On The Boys Turning Two

Two years ago, two tiny little boys came into my life. I was filled with anxiety and fear: fear that I would break them, that I would fail them in some fundamental way, fear that I wouldn’t be able to be what they would need me to be. Through bleary eyes and almost sleepless nights, we slogged on from one day to the next, making our way through those petrifying early days of parenthood by running on fumes, delirium and that new parent high.

We didn’t break them. They grew quickly.

A year ago we were in St. George, Utah. We picked a theme of Super Mario Bros. for their birthday because Amanda I like gaming, the colors were fun and conducive to twins and because the boys weren’t yet “into” anything per se... Maybe anything with wheels, but nothing beyond that. We had a small celebration over at my brother’s house. He made a cool cake. The boys ate 1-Up mushroom cupcakes and vomited green frosting all over Amanda later that night.

I was still petrified, but about new things. I worried most of all about being able to provide for them financially and emotionally.

____________________________________________________________

It’s amazing what two years can do. For this birthday celebration we could pick either Yo Gabba Gabba or anything with trains because those are their favorite things in the world; trains probably win out but Amanda and I are partial to DJ Lance's antics. We'll figure it out prior to your party this weekend, but I'm still voting for a Muno cake.

I know I am a good father now; I know I am unlikely to break them and I know my failures (the inevitability of which I’ve come to accept) can be mitigated by greater effort…or if all else fails, therapy. I now know no amount of income will be sufficient because I’ll want to buy them the entire world.

I’ve come to expect chaos, and then expect love.



Chaos



Love (amid chaos, about an hour later after finally falling asleep)



I expect one of the boys to hit/bite/harm the other and then give them a hug. I expect a screaming, thrashing tantrum followed by cuddles and spontaneous hugs. I expect the accidental “shit” that slips from one of our lips to be echoed by the boys at the most inopportune time. I expect to wake up in the morning anxious to see them and collapse, exhausted from the day’s efforts, at night.

I expect things I never expected when we were expecting, and I anxiously await each new development as they grow far faster than I could have imagined.

My dear Timothy, my dance machine and my dear Raiden, my little clown… Daddy is in awe of you. I promise to try to never tell you that you’ll understand something only when you’re older, but know that you won’t understand just how much I love you until you have a child of your own.

All that brings me to my mother, who also has a birthday today. Although our options were limited, we picked May 7th as our planned c-section day specifically so that the boys could share their day with her.  

Mom, you amaze me. I can only hope I show my boys a fraction of your determination, strength, patience and resolve. I hope your day is wonderful and I cannot wait to see you at the end of the month.

Happy birthday to all three of you.