So I realize that this picture doesn’t show it, but somewhere in this picture are male private parts. I thought about including the actual words for those as surely they might help my internet search optimization, but this is a decent blog so penis and testicles will not be mentioned. Except for just now. But never again. But the point is, after two girls, I am finally having a boy.
Now, I am honestly am not someone who ever insisted or dreamed of having a boy. The fact that any woman would have a child with me seemed like victory enough. But all the same, I have loved being a father of two little girls. I am their hero and I literally have to do nothing more than come home from work. Seriously, I come home from work and you would think I am a conquering General returning from War. But really, I just survived the day till 5, fought traffic, and then walked in the door. Sure I might have to wear a princess crown and play dress up when I get home, but heroes endure such things.
But here is the honest truth. I am honestly a little intimidated at having a boy. You see after two girls, I have escaped somewhat easily from the responsibility of parenthood. Not at all that I have been an absent parent, but these are two little girls and what am I expected to know. My wife is a beautiful woman, #score points for me announcing to the world that my wife is a beautiful woman, but my wife is beautiful woman who knows all about teaching my daughters how to do hair, dress, and be a all girly. I was off the hook. My wife has those girl things covered, and I just get to be hero. A sometimes princess hero, but a hero all the same.
So I’m having boy. No more excuses. You see, now if this kid gets beat up kindergarten, that’s on me. I’m the man. I’m supposed to teach him how to be a man, and to be honest that is somewhat intimidating. But you are a Marine you say? Yes, I am a Marine, but a Marine by choice, not by parenting. I joined the Marine Corps at 17 years old because I knew I wanted to be a Man, and to be honest the product at age 17 was less than it needed it be. Like I literally got yelled at during boot camp for peach fuzz on my face and the screams of Drill Instuctors yelling at me asking if my Momma knew I was here ring clear to this day. But I joined, because I knew more was needed. Who better to provide that than the United States Marine Corps.
Back in the early to mid 80’s, I remember being in grade school. I distinctly remember a session of PE class. To the current generation, PE class means physical education, not some Xbox game or internet class. So in PE class, I remember picking teams for basketball. I was last picked and I distinctly remember to this day a girl yelling out, “oh no”, when she realized I was on their team. Was she not paying attention? Did she not realize that when the next to last guy was picked that I was the inevitable last guy? But all the same, she yelled it, and as a 35 year old combat Veteran Marine, I somehow remember it to this day.
That could be my boy. Is my boy going to be the last picked? Is my boy going to get beat up in Kindergarten? Man I hope not, but if so, that seems like its on me as a father. But the more I write, the more I realize, I’m cool with that. To be honestly, I am not sure I want to teach my son to be an Alpha Male man. Rather, I want to teach him to be a man be a resilient man who takes whatever come his way and makes the best of it. For if I know anything about human nature, its that life rarely turns out like you think it will. Not good or bad, but just not like you think it will.
So look out world, for I will not teach my son to be the one to be the first to punch you in the face and knock you down. Rather, I will be the one to teach my son to embrace the knock downs, get back up and keep swinging. Your son may be bigger, stronger, smarter, but mine will get back up. I can think of no better joy as a father of a young man. My son, will get back up. Come to terms with it now however you must. But this is the future of the Edwards clan.