Go Warriors! ( I think....?)

Hi Guys.  I know, I know.... I basically forced all of you to join my blog and follow me and it has been nearly forever since I posted something.  To tell you all that I have been incredibly busy with life would seem like a cheap excuse, but I'm going to try it and hopefully it will work!
Yesterday was a big day for my family.  It was a day in which Greer climbed one more notch up the Big Boy Ladder;  he was playing in his first soccer game!  After nearly a year of asking, begging, urging and desiring, he was finally old enough to lace up his shoes, put on the bright orange shirt  (Go Warriors!) and run out into the field.  It was a day that I had waited for, for so long; as I always imagined myself standing on the sidelines, cheering on my kid as they ran up and down the field.  I felt excited for him, and selfishly for myself.  The look of thrill on the little man's face could be seen for miles when we arrived to the field.  As we walked closer, that wonderous look slowly became a look of confusion, which then ultimately became a look of terror and the steady stream of tears quickly followed; my heart sank.
Now, for all of you parents out there, somewhere along the rollercoaster ride of parenting you realize how intense it all actually is.   You believe that every conceivable moment is a teachable one, and when it is you have to get it right!  When we look out into the world, we are suffocated with all the pressures of being the perfect parent.  We rely on our parents, literature, books, magazines, and Super Nanny ( oh, yes...I said it...).   We look outside ourselves sometimes in order to get it right.  I believe sometimes questioning your decisions are perfectly normal in parenting.
This was a 'questionable moment'.
Greer wanted nothing to do with being in the moment, at the field.  He was sobbing and hyper-ventilating.  He wanted to be picked up, to be held and comforted; and at first, that is what we did.  But as time passed, we realized we couldn't baby him; as his parents, we had to give him the tools to help himself calm down.  The outcome was better, as he occasionally stepped out onto the field for a few minutes at a time but mostly sat on the bench with other teammates.
As a parent, I had this vision, this expectation of him running up and down the field, excited as he chased after the ball.  I've seen him for quite sometime playing soccer with his friends at school and at their houses. And then I realized as the tears were forming, that this experience would be different that we both had expected, and both him and I knew that.  But as his dad, I had to let him know that it was okay to be there for him, and to help him get through the moment, without making him feel badly, and making him witness his own actions and try to move it into a positive light.  I kept thinking that his experience in swim class was entirely different, leaving us in church to go to Sunday School was entirely  different, enrolling him in a local art program was entirely different.  Why?  Why was soccer so different?  Different situations lead to different experiences and reactions, I guess.
I question to bring him next week; knowing by his crying that he was very upset.  I want to teach my kids so many wonderful things in life, and not giving up too soon; sticking with your decision, even when it's difficult is just a small portion of it all.  I am so proud of him, for hanging in there while being scared, occasionally looking over his shoulder and smiling at us ( and our response was always a thumbs up). We'll keep with it and see how he does....hey, there's always t-ball across the field!

The First Steps...

So, I am biting the bullet, the BLOG bullet. I am finally sitting down, staring at a blank screen, deciding how to start to this, or shall I say, how to "Blog". Who is going to read this? Someone better...

I used to think blogging was selfish, and yes, as I am saying this, most of you who know me are not surprised that I am writing this then. But seriously, who has the time to sit down and write, and not just write... publish, their life? Me. Who would care?? I never did, until now. A dear friend of mine recently told me that I had inspired her to write a blog. Once I got over the fact that I wasn't being punk'd, I was flattered and wondered how the hell I inspired her. I had to read to find out. As I read the wonderfully painted details of her life, I soon realized that she was inspiring me to do the same.

So, here I go.

Let me start just by saying that the name of my blog is not completely accurate. I am a married man and a dad. Being married to another man, and being a dad is the accurate part. My husband and I have two kids, boys in fact, who are the light of our lives, the center of our worlds.

Now, I'm not going to bore you with every minute detail of our lives, like, what time we all woke up or when I changed my youngest son's diaper. The reason, or my intention of all of this is because I have recently realized that the life my husband and I live has been, and is an inspiration to many people we both know and meet. Understanding this has made me appreciate my life, and how much I truly feel blessed.

As I said before, I am a married gay man and a father of two, and of course, who live in the wonderful state of Massachusetts, whom we'd like to thank for respecting us as individuals and as a family. To be even more descriptive, we live on Cape Cod, which is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful places to live. I am a stay-at-home-dad, which I think is more more uncommon than gay families!

I look forward to sharing parts of my life with you all, whoever you are out there...

That's all for tonight, I gotta run, Desperate Housewives is on!