Coming Together In Quarantine - Or - We're Going To Be Quaran-fine

This whole new world is fascinating to me. It's also scary and stressful and anxiety is running right on that dangerous line, but man it has been such a wonder to listen and learn. I've also done all of this connecting without Facebook or Instagram, as they were really depressing me for a little while.

I have wanted to write something since all of this started, mostly to process myself, but also to reach out and connect with whoever might want to read my ramblings... so with my mom, I guess.

So far two things from this whole new world have really struck me as wonderful - 

1 - Nobody knows what "best" means right now, so doing our best just has to work. 

Besides certain leaders who insist on pretending they know what's going on, even our best medical professionals are saying, look, we're learning as we go, all we can do is our best, so hold on and help each other. 

This goes with folks who are suddenly full time employees and home-school teachers. This is a restaurant owner who is still doing take out and delivery, not to make a few extra bucks, but to keep some people employed. This is a distillery, two weeks ahead of a national launch, changing their entire model to make hand sanitizer. This is my brother in law working 13 hour days as a Nurse manager, just to check in on both of his staff's and keep things going as smooth as possible. 

There's a lot of freedom in knowing we don't have to be perfect. (This might be a "no shit" moment for some of you, but it is really hard for some of us, even if our perfect just looks pretty okay... like my former covid-beard). The hardest part is accepting where we are and rolling with the new punches. Once we get there though, the amount of grace, patience and acceptance just skyrockets. These are, hopefully obviously, such better characteristics to lead with than perfection, pressure and stress.

I generally try not to lead from these characteristics, I think most of us try, but it's really easy to see when we're not at our best when we are sitting in these things alone. That's where the self-assurance and grace comes in. I haven't been very good at this lately and I've let the anxiety win too many times, but that's why I've been writing this for the better part of a week... I'm just trying my best. We aren't in ideal situations, so it should be easier to forgive ourselves for not being ideal, but we're a species of people who aren't classically very good at forgiving ourselves or other, which is why point 2 is so amazing.

2 - People who can't come near each other are getting closer!

Every day I've been trying to reach out to at least one new person. Not a stranger or anything, though that sounds fun, but someone I haven't chatted with in a while or someone I might normally see casually, but won't have that opportunity. People are singing songs together on balconies. Virtual happy hours are all the rage. Technology is bringing people together who might not have considered using technology a month ago.

There are really positive and creative things happening to help support people all around. From fund raisers and benefits for those out of work to musicians playing daily or weekly concerts on their websites or YouTube. Ben Gibbard, from Death Cab for Cutie, has done a daily concert for the last two weeks and it's fantastic (here's my favorite). Tens of thousands of people are watching and he's using the platform to share news and benefit information.

This morning I learned that John Krasinski started a YouTube news show called Some Good News, where he's only sharing the positive things happening in the world. Because yes, we're surrounded by a whole lot of scary, frustrating and unsettling shit, but we're also all in this shit together. I have no idea how he didn't full on cry during half of it... the whole show makes the air so dusty and your eyes so itchy.

Life is never easy, but so many of us are realizing how lucky we are or how much worse it could be. I'm one of the lucky ones. Through and through. I have lost income. I have anxiety. I have family I'm scared for. I have colleagues who are struggling to balance. I have family downstairs while I work all day transitioning between doing their best and trying not to murder each other, because it's hard.

This is all hard and we're still the lucky ones. We have technology that brings us together. We have stores that are still open. Maybe you don't currently have a job. Maybe you're currently struggling, but if you are able to read this and think about it, you're luckier than most and throughout it all I hope you know you have me.

I don't know how many people are even still reading right now, but if you are I'd love to hear from you. I'd love to hear your struggles and the good things that are happening. I'd love to do a video chat or a call or text check in. I have food to share. I have heart to give and to be honest, it's one of the only thing that's making me feel better throughout all of this.

I've been struggling with the unknown, like most of us, but I know the things that have made me feel better are these connections. Little things go so far. I would love for people to share the good stories they have heard, either email them to me (chewthomasr@gmail.com) comment here, or send me a text or call me and tell me about it. If you are still on Facebook or Instagram or, I don't know, Tik Tok (I hear that's a thing I don't understand), put something on your page that is wholly good and positive. Shoot someone a message you haven't talked to in forever. It doesn't need to be me, but reach out!

Let's be intentional and use this time apart to come closer together. Let's share the good stories and support our most at need any way we can, even if that's a kind word or a hello. It could be a random $10 Venmo to a friend who is out of work or a nurse who is working 60+ hours each week. Thank you for reading this and being a part of my life. I can't wait to see you and give you a hug, but until then, I can't wait to see your name on a screen and say hello. 

Crowd Sourcing Inspiration

This is self indulgent drivel. I'm not going to delete it, but it's pointless. 

- Thomas, September 2024

Not surprisingly to me...
I'm not great at doing the things for me.

Self care is not something I excel in. Now I'm not a slovenly disaster or anything like that. This isn't a woe is me post. I don't  take terrible care of myself. For the most part I really enjoy the vast majority of what I do. I love my job. I love my other job. I love walking my dog as soon as we're actually walking, I really hate getting ready to walk my dog. I love being with my family and getting things done around the house. I love listening to books and podcasts while I drive. That's the majority of my life.

I have a pretty okay attitude about life and what it means to live happily. I make my own happiness and I communicate when I think I need to... sometimes.

All this is to show that I rarely say hey, I'm going to do X because I really want to and it'll make me feel good.

I always have an excuse, verbal or mental. I do love my work, but it does take my away from my family for the majority of their days. Jenna is doing all the things to keep them moving and on track and most of the "stuff" around the house. So when I get home from work I feel an unspoken pressure to help out and spend time with the kids. These are two things I love doing, I'm a helper by nature and my kids are amazing, so being around them isn't a task. I genuinely feel bad if I don't do the dishes or if the kids ask me to play and I say no.

These are things my therapist* and I have delved into more times than we probably haven't. I'm a people pleaser with unsubstantiated guilt issues. I know I have the ability to make people happy and positively influence them, so I feel an unrealistic need to do so. I'm working on it.

Lost in all of this is the self-care I started talking about before I went on one of my typical rants. I'm not the best friend in the world. I would do anything for anyone (the whole people pleasing thing), but I am not a present friend. I don't make time for interacting with my friends. I'm super happy when it happens, but I don't do it very often.

This is something I value. This is something I feel. This is something I miss... yet this is something I don't actively do. I'm working on it.

Writing is another outlet I full on heart-eyes love😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍. I think of things to write maybe 20 times a day. Movie plots. Characters. Stories for my kids. General thoughts and philosophies. Words that sound cool. But I rarely ever write them down. I don't put time aside to write at all, not even just highlighting the random thoughts that pop into my head. I have been setting daily intentions and weekly goals, which has me holding a pen and thinking, which feels pretty good, but it's not enough.

Yesterday, as I'm reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance with my ears, for the first time, it had me thinking of the act of writing and reflection. Even with that, I really couldn't think of what to write about or how to write anything down. So, like any good 36 year old (I still forget I'm 36 sometimes, strange) I asked social media to give me some hints.

Now, through this... whatever this is... I have decided to write something based on every suggestion that was given to me. Here they are, slightly edited for the sake of clarity and ease with brief commentary:

• Something Magical that happened that day! : Probably makes me the most nervous
• Gratitude : One of my daily routines I'm poorly establishing is to think of 3 things/people I'm thankful for and tell them or write them down.
• Simple household, non-mechanical tools: This is the perfect suggestion from one of the most magnificent people I know.
• The AIDS epidemic of the 70's and 80's: Whoa... okay, that'll be "fun"
• Kids Adventures - Stories for your kids: I tell my kids stories almost every night. For probably 2 years I told Mabel a different story every night about either a superhero (she knows a lot about superheroes) or a street sweeper named Gary we made up. Gary was the best. I wish, so badly, that I would have written all of those down.
• One Strange Rock Episode 1: I don't even know what this is, but I'm going to assume it's a television show about a zany family who lives at 1 Strange Rock Boulevard!
• Something fictional, like the sun : This one has me thinking oh so much, way too much, I'm very excited. 

I'm going to do my best over the next however long... I know goals should be timely, but I'm really bad at setting goals, it's another thing I've discussed in therapy. I'm a highly effective non-ambitious person who accomplishes massive tasks with very little purposeful planning. I'm weird, dudes, I know this.

But I'm going to write something. Maybe it'll be a reflection like this. Maybe it'll be a poem. Maybe it'll be a short story. Maybe it'll just be a collection of Memes because other people are funnier than I am and memes make us happier... probably dumber... but also happier.

You can see that gratitude is crossed off... as I close out this random post I'll bring it all back together. I am so incredibly thankful for the experiences I've had that have brought me the life I live. I am surrounded by grace and privilege. I work extremely hard for my luck, but it is not lost on me that I have also been inspired and supported by the world around me. I have been writing this for 25 minutes and my fingers are just flying. My brain is clear. My heart is beating. I was randomly smiling a few minutes ago when I wrote the list of topics. I'm so grateful for the people in my life to have responded to a random-ass Instagram story asking for inspiration.

It's here and it's real and it's giving me life and energy. If you are interested, but don't see results, call me out. Do it nicely, I'm very sensitive, but call me out on my shit. I welcome it.

Thank you John. J Instagram. Thank you for inventing Instagram and naming it after yourself. Thank you for working with Sally  Google and her partner Mary Lou Blogger, who made this medium possible. You're the real heroes in this story.

* An Aside Regarding Therapy and Writing 

I don't see any purpose in being untruthful when I'm writing or reflecting about my life in a venue where other people might interact. I write these things for me and sometimes people read them and that's nice too. I've mentioned therapy in conversation before and people have looked at me strange, like it's a dirty word or a secret I should be keeping to myself.

This is my truth and I'm not worried about people who either don't understand it or believe the negative stigma they might have learned growing up. To each their own. This is my life to live and I'm going to make it as awesome as possible. I think you should too. Being self-reflective is nice, but it's also transformative. We all know people who spend all their time complaining about people or the world around them without taking any stock of how they can change it. It's hard, we do not live in a forgiving world, so we need to learn to forgive ourselves and move on.

I see a therapist every few weeks because talking to someone completely objective about the 248,009 things going on in my life helps me understand that life and understand how my weird brain interacts with the world around me. It's amazing and I'm a genuinely better father, husband, colleague, friend and person with therapy in my life. Check it out, I'll share my counselors information with anyone who wants it, she's fantastic.

It's been a while

When I was younger, I used to write poems.
They were not good.
They were stuffed with youthful agony and strife.
I was so emo. I listened to a lot of Dashboard and even more Bright Eyes.
At first I was ashamed of writing them. I used to feel ashamed about a lot of things I shouldn't have. I used to not feel shame about a lot of things I should have.
Growing up is funny. I'm one of the lucky ones for a thousand reasons...
I hear people say my life is perfect and it brings me shame.
I have strained relationships others take for granted.
I work... and then I work... and then I work for what I have.
I look a certain way, both my youthful visage and my general countenance and people make assumptions.
I have it pretty good and I still question every aspect of it.
I question... what if I didn't have my parents? What if I never met Father Dan? What if I never drank a  drink? What if I actually said the things I wanted to say when I was growing up? What if I grew up somewhere else.

I ask because I care.
I care because I see
I see  fear and hate
I see how easily they avoid me.

We don't ask because we're scared
We're scared of our shame
We fear and we hate
We're emotionally lame

Nobody teaches how
Nobody teaches why
Until it's too real
Until we accept the lie

We're not special
Our lives are not exempt
Embrace this fear
Fight the hate and lament

Be scared
Be sad
Be better
Be mad
.
Be lucky
Be crude
Be more
Be you

Rainbow Flags and Neil Gaiman

I've been listening to a lot of audio books on my commute to and from work.

It's pretty perfect. About 35 minutes each way and I feel like a literary genius. I've been at my newish job for 10 months know and I wish I would have tracked everything I have listened to. (Author's Note: I just decided to do this).

There have been three highlights to this process for 3 very different reasons.

1. Brene Brown. I am in charge of my college's summer reading program and people are constantly suggesting books to me. I have actually listened to 9 or 10 of these things and it is stuff I never would have made time for before. So it's making me better at my job.|
2. Elmore Leonard. Good god that guy could write a story. If you've only seen Justified or Get Shorty or Out of Sight, dive into any of his books. There is a formula and they shouldn't work, but they work so well and it will make you want to be so much cooler than you are. It has made me want to be so much cooler than I am at least.
   
   Stories are good. Stories are important.
   
3. Neil Gaiman's voice. Whoa baby. I had read American Gods a couple of times a few years

   

   Pictured: Neil Gaiman's face

   ago. Actually read it with my eyes, rather than my ears. It's fantastic. Everything about it. At this point I think I've read 7 of his books or collections, or he's read them to me to be more specific. Let me tell you, the four people reading this, god damn that man has the greatest fictional reading voice in the whole world. (President Obama wins for non-fiction... this is not a debate, this is truth. Nick Offerman is a close runner up in the fiction category).
   
   Besides his voice is his message. He writes for anyone and everyone and he talks about writing and reading a lot. I believe one of the reasons he has been so successful and stuck with so many people is because of his lack of assumptions and his honesty. Gaiman says things like, "No one has ever farmed on Pluto before. Well, maybe they have, but I haven't heard of it happening." That is probably a terrible example, but it shows my point. He doesn't make the assumption of knowing or understanding everything. He is constantly learning and simply living in the world around him, taking it in and hoping for the best from everyone without establishing expectations.

So this is my jump off to talking about my neighborhood a little bit. I've been thinking about expectations, how we create our own narratives in every situation, both good and bad (mostly bad), and general understanding. It's easy to find the negative in basically anything. It's easy, but it's also really boring. This is not a high horse conversation, I can get as negative as the next guy and I write my own internal narratives that convince me I'm ruining something, or someone hates me or everything is all my fault. Sometimes it's true, most of the time it isn't. 

Challenging these narratives, like Neil Gaiman and his angel voice naturally does, isn't necessarily

Pictured: Stupid Good

difficult, but it doesn't come naturally to many people. One of the books I just finished reading with my ears is "Rising Strong" by Brene Brown (It's stupid good). Many of these thoughts have come directly as a response to that book, even thought I'm not putting it at the forefront of this post. I'm still processing a lot of it. Processing is good.

The main lesson to steal from Brown and that book for the sake of this one sided conversation is that everything changes when we assume everyone is doing their best. 

This is hard. It is important.

Important things are hard.

Let's bring this all back together: 

I was walking back from the playground with my kids last night. I was pushing the double stroller and we were listening to "Say It Aint So" by Weezer blaring out of my phone. On each side of the street their was a rainbow pride flag hung. This is a big thing on my block. In the last year at least 1 has been burnt and 4 others have been stolen or ripped down in the night. There was a rally about it that was attended by hundreds of people on very short notice.

I started counting as I walked and listened to my kids singing along to some of my favorite songs that I've forced into their brains. In the two blocks on the way back to our house there were 9 rainbow flags, 7 American flags and 1 Blue Lives Matter flag. 

Listening to other people's thought and ideas, fiction, research, interviews, essays, whatever it is, forces your brain to listen to another perspective. We're constantly writing our understanding of our personal stories, even if they never leave our frontal lobes (I know nothing about science, so I don't know if the frontal lobe is where this level of thinking actually takes place). We can look at a series of anti-LGBTQ hate crimes as a tragedy and snap shot of the shit world we live in. Or we can look at the rally and the fact that at least 5 of the pride flags hug on my block are hung by families of allies who are raising their children to believe in love above all else. 

Responding to hate with love. Just like Gaiman responds to the unknown with the possibility over certainty. Just like Leonard let's you assume the best in criminals while they're committing a crime. Just like taking the time to listen to someone read to you allows you to question your world with wonder rather than scrutiny.

When I see those flags I think of rewriting my narrative. Choosing language that helps and encourages others to rewrite theirs. Finding the positive and focusing on that while I move forward. Assume the best in people, even the shitbags, and consider the possibility that they are doing their best, even if their best isn't all that great. I might not have been able to do that so easily or actively without the sweet sweet voice of Neil Gaiman.

Hopeful Fear In America

I can typically walk down the street with my kids without being scared.

I don't need to warn my kids about how to act around anyone besides strangers.

I am privileged and I'm still scared.

Larry Whitmore said, while talking about the absolutely unnecessary death of #AltonSterling, "Thank God for cellphones." Some are still scared and making excuses, but the world can finally see systematic oppression, even if they choose to deny it.

I have a lot of great friends who are great people trying to understand this situation and offering support, condolences, thoughts, prayers or even evidence to make sure more people open their eyes. None of us want to, but we should all be scared.

This fear is how almost half of Americans feel every day. 

This fear has a moronic bigot on the ballot to become President of the United States of America.

This fear has parents warning their children about how to act around police officers. 

This fear has police officers, good and bad, jumpy, protective and insecure. And let's not pretend there aren't bad police officers. When a doctor messes up a surgery and kills someone due to negligence, they are removed from the field and held accountable for their actions. They aren't necessarily bad people, but they made a grave mistake and need to be held accountable for it. Something we rarely question. But when a police officer murders a person on camera, most of our media and half of Facebook blame the person for a criminal background or for not complying. The Bundy militia had loaded guns pointed at officers during their standoff and they had weeks of patience and discussion. But when a black teenager is playing in a park and a bad cop suspects he might have a gun, he's acquitted after shooting him dead.  

#PhilandoCastile was murdered by a bad cop. Maybe he was a good person who made a mistake, but that makes him unfit to wear a badge that is sworn to serve and protect. 

Good cops know this. Good people know this.

If there wasn't such an outcry to protect these bad cops and make fucking ridiculous excuses for them maybe there wouldn't be such a growing divide. Their body cameras didn't both accidentally fall off right before they shot who was pinned on the ground four times, that's an obvious lie, stop lying.

Stop lying.

Own your privilege if you're lucky enough to have it and support those around you. I can't explain it as well as this guy (please read this if you haven't already) but I'll paraphrase his sentiment uncouthly:

No shit all lives matter.

If you feel disregarded by the phrase Black Lives Matter, then you have probably never had to live in fear of your society. I bet that Stanford swimmer rapist asshole thinks All Lives Matter. Black Lives also matter. We should be angry and scared for the black community. We should try to understand how they are oppressed and vilified and how they are American citizens who just want to live in peace and raise their families.

We aren't all the same. Some of us want to be, but we're not. Personally, I don't want to be all the same. I wish we our system treated people the same and offered the same protection and opportunities, but that doesn't mean the same things as "we're all humans, we're all the same." We are all humans, but we all have a history, different families, different levels of education, different skin colors, different friend groups. It would be great if we could celebrate these differences, but we don't really. We typically hide behind them.

Things that are different are scary. Fear isolates.

I'm a middle class educated white guy and I'm scared for the world my kids are going to grow up in. I'm scared because I want them to have the opportunity to play with and learn from people who don't look like us and who weren't raised by us. I want them to give back to their community and spread love through their smiles and interactions.

 Before I get what I want I have to explain why we're different and why we're lucky and why that's so fucked up.

Between the time I started writing this and finished five cops were murdered at a peaceful rally in Dallas. Random cops. Probably good cops. I am already sick at the thought of the blame game and lack of accountability. Their lives were senselessly taken, just like the lives of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and so many others. The former were killed because they were police officers. The latter were killed because they were black men in America. 

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. - A really smart guy you've probably heard of and quote once a year on Facebook.

I always try to leave something hopeful in my writing because I'm a generally hopeful person who wants to live a positive life and leave a legacy of love. The only thing I am hopeful for is that more and more people will start to get it. Nobody questions that Blue Lives Matter or that All Lives Matter, so why do we question that Black Lives Matter? That's not a segregationist statement, it is unifying. 

A lot of people are scared of a revolution of some sort, or they don't think it's possible. I think it's necessary. I'm not talking about battles in the streets, but you know damn well those are coming just like in Ferguson, Missouri. I'm talking about neighborhoods, communities, towns, standing together to make changes that make lives better for everyone. Supporting each other by electing officials who care about people more than money. Looking at the broken systems like prisons, elections, drugs, justice and calling for change because it's the right thing to do. 

Morally. Economically. Socially. Patriotically, the right thing to do.

You can be angry and scared and you should be. But look outwardly. Be angry for the victims. Be scared for black men and women and police officers.

But be hopeful. Be supportive. Become educated and demand change.

Open your eyes.

Stop lying.

Light and Love.

Good Grief

Yesterday I had a rough morning. A rough morning for me after a rough week for more people than I can list. I don't know why I woke up sad and angry, but I did and my pissyness effected Jenna and needless to say Mabel didn't have the best morning either.

I stole this from Kris Troyer.
If you see this, let me know if you're mad.

Grief is a funny thing. Last Saturday one of my buddies took his own life. We weren't close, but we were friends. I have hugged him and listened to his personal struggles, but I have also seen him hug and make dozens of lives better for having him in it. I was sad. I was sad to think of his loneliness and pain, I was sad for my friends who loved him and lost him. I was sad for his girlfriend and his family. I was mad too. They often come hand in hand, but in this case I thought of how much pain his pain had caused and will continue to cause those who loved and tried to help him.

Forever. They will be in pain forever. That is sad and that makes me mad, but that is part of life and that's when the best of people also emerges. My friends who knew and loved Adam even more than I did stepped up. They rallied around each other in person and through social media to let the world know how much they loved Adam, how much Adam loved them and how much they loved each other.

Balancing the pain, sadness, anger and love isn't easy, but once it starts sinking in and the warmth replaced the emptiness, acceptance starts and you start to appreciate the best of the individual you lost and those who are still with us... at least I did. I know, all too well, that there is not an assembly line version of grief.

Especially when it comes back into town so quickly.

Now, I have a large family. I've been going to funerals and wakes for a very long time. At points in my life it was hard for me to understand folks my age coping with death for the first time. I'd seen it and been a part of it since I was very young. Each death taught me something, but overall I grew to appreciate that death is part of life, even when it's not fair and it hurts. The hurt didn't always go way quickly, but I understood it more and I tried my best to help others through their grief while understanding my own.

I stole this one too, but it was from Jamie herself
and it had been her profile picture a couple of times
so I'm guessing she liked it.

On Tuesday morning  I learned about Jamie. Less than 4 days after Adam's pain won over the love in his world, Jamie lost to her demons as well. Adam was my buddy and I cared for him and had a lot of love for him, but Jamie was my friend. She has been in and out of our lives the last couple of years dealing with her issues, but she just had dinner at our house. Whereas Adam was moreso a part of the lives of people in my life, Jamie was a part of my life. My family's life. The lives of my  best friends who have made Rochester our home.

This was a new one for me. My brain didn't know how to respond and in a lot of ways it didn't. I had already entered the acceptance phase of my grief when I found out about Jamie and I couldn't help but feel numb. I wanted to cry like I cried for Adam. I wanted to run the gambit again, I know it's for the best, but it just wasn't there. The hurt was there, the thoughts and questions and frustrations, but the feeling wasn't and that made me even more sad.

I held my wife as she cried. I cried with her. I checked in on friends who were closer and offered my support. I read amazing articles on grief and death and depression and pain and I couldn't help but feel like I had skipped a few steps and I started questioning everything again. What was wrong with me? Am I doing enough? Am I supposed to say or do or feel something differently...? I saw people grieving openly for both of my friends and struggling to understand their own and the grief of others. I saw people upset at themselves, at strangers who wanted to share in their grief, at people they didn't feel earned the right to grieve as much as them. I thought I was beyond this and I thought I knew better.

That's when the friends stepped in. I saw these questions, this pain, this sadness, frustration and all the things met with love and hope.

Much like with Dumka, the pictures and the stories started rolling in. Jamie was weird and smart and funny and lively and lovely. The sadness was there, but the celebration won. Getting together, not just on social media, but in person let people smile through their tears. It let people tell stories others hadn't ever heard before. It brought us all closer to Jamie and closer to each other. The same happened for Dumka, but I got to be a part of it for Jamie. My cycle of grief caught up to itself and I started to feel lucky again.

I am lucky to have known and been even a small part of these two extraordinary lives. I am lucky to know people who can love so unconditionally and who want to help even a distant friend get through their tough times. I'm lucky to have people who call me a friend and reach out to me. I'm lucky to hug my kids and ignore the pain while I make goofy voices and faces with them.

I woke up sad and angry and I struggled through the day. It was there all day long, even when I laid in bed at the end of the night. I'm lucky for this pain. This is good. This is a testament to the lives of Jamie Shea and Adam Dumka. This is a testament to my Aunt Fern and Steve's Dad and my Grampa and Aunt Dawn and Uncle Bob and August Lindell and Stephen Schantz and Paul Brewer and everyone else who has ever left this world and forced us to grow and grieve and learn. I'm a better friend because of grief. I'm a better person because of loss. I'm going to be a better dad because of sadness.

It's different for all of us, this pain and this path, but I've decided that my lesson is in love. Lessons don't always come easy. Neither does love.

But looking for these things, a lesson or the love, in the worst situations makes everything better. Everything does not happen for a reason, but that doesn't mean you can't find a silver lining in a shitty situation. There's no road-map to grief and even these stages I've been talking about are subjective. Live through the worst times and be with those who are gracious enough to let you. Try to smile and remember the best, but cry and be sad when you need to. Most importantly keep loving and keep living. Never stop.

I'll miss you Jamie. I'll miss you Adam. We're all better for having you as long as we did.

These pictures are also stolen,
but I think they're both beautiful and I hope nobody is angry with me.

The Best Neighbors in the World - An Ode to Guy and Ronnie (Or why I support local business)

I grew up in a small neighborhood in a small town.

To put it into perspective I graduated with 85 people and we had one of the largest graduating classes. My best friend lived across the street from me and his parents were friends with my parents. When we did projects on our house, they were there. When they did, we were. So on and so forth.

Growing up in a small town, especially when you grow up far from frivolous spending and means, being a good neighbor is sort of second nature. My folks were always helping out one of the neighbors or they were helping us. Mr. Dorman, who lived next door, had the best garden around and almost every morning in harvest season we would find a small pile of fresh vegetables on our deck. He never said a word about it.

I don't think anyone ever said a word about it, yet that's how I was raised and that's how I've always tried to treat people. I should really bold and underline and italicize try because I'm far from perfect and I've been a real piece of s-h-i-t from time to time. Overall, both personally and professionally, I like helping people and I'm happy to do it. It's how I approach customer service, it's how I approach friendship and it's what I tell Mabel all the time.

I just want you to be nice.

There are a million of these things right on the internet.

Having lived in Boston for a few years and then living here in Rochester, some of the neighborliness went away. I don't think it's necessarily second nature and sometimes it's good to be reminded that it should be. We really should slow down once in a while and when we do we realize a lot about the world around us. In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller:

Nope, not the one I was looking for.

Here it is!

How cool is that guy?

Not all that glitters is gold, Mathew Broderick accidentally killed a couple people in Ireland one time

I think I got off track somewhere. Classic me!

So back to the task at hand. Living in the city makes it easy to move through life and focus on what you need to focus on. We bought our house almost three years ago now and when we did we inherited a couple neighbors we had already heard great things about. They were friends of friends and even the people who used to own the house told us how great they were.

Those folks are Guy and Ronnie

They are, in fact, that cute in person as well.

From day one Guy and Ronnie have been amazing. They take friendly to a new level and write the book on sincerity. This has all flooded through my head because today, while I was at work, Jenna was trying to take Mabel to one of her toddler gym classes. On her way out she got stuck in our driveway. 

I will now go one a 12 page diatribe about the weather this winter... no I won't, but I could.

Man, this is going to be a great blog because I can not think straight and I hate it already, it's not doing them justice at all, but that's bound to lead to literary gold!

Back to it... again. 

Jenna called and told me she was stuck so I started packing up and coming home to help her get out. Halfway to the door she said Guy had come out to help her. 

I drove home anyways to clear out the driveway so she could get back in. By the time I had gotten home Guy and Ronnie had already gotten Jenna out of the driveway and were breaking the ice and shoveling so she would be able to get back in. There was no question, no need to ask, it's just who they are.

This is far from the first time they have helped us and been the most amazing of people. Between borrowed tools, big projects, little projects and just general presence and concern, Guy and Ronnie have reminded me and taught me what it is to be a neighbor and a friend. Most notably, though I won't get too deep into it because it makes me cry, when Mabel got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital the day after her first birthday, it was Guy and Ronnie who saved Jenna and me (mostly me, I was a disaster). Above and beyond doesn't even begin to cover it and when you thank them they are quick to say, that's what friends or that's what neighbors are for. Thank Christ for friends and neighbors like them. 

Part II:

Subtitle A: Or why I support local business

This obviously got me thinking about much more than how great it is to have neighbors who help you out in a pinch. I thought a lot about growing up in that neighborhood. I started thinking a lot about just how it helped develop me as an individual and how that neighborly inclination has led me down my path. Is it a direct correlation? I have no idea, I was never very good at research. But, then I started to think about Guy and Ronnie again. Guy is a ridiculously talented musician and generally handy guy who also happens to be a Rochester City Firefighter. Ronnie is brilliant and multi-talented and happens to be one of the proprietors of the best god damn food truck in all the land, Le Petit Poutine.

It's even better than it looks.

I see how hard Guy and Ronnie each work in and out of their chosen occupations. Their focus is almost always on whomever they are trying to help. In life, at home, at work, probably when they're singing in their cars driving around. Some might call it good customer service, but if we're being honest they are just good people. 

That's why small businesses are amazing. The majority of the individuals who decide they're going to take the risk of starting/owning/operating a small business don't do it because they're going to get super rich right away and definitely not because it easy. They probably won't and it certainly isn't. The ones who last, the ones that leave a mark are all run by people who care about people. They've found a way to incorporate their general amazingly welcoming, loving, supportive selves into an industry that is not forgiving. 

There is a small shop, in NYC it would be called a bodega, right around the corner from me on Winton Rd across from Main, run by a husband and his wife. They have four kids running around all the time too. They are the nicest people in the world. Every time you go in they are so happy to see you. They also happen to have a killer craft beer selection and all of you should be going there way more often. I should too, to be honest. It's a tough business and I hope they make it. It's strange to root for the owner of corner store, but I am because they've made me feel welcome and they deserve it. 

I work at Marshall Street Bar and Grill part time. The owners, my friends Don and Kelly, are just smart people who know what people want and try to give it to them. Everyone thinks they are Don's best friend because Don makes everyone feel like they are his best friend. That's just who he is. They keep coming back. Kelly is out in the community constantly representing the bar and making connections. People love her. That's just who she is. She has learned and grown through Marshall Street and Marshall Street keeps getting better and better in another really tough business.

Shameless plug for Marshall Street.

The Moral of this Story

Good neighbors are good people.

Good people start good local stores.

Local stores enhance and give back to the community.

Be a good neighbor and support your community.

I hang out with college kids for a living

Two weeks ago I was talking to my boss (he's great, this isn't about him). We were talking about changes to a seminar we run together for all first year students. It's nothing new in higher ed, but it is becoming seemingly more difficult to find a curriculum that lands with students. We were chatting, going back and forth, when I made a comment about getting older and how it's going to keep getting harder to identify with students and for students to identify with me.

I said it very casually and off the cuff, but I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

Some background:

The title of this post, "I hang out with college kids for a living" is exactly how I used to describe my job to friends and family. (Filling this out on tax forms is also very strange.) In all honestly, that's why I got into higher education. As an over-involved college student I was good at connecting with my peers and helping people get what they needed out of a team/event/experience/class etc.

Law school plans were out. Higher Ed was in. I wanted to be an orientation leader for the rest of my life. I wanted to feel those connections and see the look of relief in a parent or a students eyes every time I got to answer their questions. It's an incredibly selfish aspect of the call to service. I wanted to help people during this trying and confusing time, but I wanted to do it more because I was good at it and because it made me feel good to make them feel good. Still, it was easy and I didn't have to work too hard to do it well.

That's not a humble brag, it's actually a pretty damning self reflection on the first few years of my career:

I relied much more on my personality and ability to connect with people than I did on my work ethic or knowledge of the subject matter. I made people feel welcomed and valued, but I didn't have to do much in order to make that happen.

I should have.

Who would trust a guy who shaved his head in the hallway, only wore free shirts, had that goatee (look close), wore any rubber-band he found on the ground? Everyone. That's who. Everyone trusted me. Isn't Nickel adorable, by the way?

That's how it went for a long time. Too long. I spent almost six years at Newbury College. I made some great friends, great connections and helped a lot of students by merely being there for them. There were some students who inspired me and I stepped up for them, but in general I phoned it in and relied on people liking me to get the job done. My half ass was often more noticeable than others' full ass, so I got by pretty well, often with praise I craved, but I know I didn't deserve.

The move to SUNY Geneseo changed that. I was learning new things. I was pushed to make a plan for my future. The initial question I was asked by my boss during our first meeting was,

What do you want to get out of this job and where do you want to be in five years?

I eventually got thick glasses and started to part my hair on the side to prove it.
Skinny tie helped.

I answered that I wanted to be a director again. At the time I had no idea what that meant. I think I wanted to be in charge for the sake of the praise and the autonomy my ego needed. Still, in spite of myself, I started to accomplish the things I didn't know I wanted. I still relied on connecting with students, but I used that to make my program better, not to make me look better. I got better. Far from perfect, but I got better.

Fast forward to now, my time here at Nazareth College. I still feel a connection with many of my students. I love working with first years and teaching that class because I still believe I have something to offer the students. I'm 14 years older than most of them, but I can still identify the points of reference they need to connect with or the missing link they're searching for.

When I mentioned connecting and identifying with our students to my boss I originally thought it was just getting older. I mean, I am. That's the truth, but the more I thought of it, it wasn't the reason. I started to ask why. I've spent a lot of (enough of) my life dissecting old terrible decision and accepting others for theirs, hopefully we all have (we haven't). In light of this, I don't know if I've ever critically thought about my personal connection to my work outside of: I'm good with people and I'm good with college students.

I hope I am, I mean I think I am. I think those things are true, but it's different now. When I took my new job almost a year ago, I gave up a caseload of 72 students. One-on-one academic counselling connections that filled up my schedule along with about 120 peer tutors, a summer welcome team, and a committee for advising the tutors. I was worried I was going to miss the connection, so I was excited to teach my first year courses. I'm glad I did. My students still say they like me and they can relate to me and it still makes me happy, but, if it makes sense, I don't care anymore. I care that they're happy and successful. If making real connections with them leads to that: bonus! The difference is I used to need them to like me. I used to want so badly to be the cool guy everyone could count on, at work and in my real life. In some ways I was (I just deleted a diatribe about what it means to be cool), but it was shallow and in many ways superficial.

Sad Keanu is just thinking about life man.
Life and sandwiches.

Things are different now. What, at first, was a scary notion that I wasn't going to be relevant or connected for my students anymore turned into a serious bit of self reflection and realization. Again, this is funny because I encourage my students to do this stuff all the time, yet here we are, life epiphanies coming from heeding my own advice to others. Having my students feel connected to me helps me do my job, but I no longer need it. I'm good at my job, or I'm at least trying to be good at my job, because of the work I put into it. I try to look at my programs from what the students need, even if they don't know it. I can't look at my programs from the lense of what I needed when I was their age any longer. I had no idea what I needed when I was that age.

So what does this all mean and how does it help any of us. Well I don't know if it does. It helps me. It helps me a lot actually. I know I have felt like I was doing good work at Naz since I got here, but I guess I know what that means a little more now. My work isn't for the praise or my advancement, like it had been for so much of my adult life, it's for the students. They don't need to need me, but I know they need the programs I'm offering; even if they don't. They don't need my help because it's me, they need my help because the programs I'm running are designed to benefit them and make their college life better. This is what's going to to lead to the praise and advancement I still crave. I've decided it's okay to want something, but needing something can really mess a guy up when it's not really needed at all. No more of that. I work hard because I like working hard. I'm good at my job because of that hard work.

We all need to grow and adapt through life. It's the most obvious thing in the world, so why is it so hard to do? We jump to point out when others are making choices based on settling and comfort, but we're blind when we're doing it ourselves. There is nothing wrong with getting comfortable as long as you know things are bound to change and you are ready for that. It's going to happen soon and it will always happen. We need to keep pushing, we need to keep learning, we need to keep reflecting and asking why. We can do it in our jammies or on our couch with a beer and friends, but we need to do it.

When you ask me what I do now, I still don't know how to answer, but it's something more straight forward.

I'm a dad, that's pretty great. In my downtime I'm the director of a student support center.

Revisiting Focused Reinvention

Editor's Note: This was a waste of a blog and I'm not happy with, 1 - how poorly I did, 2 - how poorly written it is, 3 - how pointless it is. Skip to one of the awesome (read: not shitty) ones.

When I started this blog the focus was clear and simple.

In the last year before my 30's I wanted to live actively and document as much of that as possible. I tell myself through the random updates here and the Mabel Blog that I've at least kept up with this goal a little bit.

Well, we tell ourselves a lot of things that aren't true, now don't we. I have wanted to get back to writing and the original goals of the blogs since the day I stopped blogging. There are a million excuses: I got a new job, I'm spending more time with Mabel, I'm working more, family time is more important. It's mostly  bullshit, because when I think of all of those things it makes me just want to write more. I have so many stories to share and so many personal trials and triumphs to write through.

So here I am.

I'm starting this on a Monday rather than the Sunday I intended mostly due to a little something called #Pearsworth (Look it up if you feel so inclined), but if I'm being honest this is scary. I'm about to outline a pretty significant life change and focus that will be a challenge and it's a little trying on the old nerves. Now after you read the plan you might say to yourself,

"None of those things are that hard, Thomas. People do them all the time."

To which I will reply.

"I know, but I don't."

In the spirit of friendship and community I welcome any and all of you who might read this to join me, even partially so we can support each other. I don't like being told what to do, few of us do, but I honestly and sincerely appreciate support, encouragement and a polite kick in the ass every once in a while.

Alright, so here it goes.

The Thomas R. Chew is Now Closer to Being 32 Than 29 So He Wants to Live With More Focus To Do List

1. I'm going to write.
1. One blog or another, at least twice a week.
2. I'd like to do some more creative writing, but I've never been very good at planned creative writing. I guess I'll have to just have to be more ridiculous when I write here.
2. I'm going to work out.
1. At least five days a week for at least 45 minutes a day.
2. Jenna and I already eat pretty fresh and very well, but it's all a waste if I sit around like a plug. Also, Jenna started working out again so there is the guilt/shame/motivation going on there.
3. I'm not going to eat deep fried stuff either. I tried this once before and weight literally fell off of me.
1. "But Thomas, you're so handsome and fit, you don't need to lose weight." 
2. "Thank you, I agree. Except the fit stuff." 
3. I'm not really looking to lose weight, but I would like to feel overall healthy again. I'm at 179 pounds, which is whatever, I don't even know what that means. At my heaviest I was at about 220. At my most fit I was at about 185. So weight isn't necessarily a concern, just the way I feel and working out and eating well and blah blah blah... you get it right? 
4. I'll be tracking the working out and eating well on the MyFitnessPal app, so if you have it we can be friends.
3. I'm not going to drink.
1. Whoa, whoa, whoa, right?
2. I'm going to give it a month. A month of no drinks at all. If I'm going to work out and eat healthy I might as well not drink for a little bit so it truly shows the effects of a cleaner style of living. 
3. Jenna is on board with this as well, so it should make it easier. 
4. Foster connections and friendships.
1. Being a dad and having Mabel is literally the best thing that has ever happened to me. But becoming a parent changes your relationships. Any time your priorities or time commitments shift dramatically, this becomes the case. It's easy to overlook and focus on the new areas of life, but I'd like to be more active in my attempt to maintaining relationships.
2. The number of hugs given and received has been staggeringly low. Mabel is more cuddly than she used to be so that makes up for almost all of it, but sometimes you just need a good friend hug.
5. Sub-Goals that might be too ambitious-
1. Read way more
2. Go to bed earlier
3. Wake up earlier
4. Become a wealthy industrialist
5. Start a non-profit called "Do Gooder" designed to recognize and benefit those who help others
6. Make a documentary with Brandon about rich people

So there you have it. At least for now. I'll be sure to adjust and edit things out when I slip up so nobody can prove I said I was going to do it in the first place, but until then it's on the internet so it has to be true. 

The Best Version of Me - A Love Letter

Once again, it has been too long since I've finished writing something.
Even this, which I'm deathly determined to complete is in it's 10th or 11th iteration.

I don't know why I've struggled so much, but I know it scares me a little. That's probably the cause of and answer to more than I'd like to admit.

I've recently realized I don't have a grasp of "myself" lately.

I know what I do. I know what I try to represent. I know who I choose to have in my life, but I haven't quite figured out where I fall as an individual.

Recently I have tried to picture the best version of me. Who is it? Who was it? When was it? What was going on in my life that allowed that person to exist. Here are a few things I've come up with:

• I used to be remarkably self assured. Even when I knew I was being an asshole or making terrible decisions, I knew I was great and life would go back to being great. This was all bullshit. I didn't realize this was all bullshit right away of course. It took a long time to let myself understand and accept the fact that I had hurt others, that I had been hurt, and that it was okay to not be great all the time. I started to learn this the hard way my senior year of college, but I don't think I really started accepting any of it until Jenna.

• I've always been good with people. I can read people, I understand and want to help people. I haven't ever been nervous around new people. I used to think I could  break down and justify anything and anyone's actions based on my acceptance and understanding that everyone is flawed and everyone makes mistakes. This led to a lot of people rolling over me, because they could. This also led to me walking away from a lot of situations and relationships at the first sign of conflict.
  
  "If we're going to fight or bicker, it's not worth it. I don't need that, I just need to be happy."
  
  Needless to say I never really learned how to share my grievances or serious concerns with people I was close with. That was until the first time Jenna and I disagreed on something significant.  It wasn't until Jenna when I finally had to learn how to fight. Believe me, she's a good teacher. I'm still not very good at it, but at least I see its value. 
  
  When it came to Jenna, something felt different. Instead of blowing it off I knew I needed to fight back. For a long time I would still let things build and eventually blow up (that's what happens when you don't learn how to express things, but you're a smart guy who completely understand these issues in other people). It wasn't the best way to approach the situation, but at least I blew up. At least it came out... I remember the first time this happened and through tears Jenna and I looked at each other and were more in love than we had ever been. She knew something different had happen and she knew my words were sincere and she knew she needed to take them to heart

I bring this up, because I really think it is one of the things that is standing in the way of figuring out who I currently am. I still hold the old guy who used to let things roll off his back and was always the happiest of happy close to my heart. I put him on a pedestal actually. It's still the guy most of my students see. It's the guy a lot of peripheral friends know (maybe even some great friends), but it isn't completely me. The hard part is this exterior version of me is true, but also by design. I like being liked. I like being counted on. I like all of those things, but I have learned that it isn't worth suppressing the true feelings that others might find off putting or disagree with. I say I don't care about it. I try not to care about it and now, I'm not going to care about it.

The point is I am far from the persona I used to try so hard to portray. I can be a dick. I get frustrated. I get mad. I blow things off or bottle things up until I snap. Sadly, the person who taught me how to overcome this is often at the receiving end of it. Don't get me wrong, Jenna isn't a saint I should never get mad at, but she is my saint who is worth getting mad at.

Recently Jenna and I had an argument. A pretty serious and severe argument which ended in a significant joint realization.
I no longer knew how to access the guy I used to be.
That. Scared. The. Shitballs. Out of me.

It's all I've been thinking about and it's all I've been trying to write about, but I didn't know how. I think I know how now and this is what I've discovered -

That guy is gone. Thank Christ. That guy had a lot going for him at the time and accomplished quite a bit, but I need to be better than that guy. I don't want to be the guy Jenna fell in love with. I don't want to be the guy who everyone liked. I want to be a new guy.

I want to be a guy who realizes that he has always been flawed and that old guy was particularly flawed. Even if he was good at bottling it up... he wasn't capable of dealing with it. This new guy I've been trying to be for the last few years has been better, but he's far from good. I've been trying to be that guy, but live the life of this new guy. It's constant friction between two mindsets that can't work together.

It has taken a while, but I am glad that guy is gone and I'm glad I'm going through all of this, because I think... literally as I write this... that I'm about to be the best version of me I've ever been.

I think I'm finally at that place where I can see the best and the worst of myself coming out in different situations. My students bring out the best of me... but they remind me of the worst.
Jenna has always been and remains my trigger (for both sides of the coin). Once I learned how, I spent a lot of, too much,  time prepping myself to get in an argument before I started to understand that I was the one starting the arguments.

This all came about when I realized the Jenna who was worth fighting for isn't here anymore. While I've been prepping myself for random arguments with the old Jenna I failed to realize there was this new, amazing, better than ever Jenna coming through.

I married a woman who wanted to be a better person than she was. I married a woman who knew she was growing and wanted me to be a part of it. She looked to me to help her in that journey and she let me influence her in the best ways and blocked out the worst. My wife is a perfect combination of who we both used to be. She found a way to embrace all of it and live in a new life where she shares joy with our daughter and the world.

I realized, way too recently, that I want to be like her again. I don't want to be the best parts of me, I want to be the best parts of us. I could never have figured that out if it wasn't for her. The patience she has found and the level of forgiveness and compassion she is capable of blows my  mind. She is the person I want to be like. She's my hero and I'm smiling as I write this because it's just true. She's the best and I love her.

This is who I want to be and if you're reading this, I hope you're willing to be on this journey with me:

I want to be kind.
I want to be open and honest.
I want to love freely and forgive quickly.
I want to embrace change in all it's glorious shittiness. 
I want to help people become who they are trying to become by just being myself.
I want to push myself to be a better husband, father, son, counselor, advisor, friend.
I want to find the joy and learn a lesson in everything I do.
I want to do all of this with my wife and with my daughter for the rest of my life.

It's a project and a process and someday it'll all change. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for having chosen a beautifully flawed partner who let me be a part of her mending or growing process and (yes it might have taken a while) let me find out on my own that she has always been the catalyst for my own.

Thank you Jenna. I love who you were. I love who you are. I love who we will become.

Five Years of Us and Seven Months of Mabel

I wrote the letter below in my other blog, littlebabychew. It was written in honor of my five year anniversary that just happened to be a few days after Mabel's 7 month anniversary in our family. I can't tell you how many things I think of throughout the day that I say to myself: Man, I should write a blog about that or that could definitely be a story. I don't write nearly as much as I'd like to, but when I do make or find the time, I'm glad when I get to reflect on my life. I started this blog almost two years ago to mentally prepare myself for turning 30 years old. Since then I have bought a house, been a small part in having a beautiful baby girl, and 30 has come and gone. I should write more. I will, I'm sure. 

I think back before Jenna was in my life. I wrote when I was a teenager to get rid of my angst and because it was cathartic. Most of that stuff is terrible. I wrote in college because I had to, but more often than not I thought it was fun enough. I didn't write for years after that... nothing. 

I write more now than I ever have in my life and for that I'm lucky. I write more now because I have more to write about. I've spent five years with the love of my life and our family is growing and perfect. I'll keep writing, because I'll keep getting better. Life is a luxury and I'm currently living pretty F'n large. So here is a letter to little Mabel Jayne in honor of her Momma and our lives together. 

Cheers to all the years to come and all the unwritten words. There's plenty of time to find them and there is certainly plenty of motivation.

Little Mabel-

Five years ago, on this day August 16th, 2008, your Momma and Daddy stood in a beautiful little backyard grove and said some vows that ended in some "I do's". Leading up to that day, your mom and I felt an inexplicable draw to each other that ended up forming a bond that eventually led to you, our little peanut. I want to tell you a few things I've learned in that four years and five months before you joined the family:

1 - Time matters. How you spend it, where you spend it and who you spend it with are all remarkably important. Being conscious of that time and acknowledging it doesn't come easy or natural to most people, but when you learn to do so, it changes everything. That time we spent over those years taught us how to love each other better than we ever did before we were married. It taught us how to talk to each other, sometimes how to fight each other, and it taught us to appreciate the mere fact that we were together. We have grown as people, we have grown as a couple, and we have grown as friends to each other and to your vast web of grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles.

All that time, I don't think we realized we were just prepping for you. It's easy to love you and your perfect giggle, gorgeous smile, and everlasting loving looks, but the time and love your momma and I have spent cultivating makes it so much easier to see all the joy and beauty through the times that aren't always easy. Your first cold (which you're just getting over) is nothing compared to watching you roll over on all fours and rock back and forth, prepping for that first crawl. The sleepy mornings after long nights are nothing compared to what we're pretty sure is waving when we say hi and barking when you see Daisy.

2 - Talking matters. By the time you read this, I'm sure you'll have a pretty good idea of your old man's propensity for chattiness. It's easy for me to talk and to give fun speeches and to address large groups, but it hasn't always been easy for me to talk about the important stuff. Your mom either. Five years ago, we had remarkably different approaches for dealing with our conflicts or sharing what we really wanted to get out of our relationship. We worked through it through eventually breaking down those barriers and because we never stopped talking to each other and we kept loving each other.

Learning how to speak to one another, which hopefully we will pass on to you, took a lot of time, but after five years, hopefully we have a pretty good grasp of it. Sometimes, especially now, when I'm frustrated or I know your Momma is frustrated I think of you and I think of five years ago and I smile knowing that it's such a minuscule moment in our lives and I get less frustrated. That all came about through time and talking and just pure love for you and your mom. She does the same for me. More than I acknowledge, but I'm so proud of her. I fell in love with a person years and years ago who has grown into one of the best people I know. She just keeps getting better and better and you get to have her as your Momma and we get to share all this love with you.

3 - Love matters. Your Momma and I have been married for five years today because we love each other. We love each other for the people we were, people we are, and the people we're still becoming and will someday become. In these five years, those three words haven't always been easy to say, but they have always been the port we come back to. We say them to you every day and we want you to grow up to know what love is because you saw it every day of your life. We want you to learn how to talk, how to appreciate life, and how to love by giving back to you what you have given us.

We have spent five years become better people with and for each other, little Mabel Jayne, and now, seven months into your already amazing life, it's even more evident than it was on day one: We were learning to love each other better so we could love you and our new family the best. Thank you for giving us all that you have given us and thank you for helping me appreciate who your parents are as people, as individuals and as a couple. I don't thank your Mom enough out loud, but I thank her every day in my heart and in my life by saying those three small words and knowing she is the best part of me and has given me the best part of us, which is you.

I love you little girl. Thanks for making us better and thank you for helping me realize all the amazing things I get to teach you. I'm the luckiest Daddy, the luckiest husband, and the luckiest person I know. That's all because of the last five years with your Momma, and the last seven months with you.

Thank you, both.