Mason, like half the population, was an “accident”.
Again, I’d like to blame the Monroe School District for not properly teaching me about the birds and the bees, but the reality is some of us enjoy playing with fire.
Katie and I had known each other for about a year before we finally started going out. Six months later, we decided to “ruin our lives.”
At least that’s what I thought at the time.
This can’t be happening.
Closely followed by:
I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid.
I was still one myself.
At least mentally.
Reality set in pretty quickly, though.
Looking back, I’ve figured out why it takes nine months before a baby is born.
It’s there to give the dad time to get his head straight and realize that happy-go-lucky life is about to get real.
Katie and I weren’t married yet.
We’d talked about it, but we’d also seen enough marriages fail because people felt obligated to get married for the baby.
We weren’t going to do that.
At least that was the plan.
Then two things happened.
The first involved my Grandpa Joe.
My grandpa had two daughters and one son.
My brother and I were the only two left carrying on the Beaver name, and Grandpa Joe wasn’t shy about reminding us of that whenever he had the opportunity.
My brother wasn’t interested in having kids.
That left me.
One day I got a call that Grandpa Joe was in Arizona on life support and wasn’t expected to recover.
The family was gathering before making the difficult decision to let him go.
At the time, Katie was pregnant, but we still didn’t know whether we were having a boy or a girl.
I jumped in a Geo Metro with my brother and cousin Tony and made the drive from Portland to Arizona.
Now before any of you accuse me of living some kind of glamorous lifestyle, let me assure you that one average-sized man and two plus-sized men packed into a Geo Metro is the height of luxury travel.
I told my family at the hospital that I couldn’t bring myself to see Grandpa in the condition he was in.
Eventually they convinced me.
Anyone who’s been through that knows that image sticks with you forever.
But in the middle of that difficult day, something happened I’ll never forget.
I stood next to his bed and through tears told him that Katie was pregnant.
I told him we didn’t know whether it was a boy or a girl.
But I made him a promise.
I told him that if it wasn’t a boy, I wasn’t going to stop having kids until he got the great grandson he’d always wanted to carry on the Beaver name.
Maybe it was coincidence.
Maybe it wasn’t.
But after I said it, a tear rolled down his face.
To this day, I believe he heard me.
A few weeks later I was at a doctor appointment with Katie when another event changed my mind about getting married.
The doctor casually said:
“So I’m assuming the baby will have your last name”, to Katie.
Now, those of you who know me know I don’t have a giant ego.
But at that particular moment, I remember thinking:
Yeah right.
It had never even crossed my mind until that second.
Suddenly Grandpa was gone, we didn’t know if the baby was a boy yet, and now there was a possibility that even if it was a boy, he wouldn’t carry the Beaver name.
Funny how fast priorities change.
Not long after that, wedding bells started ringing.
We got married in November.
Mason was born in February.
And yes, there were people whispering things like “Look who’s wearing white” as Katie walked down the aisle. “Those people” may or may not have included me but nobody knows for sure.
Eventually we found out we were having a boy.
It was bittersweet.
Grandpa didn’t get to meet him.
But he got his great-grandson with his last name.
There is nothing quite like being in a delivery room.
I’ve done it twice.
It’s still the most amazing experience I’ve ever had.
When Mason entered the world, things got scary immediately.
He wasn’t breathing.
We barely got a glimpse of him before he was rushed away down the hall.
I remember looking back and forth between Katie and the direction they had taken him.
Katie told me to go.
When I eventually found him, he was breathing and lying under a warming lamp.
I stood there staring at him.
I’d never experienced anything like it.
I reached out with my finger, and his tiny little hand grabbed hold of it immediately.
I didn’t know you could love something that instantly.
But I was hooked.
The nurse told me I could hold him.
As badly as I wanted to, I felt Katie deserved that first.
Let’s be honest.
I did a solid thirty seconds of hard work in the beginning. Katie did all the heavy lifting for the next nine months.
After what felt like forever, which was probably only about thirty minutes, he was finally brought back into the room.
Momma got to hold him first, and I don’t know if I’ve ever beamed that much in my life.
That was until I got my turn.
The only way I can describe it is magical.
I’m pretty sure I drove home from the hospital at fifteen miles an hour.
It was the first of many times I worried about him.
The funny thing is, that part never stops.
The worries just change.
As Mason got older, it became pretty obvious he was here to entertain people.
He’d stand in front of the television singing every Disney song we’d heard a thousand times.
He acted out scenes.
Assigned us parts.
And got annoyed when Katie and I forgot our lines.
He was active.
He was hyper.
He was a giant pain in the ass sometimes.
And he was all ours.
Thankfully for us, once his sister Payton came along he found a much better audience.
She loved everything he did.
Her eyes followed him everywhere.
That little clown couldn’t walk through a room without stopping to perform.
As he got older, sports entered the picture.
Every year we’d ask the kids if they wanted to play.
The only rule was that if they said yes, they had to finish the season.
Quitting in the middle wasn’t an option.
Mason was a good athlete.
The funny thing was that he often looked better in practice than he did during games.
He worried about failing.
He worried about looking bad.
As parents, Katie and I spent years waiting for the tools we saw in practice to finally show up when the lights came on.
Then one day a teammate introduced him to wrestling.
Katie and I weren’t thrilled.
To this day it’s one of the few sports we would’ve secretly celebrated if he’d decided it wasn’t for him.
Instead, he fell in love with it.
Over the years he spent countless hours practicing, cutting weight, competing, getting hurt, and pushing himself.
If wrestling taught me anything about Mason, it was this:
He doesn’t quit.
His senior season started with an 0-16 record.
At that point most people would’ve accepted how the season was going to end.
Mason didn’t.
He kept working.
He kept improving.
And somehow, by season’s end, he was headed to the state tournament.
Then he placed sixth in the state.
Not because everything came naturally to him.
Because he refused to quit.
Watching him walk off the mat after his final match, surrounded by teammates who loved him, remains one of the proudest moments of my life.
Not because he won.
Because he persevered.
A broken ankle his sophomore year eventually pushed him toward another passion.
Performing.
The Disney kid we’d been watching for years had never gone away.
A drama teacher encouraged him to audition for the school musical.
Before long he was on stage in Calamity Jane playing an old prospector on crutches.
And somehow it looked completely natural.
The next two years he landed lead roles.
The theater bug had bitten him.
And there was no turning back.
A year or so after high school, Katie and I found ourselves sitting in the audience at the Mount Vernon Theatre watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Let me tell you something.
I was not emotionally prepared to see my son strutting around on stage in booty shorts and heels.
But there he was.
Comfortable.
Confident.
Performing.
Exactly where he wanted to be.
At the same time he was building a life in the trades.
HVAC.
New jobs.
A license.
More responsibility.
Eventually he made the decision to start his own business, Beaver Heating and Air.
I never let him know it, but I was concerned. I’d dipped my toe into owning a business before and knew firsthand how stressful and unpredictable it could be.
Katie, our household accountant, was a big fan of things like steady paychecks and knowing whether the lights would stay on.
Mason looked at that same challenge and decided to bet on himself.
Honestly, that shouldn’t have surprised me.
He’s been betting on himself his entire life.
Four years later, his business is still growing and thriving.
To anyone who knows Mason, that comes as absolutely no surprise.
Mason, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this enough, but watching the man you’ve become has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
You worked through things that didn’t come easy.
You stuck with things when quitting would’ve been easier.
You bet on yourself over and over again.
Wrestling.
Theater.
Your career.
Your business.
You just kept showing up.
I think back to the day Katie told me she was pregnant and how terrified I was.
I thought my life was changing forever.
Looking back now, I was right.
It did change forever.
I wouldn’t change a second of it.
You brought more laughter, joy, frustration, pride, worry, and love into my life than I ever thought possible.
I can’t imagine my life without you in it.
Mason, you were the best “mistake” I ever made.
❤️
Katie’s Korner
Mason made his entrance into the world the same way he’s done just about everything since: dramatically.
Finding out I had pre-eclampsia and needed to be induced early was a surprise, but that didn’t stop him from taking his sweet time to arrive. After two days of Pitocin, no sleep, and a whole lot of waiting, he finally decided on day three that he was ready.
I was exhausted.
Like I said, so much drama. Coming on his terms, with all the theatrics, we probably should have known what we were in for.
Brian mentioned that Mason was a hyper kid, but that doesn’t even come close to explaining the energy this child produced. Thank God he was so cute and hilarious because from an early age he had a talent for keeping everyone laughing.
The singing and constant acting in front of the blank TV screen so he could watch himself was quite something. He was barely able to talk, but somehow knew every Disney song and script by heart. Sometimes it sounded like complete gibberish, but even when he couldn’t form all the words, he still nailed the cadence, emotion, and mannerisms of whatever character he was pretending to be.
His biggest obsession for years was Captain Hook.
And when I say obsession, I mean every single day.
The moment we got home from daycare or preschool, he’d sprint to his room and come back out as Captain Hook. When he outgrew one costume, we’d just buy another.
One trip to Disneyland when he was three years old still makes me laugh. He was on the pirate ship in the lagoon area wearing the full costume, complete with hook and wooden pirate pistol. He spent the entire time shouting orders to tourists, making sure everyone knew exactly where they needed to be to ensure safe travel aboard his vessel.
People were cracking up as he stormed from bow to stern, singing loudly and yelling at an imaginary Mr. Smee.
When Payton came along, I was so thankful she was easy. She would happily sit in her swing or bouncy chair, quietly watching Mason’s daily performance.
Every once in a while, though, he couldn’t control his “squishies” and would get a little too enthusiastic, smashing her face with his hands. Fortunately, she usually corrected that behavior pretty quickly.
As Brian mentioned, Mason looked like a natural athlete from a very young age. He was talented and worked hard, but he just didn’t have that mean streak that drives some athletes.
He started playing football when he was young on a team with kids who were quite a bit older. Even though it was flag football, he still spent plenty of time getting knocked on his backside.
He also played basketball and baseball and did pretty well in both, but football eventually became his thing. He was a solid defensive player and had great hands as a tight end.
Then came the start of his sophomore year.
The same day he was told he had made varsity, he broke his ankle at practice and needed surgery. The doctor told him he’d miss the season.
He was devastated.
Honestly, we all were.
It’s hard to watch your child lose something they’ve worked so hard for.
But that injury ended up changing the direction of his life.
Because now he could pursue theatre.
And theatre turned out to be his true love.
It always had been.
There was also wrestling.
Uggg.
This is one sport I could never fully embrace. The sweaty smell. The skin infections. The weight cutting. The fact that bodies bent in ways they clearly weren’t designed to.
I hated all of it.
But he loved it, and the relationships he built were incredible. Even though I wasn’t a fan of what it did to him physically, wrestling was great for him in just about every other way.
Throughout high school and beyond, he performed in multiple musicals, and his voice improved every year. I remember watching him as Tarzan during his junior year and thinking, “Okay, he can definitely sing, but there’s still some room to grow.”
Fast forward a few years and he’s singing his heart out in Rocky Horror, Beauty and the Beast, Pippin, and Newsies, absolutely crushing every role.
He’s been in many other productions, but those will always be a few of my favorites.
My favorite thing, though, is simply watching him perform. Whether it’s on a stage in front of hundreds of people or standing in our living room.
I absolutely drive my kids crazy by constantly asking them to sing for me. It’s a problem I’m definitely aware of, but I have no intention of stopping.
I beam inside every time he sings. It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world, so of course I’m going to chase that feeling whenever I get the chance.
Watching Mason grow from a Captain Hook-obsessed little boy into the man he is today has been one of the greatest joys of my life. Every stage has brought something different to be proud of, and somehow he continues to surprise me.
Now he’s a business owner, which absolutely terrified me at first, but he’s built something successful and his clients adore him.
I can’t wait to see what he does next.