Dear Eliza,
You are already more than one month old. It's been amazing. Your entire life has been the best of mine.
You are more and more fun every day. You are starting to smile and giggle. You are the loudest sleeper. You coo and talk all night. You fart a lot and seem to poop when my hand is on your butt. I feel the vibrations and laugh. I guess that's bonding?
Because your Mom gets to hang out with you all day and late nights, I get to hold you most of the evenings after I'm home from work. It's the best. I usually prop you up on my knees and sit on the couch. We just stare at each other because you don't speak English yet. All of that staring makes you tired, so you'll complain for a second and I'll transition you to fall asleep on my chest.
A lot of people ask how you're sleeping, and so far it's not that rough at all. I think I'm sleeping 5-10% less than I did before. That's mostly because your Mom does the hard work of feeding or pumping. I am good at waking up suddenly saying, "Is everything OK?" and then promptly falling back to sleep. Our border collie Greta gets up a couple times a night anyway, so we are well-trained parents. You're a good sleeper but not much of a morning person. You stretch your arms for an hour trying to wake up and wring your wrists like your Mom.
In the broader scheme, we had a lot of restless nights for years before you were born, wondering if you'd ever come into our lives. Getting a up a couple times to see and help you isn't a burden. It's a blessing.
Outside of our home, the world keeps on ticking. The Seahawks aren't having a great season. It seems we'll have a good snowpack this year for some good skiing. The presidential primaries are all entertainment. I couldn't tell you who will be the Republican candidate because I can't take Donald Trump seriously. I bet Hillary Clinton will win the Democratic candidacy because Bernie Sanders is too reformative and will be seen as too old. As a Dad to a daughter, I would be excited to see a woman president. Paris has been attacked by a terrorism group, and we've been experiencing a week of memorials.
I wrote most of the above to date this letter when you read it later. You probably won't remember or recall hearing about any of it because the world changes quickly and the new shines more brightly than the old in our minds. If Hillary Clinton becomes president in this next term, you'll remember her like I do Ronald Reagan -- out of (an online) history book. In your lifetime, there will be more bad Seahawks seasons, some bad snow years (global warming is real), more woman presidents and more terrorism. The latter scares your Mom a lot. She wouldn't travel to Paris anytime soon because of it.
It's intimidating because you're so new, but I am pushing on us doing some traveling in the next year. We'll start with a weekend in Leavenworth for your Mom's birthday. Then we're off to Indiana for Christmas (by way of Detroit) for your first plane ride. Everyone in Indiana is really excited to meet you. We have big plans next year for Hawaii and possibly Europe. You fly free until age 2, so we should take advantage of that and a time before you're mobile and more demanding.
Travel is really important to me, and I hope it becomes a passion for you. Travel guru Rick Steves wrote, "Globetrotting destroys ethnocentricity. It helps you understand and appreciate different cultures. Travel changes people. It broadens perspectives and teaches new ways to measure quality of life. Many travelers toss aside their hometown blinders. Their prized souvenirs are the strands of different cultures they decide to knit into their own character."
As I think about how to help you become a fantastic person, travel is a technique. Seeing how other people live will expedite your perspective on how you want to live and make you appreciate wherever you call home many years from now. Travel will assist your pursuit of happiness. I hope you are brave like your mother and choose a place to live, not just defaulting to where you're from (Northwest is best) but based upon where you want to be.
For now, this little house in north Tacoma is your home, your first home. It feels more like a home to me because you're in it, cooing and crying and everything in between. Thank you for that.
Love, Dad