I hope I am present shortly after the birth of your first child.
Physically.
Emotionally.
Spiritually.
I hope I'm there to watch you hold him or her for that very first time as your entire life flashes before your eyes and for the first time you get it...what it feels like to lay your life down for another, how it feels to understand what really matters.
I hope I'm there. Whatever plane, train, cab, bike or UFO needs to get me there. I hope I'm there.
I hope God gives me 30+ more years of health to be present for you in this phase of life. I hope I'm there to watch you when he is she is 2 (just like you). I hope I'm there to peak in at you when you rock him.
I hope you're the kind of Dad who rocks him.
I hope I'm there.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
Things Only You Can Teach Him
It hit me yesterday as you were standing in the backyard with your hands on your hips making a mental to do list. Just inches behind you, he stood like a tiny replica of you...hands on his hips staring at the backyard ready to move the minute you moved. There he stood imitating your every move. While you used a heavy metal shovel, he used a tiny plastic shovel. When you stomped on massive chunks of soil, he stomped on tiny chunks of soil.
There he stood...3 feet tall looking up at you, two times his size.
There are things only you will be able to teach him.
I'm not talking about the hard stuff...like how to fix down spouts, a car or a broken toilet. You will teach him those things too, but you will show him how to treat people. You will show him how to help a neighbor in need or a homeless man who hasn't eaten in days. You will teach him how to see outside of himself. You will show him the value of family and the definition of hard work. You will teach him not to take life too seriously, but how to act serious in serious moments. You will show him how to remain calm in un-calm moments. You will pass on your love for books and learning...always learning. You will teach him how to say "thank you", "I love you" and "I appreciate you" to his future wife.
You will teach him these things not because you read a book on how to be a good father, but because you try every single day to be a good father. And you succeed. You will teach him these things because you put the phone down and pick him up and hug him and tickle him and tell him you love him. You will teach him these things because you read to him and rock him and tell him you love him every single day.
There are things only you will be able to teach him.
There he stood...3 feet tall looking up at you, two times his size.
There are things only you will be able to teach him.
I'm not talking about the hard stuff...like how to fix down spouts, a car or a broken toilet. You will teach him those things too, but you will show him how to treat people. You will show him how to help a neighbor in need or a homeless man who hasn't eaten in days. You will teach him how to see outside of himself. You will show him the value of family and the definition of hard work. You will teach him not to take life too seriously, but how to act serious in serious moments. You will show him how to remain calm in un-calm moments. You will pass on your love for books and learning...always learning. You will teach him how to say "thank you", "I love you" and "I appreciate you" to his future wife.
You will teach him these things not because you read a book on how to be a good father, but because you try every single day to be a good father. And you succeed. You will teach him these things because you put the phone down and pick him up and hug him and tickle him and tell him you love him. You will teach him these things because you read to him and rock him and tell him you love him every single day.
There are things only you will be able to teach him.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Pure Joy
As summer fades to Fall..."It's time for night time," I tell you.
"Rock me," you plead.
And I do...longer than I should. I rock you and hold you tight...tighter than I should. Surely there is a point where the squeezing knocks the wind right out of you. You seem content. And so am I. You take your paci out. Yep, you still use your paci at night.
"I love you so much," you say.
Finally I carry you over to your crib. Yes, you're still in your crib. It's an old house with steep stairs. We sleep better with you still in your crib. It feels safer.
"Rub my back," you say (in a bit of a bossy tone).
I do. I rub your back and tell you I love you. I tell you that we will take an adventure tomorrow.
"Venture," you scream.
Everything has become "an adventure" from a short walk to a trip to Target. You love your "venutres!"
And you have entered the "what's that?" phase.
The months have flown by like one of those little flip books with cartoons. You're turning 2.5 in a few weeks. The milestone of you turning one literally feels like it just happened. And now you're 2.5. And soon you will be 3 and 4 and 5.
Your pure joy for life is contagious. Your curiosity has made me more curious. Your smile ignites my happiness every single day.
"Rock me," you plead.
And I do...longer than I should. I rock you and hold you tight...tighter than I should. Surely there is a point where the squeezing knocks the wind right out of you. You seem content. And so am I. You take your paci out. Yep, you still use your paci at night.
"I love you so much," you say.
Finally I carry you over to your crib. Yes, you're still in your crib. It's an old house with steep stairs. We sleep better with you still in your crib. It feels safer.
"Rub my back," you say (in a bit of a bossy tone).
I do. I rub your back and tell you I love you. I tell you that we will take an adventure tomorrow.
"Venture," you scream.
Everything has become "an adventure" from a short walk to a trip to Target. You love your "venutres!"
And you have entered the "what's that?" phase.
The months have flown by like one of those little flip books with cartoons. You're turning 2.5 in a few weeks. The milestone of you turning one literally feels like it just happened. And now you're 2.5. And soon you will be 3 and 4 and 5.
Your pure joy for life is contagious. Your curiosity has made me more curious. Your smile ignites my happiness every single day.
Monday, August 25, 2014
5 Ways to Save $8,400.
Please note, I am not a financial guru. I've made my fair share of mistakes (especially in the form of restaurant expenditure), but we've learned a few things from some really smart people.
5 Ways to Save $8,400:
1. Cable. Have you cut it yet? If not, it's time. Aren't you tired of renegotiating your contract? We've been cable free for 5 years now. We pay $46/month for internet, hulu and netfix.
5 Ways to Save $8,400:
1. Cable. Have you cut it yet? If not, it's time. Aren't you tired of renegotiating your contract? We've been cable free for 5 years now. We pay $46/month for internet, hulu and netfix.
Savings: $1,080 a year.
2. Only buy necessities. A few weeks ago we watched the documentary "Tiny". It was weird, but the concept of simplifying and buying necessities ONLY WHEN ON SALE is admirable. Necessity list example:
- Paper towels
- Toilet paper
- Dishwasher gel packs
- Laundry detergent
- Toothpaste
- Soap
Savings: $844 a year according to our most recent CVS receipt.
3. 401K. If you have it, use it. If you don't, open an IRA. The dollar you put in today is worth more than the dollar you invest tomorrow. This is pre-tax money. You save on the front end and you make on the back end.
Savings: If you get aggressive, you can save $4,500 + a return of $1,260 on money put in this year.
4. Hair & Nails. I get my hair done quarterly now. (I know, it shows). Nails...I've gone natural on the nails and get pedicures in summer only. I miss this...a lot.
Savings: $480.
5. Starbucks. Just one latte a week adds up.
Savings: $260
Total savings: $8,424
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Day You Were Born
The day you arrived, I felt complete and utter all encompassing joy quickly followed by devastating fear as they laid you on my chest and told me they had to take you to the NICU. Only a mother in this moment can explain this feeling of a helplessness, confusion and concern regarding a life she had protected for 10 long months and can no longer can protect. Only a father can identify with the conflicting feeling of wanting to care for the love of his life and needing to care for this brand new life. Only a parent can understand.
This is me giving you a pep talk just before they took you. It's all I could think to do.
On your first birthday we were fighting a bit of a bug, an ounce of drama and bad weather as snowflakes fell from the sky threatening cancellation of your birthday party. We fought the bug, moved on from the drama and celebrated surrounded by your family and dear friends.
On your second birthday we were in a Knoxville hotel. Eight people cozied up on one king sized bed to watch you open presents and make you feel special. It was complete bliss, gratitude and giggles as you were so excited to proclaim:
"I'M TWO," over and over and over again to your cousins.
Today we picked out "big boy pants" as you are nearly ready to ditch the diapers (and so are we). You chose cars, but they didn't have your size so we settled on Super Man. You threw your Super Man undies probably 20 times before we finally made it to the cashier.
"Super Man!" you screamed as you chucked undies in the frozen veggie aisle. I laughed because I am "that mom" who thinks everything her child does is slightly entertaining (unless it involves hitting, biting, crying or screaming).
You are becoming a little man. And I'm pretty excited about it.
Your first days on earth were hard. You were poked, prodded, picked at, tested, hooked to machines, tested again. And you survived. Not only did you survive, you thrived. Your first birthday was hard. Unexpected things happened and we still found a way to celebrate. Hard days happen, but if you keep an overarching belief in happiness, you may just find yourself...
happy.
Be kind. humble. grateful. happy.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
One of Those Night
We had a night...
A long stroll navigating through too cool for July summer air where we met five baby ducks and a Great Blue Herron who seemed to be our guide.
A redbox.
A trip to CVS where you attempted to pull almost everything you saw off the shelves.
An early evening spent in the back yard digging and planting and watering our garden as a family. Dinner created from whatever we had in the kitchen. A wonderful bath where we made up songs and talked about our day.
You told me you were put in timeout for hitting Natalie. I praised your honestly and talked about the word "sorry" and forgiveness.
I don't know how half of this stuff comes to me...oh, yes I do. It comes straight from my mother and our daily chats. The important lesson of Time Out is forgiveness from both sides she tells me.
Forgiveness. Isn't that a lesson we are all still learning?
One of those nights I'll hold close and attempt to repeat knowing it may never be quite as good as this night.
A long stroll navigating through too cool for July summer air where we met five baby ducks and a Great Blue Herron who seemed to be our guide.
A redbox.
A trip to CVS where you attempted to pull almost everything you saw off the shelves.
An early evening spent in the back yard digging and planting and watering our garden as a family. Dinner created from whatever we had in the kitchen. A wonderful bath where we made up songs and talked about our day.
You told me you were put in timeout for hitting Natalie. I praised your honestly and talked about the word "sorry" and forgiveness.
I don't know how half of this stuff comes to me...oh, yes I do. It comes straight from my mother and our daily chats. The important lesson of Time Out is forgiveness from both sides she tells me.
Forgiveness. Isn't that a lesson we are all still learning?
One of those nights I'll hold close and attempt to repeat knowing it may never be quite as good as this night.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
The Eve of the 4th
Holidays. That's when it hits me the hardest.
Holidays as I watch you sprint in the backyard. The same backyard that used to swallow your tiny body. You now own that backyard. That backyard belongs to your 32 pound rock solid still somewhat tiny body.
Holidays. That's when I know another year has passed. I can picture your tiny one-year-old self barely walking, not yet talking. And here you are two...TWO. Here you are chasing Johnny and actually catching him. Here you are still pointing at planes, but now telling me their color. Here you are reaching up for me occasionally saying "I hold you, mommy. I hold you." Here you are...pushing trucks, catching bugs, digging in dirt and looking at me and offering an unsolicited: "I love you."
Holidays. That's when I know another year has passed. That's when I know time is as precious as I always believed it to be, but this time...this time with you is that kind of precious multiplied.
Happy 4th of July, my sweet curious, inquisitive, loving tiny little two-year-old. May we celebrate many many many more to come.
Holidays as I watch you sprint in the backyard. The same backyard that used to swallow your tiny body. You now own that backyard. That backyard belongs to your 32 pound rock solid still somewhat tiny body.
Holidays. That's when I know another year has passed. I can picture your tiny one-year-old self barely walking, not yet talking. And here you are two...TWO. Here you are chasing Johnny and actually catching him. Here you are still pointing at planes, but now telling me their color. Here you are reaching up for me occasionally saying "I hold you, mommy. I hold you." Here you are...pushing trucks, catching bugs, digging in dirt and looking at me and offering an unsolicited: "I love you."
Holidays. That's when I know another year has passed. That's when I know time is as precious as I always believed it to be, but this time...this time with you is that kind of precious multiplied.
Happy 4th of July, my sweet curious, inquisitive, loving tiny little two-year-old. May we celebrate many many many more to come.
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