I love being a father.

Maximo is now 2 months and 3 weeks old, and as proportionately fat as a 13 year old Star Wars fan who lives near a candy store. Perfect protective baby fat, guarding his veins safe from mosquito attacks, proclaiming to all that there is no worry of starvation in the Villarrubia household. People most often comment that he is as big as a child months older, and that he is very aware of his surroundings. Maximo likes to look around, up mostly, but when he makes eyes with things, he locks. I tell everyone that Maximo came out of his mother immediately making eye contact. Like he was going to a business meeting and someone told him this was proper etiquette when entering a room, not to mention a new life. He is awesome, and I am totally in love with him. I speak of his smiles often, and now he gets so happy that he has to look away, like its all just too much - too much joy and rightness in his little limited world. I have felt like that, but often it took chemical prodding to reach the final look away. Are we subconsciously trying to get back to our baby-ness and complete curiosity of things when we dope ourselves up with whatever our bag is? Surely deep-down trying to travel back to a time where everything and anything held it's original "wonder" that sparkles but fades in later days... Anyway, this is science and love all in one tiny, fat little body. Fucking + Awesome = Maximo, the fucking awesomest.

Since I wrote the above paragraph, I have fed my son a bottle of mother's milk, literally. Delicious food of the gods, giving my son all that he needs to live - absolutely amazing mom magic, and I am in constant awe of what a gift Andrea and all mothers have. Today is one of those days that my son and I spend mostly alone, with the occasional super cherished visit from love-wife-mom. We have a wedding today, and Andrea is off orchestrating the entire fandango, while I play Micheal Keaton's Mr. Mom on dope 2008. As much as we all prefer to be together as the trio - slash - street gang we are, I do cherish these little forced bonding days with my boy. We are a bonding-type family to start with, attatchment parenting at the front of it all, but nothing beats hanging with your child. I have only 2.5months experience, and I well know that the months and years ahead will bring me some of that "wonder" I spoke of earlier. This is "new". This is like I am the baby, getting my first glance at my new life.

father and son - walking the sandy streets of our home, Sayulita Mexico