My oldest son turned 3 today. That means I’ve been quit nearly 3 years. Nearly.
Like many of you out there, I allowed potential quit dates fly on by year after year. I started chewing when I was 14 years old at my first high school football game. I didn’t quit until July 24th, 2006. During that time I’d told myself I was going to quit. I told girlfriends I was going to quit. I told my parents I was going to quit. I told co-workers that I was going to quit. I told friends that I was going to quit.
I’ll quit on my birthday – false.
I’ll quit during finals – false.
I’ll quit when I graduate – false.
I’d quit when I got married – false.
I’ll quit when I get my MBA – false.
I’ll quit when my first child is born – false.
That was the last false that I would allow. I told my wife and myself that I’d quit when my little man got here. June 2, 2006 he came into the world. And I greeted him with a lip full of Kodiak. I hated myself for that. And one morning I made my decision. I tell people all the time that you can’t quit for someone else. You HAVE to quit for yourself.
My son was of this world for 53 days before I made my decision. That’s 53 days that I wasn’t the best dad I could be to him. Make no mistake… my decision was for ME. I want to ensure that I get to spend each and every moment with him and I’m no longer willing to do anything that will take those moments away.
So if you’re reading this and you’re not quit yet let me leave you with this… make sure you’re not letting YOUR 53 days slip past cause you want “one… last… dip.”
Happy birthday my boy… love you.
PS – I didn’t repeat my mistake with my youngest son. There will be no 53 days with him. I was dip free when he was born and I intend on keeping it that way.
PSS – I didn’t repeat my mistake with boy #3 either. None of them have known Dad as a dipper… and for that I am eternally grateful.