Pensacola, FL (Where's Jackson?)

This year, we kept the family summer vacation tradition alive. We loaded up our new minivan with enough stuff to live in the wilderness for a week and headed out to our rented 16th floor condominium in Perdido Key, FL. You never realize how much stuff you need for small kids until you load it in your car. Pack-n-play, bedding for the pack-n-play, stuffed animals, toys, baby swing, baby play mat, bottles, frozen breast milk, a cooler and dry ice for the frozen breast milk, diapers, a suitcase full of tiny clothes, books, snacks, the list goes on and on...

My parents were supposed to leave on the same Friday morning we did, stopping in Vicksburg, MS for the night, then driving to the beach on Saturday. But my father got stuck at the office on Friday, so they drove straight through on Saturday. They beat us to the beach by a few hours. It's slow going with a two month-old. My parents initially wanted to make the drive together so they could see the kids, and potentially help us traveling with them. But it probably was for the best. We did manage to meet them for lunch in McGee, Mississippi on Saturday. We stopped at what looked like an old Sonic drive-in that had been converted into "Bumpers". The kids were screaming, we needed to stop and we hadn't seen anything better than a Jack in the Box for miles. The pictures on the menu looked delicious, so we decided to eat there. Meme and Grandpa showed up and we all sat down. We ordered burgers and a hot dog for Jackson. The hot dog was hot pink. Before we could decide if we should get him something else, he shoved most of it in his mouth, sans bun. The pink dye covered his lips. We only hoped he didn't get food poisoning. We said our goodbyes and piled back in the car. Five minutes down the road we passed a plethora of quality, reasonably priced restaurants. But on the bright side, Jackson didn't get sick, and we kept on our way.

Our driving routine, on average, consisted of driving for two hours and stopping for 45 minutes. Naomi started sleeping most of the night almost right away, but the daytime is a little different. She eats a lot slower than we were used to with Jackson, sometimes taking over an hour to eat, then she's hungry again in an hour and a half. Though, being forced to stop every few hours actually worked out okay. We just accepted that it was going to take that long, and none of us had to sit in the car for long stretches of time. Most enjoyably: Jackson.
He would be happy as a clam watching his dvds on the strapped-on, flip down portable dvd player we rigged up. Then Jackson and I would run around whatever parking lot or empty field next to the gas station where we stopped while Alana fed Naomi. It actually made it easier on everyone. This also worked out well with Jackson's potty training, as well as exposing him to the colorful range of freeway bathrooms this country has to offer. A few times we stopped at a mall, which was quite handy to our situation. Even the one in East Jackson, MS on the way back.

We made it to the beach Saturday evening, piled most of our stuff on carts and took it up the elevator to the 16th floor.

I was born in Pensacola. (Perdido Key is a barrier island off the coast of Florida and Alabama, about 15 miles southwest of Pensacola. Both parts of Escambia County, but are so close in proximity that Perdido Key is commonly considered part Pensacola. So much that the mailing city of PK is Pensacola.) I moved away when I was about Jackson's age, but we always went back to visit family and go to the beach. Almost every summer and Christmas from the time I was three until I was about 15. My memories of Pensacola are very fond. This was the first time I had been back since my grandmother died in 06, and the first time I'd been to the beach since I was about 20. Finally. We planned to take Jackson last summer, but decided against it due to the oil spill. I didn't want to risk taking Jackson if there were oil and harmful fumes on the beach. From what I heard, the clean-up crews did a good job and made it not so bad. As well, I wanted to go last summer and see my Great Aunt Nome before it was too late, which it turned out it was when she passed away earlier this year. We went to Colorado instead and had a wonderful, relaxing time with my Aunt Lokken. My Aunt Nome, who Naomi is named after, had been sick for a very long time. I hadn't see her in 15 years and was very torn about the decision. Even more so after she passed. But honestly, a part of me is glad I remember her how I do. An amazingly kind and gently spirit, full of life, who lived a full life on this Earth. And this year at the beach was perfect with the two kids and my parents. Nome's children Hope, Buddy and Bill came over with Bill's wife, Vicky, and met Jackson and Naomi. It was wonderful to see them again, and wonderful for them to meet our kids. Especially sweet Naomi.

We also spent time with my Uncle David and wife Kat who live in Perdido Key, just a mile or two from where we were staying. (Lokken and David are my dad's siblings. Aunt Nome was my mom's aunt; Bill, Buddy, and Hope, her cousins) They brought over Royal Red Shrimp the first night we were there. The second night, they went out with my parents and Alana and I stayed home with the kids. The third night we went to their home for an incredible seafood feast, then went to a local seafood restaurant the following night. One of my fond Pensacola memories is eating fresh gulf seafood every night. (This is why I can't understand why some people don't like seafood!)

The days started with relaxing over breakfast and coffee. Taking care of the kids then getting ready for the beach. Alana's friend from college, Sheri, who now lives in Birmingham, AL came down on Sunday and stayed a few days. We rotated Naomi duty in the condo, but it was largely Alana, Sheri and my mother. Alana did bring Naomi down to the beach a few times, and she was able to have some no-kid beach time and enjoy herself. Alana and I pretty much stuck to our summer duty: Alana took care of Naomi, I took care of Jackson. Jackson had so much fun at the beach. We weren't sure how he would react, but had a pretty good idea: He would love the sand, and love to look at the water, but would be timid about going in. Then once we took him in and held on to him, he would get used it, and be swimming around by himself, playing in the waves and having a ball. Which was spot on. It's amazing how well you know these little guys when you raise them, and more amazing still how much they constantly surprise you. So smart and funny.
One day, I was hanging out with Naomi in the condo while Jackson took a nap. They both woke up and I got them ready to head down. Alana came up to help me, and on the way out, both of us forgot something inside. I stayed with Naomi in the hall while Jackson was at the elevator. Then I went inside, and when I came out Alana said wide-eyed "Where's Jackson?" He usually does pretty good about waiting for us, especially in this hallway when there's not really anywhere to go except the elevator. But he was around a corner, and when Alana and I were fetching our forgotten items, he called the elevator, got in and went down. Alana went all the way down one elevator, out to the pool, came back up the other elevator. Still no Jackson. I urged Alana not to panic and we went down the elevator, stopping at every floor from 16 to 4, calling for Jackson. Finally, someone yelled "He's down here!" A sigh of relief, and we went to the ground floor. We expected Jackson to be upset and scared that he lost us, but he was jumping and laughing with a group of young kids he found. Turns out, Jackson went down one floor from 16 and two ladies with a group of kids got on. Can you imagine the elevator door opening and finding a three year old boy alone inside? They thought it best to keep Jackson close until his parents found him. They got to the ground floor and saw the elevator cue stopping on every floor coming down and figured it was us. I gave him the big hug/"you can't do that!" and thanked the ladies. Jackson then promted us to "Come on!!" "Come on kids!" and marched towards the beach. He stopped and held the iron gate open for everyone to pass. "Thank you," one of the ladies said, grinning. "You're welcome," Jackson responded. Constant surprise. He's not even three.

We spent four days sitting on the beach, swimming in the Gulf and drinking beer. It got choppy and cloudy a couple times, as is normal, but mostly it was the typical shallow, cool, crystal green water. The water is also very calm, especially in the morning, which attracted a wide population of fish, as well as blue crab, hermit crabs and electric rays (which I had never seen in all my years at this beach) It made snorkeling especially enjoyable. There were jellyfish one day, but they were gone the next. Mostly gone. I was snorkeling for shells at the shore, looked up and a jellyfish was about 6 inches from my mask. I leaped out of the water, and it was out of sight within a minute. Strange creatures jellyfish are.






One day, Alana, my dad and I took Jackson to the Naval Aviation Museum on the Naval base in Pensacola. I always enjoyed going there as a kid, and it was special to be able to take my son. He hooped and hollered about all the airplanes, and enjoyed it as much as I remember enjoying it. It is a wonderful museum if you are ever in the area. We stopped in the gift shop on the way out and I bought a few items, one being a Navy coffee mug. I got home and peeled off the $6 price tag to read "Made in China". I wrote a letter to the head of the museum.




Jackson probably won't remember much, if anything, of this vacation. Naomi certainly will not. But we definitely will. It was our first vacation with our two kids, and it was incredible. We all had a really great time with each other, and everyone left feeling so. The drive back was a little rough as we all just wanted to get home. Naomi most of all. She screamed for the majority of the last couple hours of the trip, as if she knew we were almost home. She didn't want to eat, she didn't need a new diaper, and she had slept more than she cared to. As soon as we got her out of the car she was happy. Jackson howled and ran around the house, finding all the toys he hadn't seen in a week. Alana and I picked up burgers, put the kids to bed, and left the unpacking for the morning. Such a wonderful vacation. And 10 lbs of straight-off-the-boat gulf seafood in the freezer to help us enjoy it a little longer.

We have a minivan

Today, we bought a minivan. Alana's Passat needed to be taken in to the dealership to have some recall parts replaced. While we were there, she walked over to the VW Routan and peered inside. Naturally, within a few seconds, a salesman was telling her about the vehicle. We had talked about her trading in her car for something bigger. Both of our kids fit in her Passat, but that was it. No picking up friends. No extra passengers. 4 and she's full up. If we were to decide not to pay off her car in the two years it would have taken, something with a third row was essential. In the last two months, we dropped about three grand on repairs. We couldn't help to think about how much more we would have to spend in two years, or how much it would be worth after that time. Somewhere down the line, Alana wanted a bigger car. Now seemed as good as time as any. We discussed it for a day. Then Alana went to the dealership this afternoon and drove home a barely used Volkswagen Routan.

It's actually a pretty sweet ride. No getting around that it's a minivan. But it has tons of room and drives like it's made it Germany. Tomorrow, were going to my parents' house to discuss our roadtrip to Perdido Key, FL that we are all taking on Friday. I was born in Pensacola, which is right next to Perdido Key, and I haven't been back in years. Honestly, most of the family I used to see there has either died or moved away. But there are still a few of our clan left in the area, and the white sand beaches are always a welcomed friend.

This is what we hope to be a family tradition: Go on vacation every summer. Last year, we took Jacky to see auntie Lokken in Denver, then all drove up to Estes Park for a few days. And this year, with the new addition, we're heading to the beach. In a minivan. God love it.

We have all been home this summer, me working a day or a week here and there. It has been an absolute blast. We want to kill each other from time to time, but overall, it's been a very nice three months. Jackson, despite his often quick temperament, is an absolute joy. He still says or does something new almost daily that puts us in stitches. I was cooking dinner 0ne evening, and Jackson walked around the corner, wearing nothing but a diaper, and looked at me. He reached his hand into his diaper, pulled out Alana's ipod and put it to his ear. "Hello." He said. "Yeah. Oh. Okay. Bye." And walked off. Something new almost daily. I can usually divert his pissy three year-old moods by making him laugh. When he gets whiney and unreasonable, I have an arsenal of tricks to make him happy. Top of the list is to tickle him by massaging his shoulders. Works every time. He can be near hysterical, and if I rub his shoulders and say "What's wrong? Are you tense? Do you need a nice relaxing shoulder massage?" He burst in to laughter. The better mood doesn't always stick, but most of the time it's a sure winner. Tonight I was putting him to bed, and as often nights, he didn't want to go to sleep. He started whining and crying about wanting whatever toy he could think of that he wanted, and I pulled the shoulder massage trick. Worked like a charm. Then he turned it around on me and said, "Daddy, cry. Daddy, cry". (I speak Jackson, so I knew exactly where he was going with this) I boo-hooed dramatically, and he grabbed my shoulders and started squeezing. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" he said. I laughed and fell over on the bed. He giggled with delight. We did that four more times in a row before I got him to lay down. We read
Go Dog Go and he enthusiastically recited the parts he knows (in particular, the dog party), and went to bed. It's all about getting on their level and connecting with them. They don't always have to like what you're making them do, but overall, if they like you, things happen much easier. I admit, I am sometimes tough on him, but I always try to talk to him and reconcile our difference after he's calmed down. I want him to like me. I sure like him. He lights up my day, and I want to do the same for him.

Naomi is just over two months old. There's not much personality in a two month-old, but it's definitely there. You could really see it start to blossom after the first month. She has started smiling and laughing and talking. Two month-old talking consists of the variation of sounds she is learning to make, with a very animated expression. I think because we are not so freaked out about just having to raise baby, we enjoy this time with her a lot more than we did with Jackson. Sure, she's a pain in the ass, she's two months old. Mostly, she just cries, eats, cries, sleeps, cries, cries, sleeps, poops and cries. But there are stretches in between the crying and the eating and the pooping where she just hangs out. On the floor or in her bed. In her swing or carseat. When she looks around and waves her arms and talks your ear off. You can see the person behind those big blue eyes, and the happy, loving girl in that enormous grin. I'm crazy about her already. I am loving the thought of watching her grow over the next few years. Watching Jackson grow as her big brother. Watching the two of them develop a relationship, for better or for worse.

I can't wait.

Jackson and Naomi

Meet Naomi Corinne Liane, born June 7, 2011 at 8:47pm in Dallas, TX. Much has happened since Jackson was this small two and a half years ago, and I have documented very little of it. Sorry.

Life since Jackson has been busy. Hectic at times. But that's what we signed up for, right? We found out last fall Alana was pregnant again. Miss Naomi wasn't really planned, but she wasn't not planned either. We had a window of about a year when we wanted to have a second child, and we, or I, made it through that window shortly after it opened. The thought was to have both kids 2.5-3.5 years apart. So that they go to the same schools. They (maybe) want to do some of the same things together as they get older. We want them to be close. We realize their personalities are largely out of our control. They may be completely opposite and share zero common interests. But we wanted to do what we could to help them have a good relationship . Personally, I want them to be close so Jackson will be around to look after Naomi, and protect her from all the punk boys trying to get her behind the band hall after school. I realize the irony in this, because I was one of the boys getting girls behind the band hall after school. But really, if either, or both, Jackson and Naomi are anything like me or Alana growing up, we're in trouble.

But they're still young and cute now, so let's focus on that.



Naomi was due on June 1. Among everything we heard about the second child, when the first one came is a good indication of when the next one will come. Jackson was six days early, so naturally we were expecting the same for Naomi. I had been working pretty solid since January, leaving Alana alone to be pregnant and take care of Jackson from the time she got up, to the time Jackson went to bed, with a long work day in between. God bless her. My last job ended in mid-May, technically leaving me two weeks to recuperate and get the nursery ready. But we were anticipating about a week. We did quite a major room shuffle in our home for the nursery, and it was still in the complete disaster phase. Boxes and bins piled in the front room, the office was barely functional, and the to-be nursery had a rocking chair in the corner and a crib in pieces on the floor. Luckily, my job has made me very fast at making a room look good, and I was able to get it all done by the last week of May. We went to the doctor and there were still no signs of labor. Her due date came and went, and still no Naomi. Alana was getting increasingly uncomfortable and frustrated, with good reason, and I upped my wine and beer budget. Alana tried everything she heard to help along labor: walking, swimming, spicy food (she was adding Tabasco to salsa with chips), raspberry tea, the horizontal tango. But nothing was happening. Induction was an option, but we agreed we'd rather not mess with nature too much. She hadn't come yet because she wasn't ready. We respect modern medicine but decided to give the miracle of birth a little more time. We had an induction scheduled for Thursday the 9th, because it can become a health issue after a 41 weeks. Sunday, Alana started having contractions, not hard, but steady. We planned to stay at my parents house that night, but decided to go home so we could be close to the hospital. Just in case. After going to bed, Alana had several hard contractions just a couple minutes apart and we went to the hospital at two in the morning. False alarm. We just panicked. They sent us home. Wuah wuah...

Alana's friend Sara had suggested raspberry tea and swimming. She had drank raspberry tea all day and went swimming in her parents' pool the day she had her son. Alana was making raspberry tea every time I turned around. And we had been swimming in my parents' pool a few times, including Sunday, but it hadn't proved effective. On Tuesday, Sara invited us over to have lunch and swim at her parents house. We went. Ate. Swam. Came home and took a nap. Alana started having contractions at about 4:30. They were fairly strong and steady for about an hour. At 5:15, they were 7-8 minutes apart and Alana decided she'd better take a shower. I alerted our moms. The plan was for my mom to get Jackson, and Alana's mom to come to the hospital. Both were half an hour away, which would normally be enough time, if it weren't rush hour, and if Alana's labor hadn't kicked in to high gear in a matter of minutes. She got out of the shower, was barely able to get dressed, and by 5:30 the contractions were 3 minutes apart. We hopped in the car, took Jackson to Sara's house and rushed across town to the hospital. We got there at 6:30, spent about 4 minutes in triage, and Naomi was born just before 9pm. Conclusion: Sara's parents have a magic pool.

Jackson's labor was a grueling 17 hours long from the time we got to the hospital to the time he was born. Naomi's was just under 2 1/2. We had both hoped and prayed for faster and easier delivery. At one point, the nurse was holding Naomi's head from coming out because the doctor wasn't in the room yet. The doctor entered, "Did you let the baby hit the floor?" It was obviously a joke, but wasn't too far off. (Obgyn's and their humor..)
A big difference in this delivery was we decided to get the epidural right away. We tried a natural delivery with Jackson, but 15 hours of uninhibited labor pain was enough. This time, Alana got the epidural shortly after getting in the delivery room, and we turned on the Mavericks game. Two hours later, I was holding my daughter.

This all happened in the middle of a pivotal Game 4 of the NBA playoffs, which the Dallas Mavericks ended up beating the "unbeatable" Miami Heat in 6 games to win the championship. When I looked at the television before Naomi was born, the Mavs where down by 8. The next time I looked after she was born, they were up by 5. I don't want to be presumptuous, but the Mavs won that game and the next two, including game 6 in Miami to clinch the title. Just saying. I think the girl's got mojo.

My mom brought Jackson to the hospital the next day to meet his new baby sister. This is what followed:

We are so so proud of our little boy. We couldn't have hoped for a more sweet, sensitive, caring big brother. Let's hope it lasts!

We were unsure how the following weeks and months would be after Naomi was born. We took Jackson out of his school for the summer before he starts his new school in September. (hopefully more on that later) So it's the four of us at home all day. We knew how much attention Naomi would demand as an infant, and just hoped we could give Jackson enough of his normal attention that he wouldn't sabotage her diapers with arsenic. So far so good. Alana put it pretty well when speaking on this last night with my parents. "Jackson and Madison are joined at he hip. Naomi and I are joined at the breast." I've been making it a point to include Jackson in everything and keep his day active and fun. The Texas summer heat makes it challenging starting around 11am, but we're managing. And Naomi has been a lot easier to take care of than we anticipated. It's true what they say about the second child being easier. It is. Not just that you're comfortable with what you're doing, and that is a big part of it, but, at least in our case, Naomi is a much more mellow child than Jackson was at that age. I'm sure part of it is because she's a girl and he's a boy. And that she's the second child. But she is a LOT easier. Looking back, I think baby Jackson prepared us pretty well. We could not be happier with our newly founded family, and feel incredibly blessed with with our marriage and two wonderful children. We know life is not without it's struggles and challenges, but after everything we've been through together and individually leading up to now, we feel pretty good about the road ahead.

September 2009

Work was slow. Money was tight. Jackson was turning one. As well, my wife Alana was turning 31. Her thirtieth birthday milestone was spent taking care of a week-old baby, still in post-op recovery. So this year, all she wanted was to go to Austin for the Austin City Limits music festival. I rallied friends and family to all pitch in for 3-day passes, and we were set to go the last weekend of September. I did this two months prior in order to secure a decent deal for the tickets, but now, as we neared the show dates, and our bank account dwindled, the stress level was overcoming the excitement level. I had not had a decent gig in 6 weeks, so I saw no other option than to take the opportunity to work in LA for a week, even though it meant I would miss Alana's actual birthday, and arrive the day before traveling down to Austin for the festival. Jackson's first birthday was on Monday, I left that Thursday, and came back the following Thursday. Many annoying hurdles were required for this to happen, but we managed to overcome them and the subsequent paycheck three weeks later was worth it. But let's go back...
First, I had to cash in my frequent flier miles to get a last minute ticket, but I was just shy of the miles for a round trip, so instead payed $50 for a last minute free one-way ticket and went to LA. I needed to transfer some of my wife's miles to my account which would cost another $50 and take three days to show up on their system. But supposedly, my reservation for the return trip would remain active until the transfer went through. However, as I later found out, I would still have to pay $100 instead of $50 for my extra last minute free ticket, even though I made the reservation days before. I wrote a very dissatisfied loyal customer complaint to the airlines and got a discount voucher for a future trip. The administrative disconnect within American Airlines made me want to throw a large piece of furniture out the three story apartment where I was staying, but the follow up customer service did well enough to restrain me.

Luckily, Alana had a good birthday weekend back in Dallas with her friends and family. I didn't need anymore guilt for being out of town. I felt bad enough for not being there for her birthday and making her take care of Jackson all week by herself, while juggling an incredibly busy week at work. Props to my lady.

At the end of an incredibly brutal week for me, it was time to return home. I worked six straight 13-15 hour days during a well-timed fall heat wave in southern California. Building, driving, standing, carrying heavy shit up stairs, and sleeping on a sofa. I was so ready to go home. I made a reservation on Tuesday night for an airport shuttle to pick me up at 4:45 am on Thursday morning. After an especially tough 15 hour Wednesday shoot, I managed to go to sleep at 2 am, wake up at 4:30am, and be on the sidewalk at 4:45 am, bags in hand. The shuttle was supposed to arrive between 4:45 and 5:00. I waited. And waited. Two minutes late. Five minutes late. Ten minutes late? At fifteen minutes late, I opened my computer and pulled up my reservation. Much to my surprise, I had made the reservation for the wrong day. I panicked heavily for about twenty seconds before I managed to calm myself down and think. My first thought was to call my friend who I had been staying with and working for. I know if I begged and maybe cried a little bit, he would take me to the airport. But he had to wake up in a few hours for another grueling shoot day. And it wasn't the ever convenient Bob Hope Airport in Burbank. That wasn't available with flier miles. It was the across town international nightmare LAX, 45 minutes away. Two hours in traffic. No, there had to be another option. One that would get me there in the next hour. I hauled ass down the hill to catch a taxi. While I had been sitting on the sidewalk waiting for my shuttle, I noticed three guys roaming the street. When I first saw them, there was a car parked in the street and a lady walking to the curb. She was delivering newspapers, while her partner inside the car moved down the street. So I didn't think much of the three other guys. But as I waited, there behavior seemed more and more strange. They all wore dark clothing with hoods, and they walked up and down the street, approaching apartment building doors, then walked back to the street. I caught a glimpse of one of them downing a beer and thought, this can't be good. I thought about calling the police, but was honestly getting pre-occupied with my own unfolding dilemma. As I was discovering the reality of my situation, a police car crept down the street with a spotlight. I guess someone had called. I used to live in this neighborhood. Hollywood proper, at the bottom of the hill. As much as I remember loving it, I am definitely glad I don't anymore.

I drug my bags as fast as I could down the sidewalk while trying to hail a cab. Unfortunately, Los Angeles isn't the best place to hail a cab. I made my way to the Renaissance Hotel, past my old place, and grabbed the only taxi at the cab stand. $200 for a free airline trip. $80 for the cab. But I was going home!

I missed my family so much. I got home early Thursday afternoon, went straight to the bed and passed out. I woke up to Alana and Jackson walking into the bedroom. What a site. Jackson's face just lit up. Alana set him down and he ran to the bed. I hoisted him in the air and squeezed him tight. I don't know of any feeling that quite compares to that moment. And made it that much harder to leave him again for another three days to go to Austin. But I had to. We had to go. I squeezed him extra hard the next morning before his Grammy took him to her house, then we packed the car and left town.

We weren't too sure where were staying. We couldn't afford a hotel, and our friends we planned on staying with had a hospital emergency and had to back out of their offer. Alana borrowed some camping gear from her brother, but it was forecast to rain all weekend. I was really hoping this trip would not be a disaster. I got on the phone, and one of our other friends there happened to be in Dallas that weekend, and her apartment was empty. She was generous enough to let us stay there, and arranged for her sister to leave a spare key under the mat. I knew it was going to be a good weekend. We spent the next three days watching some really great shows with 85,000 other people. Much of it during pouring rain, then in the giant mud pit that stretched throughout the entire venue. That's what I call rock n' roll.

We returned home and settled back in to life as usual. It felt good to be home. For real this time. It's amazing how fast kids grow when they're really young. I felt like I missed out on so much during those ten days I was away from Jackson. He learned to say "uh oh" when he dropped something and had developed some new dance moves: One arm out, lips perched, and bounce. He picked up on our laughter when he would drop a toy and say 'uh oh', then would pick it up again, drop it and say 'uh oh'. And we would laugh. This would continue several times in a row, making each time that much more amusing.

I kept Jackson home on Monday and played with him, sleeping when he slept. I picked him up from daycare on Tuesday and took him inside the house. I needed to go back to the car and bring some bags in, so I set him down and shut the front door. Something I've done many times. But this time he started screaming hysterically. It's true what they say about parents being able to distinguish different cries. Hungry cry. Cranky cry. Teething in pain cry. This was a scared cry. It just about broke my heart. I had been away so much, he thought I was leaving again. I came back in scooped him and held him close. I told him that Daddy wouldn't leave him again like that for as long as I could help it. He hopped back down and made his normal rounds around the house, babbling and pointing and laughing. It was good to be home.

A month later, I received a reminder call from the airport shuttle that I was scheduled to be picked up at 4:45 in the morning. I canceled the reservation and was refunded $31.

Thoughts on a life to come

My eyes open to the sound of gleeful screaming. I roll over and look at the clock: 7:50am. Right on time. My wife has been up for a while. She has fed Jackson and put his on clothes on. He roams the house while she gets ready. I hear the clumpidy-clumpidy-clumpidy on the hardwood floor, getting louder and louder as it nears the bedroom. I lean over the side of the bed as the door opens and greet Jackson's ear to ear grin. Good morning!! He races across the room and I hoist him up and squeeze his little body. He laughs from the belly. I just want to eat him up. Then he climbs over my face, stands on the pillow and beats the headboard. The kid never stops moving. We wrestle, which basically consists of me keeping him from flying off the bed and him kneeing me in the stomach and kicking me in the balls. The kid never stops moving.
My wife comes in to take him to daycare on her way to work. We wave "bye-bye Daddy" for a good five minutes until he waves back. He has learned to wave and thus we must wait for him to do so.

It's hard, quite impossible really, to compare your first child to any other. You get the stats from the doctor about their height and weight and head size (Jackson is still in the upper 90% in height and weight). People with baby experience tell you things about your baby in comparison to other babies. And even with the countless articles in the countless Parenting magazines, there is no way to truly compare the growth and development of your first child, because there is no point of reference. I expect every new parent feels the same: their child is the smartest, most perfect, amazing baby in the history of babies. And rightfully so. That said, Jackson is the smartest, most perfect amazing baby in the history of babies. There, I said it.

From the time he was in the womb, we imagined what he would be like. What he would grow up to do. What he would love and where it would take him in life. And even after the first several months of his life, these thoughts were all up to our imagination. Floating around in the ether. We watch him carefully and try to pick up on things that might give us a clue as to what direction his life will take. As of ten and a half months, there are two major areas we can see him exceeding in. Sports and/or music. We suspect he might be good at sports because: he's huge. and strong. He never stops crawling, playing, grabbing, bouncing, banging. He's developing physically ahead of the curve, and has, what we think, a pretty amazing balance. We have taken him to the playland inside the Galleria a couple times, we feel he needs to get out and play and it's just to hot outside, and we can't help compare him to other kids. He's bigger than the kids that are obviously a stage or two older than him. They are easily walking, almost running, we guess they're a good 16-18 months old, and they're smaller than Jackson. The lady who keeps him during the day has been keeping kids for 25 years and told us he could be the strongest baby she's ever seen. We weren't sure, him being our first kid and all, but we suspected before then that he was strong. It takes quite an effort to change him or keep him still if he doesn't want to. And he started walking at 10 months. I don't mean to sound overly boastful, but like I said, Jackson is the smartest, most perfect amazing baby in the history of babies.

He's also learned how to turn up the stereo. Yes, the first few times were on accident. At first, I think he was just attracted to the shiny circle that is the volume control. He played with the shiny circle over the course of several weeks, randomly turning the volume up and down. One day, I watched him carefully play with the stereo and I'm convinced he figured it out. He turned the music up really loud then looked at me like he was going to cry. I turned it down, and he played with it again. Then he turned it all the way down and looked at me like "what happened?" I turned it back up, and he turned it back down. This went on a few times, then he started turning the dial the opposite direction. The music went up and he smiled. It went way up, so I turned it down a little. And he turned it back up. I had a flashback of the ongoing battle between my mother and I over the car radio volume. And how I would covertly turn it up while she looked the other way. Which is exactly what I did with Jackson, except this time I was the parent and turned it down.

The other part of his personality that suggests a musical inclination started the day he was born. We had just arrived in our room after delivery and Jackson started crying. I picked him up and tried to soothe him but he kept crying. I had my laptop open and turned on Bob Dylan. Blonde on Blonde, I think. He stopped crying instantly.
Regardless of the kid, we usually have music playing. But we do try to expose him to as much music as we can. And he really seems to like it. He has been enamored with the little stereo we have in his room from the first moment we turned it on. He darts to it as soon as it starts playing, stands up on the cabinet and starts dancing. I bang on the cabinet in time with the music and he watches with awe. He looks at my hand banging with the beat, then at the stereo, then back at my hand. I see his little wheels turning then he starts banging the cabinet and lets out that glorious little baby yell of his. I showed him his little bongo drum we have in his room and we do the same thing. He bangs on the drum and bounces up and down. My heart skips a beat.

When my aunt Lokken was in town helping my mother recover from back surgery, we took Jackson to their house a few time to spend time with his great auntie. I was working one Saturday and my wife took him over. She took a nap while Jackson and Lokken played. We told her the bongo story and she tried it out for herself. Apparently it's not just us. Lokken was convinced the kid's got rhythm. And then one day when I picked him up from daycare, Miss Jeanette said he spends a lot of time at the toy keyboard, banging on the keys and dancing. My guess is he's putting on a show for all the other kids.

No matter what the kid wants to do, we will support him. We will encourage him to follow his passion, because that is the only true way to be happy in life. And while my imagination may wonder off to Jackson Liane, all star quarterback, or rockstar, or concert pianist (there is no greater passion than that of a concert pianist) If his physical aptitude and musical aptitude come together and he wants to be a dancer, as my wife likes to joke, then so be it. He will be the smartest, most perfect, amazing dancer in the history of dancers.

The Year of the Bat

I had a dream last night that Jackson was climbing. We were out on the patio of my tiny apartment, one that I had never seen until this dream, and he started climbing the fence. He also had a full head of black hair, then I realized he was Mexican. I was surrounded by a dozen or so of my Mexican relatives, so I guess that made it okay. I was also smoking a cigar. I'm not sure if I was Mexican, come to think of it, there weren't any mirrors on my patio.

Luckily, Jackson hasn't actually started climbing anything yet, (he's not Mexican either, just to clarify) but I can't think it will really be that much longer until he does . He just turned five months old, and already he fits into twelve month old clothes. We nearly ran out of clean pajamas one night, the pile of baby clothes next to the washer growing ever so daunting. The only ones left were a pair of red 6 month Christmas jammies. But in all honesty, half of his pajamas at this time were Christmas themed. Everyone thinks it's a cute idea to buy a baby Christmas pajamas, and I'll be damned if he's not still wearing them in Spring. But this night saw the end of it, for we had to cut the toes off because Jackson couldn't straighten his legs. We, of course, took the baby out of the pajamas before cutting off the toes. He slipped in fine, and the bottom of the now footless pajama legs went up to his knees.

Alana worked from home the following day and we were able to go to the much loathed Wal-Mart SuperCenter for new pajamas. I feel like I'm becoming a Wal-Mart native, and it's frightening. In all fairness, we had to return some diapers (too small) that my mom got Jackson for Valentines Day, and we needed more formula. But I will digress. Any more ranting about Wal-Mart isn't good for anyone. Though something good did come from it, besides free diapers and cheap organic formula... Batman pajamas WITH a cape. It even has a six-pack painted on the front of the top, which is good because at this point Jackson's belly is proportionate to a third year fraternity brother.

We waited to put him them on until the weekend when my family from Denver came to visit. They didn't have much time to see us, but a new baby is a great excuse for many, many things. In this case, ducking away for a few hours from other family obligations to come see us. I kidnapped my two cousins Friday night and brought them back to the homestead. Jackson woke up about midnight to eat, and we kept him up for a little while to play with his new cousins. New to him, because they hadn't yet met. We drank some beer, I flambeted some bananas and Jackson flew around the room in his Batman outfit. A good time for all. My aunt and uncle came over the next morning to pick up their kids and see the baby. We hung out for about an hour and they left. It's only about once a year I get to see that wing of the family, but it's always enjoyable. (They're the weird librals from Denver..."liberal" intentionally spelled Texan.)

"I can resist anything except temptation." - Oscar Wilde

The bed tempts me.

It calls to me like an irresistible lover. The comforter wrapping its arms around me. The pillow caressing my hair. A sweetness I hold so dear. I step out of the shower and the clock reads 8:25 am. "Half of success is waking up early," crosses my mind. Who the hell said that, anyway? But I know it holds at least a partial truth. "I wish I could just sleep for another half an hour," I thought. But that would just tease my longing. I rationalize. It was just five hours ago that I woke up and fed the baby. Another one and half hours of sleep before that. Six and a half hours... That's enough. Damnit. This all could have been avoided if I hadn't woken up to a hungry baby being laid next to me in bed. The mere redemption of such an awakening was almost worth going back to bed.

I make a large pot of coffee.

Things to do. Things to do. This time of economic downturn is directly affecting almost everyone I know. The only way to survive is to stay on top of things. Don't relax too much, or it could all slip right out from under you.

The day is spent work hunting. Alana takes Jackson to daycare on her way to work, and I sit down in my office and scour the internet. In the last couple weeks I have discovered, (a) nobody is else is working either, and (b) I need a reel. I had it listed on my whiteboard in my office, but it moved up a couple spots to priority. And the script I've been writing is almost ready. I've been reserving the afternoons to work on it, after I exhaust my resources and energy for the day looking for real work. And lately, I stay up after the wife and kid hit the sack and work on it some more. It's about a couple of teenage kids, spending the weekend at a lake house with their parents, who find an abandoned camp ground in the middle of the woods. They break into the chapel and unlock a terrifying secret. I had a dream about five years ago. Jumped me clear out of bed in the middle of the night. I never do this, like a writer is supposed to, but I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down my dream. Several months later I put a story around it. I picked it up again about eight months ago to revise. It is a story my mother would hate, and would make my father question my redemption. I have high hopes for it.