I'm still here

Hey sweetie. I'm sorry for the relatively emotionally heavy tone of the last few entries (and, if you are reading them backwards, then I apologize in advance that you may have to spend more money on Kleenex...do they have Kleenex in the future?).

I'm having a hard time lately getting even enough time to Tweet let alone time to write blogs to you (do they have Twitter in the future too?). In fact, part of the point of this entry is to let you know that I'm sorry this is a bit of a theme in our lives right now. I am finding that my new job is making it necessary for me to be away from you for really long periods during each day and it bothers me. What bothers me more is that, often when I am at home, I feel very burned out and I am either too stressy or too tired to be much fun.

I am not complaining. Daddies (and Mommies) who have jobs outside of their homes have to be away from their babies. It's a good thing because it means that we are able to get stuff so we can take care of you properly. I am lucky enough to really enjoy what I do and I promise you that if I ever stop loving what I do, I'll start doing something different (Mommy can tell you that I'm a real grouch if I have to do something I don't want to do). The reason I mention this is because I want you to know that, even though I have to be away from you during the day, I'm still here and I am completely in love with a whole bunch of things that you will never remember doing, saying, being, or trying.

The fact that you won't remember these times is a double-edged sword. I clearly have to tell you that I was gone a lot during the daytimes of your early childhood because you won't really remember that happened. Unfortunately, it also means that you won't remember the cool stuff and the laughs that we get to have when I am home. Your Mom says that you won't remember the actual events but that your heart will remember the feelings you had. If that is true, I hope you remember how happy you feel when I return home at the end of the day instead of the fact that I'm gone for most of it.

Here are some things I wish you would be able to remember:

• How hard you try to find me when I hide behind the corner.
• How often you have used my chest hair as a balance aid.
• How much you love the fact that I won't let you play with my eyeglasses and how hard you consequently try to get them off of my face.
• How you babble to me because you know I need to be able to talk to you.
• How you immediately started licking an old breakfast plate when I was momentarily mesmerized by the new version of Pac-Man for the PS3 (a classic computer system that was used for playing amusing and, clearly, distracting video games).
• The fact that you puke on me often and without so much as a belch to alert me to the coming flood.
• Your face the first time you tasted solid food (sweet potato). I have never seen a more exquisitely balanced expression of both pleasure and alarm in my life. It was like the face you would have if a blessed Angel of God Almighty had just appeared before you and then slapped you across the cheek.
• The fact that you love being spooked and surprised by us. You have the loveliest bated-breath grin every time we figure out a new way to sneak up on you or swing you around. I am in no hurry for you to develop fear.

There are a zillion other things I am forgetting. I'll write other posts about them later. For now, the last thing I would love for you to be able to remember is in this picture:

I haven't shared this picture with anyone until now. I don't know why...mostly because I forget to. But it might also be because this is the moment I met you...and that's something that is just ours. For a few moments, the nurses, your Oma, and Auntie Nicola just left us alone and let us bond. After 30 hours of trying to get into the world, you were born. This is the very first time you looked up at me and I looked down at you. If you could have spoken at that moment, I think you would have said something like, "What the hellllll just happened??" The best part was when I was able to just hold you and you stopped crying. Your alert little violet eyes were still darting all over the place trying to adjust, but your heart was calm. You'd been fed by your Mother and then held securely by your Father (securely because I sat the heck down). In that moment, I looked down at you and told you who I was (I think I told you my name) and that I was there for you.

And I'm still here...even when I am away.

Dad.