Two Decades Of Ross

This Post Originally Appeared On Medium August 23, 2016

Twenty years ago today, my son Ross was born. I know it’s not quite a milestone like his 18th birthday when he got to be “legal” or his 21st birthday, but this is an incredibly special day. Not for me, but for one of the most incredible, unstoppable people I’ve ever known.

This guy has been a fighter all his life. My wife and I tried for years to have him, her pregnancy was, to say the least, difficult, and Ross entered the world in truly dramatic fashion as I described to the Chicago Tribune in this column that ran on my first Father’s Day.

“All of a sudden the door flies open and it seems like a hundred people flew into the room and the attending doctor is saying, `OK, we gotta go right now, we gotta take her,’ “

Ross was delivered by vacuum extraction, and I won’t embarrass him by posting a photo of his pointy newborn head for the world (and his future bride and children) to see. But suffice it to say we almost lost him, but he came out fighting and has never stopped.
Ross didn’t grow as large or as fast as most babies, and eventually he was diagnosed with “short stature” and spent over a decade having to be injected with growth hormones every day. At first, my wife or I gave him his shots, but he eventually learned and wanted to do the injections himself, and became as skilled at it as Dr. Doug Ross, and I promise you it’s only a coincidence the he shares that name.

He also has, and will always have, Asperger Syndrome, which is now considered being an Autism Spectrum Disorder. Some call it “high functioning autism”, and the main symptoms Ross presents have to do with social interaction. But he’s worked incredibly hard to overcome his affliction, and has indeed been “high functioning”, taking Honors classes, playing in the high school and college marching bands, getting great grades, and doing an amazing job working part time at a fast food chain, both through his Senior year of High School and now at another location in College. He’s not gregarious, but he gets better at interacting with people every day, and when he’s with his friends, you’d never know how being social can be challenging for him.

Ross started his Sophomore year of college yesterday, and is fascinated by history, so much so that he wants to get a doctorate in the field. He speaks fluent Latin, knows facts about every era of the past, and is a voracious reader and learner. College can be challenging for him, but he handles every part of University life with confidence and grace. Undergraduate study is hard enough, especially at the state’s “Honors University”, but his grades are fantastic and he’s committed himself to do whatever it takes to get his PhD. It’s not going to be easy, but he’s faced adversity more times than I can explain and has come out ahead in every instance. His courage, strength, and refusal to let obstacles deter him are truly remarkable.

I don’t want you to think I’m bragging on my parenting skills or some secrets I’ve learned to create an amazing son. I’m not, and I’ve seen for twenty years how Ross has overcome multiple obstacles all by himself and is becoming an exceptional adult. He’s come a long way from being that pointy head baby, and I have complete confidence that he’ll go on to do whatever he wants to, no matter how big the sacrifice or how hard the battle. He certainly hasn’t stopped, or even slowed down, yet.

Happy birthday Ross. You amaze me every day. I love you and wish I could be with you to celebrate.

ZOMG, I'm The Father Of THREE Teenagers

This is a post from my Daddy Diaries column, featured at tesh.com.

Last weekend, my youngest son turned 13. That means that I am now the father of three teenage boys: a 13-year-old, a 15-year-old, and a 16-year-old. If you were hearing this, instead of reading it, there would be a dramatic music sound inserted right here, kind of like dum dum dummmmmmmmmm.

Now, before I forget, the picture that accompanies this post is not of my actual children. I have this thing about Web privacy, so these are models pretending to be my actual children. In my opinion, my actual children are much cuter than these models, although no less threatening. That being said, my three teenage boys have three different personalities and each comes with their own set of challenges.

I knew the day would come that I would be seen as a geezer and have older kids. I’m still trying to process watching them grow and become young adults because it seems like I held each them in just one hand only a few days ago.

The youngest son is an incredible movie fanatic – much like a very young, but just as feisty, Roger Ebert. His favorite part about turning 13 is that he’s now able to see a PG-13 movie on his own. I thought that he’d be all fired up to get his own Facebook page instead, but he's busy watching movies on his tablet, analyzing the composition of each and every shot as if he were Christopher Nolan.

The 15-year-old suffers from “middle child syndrome" at times, but is pretty well adjusted for the most part. He lives for music, plays five instruments, is an accomplished Boy Scout, all the while managing to be a total chick magnet. Each of those things provides unique challenges on their own, but roll it all together and it can be quite a ball of fire to deal with on a daily basis. He also seems to suffer some sort of video game fixation – notice I did not say the word addiction – and would probably spend every waking moment with a PlayStation remote in his hand, if he wasn't so busy doing all the other things in his life.

Then there is the oldest boy. He’s 16-years-old and a sophomore in high school. Seriously, when did my baby become a sophomore in high school? And now he’s old enough to drive? When did my bundle of joy become hairier than I am? Honestly, it's kind of freaking me out. When I think about how much all of my kids have grown and wonder how they got to be teenagers, it certainly has me thinking about how time flies.

The 13-year-old’s birthday was a pretty jarring moment in many ways. But just as I was becoming a little more comfortable with him becoming a teenager, I got a kick in the face when the mail came yesterday. My oldest son, who still has two-and-a-half years left in high school, received his first college recruiting letter yesterday. He scored highly on some standardized test. And since the testing company sold a list of high achievers to colleges, I'm guessing they are all going to start courting kids like him. I realized it’s actually a good thing. Since I'll have three in college at the same time, it might be advantageous to have a few scholarships to help everybody out.

But the kick in the face part is that this letter, that first "Get to know us!" letter from an institute of higher learning, came from MY ALMA MATER! Yes, the place where I misspent my college years seems interested in having my son follow in my footsteps and attend their school. I've already told him that won’t happen – mostly because I don't want him finding any remnants of my time on campus that might tarnish his glowing admiration of me. Assuming he glowingly admires me. The letter also makes me question the value of a degree from an institution that would have my son as a student, after my less than spectacular tenure there. But that’s another story.

It seems like the days of being challenged by changing diapers and teething pains were only weeks ago. As I look forward to the adventures that lie ahead as the father of three teenagers, I sort of wish I still had diapers to change. Dealing with those types of messes might be easier than dealing with the challenges ahead.