A letter to my second son on the day after his first birthday.

Joseph,
Holy crap you are one year old already. What a year it has been. When I first met you, your mom was having a scheduled C-section. I was a little less worried and strung out than before, but only a little bit. Your C-section went a lot more smooth that your brother's did. The weird thing is that even though you two look very different to me now, when they pulled you out and handed you to me, I got a weird look on my face, like that dog looking into the gramophone tube in the old RCA ads because you looked EXACTLY like your brother did when he came out. The first words you heard me say were to the doctor: "Hey, didn't we already had this baby?"
Then we spent a few days in the hospital, which also went smoother due to the absence of a really bitchy nurse, and the fact that at that time you were so like your brother that we knew what was in store. Jen was a much more confident mother because she wasn't new to it any more, and during the last few years, the "mom" part of her personality has come front and center, and isn't likely to go anywhere. We spent our time in the hospital watching movies on the laptop rather than endlessly worrying that we were going to make horrible parents. At Your mom, being the tough girl that she is, wanted to go home long before they let us.
In this last year, you have made it very clear that those early similarities were to end very quickly. You are more daring that your brother, more hands on, and oh, so much louder. You sleep better. Not great, but nothing like Jackson's first year. You became very mobile very quickly. In short, you became your own person so fast that the constant comparisons to your brother that we all initially made soon became moot. You have a different fire in your eyes, and I can tell that you will be the devious one. You will also be the funny one. Children will get in trouble around you due to your actions, but you will be safely to the side, watching.
Because you came out looking just like your brother, we assumed you'd look a lot like him, and you do, but you also have green eyes and curly reddish hair. Where did that come from?

I love that you try to bulldoze all of your brother's belongings in that Joezilla way you have, and how patient Jackson is with you, saying: "He's just little, and still learning," when he sees that his train set in now in pieces on the floor.
I love that every time I pick you up, you go straight for my glasses, and usually succeed, which is why my glasses are hopelessly disfigured and scratched up now.
I love that look you get when you are trying not to laugh. Like you could hide anything from me.
I love that you crawl so fast, and with such determination that you sometimes run right into the wall.
I love how you always want to get into boxes, drawers, and buckets. And then just sit there.
I love that you look so much like your mom.

You are a good boy, Joseph, and I love you. Happy birthday.

-Dad.

Christmas is coming.

And there is nothing you can do about it.
We, like everybody else in the free world, are taking it easy this holiday season. No trips, few gifts, and only taking the time off that work will take away if we don't.
Jackson is getting an expansion for his train set, and a few odds and ends, but nothing outrageous. Joseph would be happy with a ball of tinfoil, so we got him a ball of tinfoil. Kidding.
He's getting some lovely age-appropriate stuff. We promised to make a bigger deal about his birthday than Christmas, but it's hard with all the lights and whatnot.
Speaking of: Holy shit, Joseph is almost a year old! Time really flies. He's an awesome kid, so very like his brother in appearance, but unlike him in personality. Joseph is way more loud, and tends to destroy more than he creates. He is happy way more than he is sad. He is also huge. He can fit into 12 month stuff, and freely swaps clothes with his cousin Zane, who is 17 mo. He is in the 98th percentile for height, but 50th for weight, so he is not fat at all. He's just awesome:
My mom will be coming here for Christmas. She wanted us to go down there since we stayed here for Thanksgiving, but we chose not to do that, and here is why: Jennifer and Myself are both latch-key kids, meaning that holidays were more about travelling from this house to that in bad weather than anything else. As we got older and started dating, it just got worse, because then you had to go to all of those houses too. So I put my foot down. I did so much travelling throughout mu life for all of my relatives that now it is there turn. My kids will open their presents in their own house Christmas morning. If you want to be there, that's great. We'll work out Thanksgiving, but Christmas is ours.
So there.

-JP

A dead cat and The Christmas Train

So for those of you who didn't know, Audrey the cat died. She had stomach cancer. She is sorely missed.
Now that we have that out of the way, on to The Christmas Train.
The Christmas Train sounds like a great idea in theory. Some movie company made a wild west town outside of Pryor, OK some time in the '80s. When shooting was done, a church bought the land and turned it into a western themed summer camp. During the holiday season, they decorate the place with lights and all that and turn it into a Victorian/Cowboy Christmas theme park, complete with a vintage train that actually still runs on steam. Fair enough. The kids should like it.
One of the things they keep talking about in all of the Literature is the true meaning of Christmas, and how one might learn of such during the train ride. In my mind, the "true meaning of Christmas" conjors up all sorts of imagery that mostly involves Charlie Brown and his sad little tree. This was not the case.
All seemed well and good after the hour and a half car ride. Grace and Zane were there to keep us company. Everything was quaint and charming. The main problem we had was that the tix we had, (which aren't for the train itself, only for entry into the complex) were for 6:00 and the boys hadn't eaten yet. We thought about eating first, but Jackson was so gung-ho about riding the train that his exuberance superseded hunger. The night was terribly cold, and we spent a long time getting everybody bundled up. We make it into the complex, and it is very cute. We see the boarding area for the train, having to first check the strollers. The line moved slowly and the kids were getting cranky. Finally we board the train. It's a snug fit. Everybody is wearing extra clothes due to the cold. Jackson is as excited as can be for the train ride. The conductor even yelled "ALL ABOARD!!" like he was in it to win it. The train gets rolling. There is steam and a whistle and everything seems perfect.
A few minutes into the ride, as we were riding through a tunnel decorated with hanging Styrofoam planets and stars and a lovely space mural, a gigantic, loud, booming, Darth Vader voice comes over the PA system....
"IN THE BEGINNING, GOD CREATED THE HEAVENS AND THE EARTH!!!"
Almost every kid on the train lost their shit. The crying was loud, but not as loud as the magic voice. The rest of the twenty minute train ride, we chugged past painted murals of the story of Jesus, and in a few thematically important areas actors portrayed the events live. Joseph and Zane were calmed my hand-feeding them kix cereal, but Jackson just sort of stared out the window. Until I hear him say: "Daddy, what are they doing?", and I look out the window to see a bunch of guys dressed as Romans nailing a guy to a cross in a pretty graphic way. Um... our kids are all 3 or under. We don't really need blood and scary voices and violence with our theme parks, thank you. We got back to the station and they lead us all into a theater where they wanted us to watch a movie. After a collective "fuck that", we left and went to get some food. Jack played on their playground while the girls want to get the strollers, and on to some really expensive and extremely mediocre food. As the boys' blood sugar raised, attitudes were improved. We had as semi-lovely a meal as we could in a cafeteria setting. Then Disaster #2 struck. As we were getting read to venture back out into toon town, Jackson got so excited at the prospect of seeing Santa, he peed himself. Boys will be boys, but we did not have an extra outfit on hand as we usually do. So much for sitting in Santa's lap. Time to go home. All I could find in the car to put Jackson in, were a pair of his brother's pajama pants, which looked like bicycle shorts once I got them on him, and a pair of my socks. Lookin' sharp, Mr. Powers. Joseph cried the whole way home, and Grace had to feed him raisins and jingle her keys for over an hour.
So....the verdict: If it had been warmer, and if we had eaten beforehand, the old west town would have been pretty cool for the kiddos. There were pony rides and a merry-go-round and and arcade and Santa, so they would have enjoyed that. The Propaganda Train, however, we would not do again. I'm all for the Story of Jesus and all that, but for goodness sake, ease the kids into Romans and nails and raising from the dead Zombie style. That shit can wait until they don't believe in Santa anymore. Which I also thought was odd. They make a big deal about the true meaning of Christmas, but then want you to spend $15.00 on a picture of your kid with Santa. Hmmm....

-JP