tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32954657578901321822024-03-14T04:45:55.393-07:00The Comedy HajjBaby Steps.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger336125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-25884339098187242142020-09-17T22:15:00.004-07:002020-09-17T22:15:56.328-07:00Don't worry, you ARE me<p> Hey my guy. You're 3 right now. Just turned. Your mind is accelerating at a pace that is foreign to me. You understand exponentially more than me. </p><p>You may be tempted to spend your life trying to be like me. </p><p>Don't worry. You ARE me. </p><p>Want to become more like me? Become more like yourself. By listening to your heart, your muscles, and your lungs. </p><p>Everything I ever gave you, you have written into your height, your feet, your fingers and your smile. Your mom was a much more willing giver. Thank God.</p><p>There are things i am wrong about. There are things i lied to you about. These were calculated risks. I tried my best as a father.</p><p>_____</p><p>You are you. That will always be enough for me. </p><p>Your mother and i love you and your sister very much. </p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-45956758457318451622020-08-23T06:11:00.000-07:002020-08-23T06:11:21.160-07:00Best Cousins Ever<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6cyx4h6o_TauU8m_RLDL9mxPsI9-gxtrE9TgvCPOnEA3ETR9PfzIsZDYUIxsss3smRm6JCA_buO_KvwpJTiFWj1Ij0wQEdsJ6a-_Ru3vRfLlxCUKSYy_cbnl3nkc3fONPr3_vWL7_MeQ/s2543/1598187550922909587248181951489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6cyx4h6o_TauU8m_RLDL9mxPsI9-gxtrE9TgvCPOnEA3ETR9PfzIsZDYUIxsss3smRm6JCA_buO_KvwpJTiFWj1Ij0wQEdsJ6a-_Ru3vRfLlxCUKSYy_cbnl3nkc3fONPr3_vWL7_MeQ/s640/1598187550922909587248181951489.jpg" /></a></div>As the ceiling fan spins above us, we ate playing on my new birthday gift. My new carpet, with a whole world on it. <p></p><p>And now blocks. Blocks that I always thought were more fun with just me building. But now, all of a sudden, a town is popping up all around me. I can sing a song I love, and then take a deep breath and let go of the fear of loss, and then</p><p>I have six hands instead of two. And my town has legos and blocks and police cars and I'm happier than I've ever been.</p><p>Letting go brings me happiness.</p><p>3</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-2401163703591751472020-08-22T17:35:00.000-07:002020-08-22T17:35:20.499-07:00"Adulting is Hard"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOcrhfdXLcIdzSc5BODjHCvgfSiNU7AN4Tkk1jhPaPx7Bj3B1DjkuYHVcdhMh_N0gDNijc1m36fSvpO_2H2Or9w6uiMAN7bnxdoB95KZpRx2kHqOhk01EhMV_XLlFLI76CC3GD7W2RznA/s2543/15981427718727287360241983711274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOcrhfdXLcIdzSc5BODjHCvgfSiNU7AN4Tkk1jhPaPx7Bj3B1DjkuYHVcdhMh_N0gDNijc1m36fSvpO_2H2Or9w6uiMAN7bnxdoB95KZpRx2kHqOhk01EhMV_XLlFLI76CC3GD7W2RznA/s640/15981427718727287360241983711274.jpg" /></a></div> RyRy said this to me, today. <p></p><p>He had just paid off a credit card. The bank gave him a $25 credit, because he paid it off in full.</p><p>I dont know much about this world, but I'm pretty sure there is a catch. A catch RyRy will find out about sometime between now and</p><p>When he's sitting in the recliner, with a young buck on the couch,</p><p>Telling him that adulting is hard.</p><p>And he will love his kids, and will try to figure out ways</p><p>To make it less hard</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-16140489588929183242020-08-22T15:27:00.001-07:002020-08-22T15:27:45.684-07:00Why is dada on phone again?<p> My dad is on his phone again. </p><p>We are supposed to be playing "town" on my new town mat, with my new cars.</p><p>I hope he gets off soon</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqzPyhHPS6-JMg23zxDKMJUTzRDqdaRiEtJ3acBIxAoyfzocM1HVbkCIC-S-a3vVHRoGfUd4eDg_WHzYRRtcDIRpBvdR6F67sZAge7G0deMZkfmzBl-NrXadxQCxPuOYF3mENqQkP-Rt2/s2543/15981351077214291289944105361995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1236" data-original-width="2543" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqzPyhHPS6-JMg23zxDKMJUTzRDqdaRiEtJ3acBIxAoyfzocM1HVbkCIC-S-a3vVHRoGfUd4eDg_WHzYRRtcDIRpBvdR6F67sZAge7G0deMZkfmzBl-NrXadxQCxPuOYF3mENqQkP-Rt2/s640/15981351077214291289944105361995.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-25415608838918162432020-08-16T18:35:00.000-07:002020-08-16T18:35:09.986-07:008 pm. Waiting for the day to start<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzoyF79d6Q5XK3hUgW_5fKoManN4Vt5DccwaK1XD7FeJRCgnaH1rT36O9bmc0I5XFHSDxBPI1ykAPWqNKOpYZyyXY63jShvkmuJhz6rc6enDGkaQOEZgKE0ZKBrbGjBYOZpIbYRbmfE3Yu/s2543/15976280603168391501432366776305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzoyF79d6Q5XK3hUgW_5fKoManN4Vt5DccwaK1XD7FeJRCgnaH1rT36O9bmc0I5XFHSDxBPI1ykAPWqNKOpYZyyXY63jShvkmuJhz6rc6enDGkaQOEZgKE0ZKBrbGjBYOZpIbYRbmfE3Yu/s640/15976280603168391501432366776305.jpg" /></a></div> We are laying in bed. I'm absolutely exhausted. We just spent the past 12 hours putting on a disjointed, unrehearsed, train wreck performance. We co-starred as parents and adults that are in charge and in control. Our audience was one 2 year-old.<p></p><p>Noah is laying in his crib, watching his favorite bedtime show. It's mostly classical music playing over shots of sea turtles. Once he falls asleep, and we can hear his breathing pattern change, then our day starts.</p><p>We have no life. We have no friends. We have no time. Love with a child is less about actively loving each other, and more about learning to appreciate your partner's role in the world of the child. </p><p>Or maybe it's not supposed to be that at all. I have no idea. I've done this exactly as many times as everyone else who does it, and who will ever do it. None times. </p><p>I have no idea. But I do recognize the value of it. I recognize the value of the individual we are performing for. His future is more valuable than both of ours together. </p><p>80 percent of adults aged 18-29 realize global warming is a threat to human life. That number has almost certainly ticked upward, since whenever the survey was actually done. </p><p>My guess is that about 99 percent of 2 year-olds think so. They just don't know they know. Or no one is asking them what they think about the year 2090. Or no one is asking them what it will feel like to have their first child in the year 2050.</p><p>I miss Vanessa. She is 12 inches away. We can't talk. It would keep the baby up. </p><p>I don't know why. We aren't that interesting. </p><p>It's been a great six months for our kids, in a lot of ways. I guess that's all you really want in life. </p><p>Damn it. He just stood up.</p><p>_____</p><p>Actually that was pretty nice. He wanted walkies. Walkies is when we walk together to go to sleep. It's nice. We've been skiing it for years now. I'm already dreading the day we can't, and the day he stops asking. </p><p>Since I stayed writing this, Nyah sent me a video to watch. </p><p>I really love my kids. And Vanessa</p><p>9:32 at night</p><p>Time to start our day</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-1956965055888184822020-08-15T11:03:00.001-07:002020-08-15T11:03:04.964-07:00Vanessa's Bar, in 1007 words<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_FrPYl5OrSpOy_deRfK6uea8iHTYb7GWnHrTCMonZx-LRrakDBsHe3E8vsfkuv3dsPLo-RJQuxSZdf_ZbX07JKthIWxG_3jZzA2Qm85EaUh7KfzB11fSILOiAr-tyscZN-BiJDKTb-bg/s2543/20200815_135929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1236" data-original-width="2543" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_FrPYl5OrSpOy_deRfK6uea8iHTYb7GWnHrTCMonZx-LRrakDBsHe3E8vsfkuv3dsPLo-RJQuxSZdf_ZbX07JKthIWxG_3jZzA2Qm85EaUh7KfzB11fSILOiAr-tyscZN-BiJDKTb-bg/s640/20200815_135929.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> It is what it is.<p></p><p>It is.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-88945542780109973762020-07-22T19:39:00.000-07:002020-07-22T19:39:26.240-07:00Everyone Works <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We lie in bed, waiting for our son to surrender. The day has been too fun to let go without a fight.<br />
<br />
Eventually, time wins. It has amazing stamina.<br />
<br />
Time will win. Time earns it. Time works really hard.<br />
<br />
I miss trees. I'm excited to become a better gardener. Vanessa sent me a video that explained that forests aren't even "forests," exactly. They're more like cultivated gardens, from hundreds and thousands of years ago. Humans are a "habitat manipulator" species. Just like beavers. Beavers cut down trees to make their homes. So do humans. Beavers listen to their instincts and let trees grow back so they have more trees next time.<br />
<br />
We are habitat manipulators. There is no shame in that. The key is converting my old guilt into new, healthy, humble pride. Proud of my place in nature. Being as present as I can to my surroundings.<br />
<br />
My great shift can be a focus on living things. My wife and son instead of my phone and tablet. Taking great care of our pets. Cleaning my sink and dishes every night before bed, so insects aren't confused and think I want them inside. My words say no, but when I don't care for my environment by doing my chores, my actions are an invitation.<br />
<br />
Nature cares more about actions. It rarely allows us to explain why it is wrong. My whole life, I've never talked my way out of a bug bite.<br />
<br />
So my focus shifts. At some point, maybe, I'll submit a post to this blog, and it will be the last one I write. That will be a day that I sing.<br />
<br />
We also won't worry about all ther writing between now and then. I'm flawed, but sho is every living thing. No reason to feel bad for a universal truth.<br />
<br />
Just let it go<br />
<br />
He's asleep, I think. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-76402940893568360802020-06-02T03:50:00.000-07:002020-06-02T04:28:02.941-07:00Good Morning <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We woke up together today. Writer and reader are two words that mean the same thing: alive.<br />
<br />
Thank you for being my fellow dancer, in this middle school cafeteria. We are all nervous. All scared.<br />
<br />
My two year old has an answer, when asked if he is scared. He does a pause, and says "Uhh. A little bit."<br />
<br />
Today, my family wakes up scared. Uhh. A little bit.<br />
<br />
But we also wake up two years old. We wake up with joy, with excitement for things that are real and that we dont have to hope for. We are excited for a birdfeeder. We are excited for friends that text us and call us and neighbors that wave.<br />
<br />
We wake up two years old, today. A little bit scared, sure.<br />
<br />
But we see real love, and we are going to let our two year-old lead us through the day. His vision is the purest, the healthiest, the most focused.<br />
<br />
Today we listen. Today we will let our two year-old win.<br />
<br />
I've never been more excited to lose.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-73814392372392615492020-05-31T19:48:00.000-07:002020-05-31T19:48:06.919-07:00Top News Story Today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You are reading this, so you want this. I promise. This is not a main road. It is your help that paved this humble moment.<br />
<br />
Vanessa taught our niece some painting techniques today. By the time she left to get McDonalds, Noah was calling her sissy by mistake.<br />
<br />
Except it wasn't a mistake. Life doesnt require i.d.s, and our birth certificates dont come out of the womb with us. They are real. But they aren't natural.<br />
<br />
A child calling his cousin "sissy" because she's treated him like a brother, every time she's seen him? That's natural.<br />
<br />
There are lessons I learned very late, in my life. They are the ones that I'm most humbled by.<br />
<br />
It is so relaxing, to realize how wrong I was. It makes me realize that to worry is arrogant. Worry presumes a future, which is embarrassingly arrogant, as I look at my life's mirror. I see a lot of worry looking back.<br />
<br />
Worry is not action. Except, it is. It is a brain pattern, which is absolutely a physical movement. "Worry is an action" allows us to be less hard on ourselves. <br />
<br />
That doesn't fix everything. But it does make everything better.<br />
<br />
No one needs to fix anything right now. We just need to breathe.<br />
<br />
Love is not alone. It has history on its side.<br />
<br />
Shoutout cuzzies and the Long Island crew. Shoutout Drews and Zacs. Shoutout the husband's and wives trying. Shoutout the artists searching. Shoutout the artists translating.<br />
<br />
Sometimes surrender is courageous. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-87449543196753867722020-05-08T19:24:00.001-07:002020-05-08T19:24:56.800-07:00Breathe Air Into Minds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am finding less and less joy in starting my sentences with the word "I"<br />
<br />
We are finding more and more joy in spending time together.<br />
<br />
Who could have known that lowering expectations for a day would lead to greater results?<br />
<br />
We accomplished none of my goals today, except turning on my pressure washer. The other 16 hours was spent on puzzles and peeing.<br />
<br />
Except that it was filled. Overflowing with incredible stuff. Four books in a row before bed. Full sentences. Walks around the block that thaw frozen hearts. Ugga Muggas with sissy and mommy and dada. Visits from delivery men that bring new stickers. Stickers that stick on the table. New animals like antelopes. <br />
<br />
Today I heard a human being say "sloth" for the first time in their life. <br />
<br />
Doesn't it make sense that that's a big deal? Vanessa and I are getting to witness the birth of a child. I always thought the "birth of a child" was in a delivery room, at a hospital, and then they cut an umbilical cord and give you a certificate.<br />
<br />
But a child is born out over time. They evolve. They should make little kids go get sonograms again, just so dads realize that a 2 year-old is still a fetus that needs protection, nourishment, love. It's not a fetus. But everyone's a child, right? <br />
<br />
Well, if everyone's a child because they've been a child. Then everyone's still a fetus. We need help. Guidance. Protection. We need to be able to develop. <br />
<br />
I looked at a sonogram today. It was in full color. Three dimensions. It sang "Welcome to My House" all day because we sang it together yesterday. It spent 8 months in a body, and now 33 expanding its footprint, pressing its fingers and toes out, confidently recklessly fearlessly deliberately effortlessly<br />
<br />
naturally claiming its place in the womb called life. <br />
<br />
This is not my world anymore. This is not my blog anymore. This is the blog someone's dad wrote.<br />
<br />
Every time, all those decades, I was navel gazing -- I was looking literally into the whole my first food went into. <br />
<br />
Every time, all these decades, I had my head up my ass -- I was looking literally at all the crap I've produced that gave me no nourishment.<br />
<br />
When we look outside. We become servants, and it drains us. But its how we live forever. Its how we survive. _____<br />
<br />
This blog will be unfinished, as I rest peacefully in the ground. <br />
<br />
It's done forever, the same way a dandelion is done<br />
<br />
after every seed is blown apart<br />
<br />
and somewhere new<br />
<br />
Erthe and Skye<br />
<br />
Zoetic</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-13209189495276169992020-04-29T19:38:00.003-07:002020-04-29T19:38:55.670-07:00Our Daughter Has a Blog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
peace through writing.<br />
<br />
We are proud of her.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://zoeticskye.com/">zoeticskye.com</a><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-64552955569569258722019-01-02T18:02:00.001-08:002019-01-02T18:02:54.375-08:00The GOAT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Vanessa has quietly established herself as the best bartender in our town.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The job is underappreciated. It's expected to be an extra role. You're not supposed to feel like you know the bartender. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Vanessa doesn't care what TV taught you. She is whatever you need, before you know you needed it. And then you're better.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She is helpful with a surgeon's precision. Never too much, but always enough. Like the version of us we all wish we were. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She cooks and cleans better than the 1950s.</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-22344184185859200432019-01-01T19:34:00.001-08:002019-01-01T19:34:12.897-08:00Start Talking Less and Writing More<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You say so many beautiful things, but then they just float away. When you write them down, they last forever.<br />
<br />
GOAT</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-17523889662197786472019-01-01T19:29:00.002-08:002019-01-01T19:29:50.279-08:00Corona: The Grapefruit of Beers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I will text you a clip of me doing this bit </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-6686757908305571892018-12-30T03:58:00.001-08:002018-12-30T04:12:56.245-08:00Writing is a wonderful challenge <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am probably avoiding chores.<br />
<br />
That sums up the history of writing.<br />
<br />
Writing is a leisure activity. It's a bonus. Icing on the life cake.<br />
<br />
So is stand-up comedy. So is acting.<br />
<br />
Even if writing is more than that for an individual, it remains that for the whole. For the species. For the planet.<br />
<br />
Written laws are a pretty silly idea, if even one person doesn't have to follow them. They become a story, like a fairytale. Harry Potter and the Equal Justice for All.<br />
<br />
But just like fairytales, they can be written beautifully. They can inspire is to imitate what is written, and aim for that reality. For every little child dreaming of 3 wishes, there is an adult dreaming of equal education and pursuits of happiness.<br />
<br />
These are lofty goals, except that they are not at all. We may simply need to abandon the Narcissus Pond that is writing.<br />
<br />
No tree is waiting to "settle the score" with another tree. Because the score is something to be written down. It is pulling the past with us into the present.<br />
<br />
I have heard "those who do not remember the past are destined to repeat it."<br />
<br />
I believe in some form of the opposite. Whichever part of the past you choose to remember, you will repeat.<br />
<br />
"The past" includes everything that has ever happened. The idea of "repeating it" is cute, but has never been a real concern.<br />
<br />
We are destined to do what we think about and focus on. There has been kindness and collaboration and symbiosis throughout history. If we focus on those points of history, we will "repeat" something similar.<br />
_____<br />
Right. So how does this change the tennis show you're enjoying, or the politics you're angry about. !<br />
<br />
I don't know. I will only live one hundred years, so the source of these ideas is a tree, born and rooted in one spot, trying to describe<br />
the other side of mountains.<br />
<br />
Maybe that is what writing is. A chance for trees to say hello. To reminisce about leaves falling, and winter winds.<br />
<br />
One day I hope to have the courage to stop writing. I trust the trees more than I trust the men who wrote about how great their silence was.<br />
<br />
I never thought I'd write this, but Ralph Waldo Emerson can kiss my ass. If he really loved trees, he would have kept their secrets.<br />
<br />
And here I am, seven generations later -- writing. Destined to repeat. Designed to repeat, by one man's ego. Any writer is invested in the continuation of writing.<br />
<br />
I am a writer. I identify as one. I don't quite know how to remove that from my own self- definition.<br />
_____<br />
I remember ideas of Buddhism, learned while my parents paid for me to attend a 4-year stay away camp called college.<br />
<br />
Let go of the need to define yourself. Each thing you define yourself as, is a desire. Desire is suffering.<br />
<br />
Maybe a small seed has sprouted. A desire to be known is suffering. A desire to be remembered is eternal suffering.<br />
_____<br />
Almost 7 a.m.<br />
<br />
Time to do the dishes and feed the pets and get milk and oatmeal and take out trash and recycling and be thankful for my place in this giant forest.<br />
<br />
Dear God, help me to start being more like Johnny Appleseed.<br />
<br />
Amen<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-72178838456645766592018-12-29T19:07:00.000-08:002018-12-29T19:07:02.576-08:00Saturday Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am starting to recognize the connection that what is exhausting is rewarding.<br />
<br />
I am exhausted often. Not as often as Vanessa.<br />
<br />
Once you have a child, the race is on to get your shit together before they notice.<br />
<br />
I have a love for my son that I struggle to fully understand. His purity is giving me a perspective on life that I never knew existed. He is fearless. Except when someone knocks on the door. Or the dog barks. Or we fly too high when we're dancing to TV theme songs.<br />
<br />
Part of me wants to keep his purity inside, and under wraps, for as long as possible.<br />
<br />
But I think that's my fear. And I don't think that's the life he wants, or the life he deserves.<br />
<br />
I know there are older kids in his neighborhood, and at his rec center, who will be influences on him. The more they see him grow, the more aware they become of how powerful they are. Even as a child, your example changes the lives around you.<br />
<br />
I had a chance to work with kids, to coach, to play, to teach. It made me want to be a father. I had a kid who lived with me, and I got to see her victories, and hear her work through the challenges of high school. It made me want her to be an older sister. Her heart is a worthy pillar in the life of her brother.<br />
<br />
I hope she finds ways to be active with children in her adult life. Because children will look up to her. And rightfully so.<br />
<br />
I hope more kids grow up to be active in their communities. Because kids don't need role models. They just need witnesses. They need to see themselves as interesting, and evolving. They need to see that it really does matter that they keep trying instead of giving up. It changes the world of the younger kids around them -- but little kids don't realize it, and so they don't know to tell an older child.<br />
<br />
That's all children need -- witnesses and cheerleaders.<br />
<br />
Ten p.m.<br />
<br />
Bedtime.<br />
<br />
Big day tomorrow.<br />
<br />
They're all big days, it turns out. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-75795354068571717532018-12-29T02:43:00.000-08:002018-12-29T15:36:05.614-08:00having a child is amazing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I bet every child has their own amazing.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, Vanessa pointed out the subtle change in how our kid turns book pages. He used to rifle through them randomly. Now, he takes his time, and knows the differnce between looking ahead and turning back.<br />
<br />
Little does he know, he's teaching his father the difference, too.<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-35297504192279791102018-12-29T02:34:00.000-08:002018-12-29T02:34:36.720-08:00Happy Saturday Morning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm happy this morning.<br />
<br />
Was I happy when Sugar started beating at 4:55?<br />
<br />
I am happy to have a dog that is passionate. And I'll leave it at that.<br />
<br />
Today is a happy day - as long as I don't spend it on the internet.<br />
<br />
Which means, if any reader wants to be happy, my best advice is to stop reading, and go do some chores.<br />
<br />
Morning chores have me working at 5:33 in the morning. Pets fed, dog walked, and happy post written. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-18962937001935640532018-12-28T18:00:00.001-08:002018-12-28T18:00:35.651-08:00This is a Very Happy Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Maybe that's all it takes. Just getting in front of your mind. And telling it, "We are allowed to be depressed. But we are also allowed to write a happy title to a blog, and then see if a happy blog comes behind it, like a happy dog wagging its tail,<br />
<br />
Happy tennis ball in her mouth,<br />
Happy<br />
<br />
And that's what tonight feels like.<br />
<br />
I love my everything<br />
Family, friends, home, health. And my 9pm bedtime<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-68773450127636946632018-07-05T18:09:00.000-07:002018-07-05T18:09:21.173-07:00Is there a show yet called "Life is Hard"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There should be. <br />
<br />
This is hard. <br />
<br />
Raising a baby is hard. Raising a teenager is hard. Raising a son is hard. Raising a daughter is hard.<br />
<br />
Having a squeaky mattress is hard. Having an old house is hard. <br />
<br />
Not having a baby is hard. Not having a teenager is hard. Not having a son is hard. Not having a daughter is hard.<br />
<br />
Not having a mattress is hard. Not having a house is hard.<br />_____<br />There just isn't a version of life that isn't hard. It's hard because a necessary part of life is being alive. And it's hard to be alive.<br />
<br />
_____<br />_____<br />So what everyone who is reading this probably wants is....some humor.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-2909483485353389932018-07-03T19:44:00.002-07:002018-07-03T19:44:41.638-07:001600<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Already I am better.<br />
_____<br />I have been unemployed for all of 6 hours.<br />
<br />
So far I've helped raise my baby for 5 of them -- took him on a walk, played toys with him, played catch, changed a diaper full of poop, and dropped juggling balls about a hundred times. I've put him to bed, and I'm nursing a cider.<br />
<br />
And I'm practicing Linear Equations.<br />
<br />
It started with Linear Equation Word Problems. <br />
<br />
Those didn't go so well.<br />
<br />
I moved on to good old-fashioned Linear Equations.<br />
_____<br />I don't know how valuable a skill this will be. But I learned a lot from my previous job.<br />
<br />
I got fired from the previous job. That's how I'll remember it, anyway. I liked the job -- I got to work with kids and families, I got to give speeches to try to inspire staff, I got to count a bunch of numbers. It was my dream job.<br />
<br />
And I failed.<br />
<br />
I fell flat on my face.<br />
_____<br />_____<br />But the whole time I was failing, I was growing. Because the whole time I was failing, I was trying.<br />
<br />
Now, I take an imaginary look at myself, from above, and I see a grown man. I see a father. I see a husband. I see a business partner. I see a CEO, willing to do the things that most people simply choose not to do.<br />
<br />
I am back to failing. But now, I'm failing at math.<br />
<br />
Linear Equations, to be exact.<br />
<br />
I am Mathman. Half of the 1600 Point Playbook ground floor.<br />
<br />
Bring on the failures.<br />
_____<br />
I can already tell there are patterns. Clear patterns.<br />
<br />
That's the whole thing about standardized tests.<br />
<br />
THEY'RE <i>STANDARDIZED.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
They have to be a certain thing. It's not like the SAT has some brilliant coach, who's going to come up with some new strategy you didn't see coming.<br />
<br />
They're literally not allowed. It's <i>standardized.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
So the game becomes a different game. It's not just knowing math. It's also learning to <i>recognize -- </i>and then recognize more and more quickly -- what the question is asking.<br />
_____<br />I don't have the perfect way to say this all, yet.<br />
<br />
But I see the path forward. <br />
<br />
And I believe in myself, as a professional. I believe in my ethic, and in my discipline, and in my partner. <br />
<br />
I see the path forward to owning a business that can change the path of a life.<br />
_____<br />
1600 Point Playbook</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-66775260838924373822018-07-02T19:57:00.001-07:002018-07-02T19:57:08.339-07:00I Wish People Would Send me their Writing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The laugh of a baby is...unique.<br />
<br />
The joy exhausts him, like a balloon flying around the room, a scud missile of happiness.<br />
<br />
It's crazy. I never imagined there was laughter like that. It's pure. Pure like water from a history book.<br />
<br />
Baby laughs are time travel.<br />
<br />
Thank you to my baby.<br />
<br />
Thank you for being laughter </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-52058516735085282472018-07-02T19:51:00.000-07:002018-07-02T19:51:18.711-07:00These Posts Used to be Honest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I think that was probably the appeal. I don't think it had to do with the topic -- stand-up comedy, in most cases. I think it probably had to do with the honest effort of another human being to communicate ideas clearly, and without manipulation.<br />
<br />
I have a daughter now. I just, do. It's my daughter. There might be more than two parents, which I never realized was a thing. By claiming my daughter I am not taking away anyone else's daughter. It only helps a child to have more people in her world that legitimately feel like her parent. It's just an extra amount of the world that is rooting for her to find peace and joy and love and happiness.<br />
<br />
My son is incredible. He sparks joy in others like flint and that other thing that combines with flint to make fire. He is crying in the other room. I got kicked out of the bedroom for making too much noise, as Vanessa tries to convince him to release his grip on consciousness, and trust that sleep will be a safe river that<br />
<br />
_____<br />
Tomorrow morning, I'll try again. Every day, I try my best. I always have. Sometimes it doesn't look like it. Sometimes, to other people, my best looks like I'm not trying.<br />
<br />
But every day, I try my best. Tomorrow morning will be the same. I'll try to wake up with the light from the East, try to be waiting for the bottom half of the sun, try to pick up mass and fight gravity in a fluid motion that teaches my body to develop symmetrical muscle.<br />
<br />
I'll try my best. I'll try my best. I'll wake up next to a beautiful woman, a smoking hot woman, and try to fit her head on my chest well. Tucked under my chin. And we'll keep our fingers crossed that our baby sleeps in.<br />
<br />
Changes ahead. And that's okay.<br />_____<br />
I'm more professional than I've ever been. I have more growth.<br />
<br />
I'll wake up tomorrow and try my best.<br />
<br />
I hope I start writing more.<br />
<br />
I hope I inspire others.<br />
<br />
I enjoy the writing of others.<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-1002065830032265192017-11-27T03:58:00.000-08:002019-10-29T17:48:38.538-07:00Some Days I Feel Less Like a Father<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And more like the roommate of a woman raising a baby.<br />
<br />
I feel connected to the baby but not entirely to the process of raising it.<br />
<br />
I feel like I’m using the pronoun “it” too much<br />
<br />
But also it smiles</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3295465757890132182.post-79923588570667938752017-11-22T03:38:00.002-08:002017-11-22T03:38:25.230-08:00We are the News 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A kid gets to see her grandparents for Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
A baby gets to have his first Thanksgiving tomorrow. He thinks the world is mostly being held and being fed. Because so far it is.<br />
<br />
A million teachers get a half day. So do 30 million students.<br />
<br />
A car starts. People call their families. People travel because they love their family more than the stress it takes to see them.<br />
<br />
It’s Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving. A great day</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0