The Boys

The language of fathers and sons... it's something special. Something obvious. I often hear about the singular connection between a father and daughter (I'm living proof, you could say), but in Jim's case, I think he could only have had a son. Which is not to say that if we'd had a girl, he wouldn't have loved her with his whole heart. Of course he would have. But for some reason I feel he was always destined to have a little boy.

It was Jim, in fact, who was ready for it all before I was. I was still terrified of even thinking about having a baby, possibly looking for, but never finding a solid reason not to at all. It was Jim who reminded me that in everything we had done so far together, we had been so very good. What made me think having a child would be any different? He was right, of course. He usually is.

We both were positive Grif was a girl. And both (secretly) trying not too hard to hope for a boy, afraid to voice to each other the near certainty that we would soon be looking at pink paint for the walls. This time, we were both wrong. Gloriously so.

From the very beginning, we've absolutely shared all aspects of parenting. And I mean all. Unlike many dads, Jim was able to take off more time than even I could, and we were a true team from the minute we drove to the hospital. I often say that in those first three months after Grif was born, Jim was hands-down the better mother of the two of us. Even now, because of his schedule and mine, Jim gets to be stay-at-home dad for days at a time while mommy goes to work. Something very few dads get a chance at, a blessing I know he values so very much, especially during the times when he's gone six and seven days at a time. Even now, he and Grif play together in a so much more connected, full way than the boy and me. And rather than being even the tiniest bit envious of that, I can't wait to watch it unfold. To the first time they "have a catch," to when Jim teaches him how to ride a bike, or fix an engine, or mow the lawn, or build a campfire, tie knots, train dogs, fly kites, wash dishes, do laundry, drive, fly, care for, love, live.

Just today in the car, Grif was dreaming of the future. When I grow up, I'm going to be a pilot, just like daddy. It was the first time that I'd ever heard him say all the words together, in a full sensical sentence (some days he's going to fly planes and be a pilot, others he's going to grow up to be a plane, or a firetruck or a train... as if he could grow up to be the vehicle instead of its driver). To be just like daddy. Hard not to love everything about that, right? My boys. My blessings.