A Trip Around The Son

My son turned over the One on his Anno-meter a couple weeks ago. It has been a bittersweet week or two, as we get into the YEARS and no longer the months of his age. He was a “baby” for so long. Now a Toddler, he’s been hinting at his need for fewer naps, more food, walking around, and a studio apartment. The past year has, at times, flown by. Other times it was a moment-to-moment grind due to a lack of sleep, not sleeping, bad weather, sleeplessness, and not knowing what to do with a tired baby and wife. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Being a dad has made me reassess everything I thought I knew about Life, Love, and Sacrifice. I don’t think that what we’re doing is “special” nor “immaculate.” A lot of folks are doing this by the seat of their sweatpants, or not doing a damn thing. We are doing our damndest to raise a good kid in a loving environment while he poops his pants, learns to talk and read, and teaches us how to take care of him. I love my son, he’s very special to me and to a lot of relatives and friends, and as far as I’m concerned it’s my duty to teach him all I can about integrity, sleeping, and football. And whatever I know about women I’ll bring up in the form of allegories of “some friend” who “slept around” and got “the fire water” in his “weenis.”

The hardest part of the past year is finding out what we don’t know. There’s been a lot of that. And to get advice from people who either are NOT parents, or from parents with kids who have the personality of an un-oiled chainsaw can be very trying on the tired parent’s ability to not headbutt them. I’m grateful for the help we’ve had from our family and friends. We couldn’t have done it this sober without them. It’s tiring, it’s work, it’s a different kind of fun. It feels like the only thing I’ve ever done that actually matters. I see parents who appear to have quit on their duties, which isn’t fair to their kid, their neighborhood, nor the rest of us. If you don’t care a little about what others may think, you are a sociopath and should be sewn shut.

Here’s something that nobody tells you about a kid who starts walking. When a baby is crawling around you can hear them on the floor, slapping and sliding and gurgling. When a baby starts to walking, they will concentrate on their path and become silent. In doing so they enter a room, silently, and will show up behind you, scaring the bejeezus out of you. Awesome.

So as we continue to learn, our boy keeps growing along with us. The TV says he can read, but we’ll have to see if that works. I may just make the cards myself and find out that he can read blitz coverages, tort law, and cat-trapping schematics. Plus, I’ve noticed a glaring lack of toys in the “Professional Occupations” fields. Lots of tractors and tool benches and Li’l Arc-Welder! kits. Not many Lawyer’s Desks or Dentist Chairs or Li’l Protractors! Why pull sparkplugs for 40 years when you can be a celebrity rehabilitation doctor for a decade or two before a prescription scandal hits?

He slept through the night last night. He’s teething. He’s growing. It’s another part of Life, and though it’s not for everyone, I’m all-in, grateful for the chance to Dad it up with a healthy, happy Dootz.




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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Where's The Sugar, Baby?

(secret surprise at the end!)

My son Graham turns his first year-young on Sept. 23rd. It's been a really interesting year, to say the least. His journey towards being frustrated with the public education system began in March of last year when we were told Graham's due-date was September 19th. I immediately did the right thing, got on the internet, and found that to be the day that the legendarily crooked USC Trojans were visiting the vaunted, hallowed UW Huskies in Seattle. And I prayed. I prayed to God that Graham would be born healthy, happy, and 3 days late. And God answered that prayer! As a bonus, God threw in a 16-13 win by the Huskies. Take THAT, Stephen Hawking.

In the past year I've found that a lot of people share a lot of their wisdom about raising and caring for a child. Many of whom have decades of experience without ever being a parent. Oh sure, they've kept a couple of parakeets alive through a cold winter or two. Or they are an Aunt/Uncle to a few nieces or nephews. And that's, hey, that's a solid foundation for making the childless look like an asshole by offering non-comedic parenting tips. No, we're not going to let him try wine again. Thanks for your input. Enjoy sterility.

I've also heard a number of people say that they don't like babies. Or specifically, they "hate" babies. Wow. Not that they hate MY son, just babies in general. Everyone knows the grave demands babies place on people who never interact with them, so I can see where the roots of that hate have taken hold. I never hated babies, I just was scared that I would break one. A year in, no breaks, minor fears, and all's great.

What's also side-F'ed is that some people feel that they can do things while holding a baby that somewhat endanger the baby, because a mis-hap wouldn't officially KILL the child, but it seems like it should entertain your baby. Like get them to touch a ceiling fan. Or swing them around by their tiny hands. Or hold them aloft with one hand while lighting a cigarette off the grill.

Won't KILL the baby? SHOULDN'T EVEN MAKE ME THINK THE BABY MIGHT BE EVEN A BIT UNCOMFORTABLE. There is no official Baby Police, but nobody has the right to endanger your child for their own attempt at entertaining themselves by trying to get the kid to smile near a snarling pit-boxer mix. This secret hate of babies is more bothersome than the outright hatred. Old women in a grocery store are the worst. Keep your dirty nails away from his face, Bernice.

So as Graham nears the One Year mark, we are gearing up for the Birthday Party, and a number of people have asked me what kind of cake we're getting him. My wife, foremost, has done a great job of introducing healthy food to Graham as he grows. We don't feed him sugary stuff or ice cream (maybe a tablespoon here and there) or a lot of processed food. He eats a lot of fruit, loves avocados, and digs salmon. Washes it down with a nice chug of jasmine green tea. He won't turn down a Mum-Mum, either. For a kid who eats a lot of healthy, whole food we're not going to jam a huge cake in his face so we can laugh at the mess and the sugar-rush. I think it's actually pretty cruel to jack a kid up on that stuff just for a few pictures. "Tradition" can eat my Bavarian ass. Maybe a little cupcake to have fun with, but 500 calories of sugar and fat, I just can't do that to my guy.

He'll have to wait for public school.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

What's New Daddy-G?

I took a big step this past week by committing to being present when my son was born. Not nearly enough men do this, for any number of well-thought-out, idiocy-inspired reasons. I've seen my son every day since the moment he was born. His head looks much better today.

With due respect to HAX-TV, trips to see Dave Matthews at the Gorge, and stand-up comedy, being part of my son Graham's life is likely the most-meaningful involvement of my existence. I've already had a number of conversations with myself about discipline, drinking, Religion vs. religion, and fighting at soccer games for community U-8 teams. I have a lot of growing up to do, still.

I sometimes envy my friends who had children much younger in their life. As they get older and make more money, they are able to do and give more to the kids. But also, I met the Right Woman later than some do, and our son Graham Gerald Lott came right on time. If I were 27 with a kid, I'd still be itching to go out and drink and act like a Reality TV Housemate. At 35 I just stay home for all of that. Life has its own skej for ya. Stop fighting it and go with your flow.

I have a much better appreciation for all my parents have done for me in my life. Especially after seeing my son being born. He came into the world at 7# 8oz, and I was 9#7oz, so my mom deserves a gift card instead of brunch next year. As a new parent, I have only instinct and some videos and a few chapters of parenting knowledge to go from. Turns out, everybody knows nothing about being a parent. I guess it's all going to be about Love, even if it's tough, even when it's hour 4 of a non-sleeping jag at 3:47a.m. and somebody's on your lap farting like a mariachi tuba, and will just... not... POOOOOOOOP there it was on my leg.

Madly in love with this kid, he's more attuned to his Mom, who is all things a Woman could be. Her strength through 30+ hours of contractions, naturally delivering our son, and recovering to feed him "naturally" has been awe-inspiring. It's the strongest I have ever seen somebody Be, close to my mom's dealing with my dad's illness. I have an amazing wife, and my son's a lucky little boy, blessed with wonderful angels.

In closing, I'm probably gonna blabber on about being a dad here, on and off. In the meantime, I'll also be throwing in some stuff I'm working on for my act about how F'ed up the world has gotten (Thank You, Passive Aggressive Behavior!), and how to handle Bad Apples.

Love you all. As appropriately as I can.

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