Listen, Listen, Listen, 3 years down and forever to go

ON THE first day Ezra came home from the hospital, I put my ear up to his tiny body while he slept.  Someone outside peeking in through a window would've seen me standing there, my neck halfway in the bassinet like an ostrich with its head in the sand.

A confusing sight for sure but any parent would understand. I needed to make sure my baby was breathing.

Just a few days ago, Ezra peacefully lay in bed -- too peaceful for my liking -- so I leaned over and put my cheek against his. Again, I wanted to feel him breathe.

Today marks three years since I first started monitoring Ezra's sleep, watching his chest go up and down. How many countless breaths he's taken since, I’ll never know. Somehow though, it feels like I've been there for every inhale and exhale, each one a reminder that my seed is growing. Maybe faster than I expected.

He calls himself a big boy. He can build a puzzle on demand and I've even tried to start teaching him math.

“Ezra what's 1 +1? ... 2!

Great! What's 2+2? … 4!

Awesome! What's 1+2? … Pickaw!!!

Try again. What's 1+2?  Coo coo!!!”

Typical Ezra, gives you a little smart followed by a whole lot of silliness. I shouldn't expect anything less from a 3 year old, especially since watching Mateo's video the other day that went viral. “Listen, Listen, Linda, wait, Listen to me?”

Mateo is so cute pleading his case for a cupcake, looking and sounding like a sensible adult making an impassionate plea. I think about Ezra and how he handles his frustrations at times. Wish it would be more like Mateo but instead my son is a whiner. He cries because his food is too hot. He cries when you help him pour his juice.

"I can't open it." Cry.

“Time to take a bath.” Cry.

Little man would win a Baby Oscar for his performance after he falls down and gets an “ouchy." He forces me to come with the “Sana Sana Colita de Rana” because that’s clinically proven to heal all ouchies, right?

As a kid I was a cry baby too (some might say I still am). And I'm afraid that he's somehow inherited that from me.  It’s my fault he's sensitive to everything around him because it's my blood that runs through him. Even worse: does he act this way because I am an emotional person? Sometimes I can’t control my frustration. Many times I know he can sense and see it. I wonder if I am responsible for his demeanor. The possibility weighs heavy on me.

My best friend John posted another video that made the rounds on Facebook depicting children emulating the worst behavior of their parents. It reminded me of how delicate our children are at this point in their life. It’s stating the obvious but we are molding these precious materials hoping they transform into beautiful pieces of art -- which feels silly to say since they're already wonders of the world, magnificent masterpieces.

I guess my job is to maintain my integrity so that one day my son can say he learned how to be a man by watching me. And that’s so daunting. Everyone has their opinion on how to do things the "right way." But if having a child has taught me anything, it’s that in parenting, there is no one way to do something right.

Back in the day, I could only imagine what my life would be like as a father, when I used to bump Kanye’s first joint in my car for months on end. This year marks the 10 year anniversary of the College Dropout and I can’t believe it’s been that long since I moved to the Bay Area after college. Those days feel like distant memories now but I mention it only because I remember dreaming about my future and wondering how life would be when I had a family and those beats provided the soundtrack in the background. There’s a song on the album that has stuck with me and I relate it now to Ezra and how he makes me feel. On “Never Let You Down” there is a particular poem by J. Ivy that resonates with my soul. I've put a few lines in italics:

"Determination, dedication, motivation. I'm talking to you about many inspirations when I say I can't let you or self down."
 

Every year he grows older and smarter. Every day he watches me and the world around him and adds to his own personality. I sit back and enjoy every second of it. And all I can think about is how I will never quit on him. Ezra, I can't let you or self down.

 
"I too dream in color and in rhyme."
 

His dreams now consists of a dog biting his leg or maybe the "Monsters are coming!" His dreams will mature and grow with time, along with his creativity. For now, the joy his imagination brings to my life is vibrant and colorful, allows me to paint pictures with my heart.

“Whenever you open your mouth, a touch of GOD reigns out.”

It feels like Heaven when I walk in the door from work and he runs to me and proclaims “Daddy’s home!” Maybe he shows me a drawing he made at school or he offers me food from his own plate: “You hungry Daddy?” Those blissful instances balance out and overshadow all the other hard stuff that comes with the growing pains of a toddler, making the hard knock part of a pop's life more than bearable.

Still there are choices to make and lessons to teach in spite of me.

I know when Ezra cries, I sometimes become frustrated. To that I’ll tell him: “Don't ever let anyone stop you from showing emotion.”

When he’s running around and bouncing off the walls, I sometimes make him calm down or be quiet. To that I say: “Never let anyone block your light from shining.”

When he’s attempting to do something on his own – like spread peanut butter on a piece of bread and he’s furious he can’t do it – I may become impatient and try to do it for him. To that I’ll tell him: “Never let anyone convince you that you can't do something. Not even me.”

So, I’ll tell you again son, now and forever, Happy Birthday big boy. I’ll let you eat cake and I’ll buy you gifts but none of those can ever compare to the gift you gave me the day you were born.

The gift of fatherhood.

Ezra Rey Sanchez (3yrs old)