Emotional father-son connections haven’t formed yet. His lizard brain is the only thing that’s really functioning; the one that says, “eat eat. Mouth mouth. Me me. I’m going to stay awake forever!”
But, shit, man! He’s really looking up at me with that look… On this loosely stacked column of dining plates (my, that’s looking awfully unsafe), my son has pulled himself up to create a leaning tower of chubbiness; a sort of meat turret topped off with this f*cking charming grin, eyebrows pulled up, head cocked a little to the left and backwards to face me, little chubby nubbins’ of toes fatly fixed on the slate floor.
Is he really looking at me to make sure I’m noticing him? Have we started that already? [click to continue...]
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