Thanks Mom and Dad

When I was in fourth grade I got suspended from elementary school for the second time. I wasn't a bad kid necessarily, I just didn't like to sit still. I hid from my mom in a fabric store when I was five. I would run from room to room during commercials while we would watch television. I got stitches in my forehead twice. I wasn't easy to deal with when I was young.

I never took advantage of the gifts my parents gave me as a child. I wouldn't pay attention in school, I would often forget to apply for scholarships and awards, and, although I was always very grateful for having a sweet Toyota Previa van at 16, being able to have college paid for, and getting all the other perks of have parents who made a decent living for themselves, I didn't show it as often as I could have.

I was a stinky kid. I remember playing football after church and then getting in the car with my brother and his friend Anthony. They couldn't handle how bad I smelled; of course, they were deodorant wearing junior high kids at that point, but I was just the stinky 10 year old. I won't even talk about my personal hygiene issues as a kindergartner. For the record, I shower 2-3 times a day now. But I was still a stinky kid.

I used to lie a lot, especially to my parents. When I was very young I would lie about things that were inconsequential, like telling my dad we played football during P.E. instead of the fact that we played steal the bacon. I lied a lot in high school about having finished my school work. I lied in college about not having a girlfriend. Okay that last one is not my fault, my parents were a little crazy about their "no dating until marriage" rule.

But I think I may have made them a little more crazy than they wanted to be. I argued with my dad and yelled at my mom constantly. I complained about my mom's cooking and told my dad he was being a Nazi. I got mad at my dad for never being sympathetic and at my mom for never being reasonable. I never got a summer job in high school; instead, I played baseball the whole time. You may think that has nothing to do with my parents but there's nothing Egyptians value less than baseball.

And let's be honest: I don't remember all the nights I kept them up when I was crying as a baby (although I hear I was pretty darn good). I don't remember all the poopy diapers they changed. I have no recollection of wreaking havoc on my mom from the inside for nine months.

At my college graduation party four years ago, my friend Dan said to my dad: "So Mr. Ishak, you must be proud of your son for getting into grad school." My dad's immediate response was "No." Oh yeah, forgot to mention: I used to get upset at my dad for being a jerk, until I realized he was actually being funny. One of the greatest gifts my parents have given me is the perspective to not take anything too seriously or too lightly.

So I'll remember that as we approach the due date for our little Fetus. My parents made me and took care of me and have given me more than I deserve, and if I can do a fraction of what they did for me, our little baby will turn out to be alright.

Thanks Mom and Dad. I love you both and I'll never be able to say thank you enough. I love you more than the DeLorean I wanted when I was 16.