My New Best Friend!

This is a sad post for me. It's my last day of my parental leave...though it's not the last day of being Mr. Mom. I understand that this is a lifelong commitment which has nothing to do with the Paid Family Leave Act or any traditional gender roles. 


Below is a letter to (almost) four-month old E. I stole this idea from our good friends, Sarah & Roger, over at their family blog, One Ring Short of a Circus. I was so inspired that I had to copy them. So kudos to their brilliance. And now onto my letter (please prepare yourself for a sap-fest). 

Dear (almost) four-month old E,

When I decided to take this month off work I did it for a number of reasons. First, I'd heard other dads rave about the time - though they were always vague on exactly what was so great. Second, it allowed our permanent child care (a.k.a Opa) another month of income before retiring. Third, I pay the steep California taxes for these sort of benefits, so I might as well use'em. And, last (but definitely not least), I wanted to have daddy/baby bonding time...whatever that meant.

Now I know what those other dads were talking about. And, frankly, now I'm having trouble putting it into words. The term "Bonding" doesn't do it justice. I guess the simplest way to describe it is that you are my new best friend. Which is nuts, since you can't even roll over yet. But it's true.

Of course, this comes with the usual sappy emotions: Someone that I care about much more than myself. Someone who I want the best for. Someone who I'd die for. But it also comes with a lot of other unexpected and welcome things:

The favorite babysitters.

• I'd do things that I'd do for only a handful of people in the world. Case in point, I clean your diapers without thinking it's (too) gross, because you need me to do that right now. 
• We hang out without pressure to make conversation - though we love talking to each other.  
• I can listen to you cry without thinking that you're whining. 
• You grin while I sing...and I know what I sound like.  Sometimes, I think you feel sorry for me and try to help. 
• Doing your laundry or getting your next meal ready never feels like a chore because I want help you (my non-Evan chores on the other hand...).
• I try everything I can to make you smile. Embarrassing and silly and down right crazy things. 

I know that you won't remember this last month. The time we spent rocking out to Dave Matthews Band and U2. Or going to meet friends for lunch. Or swinging by Costco three times in one week. Or taking the dogs on endless walks around the neighborhood/Fremont Older/the San Tomas Aquino trail.

Getting ready for one of our many walks.

But I will remember it, Evan. Forever. And I hope someday you'll read this post and know that we had a blast and that it was one of the most special periods of my life.

I'm excited because there are so many big and small adventures to look forward to - ones that will make lasting impressions on both of us. Because that's what best friends do: We make memories.

I love you, E,
Daddy (a.k.a Mr. Mom)

Who's the cutest Ballou? I know, I do.
It's me, that's who!