For some reason, the greatest moments in my life seem to be accompanied by a common denominator - snot and/or boogers.
When I stood on a pristine beach in Jamaica and exchanged vows with my wife, I spent all 30 minutes overwhelmed by the idea that my friends and family were staring at a non-existent booger. And when Gabe entered the world Monday, I battled a surgical mask full of the very-existent snot that comes into play when a grown man is out-crying his newborn son.
Dr. Frieden set the tone when, seconds before the first incision, he assured Summer and I he'd spent the previous night reading a text book and watching the necessary YouTube videos preparing him to perform a successful c-section. To be clear, he has actually performed about 1,400 of these surgeries, but takes it upon himself to calm the nerves of the clearly terrified with humor. And to be even more clear, the woman being operated on was cool as can be. Her big pansy of a husband? Well...
I've spent the last 39 weeks thinking about schools, baseball games, and how incredibly awful it is going to be teaching a teenager how to drive in Dallas. The moment I (sheepishly) watched Gabe being pulled into the world, all those visions were replaced by more simple worries, like is he supposed to bend that way, how many different colors do they turn in the first 40 seconds, and am I going to be charged for all the things he is peeing on? For those of you scoring at home, the answers are - "yes", "four", and "he can pee on anything he wants, but no matter how tired you are, the next time you pee in the lobby fountain, you're gone!"
Luckily for us, Gabe is perfect. He is healthy, beautiful, strong, and really knows his way around a boob. Now the biggest worry in my life is how on Earth am I going to live well enough to feel like I've earned a blessing like this?