The Giving of Thanks

Hey son! Its been a few months since I've updated your blog. Since Father's day, you've crawled, walked, took off in a full sprint, said "ma-ma, da-da" and have provided joy and excitement to the family. . You recently celebrated your 1st Thanksgiving with us, your grandparents & Great-grandparents. We were more excited to give you real food. Mommy's chicken & sweet potatoes, Nana's dressing, soft peach cobbler crust. Let's just say that contents of your diaper after Thanksgiving dinner was not nice. The 1st Thanksgiving was a success but in 10 days is a HUGE milestone.....someone turns 1!

 

 

 

Father's Day

Quietly, I had been looking forward to this day. The anticipation was building for something I never celebrated & honestly had no idea what to expect. Today was father’s day & I was able to celebrate this day because of you, and an extra-large shout out to mommy who spent most of her day cooking, making sure my day was special.

When I tried to tell you it was Father’s Day at 7am you stared at me like “….so what, where is my bottle?”. Just like me, you’re not a morning person. I knew better than to bother you before you had coffee and donut. Mommy made a big breakfast & a seafood feast for dinner. Nana & Grandpa came over to visit. You wore a father’s day t-shirt, and when I picked you up and said “hey big guy its father’s day!”, this time at 10:30am, you were a bit more receptive and gave me the biggest toothless smile. Maybe it was the funny face I made, or you knew what I was saying using your 6 month old infinite wisdom. Either way my day was complete. Mommy said you picked out the gifts ( I like your taste in cologne), and I even admire your humor when it comes to greeting cards.

 

So the night comes to a close. The dishes are being washed & you’re crawling all over the place. And you gave me the best gift a child could give their father. A gift unmatched by anything else I have ever received. That’s right, a massive poop. The mother of all poops. A poop of epic proportions. No days off I guess. Thanks for letting me know how you really feel about me. 1 Fathers day down, 1 million more to go.

You Never Forget Your First Pair

It’s my fault. Actually it’s your grandpa’s fault. He created this monster in the early 90s. As a father, you hope that your son enjoys the things that you may have enjoyed as a kid. I wonder what superheroes you’ll dress up as for Halloween,  what sports you might play, which athlete or movie star ‘s poster will be taped to your bedroom wall or even if you’ll prefer chocolate ice cream over vanilla. But as a rite of passage, it would be sacrilegious (this will be a spelling word in a few years) for your 1^st pair of shoes not to be an Air Jordan. My 1st pair of shoes were a pair of powder blue & white Nikes that zipped up, and to this day, your grandfather still has them in a tin Nike box in his top drawer. There’s an indescribable feeling as I tied your 1^st pair of shoes like I was handing down a legacy….more like an expensive habit. As we stood in front of our closet wearing our diaper & Fruit of The Looms, we gazed at our options making life decisions of how cool we wanted our feet to look that day. You mumbled something so I assume my choice met your infant approval. 

This means nothing to you now & you won’t remember getting them. You never saw him play, and I can’t wait for our debates of how you think Lebron Jr, Westbrook Jr, or Durant Jr is better than the Greatest of All Time. Sure, there will be a player whose jersey you’ll beg me to buy, and I’ll respond just like grandpa when I asked him for the latest sneaker and he said “Those cost $150!” There’s no doubt that you’ll be well adjusted to the Jumpman lifestyle because your grandpa kept me in a fresh pair. I think my 1^st pair was in 1991 as a first grader. One day you’ll appreciate the new shoe smell and coordinating outfits to match, or you'll like the Batman velcro shoes 100 times more,  but right now you just at this foreign object preventing you from putting your toes in your mouth. Like Father, Like Son. 

No Son, That's Not Food

Hey Son! Today you turned 4 months. 

So you’ve discovered your hands & feet. It’s pretty cool when you watch a baby find new things because that’s all they focus on. You’ve mastered putting fingers in your mouth, now you’re working on putting the whole hand in there, and when I try to pull your hand away you starting eating my fingers. Apparently everything is food to you. Car seat straps, tables, and somehow you put your foot in your mouth and took your sock off. We gave you teething rings but you're smart enough to know that there's nothing coming out of it. Considering your flexibility, gymnastics is in your future. It appears that you are ready for real food & a visit to the Original House of Pancakes confirmed that. 

 I’m sure you’re sick of formula and I would be too if I smelled bacon every Saturday morning. But the way you look at a menu as if you’re deciding whether to get toast instead of pancakes reassures me that you’ll have a love for breakfast like your dad & grandpa. As you reach for the bacon and glass of orange juice I think back to a few days ago when I told “no no son, that’s not food”, only for you recognize that what I’m eating really is food, but you just can’t have it yet. Nope, not going to have mommy upset with me because you got a tummy ache from 2 eggs scrambled with American cheese. Take my word for it, the meal was good & I probably deserved the gibberish expletives that you yelled at me. Just enjoy that pacifier until you can actually chew and swallow.

To Grandmother's House We Go

Cameron & Papa

Cameron & Grandma

The World Tour of Grandparents has officially ended. In February you took your first trip to STL to visit mommy’s side of the family, and needless to say, you stole the show. Nothing else matters when you come around, especially to Grandma Doreen. You slept most of the drive down there, which we were grateful for because of the limited resources in the family sedan. Everyone came to see you, even people I hadn’t met before. There was Auntie Teresa, Uncle Mark, about 20 great aunts, too many cousins to name & even your drunk Uncle Solomon brought some Crown Royal to commemorate your 1^st trip to the 3-1-4. (Don’t worry; I’ll drink it for you.) I don’t think you wore the clothes that we packed because Grandma bought you so many outfits and of course you wore them so she could get pictures. I am convinced the word Cameron rhymes with the word spoiled.

Cameron & Uncle Mark

Cameron & Great-Grandparents

But it doesn’t stop there. The next weekend we visited your Great-grandparents (my grandparents). The joy on their face when we just showed up without calling was priceless. Unexpected guests are always unwanted, but exceptions can be made when it’s your great-grandson. Watching senior citizens trying to take pictures on a smart phone and then ask “Ok, now where does the picture go?” is the funniest thing ever, but they had to capture your 1^st visit. Sidenote: I printed some pictures to give them.

Cameron & Nana

The last stop on the Grandparents World Tour was your 1^st visit to Nana & Grandpa’s house (my parents). You slept most of the time while we went through old family photos and Grandpa decided to just give you my old room for future visits, further proving that I know longer live there.  I was more concerned with washing your clothes for free because the $1.25 to wash & dry at home certainly adds up. One final diaper change turned into; yep you guessed it, another photo shoot. Not my fault you’re a handsome little guy. (Actually it is). When people say “it takes a village”, you definitely have one. We’ll let you rest this weekend.  No pictures, no autographs,  Just warm milk & funny faces

Cameron & Grandpa

Until Next time….

Hair Today....Gone Tomorrow.

It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you. Without a blog post to laugh through. 

It was a pretty entertaining month of January. More smiles, exploding poop diapers, visitors. You gained a couple of pounds and sleep longer at night, but I’m concerned about your hair. I can tell its growing, the texture is a fine grade of hair, but it’s not growing evenly. I know, I know,  you’re only 2 months old and there’s more than enough time to grow a ‘fro, but I was hoping you would take after me and not George Jefferson ( I’ll explain who he is when you’re older). You’re too young to have woman problems, the IRS is not knocking at your door, and you don’t have to meet any deadlines at work, so what’s the problem? I’m sure the stress of sleeping  16 hours per day, constantly being cuddled & loved, eating every 3 hours &  being spoiled beyond belief can be overwhelming for someone of your diminutive stature. Granted, my hairline appears to be running away from my face, and of all the inherited traits and mannerisms I hoped this would skip a generation seeing as how your Grandpa is bald & I’m headed that way too. One of the Hickey men has to let their “Soul Glo” (I’ll explain this one too) and you’re our last hope. Maybe if we add some Chia Pet mix to your formula…..nah, never mind. 

 

Until Next time.....