The Little Moment: A tale of realization as a dad.

My life, as of late, has been measured by the moment. To some this may be a dad thing, in this case it is amazing. This weekend I took some time and headed to a park with Zoey and David. I have been working with the  City Dads Group and finally was able to get a chapter started here in Richmond, VA. While this has added to the never-ending list of things that I am working on, it is extremely important. I have benefitted through my current journey from countless other dads. This has empowered me to do something to help others. I have watched a community building itself out of awesomeness.  City Dads is a community of fathers that work hard to redefine fatherhood in the 21st century. I am so happy to be bringing this to Richmond, leading the charge, but that is a story for later.

There was a moment while we were walking on the trail that struck me.

moment of joy

The recent rain brought forth a bouquet of fresh aromas under the canopy of the trees. The deep, earthen soil mulling with sweet pine being baked in the humid spring heat brought memories of my childhood forward. I watched as their little bodies would lean and run around the winding path. The joy and excitement of each and every step reverberated through the deep woods.  The rapid scraping sound of little shoes running across fine gravel echoed with a cacophonous tumult, pushed further with the sound of laughter.

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.” -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Taking this time with my kids means the world to me. It is my honor and duty to raise them up to be better than myself. It was in this moment, far from the sounds of suburban life, that the juxtaposition of the quote struck me.  As I glanced through the trees, over the standing water, and watched the blur of my son and daughter, I smiled. This moment was the embodiment of the quote from Goethe. My children were simultaneously showing their roots and wings. It was beautiful, and inspiring.

This is not a mark of completion, but a trail marker on the way. It is a sign that I am doing something right, that amidst the trials and failures, there is something beginning to grow.

 

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

Exhaustion deep in the marrow of my bones

I am tired. I can feel the exhaustion deep in the marrow of my bones. With a heaviness I move through each step, continuing to drive on.  I watch the time pass by, like the flutter of a dragonfly’s wings. With the rising sun I draw in a breath. I open my eyes as the warm summer morning light bathes me. Forward, I continue. My drive is ceaseless and resilient. One more day has ended, and another one is here.  Just another day beginning in my life. What will I uncover, achieve, learn, or find today? That question is the one that greets me, and I always strive to answer.

For years it has kind of been my thing; burning the candle on all ends. I seem to have an innate talent for finding more ends of said candle that many did not even know existed. Normally I can find some respite in completing a project, or finding some down time with the family. As of late, that has not been the case. I see an endless list of things to do, looming deadlines, and the intense desire to ‘find time’ with my family.

You know it is bad when your Fitbit tells you that you need to get sleep. I guess that a declining average that hovers around three hours and fifteen minutes of interrupted sleep starts to wear on you. The excuse that I keep giving myself is that “This is fatherhood”. This is the marrow, the meat, of all that we do as dads.  In a seemingly thankless spiral of activity we fix things, we clean things, we do yard work, we spend time, we make time, we give up time. All for the chance of a smile from a child. For the late night, sleepy “I love you daddy” that calls to us from a sea of pillows and blankets. For the tight, reassuring squeezes when we rush into a room to fend off the nightmare monsters. We expend ourselves to the fullest, for those that matter the most.

Today, as I settled in for a long day of meetings, something different occurred. I pulled out my wallet, and saw a piece of paper sticking out. I am not a keeper of receipts, so this struck me as odd. As I pulled it out of my wallet, I could tell that it was the paper that we usually use for our shopping list. However, I could not remember leaving one in my wallet. What I did not know, what I could not know, was what this piece of paper was going to do to me. On this piece of paper was a note from my beloved bride.

The words reached deep into the marrow of my aching bones.

My wife has been my best friend from almost the moment that we met. It has been an honor to be the one that she can lean on when needed. It is also a show of her force as a person that she can be the one that I lean on when I need to. But, this little note, her love filled words, reached deep into the marrow of those same aching bones. She wanted to let me know that she sees me. That she sees all that I am doing, and that she loves me for it.

Marrow warming note

 

I read the note two or three times, reached into my desk, pulled out a pin, and pinned it to my wall. I want it to serve as a constant reminder, each day. A reminder that the woman that I love more than anyone on this planet is always there. That she loves me. That she wants me to stop and smell the roses from time to time. A reminder, above all others, of something that I seemed to have forgotten.  That when the marrow screams for relief, I should provide it. Just because I believe that this is the only way to live, does not mean that it truly is.

So, today, as I awoke and asked myself that question, I thought of a new answer. What will I uncover, achieve, learn or find today? To paraphrase Thoreau in “Walden”, today, I will learn to live deep, and suck the marrow out of life. I will find a way to remove the exhaustion, and allow my steps to be lighter.

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

P.S. I found another note in my wallet today. I am forever reminded how lucky that I am. My beloved is amazing, and I could not do all that I do without her.

Parenting has turned me into a Machiavellian Masochist.

As dawn broke over the cool spring morning the sound of my alarm resounded with its sharp, trill, beeping. I looked at the clock.  Why? Because, it is what we all do. We set alarms for a specific time. When they go off we still look at the clock, mostly in disbelief that this moment has arrived. As I prepared for the day, reflecting on the night before, as well as the weeks that have passed, this deep realization came to me.  Parenting has turned me into a Machiavellian Masochist. I had not even had my first cup of coffee yet.

Right out to the gate, you should know better by now that I am looking at rather obscure meanings for those words. As a story teller, I also find it better not to merely define these words. To proof the statement based on definition alone ruins the ride. But, those are heavy words. Machiavellian Masochist. What in the world was my brain trying to tell me this morning?

For the last couple of weeks I have been going non-stop.  Perhaps there is the part of me that compensates for what I see as a failure.  Getting sick… for me (not for others) that is a failure. Being sick for three months, we are near the pinnacle of epic here. Regardless, I have been busy.  Tackling projects like making a bed for my daughter birthday (how do we have a five year old already?), preparing the garden, editing vlogs, and working on a book (yep, it is happening) have kept me going at a breakneck pace. According to my Fitbit, and a little math, I am averaging less than four hours of sleep a night. And I am feeling it. Every day.

But I am not doing these things for me. Sure, there is the creative and cathartic experience of taking wood, shaping it, putting it together, and seeing your creation come to fruition. This cannot be denied. But, that is not (purely) how I work. Since my daughter was born (HOW DO WE HAVE A FIVE YEAR OLD ALREADY?) I have pushed myself. I have pushed to be the dad that she deserves and needs, not the one that I was prepared to be.

A  Machiavellian Masochist Tackles All The Things.

Zoey's Bed

This bed, it was for her, for her birthday. I knew that it would be something that I could do for her. Something that would bring immense joy.  Seeing that joy would bring happiness to me, satisfaction in the work that I had done. And it did.

The garden. This is for my family. It is to help provide as well as to teach my kids how to grow their own food. After all, who does not like a little dirt and sunshine once in a while?  I know that as this year passes by that there will be a ton of teaching moments for my kids. Some will stick, others will not.

The vlog, and the book. These projects fall in the same vein. They are both for legacy. They are for people to see now, and for my children to have long after I am gone.

All of these things point to the kind of masochist that fatherhood has turned me into.  I enjoy doing all these things. Again, cathartic, joy, and legacy. But, they are exhausting. They are breaking me down, bit by bit. I can feel it most mornings, and think of more to do long into the night. Because of the joy that I feel.

This, my dear readers, is also what makes it so Machiavellian.

I know that these things are wearing me out. Heck, I am writing about it as we speak. Meanwhile, I think of more and more things that I can take on to achieve the same results. Therein lies the cunning that exists for me. As well as the duplicity. I mean, who would do such things to themselves? When given freedom, cannot one not take a break, rest, kick back and enjoy life a little?

I know that I am doing this to myself, to bring joy to others, to have joy because of their happiness, at the expense of myself. However I discount my own knowledge of this, refusing to accept it, because I know that one would not do something like this to themselves.

Parenting has turned me into a Machiavellian Masochist. Something tells me, I am not alone in this.

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

Baseball Season Is Here! Take Me Out to the Ball Game.

Growing up some of my fondest memories surround baseball. In the cool summer Ohio nights, my dad could often be found playing catch with us. As the sun set the game would get harder, transitioning from 500 to practicing our grounders. This was not just on the weekends. There were days that my dad would come home from work, and just after dinner we would head outside.

There were a few times when I was having a bad day, that he would take just me outside to play catch. We would talk about what was bothering me, and find solutions to make it better. All while tossing this little white ball with red laces back and forth. The smack of the impact in the leather gloves punctuating our thoughts. Baseball found itself firmly in a group of activities that promoted bonding, growing up and development.

baseball

Baseball was one of the many sports that I played growing up.  Mixed in with soccer, swimming, tennis and football, my parents did an awesome job of cheering us on, and letting us be active. Of course, things were simpler then. The streetlights were are alarm clocks, and passing notes was our texting. It was also something that we enjoyed watching or listening to as a family. Be it on the radio, tv, or the awesome time we were able to go to a game, it was part of life.

Why am I writing about baseball?

This past weekend, and through most of this week is opening day. Baseball season has started. I realize that for many this means little. There has been a steady decline in attendance and viewership over the years for my beloved sport. However, there are many out there that hold this time, this season, near and dear. I, for one, cannot wait for another season of ‘stadium nights’ with the family.  Were we grill hot dogs, fry pickles, and put the game on.  It is also possible that we will get to a few Richmond Flying Squirrels games as a family. Watching their eyes light up as the distinctive crack of the bat fills the air means the world to me.  If we are really lucky, perhaps we will be able to make it to a Washington Nationals game as well.

Baseball holds a space in my heart that reminds me of countless good times as a kid. It hearkens back to all the things that my dad did to take care of us, and how awesome of a job he did. It should be no surprise that baseball is a love that I hope to share with my kids as they grow. A bond, a season, a team, a rivalry, all as a chance to remember the simpler times in life. Baseball is a great medium for me to teach my kids how to…

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

The Importance of Video for our Children

We live in a state where technology surrounds us.  It is a part of all that we do. Quicker access to take pictures, and video, of our daily lives seem trivial to some.  But, as we are getting back into the swing of things, this state is not lost on me. In fact, I noticed something last night that made me pause. Something awesome.

In the middle of archiving a video that we shot a few weeks ago, I decided to watch it. Normally, I do not do this. I just drag it to the archive, wait for the prompt to finish and move on. But, I double clicked, and it played. Having some time, I decided to sit back and watch the video play.  I listened as my beloved narrated the scene, and watched as Zoey and David played.  Their laughter filled my ears.  I listened as Zoey ‘spoke’ with David about the tower they were building. Upon hearing this, I was startled. I sat up and rewound it. Playing it over and over again. With each repeat of Zoey’s ‘speech’ a smile broadened upon my face.
Zoey building a tower for the videoDavid getting ready for a video about building a tower

Why did Zoey’s ‘speech’ on the video cause me to pause?

I reference Zoey’s speech abilities with quotes here because, well. Let’s talk about that for a second. Due to the structural issues that Zoey was born with, due to her Craniosynostosis, things like eating and speech have never come easy to her. We have been thankful that David, since very early on, seems to be able to understand her, perhaps even better than we do.

But that is the thing. Kati and I can often understand what Zoey is trying to say. We live in this world where many around us look to us with a perplexed smile as they wait for us to decipher.  We roll with it. But, we often lose sight of the advancement she is making.  Watching this video, I realized that in just the last few weeks some astonishing advancements have been made.

It caused me to reflect to the other night.  After cleaning up the dishes from dinner, I handed Zoey a bowl of ice cream. As I stepped away from the table a sweet sound came from behind me.  My daughter saying, clear as day, “thank you daddy”.

Why the video we take is important to us?

The videos that we are capturing are not for vanity. They are to show us the steps that our children are taking. They are moments in time, forever captured, to show where they are.  Down the line, we can reflect at where they have been, and see the huge strides they have made along the way. These videos are the archive of our successes, and failures, as we teach our children how to…

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

Just when we think that Spring has finally sprung…

Things were looking up.  The sky has been a beautiful shade of blue. The clouds have been white and puffy like marshmallows dancing in the sky. We were able to open the windows and let in some fresh, warm air. Spring had arrived! The birds were chirping, the grass was growing, and all was right with the world.

Then I looked at the ‘spring’ weather today.

Just when you think spring has sprung

First I see that there is rain.  I pay that no mind, it comes with the season. Then I looked a little closer.  How is it getting COLDER? I understand that cold fronts move, and the jet stream does its thing.  But, we were looking great. Incremental climbs every day. We were a little over 70 yesterday, and now, what do I see.  50 degrees, followed by 40 degrees. Then there will be a quick jump back to 70! Followed by another round of declining temperatures.

Perhaps it is a result from being cooped up so long.  Between everyone being sick… forever, and the weather, we have been confined. Haphazardly glancing out the window and sighing, mostly out of remorseful disgust. Having three kids under the age of five, we need spring.  We need the puffy marshmallow-esque clouds and the blue skys to come. To be able to open our doors and let the kids run, carefree and barefoot in the sun warmed grass.

But, it is not meant to be spring, just yet. We will now keep looking to the days that will come. All in hopes that our home, and our sanity can outlast the final thralls of winter.  Do not get me wrong, I am an autumn/winter guy.  But as parents, running low on coffee and chocolate, we need spring. We need spring rather badly.

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired

It has been a rough couple of months.  For all the reasons that many of us her on the East Coast know all too well, we have been inundated with colds and sicknesses. I have watched as my family has gone from being leveled by an illness, to healthy, back to being sick.  The cycle has been vicious, and none in our house has been spared.

For me, this is where the rubber meets the road when it comes to parenting. Dealing with wave after wave of sickness is a grueling practice.  For the older two we can give Tylenol for a fever, Benadryl for a runny nose or cough, and they get better.  We can give them juice, water, or Gatorade to drink to keep them hydrated.  Though it is painful to watch any child be miserable, we can deal with what we see.

However, this whole process is complicated when it also involves our youngest, Jacob. There is not medication to give him for his stuffy nose, and cough.  There is nothing to do but hold him, cuddle him, keep him upright, and let him know that he is loved. We know, from what we have experienced with Zoey and David that this will help to make him strong. Furthermore, we know when it gets too bad to take him to a doctor.  But that does not make any of this any easier.

Oh the Joy!

Being sick sucks. Being a sick parent, with sick kids… well that sucks even more. I feel like I am going to jinx myself (again) by saying that we are all doing much better than the week before.  However, thanks to this awesome weather (25 degrees Fahrenheit today… it was nearly 80 last week… 50’s by this weekend) I am certain that we are not done with this awesome ride.

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

Something awesome happened to me at a crafts store

I want to take a moment to share some awesomeness from last night. After dinner my beloved bride indulged me and let me take everyone to Michael’s so I could pick up some items for the D&D craft (that I cannot discuss yet). I strapped Jacob in the Baby Bjorn onto myself, while my beloved took the other two in a cart. We did our shopping, and all the kids did an awesome job. When it was time to go, she took the older two out to put them in the van, while I waited in check out. Behind me there was a woman and her grand-daughter. Here is the following conversation:
 
GM: “See that man right there? That is what you need. You need to find you a man that one day will not be afraid to go craft shopping at night and caring a baby! Stop wasting your time with those knuckleheads and look for a man like that. If he won’t carry your baby, you should not carry his.”
 
I looked back, the girl was obviously a little embarrassed and looked not a day over 16
 
Me: “If it helps, I love carrying my kids, and the crafts are for me”
 
GM:” Even better!, See honey, that is a real man”
 
I just wanted to share this because it made me feel awesome. There is something warming about having it pointed out that carrying my son on my chest is what makes me a real man. Further to have this pointed out to a young woman as something to look for.
 
Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

Dance in the Storm: A tale of how Fatherhood is changing

I spent the better part of the night before I left to attend Dad 2.0 Summit filled with excitement. My son and daughter gleefully put on music and took my hands so we could dance.  Filling my soul with all the joy and laughter that it could take.  I knew that I needed it to sustain me. How could I justify flying across the country, leaving my wife and three kids (all under the age of five), to go to a conference that talks about being a good dad? My hope was that it would be found in these moments pre-flight.

With a final kiss goodbye, I slid the door closed and walked into the airport. It only took two steps for me to physically feel that my heart was not with me.  Behind me, in that minivan, the one with the three crying children and teary-eyed wife, that is where my heart was.  As excited as I was to be heading to Dad 2, I felt empty and alone as I walked through the airport. Something was lacking. Stressful as it may be to travel with kids, I missed having to chase them down. Usually I would be focused on my kids as we waited in the endless TSA line. Instead, I stood there, alone. I missed it so much, that it angered me. I felt a fiery heat rise in the void that was created when my heart was left in that van.

“Real fatherhood means love and commitment and sacrifice and a willingness to share responsibility and not walking away from one’s children.” – William Bennet

All of it, all the angst and torment, was directed at myself. Angry for getting on this plane. Torment because I missed my kids. But, woefully I moved on.  I thought of the excitement that lay before me. I was going to be surrounded by other dads talking about what they have experienced, and what they are working through, as dads. This summit is a chance to have open, honest, raw and vulnerable conversations about the thing that we all love more than life itself, being a dad. There is much laughter, joking, and even crying about some of the things that we have gone through. There is so much acceptance and support for every single dad there.  It is kind of beautiful actually.

Over the last five years I have discussed the state of fatherhood. I have written about some of the hardest things that I have ever had to do. I have written with raw and visceral emotion about every time that my daughter has had a surgery.  Pouring out the feelings and encapsulating the moments while waiting for a team of surgeons to open her skull, re-shape it, and put it back together like a jigsaw puzzle. I have expressed every question, fear, and worry as many dad’s do not.  Open and exposed for the world to see.

On the other side of things, I have written about the things that have brought so much more joy than I thought possible into my life. Taking every single milestone and event as viewed through the eyes of a proud father. My pride being a banner for the world to see, and a model for my children to learn. Never shy of showing my joy for these things. Yet again, standing on the outside of ‘normal’ fatherhood.  Unashamed of showing my feelings for my amazing kids.

The same amazing kids that I just walked away from.

The void which my heart left in its wake, quivers with sorrow as I board the plane. I miss them. My God do I miss them.  Holding onto the memories of the dance gives me peace.

Why do I do this? Looking at my stats, usually with a stiff drink in hand, I can tell that my prolific writing is not just for solace, or confirmation. My reach is far narrower than many of the people that I will meet at this conference. I wonder how many know of the endless nights that I spend working though self-doubt, and creative enlightenment in ways to expand my reach. Of the countless drafts and plans that I have worked through in an effort to better tell this amazing story of my journey through fatherhood.  Then I wonder that if they did know these things, would it matter?

In my last five years of being a dad I have been fortunate enough to be surrounded by some prolific storytellers, who just happen to have kids. They write and shoot videos, often tongue-in-cheek, about their adventures into this great unknown we call parenting. They do not dance around the difficult topics. Instead, they face them head on.  They have been some of my best teachers, and dearest friends, as I have pushed myself to write more, do more, show more.

As the summit carried on, one thing resounded in the general buzz of the atmosphere.  With all the ideas and accolades, there was the same sorrowful voice about how much we missed out kids. I held fast to those memories of my kids and I dancing, without a care in the world. Those memories that I crammed into my soul before leaving.  In a flash, something begin to happen. Over the crowd I could hear the music wafting through the air, mixing with the distant sounds of my children’s laughter.

It was so surreal.  I could feel the carpet under my feet and the hands of my children in mine.  I could feel my body wanting to dance with them, as though they were there.  In this moment, it hit me. There was something that says more about the current state of fatherhood then I thought real. There is something about this dance that is now screaming as an epic moment of realization. So, I do what I have done for five years and I write.  I glide my lyrical brush across time and space to make sense of it all.  Removing layer after layer of dust to uncover something for all of us to see.

The very moment that someone becomes a dad their lives are changed forever. The act of entering fatherhood means that our lives are sent careening down a torrent path filled with the ominous unknown. The twists, turns, rises and falls are consumed with moments of fear, doubt, joy and often moments so hilarious that we can do nothing but laugh. We have to make decisions very early on that forever alter our children’s lives. Ironically is a decision that most of us make absentmindedly.

Holding onto my children’s hands as we dance in the living room, something was happening. As I replayed the moment over and over again in my head, I began to see.  This moment has something hidden deep in the steps, the motion, the dance itself.  Tightly wound like my son’s hand on a Popsicle stick, or my daughter’s on a piece of chocolate, so tight that you cannot see it, and surely it would break.

In a flash, it becomes clear.  Brilliant like the sun on a summer’s day. Bright like the full moons reflection upon a still pond. This thing buried deep with the dance all centers on a single decision that we all make at that very moment we become dads. A decision that shows the importance of fatherhood as a whole, but also how the idea of fatherhood has changed.  The simple act of dancing with my children exposes a question that many do not even know they answer.

How do we raise our children to be better people then we are?

As dads, we have the obligation, not the choice, of making a decision on how to raise our children. We can raise them in such a way that forces them to fit into a mold that, in-turn, fits into our lifestyle or point of view. We could constrain them to the perfect little thoughts and dreams that we have had for them since we found out that they were on the way. Society, and all of its morals and ideals could crash into our voices, masking reason with what society feels is right and good. Or, we can get uncomfortable with the unknown, and let our children become who they want to be.

Our decision, and my choice.

As for my wife and I, we could raise our children by any of these ideals. Instead we raise our children with the motto: live big, love bigger, and be kind, always. This means that we place value in living with honor, choosing to love, and the importance of being kind. To me it doesn’t matter who my kids might grow up to be. I just want them to grow up, slowly, and be happy with who they become. I have learned that it should not matter who they want to be. What does matter is that I exhaust all efforts for them.  That I let them explore this crazy world around them. Ensuring that they find what makes them happy. Above all else, encouraging them to go after what makes them happy.

What matters is it that I cheer them on in every possible endeavor. To do this not just from the sidelines, but right there with them. That it is more important to cast aside my ideals, and help them explode onto this world, and leave a mark that THEY are happy with, not the mark that I hope they make. To show them that inclusivity STARTS at home, at our dining room table. That love and respect is a requirement, not some gracious thing they should do.

Fatherhood In Practicality…

There’s something awesome about being a dad. You must force yourself to take a step back from it all. Look past the unknown and see the brilliance and beauty behind it. If you let yourself just being your children’s cheerleader, their champion, and their springboard, there’s so much greatness that you have the ability to witness. There will be times when things don’t go their way, and all you have to do is be there for them. They will be things that they want to do that do not even remotely fit your mold.

I’ve been watching my oldest son over the last couple of days and I see something that would terrify most. He would make one damn good ballet dancer. Looking back, not too far, I would find myself doing a plethora of things.  Spend evenings outside with him tossing the football with him in hopes of him becoming a defensive end like his father.  Enrolling him in sports, wood-shop, welding and other things to entice the engineer side that I have seen in him.  Excite him with Lego’s and building sets to have his mind shift to constructive creativity.  However, fatherhood has changed. I have gleaned so much from my dad, as well as the other dads at the Dad 2 summit.

Instead of doing those things, what is it that I do?

I dance with him.

And he loves it.

Perhaps even more than I do.

 

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always

It is nearly here: Dad 2.0 Summit, building a community

“Without a sense of caring, there can be no sense of community.”- Anthony J. D’Angelo

Before I knew it, the calendar changed, and the time to pack had come.  List of stuff and things flew through my mind at a breakneck pace, and began to create a whirlwind around me.  But in a moment, it all stopped, and came resting down on the ground.  There was something missing, something that I had allowed my excitement for this journey to block my view. In that moment, it became clear what that was. Fighting the desire to fall in tears for the enormity of what I had missed, I moved forward.  I moved past all the stuff, the things, the lists and scooped my children up in my arms.  We laughed, we played, we hugged, and we kissed. And life became our chaotic sense of normal again.

Tomorrow I will be leaving to begin the first leg of my journey to the Dad 2.0 Summit.  This will be my second time having the honor of attending. It is no small shock to me that I have the same level of excitement as I did last year.  There is very much the feeling of Christmas, of family, of community. Last year I went only know a few of the dads in attendance. Furthermore, I only knew them by our on-line interactions. Coming away from the summit last year, I left with friends.

I met some of my hero’s, and proved the adage horribly wrong.  I met knew people, and received a great deal of guidance on my next steps.  There are a few that I have hung out with over the last year.  We have been able to expand on our experiences, and broaden our sense of community. There are many that I have spoken with frequently.  There have been ventures that we have entered together, and learned a lot along the way.  Ultimately, it made me a better father.  This community made me cognizant of what I am doing, and what I plan to do.

But in the hustle and bustle of getting ready to go to a social media conference, I was sacrificing time.  Time with my children, and my wife. Time that this community of dad’s has shown over and over again is of the up-most importance. It has also made me painfully aware that my children are another year older (plus we have one more, so there is that). That in a blink of an eye a year has passed.  That time is truly ever moving.

All of this being said, I am eager to meet with some of the friends that I have made since last year.  I am looking forward to the adventure that Kia has afforded us the opportunity of as we drive from Las Vegas to San Diego.

By the way, selfless plug here, you should be following the hashtags #KiaDad and #NiroDads to make sure you can see the hilariousness as well as have a chance to win some awesome prizes.

I am not looking forward to what tomorrow will bring.  To watching my family drive away as I enter the airport.  To missing even more time with my amazing kids.  At least, and this is no small thing, there is the community of dad’s awaiting to gather.

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always