The Dillier Man Blog

The Things I Wanted to Tell You, Grandma

Dear Grandma Bennett,

In the dictionary of my life, your photo is the one used in the entry for the word “love.” There is nobody else in the world who I ever felt more love from than you. Unconditional and unwavering.

Just a week-and-a-half before you died, you still took the time to call me up on Father’s Day. In your message you said you hadn’t been doing well lately and were sorry for missing my birthday a couple days prior. Of course you told me you love me. I wish I had caught that phone call. I wish I would have called you at any time during the previous couple of weeks when I was thinking that I should. I never got to hear about your trip to the U.K. I’m so glad you went, you deserved it.

As soon as I found out how bad you were doing, I booked a flight to come and see you. I guess you couldn’t wait for me. You once made me promise you that if you were old and senile and living in a rest home that I would come visit no matter how hard it was to see you like that. I actually feel good that it never came to living like that for you. I suspect that you would agree that it was best to go when you were still on top of your game.

Grandmas are arguably the most important people in the world. Their job is to lavish love on their grandchildren, to offer a sanctuary from the rigors of life. You fit that role so very well. In my mind you are the role model for grandmas the world over.

Thanks for taking me with your family to Disneyland when I was five. Thanks for making me cinnamon toast when I stayed with you in the summer and calling it “Johnny Toast.” Thanks for the Happy Meals. Thanks for letting me come with you to go pick Grandpa up from work. Thanks for including a little something for all of us kids whenever you would send birthday presents down to Cedar City. Thanks for the great Christmas presents that you couldn’t afford. Thanks for making the time to talk to me on every birthday and every Father’s Day.

I’m going to miss you for the rest of my life.

I love you,
John

Circumcision

He’s a newborn baby boy. He’s so completely and utterly powerless. He can’t say no. He can’t make a case with mommy and daddy to let him keep his foreskin.

I can’t comprehend the continued practice of circumcision in America. Well, I guess if it’s for religion I understand, because people do all sorts of zany things in the name of religion. But for people whose religion doesn’t require circumcision?

“It’s best for his health.” “It’s cleaner.” “It’s safer.” “He won’t feel like an outcast when he’s older.” “He won’t have to be embarrassed with the ladies.” I have hope that circumcision will go the way of slavery in this country. It too was inherently wrong, and it just took time for our society to no longer justify its practice.

Do people suppose that this baby boy who is screaming bloody murder as a huge chunk of functional genital tissue gets sliced off his body doesn’t really feel the pain? Or is that it just doesn’t matter how awful an experience it is because he’s a newborn and won’t remember? But who can say what permanent effect that kind of trauma has on him psychologically? Parents who choose to circumcise should be forced to both be present during the procedure so they can witness how their son responds to it. I suspect that they won’t see or hear him scream quite that same way ever again.

I wish I could have had the choice to have foreskin. I’m glad that my boys will (I think it’s enough that they didn’t get a say in what they are named). Maybe as adults they’ll want to lop it off anyways, but at least they can make that decision for themselves.

I am really sad for my new nephew, born yesterday. As his uncle, I feel like I should try to intervene on his behalf. I won’t, though. My sister and her husband are really good people and I know they feel that they are doing the right thing. I just think that one day parents won’t have to wrestle with the decision because circumcisions just won’t be done anymore. Our society has always evolved, and it will continue to do so.

I Love Hosting a Barbeque!

Man, I love hosting a barbeque. It had been so long since we had a barbeque at our house that I forgot how manly it made me feel to have people over and cook for them on my grill. We had (by my calculations) a successful barbeque at our house Saturday night as a way to finally celebrate Max's and my birthdays (his literally). I made teriyaki chicken that was well received by the family. Man, that just makes me feel so studly!!! My sister Heidi's boyfriend Mike showed me some awesome corn-on-the-cob grilling techniques.

Yes, it makes me feel manly to have the yard looking decent, host people at the house, and grill them some good food. I even had both my mother and my father there. We usually have to schedule separate gatherings for them. A good family crisis has a way of uniting everyone, it seems.

I'm really happy, and I feel very fortunate, to have most of my immediate family here in the Salt Lake area. It really helped with what we went through to have so many people there for us. It was awesome to see my family together again, but this time at my house and with a normal, healthy-looking baby.

I wanted to express to everyone at the barbeque how much their love and support meant to me during what we went through. It would have been pretty emotional, though, and I've had enough emotionalness the past couple of weeks to last me for several years.

Back to Normal

Ah, after spending my first night with my family (all four members of the family), I feel like life is back to normal. I have a wife who just gets to be a mommy, a toddler who is just being a toddler, and a baby who is just being a baby. A normal baby.

It all seems like just a bad dream now, the kind that you are happy to wake up from and realize that it was only a dream. Hopefully this really is all in the past now, and our son won't have any problems going forward. I'm excited to see him in his house having a normal baby life, and it gives me reason to believe that he is going to be fine.

Home, Really?

They say we'll get to take Max home around 3 pm. I'm as excited as my son Alex would be if handed his own full-size automobile with easily removable small parts.

Our family will need some alone time when we get home, so we'll establish some visiting hours and let everyone know. I know that everyone that cares about us has gone through the emotions of the past days like we have, and I know that you'll want to come visit.

Wow. This may be over soon, for now...

There's My Baby Boy

Just a while ago, my five-day-old son's eyes were wide open, and he was actually looking at my face instead of blankly gazing in any random direction. A bit after that he had nearly 30 minutes worth of boob milky goodness.

Maybe I'll never again take for granted these everyday, normal baby behaviors when it comes to our Max. Our super-strong, take it all and keep going, mega baby Max.

Emotionally spent, and too tired to remember that I'm tired, I think I may be letting myself become an optimist again. Maybe we really are finally waking up from the nightmare initiated by that awful mistake some days ago.

I've been sad, angry, frustrated, weepy, joyful, and just downright emotional during this ordeal. As I listen to my son whimper his way to sleep, belly full to contentment, just a couple feet away, I think I am feeling a little bit of peace.

Ah, but then there's that familiar bing-bing-bing that indicates that one of Max's stats are out of the healthy range (he was breathing fast again). It makes me remember how the past days have played out, and I recognize that anything still can and may happen. The nurse isn't sure why he's breathing fast, but I think it has something to do with the fact that he just ate a big meal. He just needs to get used to digestion again.

I think I still remain hopeful that my family will finally be together and home very soon.