Five Years of Mikey

In two days, Mikey will be five years old. Five years seems like such a short period of time, mainly because I feel like he’s been here forever. I’ve been in love with him since the day we found out we were having him and he has been everything that we could have hoped for in a son.

Jaime and I knew that our third child would be our last, so I was really hoping we would have a boy. Our girls are the most beautiful, sweet and loving daughters that we could ask for and I’m lucky to have them for a million reasons. But I feel like I always wanted a son, in large part, to be all the things that I wished my dad would have been for me.

My dad is somebody I admire for a lot of reasons, but he’s from a generation that is more inclined to eat glass than say, “I love you.” Even now, whenever I talk on the phone with my dad and say, “I love you,” he reacts like Nancy from Nightmare on Elm Street when Freddy stuck his tongue through the receiver. That was always something that bothered me, as I figured if somebody never says those three words, then they must not love you. I should have known that’s not the case, as evidenced by how easily I cry every fucking time I watch Field of Dreams and Ray’s father says he wants to have a catch with him. The action speaks the words that aren’t spoken. As beautiful as that movie moment is, I’ve always wanted Ty Cobb to emerge from the cornstalks, call them pussies and ruin their moment. It’s still a perfect scene, nonetheless. The coolest thing about that scene is that I feel like it exemplifies how baseball often serves as a vital link between a father and son, as it gives both a reason to be in each other’s company without having to exchange anything emotionally. One of the things I looked forward to most about having Mikey was that I could watch Phillies games with him and have that bond. The day he was born was the first game of the playoffs and I got to hold him throughout the game. It was everything I hope for and more, as Roy Halladay threw a fucking no-hitter. I’m surprised Mikey’s head didn’t fly off of his neck as I shook him like a bottle of fucking champagne when the final out was recorded. My love for him almost resulted in shaken baby syndrome, so I’m glad he checkout okay and I can just express love a little less enthusiastically from then on out.

With Mikey, I make sure I tell him and show him that I love him each day. But, I also know that I’ll do something which will inevitably make him hate me just a little bit and that will serve as a motivator for if and when he becomes a father to a boy someday. I kind of feel like he already does hate me a little bit, as he doesn’t think twice about challenging me, blatantly ignoring me when I tell him to not do some things. It’s still the cutest fucking thing in the world. Few things compare to when I tell him to get a cup for orange juice, then he proceeds to slug juice out of the gallon jug while making eye contact with me the entire time. He is such a jerkoff and it is part of what makes me crazy about him.

Regardless of whatever I do that fucks him up, I hope Mikey knows how much I love him. I really have loved him from the time we found out we were having him. I would have dreams about him and would feel that warm feeling in my chest just from thinking of him while I slept. Since being born, he has just done shit that makes me love him so much that my chest hurts. When he was a baby, he would crawl over to me when I would be taking a nap on the couch and kiss my face. It was one of my favorite things and one of those moments that I’d trade anything for to happen again. But, the impermanence of such beautiful moments is a large part of what makes them beautiful. I feel lucky to have had them at all. Thankfully, I still get a similar feeling from watching him play, hearing him say funny shit, telling him to put on underwear when he’s walking around with a huge smile on his face because he is in the living room with his bird out, watching him say and do sweet things for his mother and sisters and seeing him just being him. He has helped me reach a point in life where I don’t give a fuck about anything but spending time with him, Jaime and the girls. I don’t think a person can be any more special than simply making another person just want to be in his presence. He is that for me. I’m lucky to be his dad.







Category: blog

4 comments on “Five Years of Mikey

  1. Fucking beautiful, man.

    • Thank you, Ken. I appreciate that.

  2. Thanks for your brutally honest words. I love the fact that you are able to express how much you love your kids. You crack me up!Keep up the good work!!

    • Thank you, Blake. I appreciate you!

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