13 februaries since I was 28

As of today, at 5:35pm, I am the father of a teenager. Jack turned 13 as soon as track practice was over. He got me a tee shirt that says, “Not all who wander are lost,” and a Life is Good cap with a cup of coffee on the front. His chosen birthday dinner was tacos, and his cake choice was that peanut butter chocolate thing that I always choose. Like father like son.
I gotta tell you, this is a very difficult birthday blog. Usually I don’t mind putting my reflections, feelings and emotions out there on the blog, but I am honestly speechless in this one. Thirteen. This is a milestone. And I sit here at the end of the day in humble silence. Some of you know the gravity of the job that is ahead for me as model, mentor, emotional punching bag, ATM, dad. Those of you who do, I’d appreciate your prayers, support and advice.
On this end, I am overwhelmed with dichotomous emotions as I mourn the loss of a little boy and am overjoyed at the emerging of a young man. Grief and pride. Fear and anticipation.
Last night, in anticipation of the changing of the number, Allison got out the photo album that documents much of Jack’s first few months. There are dozens of pictures of him decked out in his striped bib overalls, his Mickey Mantle number 7 uniform, only a diaper, in his birthday suit. We left the album on the kitchen table for him to find this morning. Allison said something to Molly about being sorry we didn’t have as many pictures of her as a baby. She didn’t seem too bothered by that, she said, “well mom, when you have your first baby, you don’t know if you’ll ever have any more babies, so you take hundreds of pictures.” I think she’s on to something there. But the truth is when Molly was a baby, we had two boys hanging from our arms and constantly needing. There was absolutely no way to pick up a camera and take photographs. When Jack was a baby, we would sit and stare at him for hours with no distractions or interruptions. I could use an entire roll of film before he changed positions. Try and sit and stare at a baby with two boys running around the house looking for trouble.
So Jack, I know that this cheesy blog post is not worthy of such a momentous occasion as this. But what I feel can’t be expressed in words. It can be expressed in hugs though, don’t make me stockpile them. Please don’t ever grow too big to lay your head on my shoulder like you did last week at the Switchfoot concert.
Reach for my hand, I honestly think I can help you through these next 10 years. I’m growing too, you know.