Lizzie And Mac

Chapter 21

I May Be Covered In Shit, Slobber & Puke, But, I Fuckin Love My Boy

Mac

Lachlan Ryder McKenzie was born a few weeks early, but healthy. He was in the NICU for almost 10 days, but he was strong, he had good lungs, and strong breathing.  It just took him a little longer to learn how to latch on to the bottle, but he got it and he's fucking rocking the eating thing.  His time in the NICU helped the nurses to teach me how to do, well, they taught me how to do every damn thing.  So I guess the NICU was good for both of us, one of us needed to get a little bigger, and the other one needed to learn a lot and grow up a little.

There is a fuck load to know about parenting, none of it I even thought of before.  Like how to prepare the bottles, and who the fuck knew about sterilizing and formula amounts and all that shit? And speaking of shit, damn but my boy is full of it. So many damn diapers, full of things that should never come out of a boy a perfect as mine. So much dirty laundry, and stains that never come out.  But I'm learning, and every step of the way, my friends are there with me, helping and supporting me.  

I know that I'm fucking lucky to have the family I do, my dad is a good man, who's had to spend too much time getting me into shape, helping me fix my mistakes, and moving forward.  Also, my dad raised me all by his damn self, sure, some club mamas, old ladies, and Kat helped him too, but he was the only parent I've ever known, and he was a damn good dad.  Of course,  Stone and Kat, and all the other brothers did a shit load of work on me too, thank fuck, because now I can stand tall and kinda proud, and maybe my boy will care about me the way I care about my dad.

I've been working hard on fixing all my shit, starting with the night with Savanna. Which, thanks to some of the counseling, now I see wasn't the beginning of my fuckups, more like the end result of almost 10 years of fuck ups. Lizzie told me I was being Ronnie, and fuck if that didn't hurt, and also, it was too fucking true.  I decided that night, during the conversation with Lizzie, that there is no way in hell that my son is gonna think of me the way Lizzie and I think of our birth moms.  

So I took her words in the way she meant them, I needed to grow the fuck up, and get ready for my boy, and I did/am.  I'm working hard, but I realize I'm also a work in progress, so, I listen to all advice, as long as it comes from a good source.  Like even I knew that when Crystal told me to sneak a little rum into his bottle before bed, to 'help him sleep at night', even I knew that was a shitty idea, and hell no to her ever babysitting my boy.   

One of the biggest things I've changed since that conversation with Lizzie, is that I moved back into my dads house.  Fuck it, I'm 22, almost 23 years old, and I'm living back home.  But I honestly don't think raising my boy at the clubhouse is a good idea.  First off, the guys would hate me, babies cry, alot, and Lach can scream with the best of them.  Also, I don't want him growing up and seeing the club girls all over, and him thinking that was normal.  I'm not blaming my actions on a childhood seeing the brothers and girls partying is what made me make some shitty choices, but it definitely helped me think, at least for awhile, that those choices were ok.  I know better now, so I'm gonna try different for Lach.

So I'm living with dad, in my childhood bedroom, with Lach in a little bed next to me.  I changed my room up a bit, took out the desk, which I never fuckin used anyway, and put in a changing table, or as I call it, the 'shit station'.  So now the room I used to fuck around in, now it's gotta house 2 McKenzie men, I didn't however, take down all the Harley posters on the walls.  The hot girl tits on my walls in those posters are as close as either of us are gonna get to tits anytime soon, so, he needs to see them, and I wanna appreciate them.  Fuck it and Steffis opinions, I'm a 22 year old dad, I'm not dead, the posters stay on the walls.