Back in May...

My boy turned two back in May. I am finally getting around to creating a pictureful post to commemorate his two years of life and the joy he has brought us. get your scroll finger ready! (pardon the fuzzy shots, some came from my phone)

This is where it began. They didn't tell us but we were damn sure he was a girl. Whoops...


A few months later I was given this amazing little creature. Shockingly born with man parts.



It was love at first sight. Loved by one and all. Even the girl who cried every time we said "but what if God gives us a boy instead of a girl?"


The boy grew, and he was damn cute.


And sweet. And perfect.


Before we knew it he was crawling and sitting up.


It wasn't long before he was walking and showing us how much he loved to be outside (his face doesn't convey that in the second picture, so you'll just have to trust me that it's true).




He was a real charmer. The kind of boy you invite home for dinner to meet your folks.


He's also a mess-maker, and if I didn't love him so much I'd probably go crazy. Jim was spot on, though, this boy loves his peanut butter.


But he cleans up nice.


Halloween.


Christmas.


 I'm losing my chronological order here, but there are shots I love that I can't bear not to share.

He's dirty, and looks a little stubborn, but I love this picture of him. I have it hanging on my living room wall.


 This always makes me grin. Every time. Whatever it was that made him cry, I don't even remember anymore, but it was harmless enough to take pictures instead of console him. In fact, he was probably crying because I wouldn't let him take my camera. He likes to try.


A day at the beach this March. The wind was chilly and he was soaked, but he loved every minute.


And, really, what's not to love about this scenario?


It actually happens pretty often...


 Working hard with Mommy.


So happy to be with Daddy.


Muscles!!


 Hanging with his Big Sissies.


My dapper little gentleman.


A bunch of adorable moments.
   




His wild hair a few weeks ago.


 And now after his latest haircut. Handsome. Charming. A turdy little trouble maker. And he's all ours. Happy 2nd birthday to my little love.

Fathers.

Today we took a family day and went into the city. We took the kids to lunch at a nice deli, and then for a walk along the river to hit up the candy stores. We had a wonderful day. But, on the way there we were listening to the radio... I don't know what station or program it was because my husband changed it and it wasn't one of my pre-sets. They were talking about fathers. There were two stories in particular that really got me thinking. The first was a girl who talked about a letter she'd gotten from her father, written before he passed away. She said it was the most sincere thing he'd ever said to her. The other was from a man who'd lost his father as a boy, and how now as an adult and parent he tried to look at things from what must have been his father's perspective.

It got me thinking about my own father. I've noted in the past that we don't have a relationship at all, really. There were plenty of "I love yous", but incidents over the years led me to doubt the sincerity of his words. I think the most sincere thing my father ever told me happened when I was 13 years old.

Dad had called me out and told me that there was some venison that had gone bad in the kitchen and to take it over to my grandfather's house next door and feed it to his animals (he had various cats and chickens around the property). I went out, found the bag, and did as I was asked. When I got home my dad was livid. He'd neglected to tell me there were two bags, one rotten and the other fresh and marinating. He threw the rotten bag of meat to me and made me take that one out. I got yelled at pretty good, I was upset and crying as I did the chore.

When I came back he'd mellowed out, apologized and told me he loved me. Then he told me something else, something I don't think he ever told any of my other siblings. I don't even know if he told my mother. We've never talked about it. He said, back in the late 70's when he'd gotten out of active duty Army he had had a girlfriend. She'd gotten pregnant and aborted their baby. She never told him until after it was all over. He said that at the time he didn't know why it was wrong, he just knew that somehow it wasn't right. It devastated him. He went home to his room and cried and cried. That child would have been about 2 years older than I am. I forget exactly how he made the transition from that to this next part, but he went on to tell me that sometimes when he got angry, especially with my aunt and uncle who lived next door, he thought about that baby. He thought about how difficult it had been for him to provide for our large family, and how easy it was for my aunt and uncle. That made him angry and jealous.

I told Matt about what I was thinking in the car today. I'd told him that story before, but he hadn't realized how young I was. I cried when I retold it today. I don't know if it was for me or for Dad. Maybe both of us. I'm still not really sure Dad understood the root of what he was telling me. I'm not sure I am. The most sincere thing I think my father ever told me wasn't how much he loved me, but of the gut wrenching grief he experienced when he found out that that woman had killed their child.