Saturday, July 23, 2011
Daddy thoughts on my son's birthday...
My son's birthday party wrapped up about an hour ago. Mom gets ALL of the credit for this one: she did the planning, the organizing, the decorating, buying the food... All I did was wrap gifts, show up, and help referee children.
That shot there is just the pile of stuff left after the little man has gone off to bed. All goodies that he'll be dying to play with tomorrow. As far as today went, he's overjoyed just to have three brand new batman figures sleeping next to him in his bed. And all are goodies that I'm sure Daddy will have to help him figure out, open up, or just play with in general. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
My birthday was this past Thursday. I've never been one much for celebrating my own birth, so the fact that Mattie was born exactly one week later is just awesome. We can have his party on the weekend between, and I end up getting exactly what I wanted anyways: just a big smile on my boy's face. Ten years ago, I wouldn't have given a shit about the middle of July. Now, I've grown into such a softie, and a daddy to boot, that I can't wait for it.
Which brings me to why I'm sitting here writing this instead of doing the mountain of homework that has sprung up around me. My daddy feelings are weighing awfully heavy right now. I have a two-month-old foster son sleeping soundly behind me, and I'm having a little daddy crisis knowing that he's probably not going to end up staying here. This little boy, who smiles and starts to giggle every day when I get home from work and pick him up, is most likely going back to the people that didn't stop doing crack when they found out that they were pregnant. Back to the mother that doesn't bother to show up to all of her visitations. Back to the father that most recently was released from prison for beating the living fuck out of the mother.
Who's going to throw him his birthday parties? Who's going to make sure that he gets a world full of crap that he never knew he wanted until he saw it? Who's going to make sure that the house is full of aunts and uncles and grandparents to make a gigantic deal out of his special day?
Who's going to go out of their way to love this little boy like we do?
I'm supposed to feel good about "reunification." I'm supposed to be happy that the parents have met the standards that the county requires to get their child back. Unfortunately, I think that the county's standards and mine are a world apart.
So now... I'm sitting here holding a conversation with my twelve-year-old stepson about the show he's watching in his room instead of trying to fall asleep while my almost-four-year-old is snoozing next to his brand new Batmen, and my baby boy foster son is out cold in his little bouncer just waiting to let me know that he needs to eat again... And I'm wondering just how the hell someone else is going to be able to make sure that he gets to the point that I could be holding that conversation with him about his favorite show instead of sleeping.
I like to consider myself one hell of a man's man... but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm choking back tears just thinking about all of this. I usually like to pepper my writing with any kind of joke or sarcasm... I just can't bring myself to do it right now. I'm worrying about a future that my little baby might never have to live through...
But probably will.