It's my son's birthday tomorrow. Tomorrow he turns one. Tomorrow is the start of a whole new phase in his life. Starting tomorrow, there will be no turning back.

I am, as usual, fretting. It's not so much the birthday, or the party. It's the symbolic meaning of it all. Boys grow up so fast. Often, fathers think all too soon. Boys grow and sometimes they don't look back. Everyday with my son is a constant struggle for me. I've tried very hard to keep a promise I made to myself when I was younger. I promised myself I wouldn't be anything like my father. I told myself that I'd be a better father than my own father. That promise is turning my life into a struggle.

I feel the joy of being a father. But at the same time, I also feel the swell of my emotions at the slightest provocation. I tend to raise my voice at times, often when trying to dissuade him from pursuing something that will harm him. I grit my teeth in the middle of the night when I am awakened by his cries. I get utterly frustrated in the morning when I accidentally tip over a feeding bottles and spill the contents all over the bedroom floor. My son bears witness to his father's inability to control anger.

These seemingly minor actions will influence the way my son will grow emotionally. Often, I feel guilt at the thought that I have failed to break the cycle of anger that seems to run in our impatient blood. Am I passing on this rueful heritage onto my son? I pray to my God that he bless me with patient and a gentle heart. I pray that I would be able to hold true to my promise. I pray I will be strong enough to do all these and nurture my son to become a noble soul. I pray that I can be the father that my son will one day want to be like.