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It's kind of like watching your heart beat outside of your chest. 

Like a dream come true in a material form beyond your imagination. 

It's kind of like having your cake and eating it, too. 

Like the deep breath one exhales when blowing a fallen eyelash -- satisfyingly hopeful. 

It's kind of like holding a palm full of shells, a gift from the ocean's sandy shore -- undeniably beautiful.

This privilege of being a parent, of being her father, has quickly become one of my favorite things...

...and it's the best feeling in the world. In fact, there's no other kind like it.


July 24, 2014

While Allison and I cycle through our Netflix queue on the regular catching up on movies and binge watching television shows (Breaking Bad is our current addiction), we also try to incorporate some family friendly selections for our self proclaimed movie nights. Movie nights are evenings we curl up on the couch with our limbs twisted and pieced together, all three of us, enjoying snacks we shouldn’t and settle in for a viewing of the latest animated feature. Sometimes, like this past weekend, we introduce a classic to Madison and in doing so we find it’s almost as if we’re watching it for the first time all over again.

Seeing her eyes light up as the door of the Gale’s home opened revealing the transition of sepia tones to color was like reliving our childhood through her eyes, a realization I have more often than not these days. She smiled as Toto trotted along behind Dorothy and cried when he was shoved into a basket upon the back of a bike belonging to an ill-mannered witch of a lady. She wears her heart on her sleeve, that girl, and I know the feeling all too well yet almost as quickly as I recognize myself in her I see her mother just the same. There’s no question she’s the best of both of us, a fact that continues to prove itself at every turn.

When asked about The Wizard of Oz, here is what Madison had to say…

Tell me about The Wizard of Oz. What happens?

Dorothy was running with her dog. There was a big storm coming and the house did like this [spins around in circles] and a mean old lady turned into a bad witch and the rainbow colors came.

Then what happened?

Then a beautiful witch came in a bubble and she looks like a princess, that was a BIG dress and a HUGE wand, then the little munchkins came out to sing and dance. Then the munchkins hide for a minute, they were scared of the mean witch… she wants those sparkly shoes.

Did Dorothy find any friends along the way?

Scarecrow and Tinman were her friend’s names, but I like Glinda. I do not like when that witch takes her dog away though.

Anything else?

Dorothy came back home and that’s the end.


July 21, 2014

I'm not sure if these are amusing to anyone else or just Allison and me since we're her parents, but I have a feeling we'll look back one day enjoying that we captured some of Madison's random little comments (click here for more).

ME:  Don't scratch your elbow.
MADISON:  I know, I know. Don't scratch my bokitta bite (mosquito bite).


In the morning...
ALLISON:  It's time to get up.
MADISON:  I just want to lay here and listen to the sounds out my window.


We purchased a fiddle leaf fig tree...
ALLISON:  Let's name it.
ME:  Okay.
ALLISON:  What about Figgy?
ME:  Sure.
MADISON:  (walking by) Hey Piggy.


MADISON:  I like noodles better than spaghetti.
ME:  Well, spaghetti is noodles.
MADISON:  That's not right, that's wrong.


Reaching for the doorbell...
MADISON:  I'm going to press the door button.


July 10, 2014

As the sun set, we lit sparklers and listened to the pops and crackles of the fireworks that lit our faces with every explosion and we did so in the backyard of friends that feel like family. We watched as the children, theirs and ours, played together while we discussed the roles we’ve grown into over the years that quickly snuck up on us. It’s easy to take for granted the freedom we’re automatically given as citizens of this nation… the freedom of adulthood, the freedom of parenthood… the freedom fought for by the brave that makes this whole journey possible yet not a day goes by where it isn't appreciated. 


July 7, 2014

I turned 30 years old yesterday and among the many well wishes and the happy sentiments were a few apologies and even some sympathetic looks. I’ve said it before (last year) that I’ve always looked at age 30 as a milestone representing the threshold between young and old; however, as this particular birthday approached, I not only realized this milestone is far from meaning I’m old but it also brought with it a feeling of hope and excitement that I’ve missed from numerous ages before.

My thirties will see my daughter transition from ages 3-13 and within that time frame her mother and I will see our efforts of parenting challenged and rewarded at every turn. Maybe we’ll explore the option of having another at some point… another child, another house, another career.  

Or maybe not.

Maybe my thirties will find me in the best shape of my life by replacing current habits with healthier options. Maybe I’ll find that better version of myself that I’m constantly in search of… a more patient, a more kind, a more understanding version of myself that my thirties will encourage into fruition. 

Or maybe not.

Maybe my thirties will pave the road to dreams achieved and reveal doors to open that present more to chase. Maybe I’ll finally write one of the novels I’ve written over and over in my head and climb the mountain of publishing a manuscript of my own.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I have disillusions of grandeur regarding the next decade of my life, but there’s only one way to find out. I’ll take each year as it’s given to me and give myself completely in return. Maybe by some standards, age 30 is a depressing one offered to dwell on the glory days of your twenties and teens... but I think not. 

There’s no maybe about that.


July 3, 2014

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