My earliest memory is moving into the home I’d eventually grow up in. I was probably two, maybe three. I remember the kitchen counters being as tall as the Eiffel Tower and I remember the backyard was dirt.
That’s it. My earliest memory and that’s all I remember.
I don’t remember my mom or dad. I don’t remember diapers or teething. From age zero to age four, I don’t remember anything.
This is nothing shy of a tragedy. I understand that now. I understand that the hardest years of my parents’ life were the ones I don’t remember. At all.
So, Mom and Dad, accept this as a belated thank you. Because I understand now what you went through and it deserves recognition (albeit 32 years late).
Hi. My name is HypeDad and it’s been two months since my last post.
Yes, this is the introduction to the erratic blogger’s therapy group. It’s been two months since my last post, which officially makes me the spasmodic blogger I said I’d never become. Then again, I said a lot things before becoming a father. Funny how parenthood changes all of that.
It’s no coincidence my blogging absence aligns with the birth of our first child. I’ve been busy parenting, which I’ve learned is not dissimilar to Fight Club.