“So I guess you’re stuck with me”

As I get older, and reflect on life’s milestones, I doubt they’ll get much bigger than this one—Feb. 8, 2010. Three months ago today. It’s the day I officially assumed responsibility for Austin, bringing him home from Kentucky so that he and I could become a family.

I’m not entirely sure why, but it has me feeling a little emotional today. Maybe it’s the recognition that it’s Mother’s Day weekend. That means Father’s Day is not too far away. For a time, I expected that the significance of Father’s Day would not live beyond my own Dad (who celebrated his 91^st birthday a few months ago). I realize that’s now changing.

Austin and I at Petco Park in San Diego last month

I plan to save my reflections on fatherhood for my Father’s Day post, but I thought this might be a good opportunity to bring you up to date on where things stand overall.

Austin is remarkable in that—despite his history—he is a normal teenager. I absolutely want to ring his neck sometimes. But often, when I get really angry with him, he makes me laugh. That only makes me angrier because he has successfully blown my cover. It’s clearly not taken him long to find and exploit my weaknesses. In addition, it has bothered me lately to realize he is not working up to his potential in school. I’ve busy working to address that issue.

But what I think makes him most remarkable is the faith he’s put in me. God knows how much disappointment Austin has endured during 16 years of existence. Yet he remains ridiculously upbeat. And he allows me to supply the guidance that, I hope, leads him successfully toward adulthood.

Austin is still several months from becoming my son in the eyes of the law. Earlier this week, we signed the paperwork that will be submitted to the courts as part of our petition for adoption. As my attorney’s legal assistant points out, it takes that long for the court system to “do its thing.” We can wait.

But while leaving the attorney’s office, I suddenly recognized the real value of us sign those documents—the symbolism it provided Austin. “So I guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I had to look away so he couldn’t see me smile. I hate it when he blows my cover!