Celebrate the Nonna

At first my heart hurt watching the little boy carry his little suitcase through the airport security line. In front of him stood who I assumed was his grandfather, behind him his grandmother. She said something loving to him and rubbed his back. I couldn't see the little boy's face, but I could feel his warm smile radiate around him.

My parents won't ever travel with my girls like that. Even when they were alive, they were too ill to do much other than us come to them, which we're thankful for. The time spent with them was more precious than precarious, especially the past few years, and Beatrice will remember them, even though Bryce may not.

But then my heart lifted, because of another grandmother in our lives: Nonna as she's known to the B-hive, my mother-in-law, the Mama's mom. Nonna has been a blessing to us all, living with us and helping with Bea and Bryce. The girls adore her and I cannot imagine the time when that changes, will not imagine. I've been gone so much of late that having Nonna with us lifts my heart even further 

No mother-in-law jokes here. Sure there are "wait, what?" head-scratcher moments, but there were many of those with my own parents, and them with me. We've all got 'em, kids. It's what we do with them that makes all the difference in the moment and beyond.

This Father's Day, when I'm on the road yet again, I will celebrate the Nonna. Thank you for all you do. We love you.

The warm smile radiates around me.

Let's Unimagine and Untangle Together

It all started with Tangled, this need to unimagine.

Our girls love the 2010 Disney movie. L-o-v-e it. Rapunzel let your hair down and all that -- singing and dancing and independence and love and happily ever after. It's loosely based on the Grimm fairy tale, which if you know that one, it's a depressing one that eventually ends happily. There have also been different interpretations and iterations through history, but the one twist in the recent Disney adaptation is the one that bothers me the most.

Why? Because of the abduction of the little girl, Rapunzel. That's the part that twists my heart into a knot of what if's and why's.

Like the Elizabeth Smart's of the world, or the Amanda's and Gina's and Michelle's of the world held captive for years, and many other much sadder stories of girls (and boys) and young women (and men) kidnapped and killed and all the horrible things in between that can and do happen, many of which globally never make the mainstream media coverage, much less any coverage.

A little girl Rapunzel kidnapped because her hair kept selfish Mother Gothel young and beautiful. Finally, years and years later when Rapunzel is a young woman, the horrible Gothel is destroyed and then Rapunzel is finally reunited with her mother and family (with her loving Prince Charming by her side). 

I know it's just another sweet family movie that doesn't have to explain the years of counseling Rapunzel may need, the constant nightmares she may experience and how long it may take to trust others again (regardless of how resilient she remained and how much love she had for the good guy).

Last night as I read to and played with our youngest daughter, Bryce, laughing just as giddily as she was, I couldn't imagine that happening to her (or our oldest, Bea). More accurately, I refused to imagine it. 

But as parents who strive to create and maintain a loving, safe home as well as a collective mindset in their community at large with other responsible parents, we do everything we can to unimagine it. According to the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, in the U.S. alone, the most recent comprehensive research reveals that over 800,000 kids are abducted every year with thankfully a recovery rate of 97%. Globally the numbers are a lot more dismal -- according to the International Centre for Missing & Exploited Children, an estimated 8 million children are report missing every year.

The what if's and why's aren't as important as the focused diligence to prevent them today and tomorrow. This includes the fact that from 1981-2010 the global economy has lifted 1 billion people out of poverty. If you don't think there's a correlation between economic stability (food, healthcare, shelter) and loving/nurturing caretakers and future generations of children reducing the number of their missing compatriots, then you'd be wrong. Time and again. 

Let's unimagine and untangle this ongoing narrative together. The B-hive thanks you (and loves to dance at the end of the movie, living happily every after).

Fueled By Girl Power

I remember the disappointment, the questions of why not, the remarks about legacy lost and lack of family pride. All because we weren't going to have children.

But we weathered it all anyway, because we really didn't want to have children. Ever. Even after being together six years and finally getting married (which we're now on our way to 10 years of marriage and 16 years since the day we met), we still didn't want children.

Let it be known though that we didn't disparage any couple of any combination who did. Ever. Living fairly free and independent in a country like ours, these are choices we made, and those we knew with kids made. We still celebrated all our choices; we celebrated life, nurturing it together without judgement. We had many friends and family who wanted and had children happily, and those who struggled to have them, happily or not. But again, it made no never mind to us.

Of course, my family probably blamed the now Mama somewhat, my lovely wife, since she was the woman in this man/woman union equation, the one with a supposedly fertile uterus with eggs o'plenty just waiting to co-mingle and bind with Daddy's DNA. Although they were a little shocked that I was even more adamant about it all at times.

We still celebrated our own mother's, even with differing family struggles as children in each of our own camps. We celebrated family and embraced most of the times as adults we could spend together in both camps, however difficult it was at times -- and God knows how difficult it was at times.

It ain't all hugs and kisses, kids.

And yet, so it was. Without children. Without being a father or mother. Until it wasn't. Until we changed our minds, without judgement for those who never did, and never will, whether because of horrible childhoods or something simpler, less traumatic.

On this Mother's Day, I celebrate my young daughters, the Mama and her sister and her mom, my sister and our mother (who passed last December), our grandmothers and great-grandmothers and other family and friends alike. I celebrate all the women who have had mostly positive impacts on my life, mothers or not, because of teaching me love and patience and mindful presence and a balanced life and empathy and communication skills and team-building skills and community-building skills and --

But for those who don't celebrate it, who say they despise it's very commercialized lie (I'd argue that Valentine's Day, Easter and Christmas are worse), and/or because it perpetuates the myth that women must have babies because it's God's will and/or it's biological and unnatural if they don't, and/or because they had crappy moms and families they want nothing to do with, then I get it. No judgement. Just walk away from today and wait for tomorrow. It'll come soon enough for you to embrace your Zen.

I, however, am fueled by girl power. Happily.

In a fair and equitable way, of course.

Play that Funky Music, My Girls

"Hi Daddy, I went to the music store."

"Right on, Honey."

Because Bea's kind of digging the violin, something I just learned while away this week. And so it begins...which would be fantastic if she really wants to learn how to play. Thank you Little Einsteins, because the Mama and me play rock, pop, classic disco, soul and R&B, baby. Sometimes cool kid music too, but never classical. Do the Star Wars soundtracks count? What about that funky Meco version?

No? Well, that's all right. There's a musicality in our B-hive that's upbeat, elevating and moves our hearts and souls; both Bea and Bryce bang on the life drum all day and those sounds meter my longing for home.

And that's why it's especially poignant when I miss it all, going from 0 to 60 mph this last month with work travel again, relegated to phone calls and FaceTime. But the sweeping crescendos are no less powerful when I hear:

"Love you, Daddy! Are you flying on an airplane?"

Yes, my sweet B's, I'm flying home for a jam session with you both and the Mama (and Nonna, too).

Play that funky music, my girls.

Crossroads Lit In The Morning Light

In the paralyzing anguish of watching crossroads vanish like an oasis mirage, I doubled over suddenly from sucker-punch knowledge only moments old, curling fetal on a hotel room bed in the dark 3,000 miles away from home and family.

The boy who bobbed along manhood's sandy surface called out for his parents, but they had already passed months earlier. I called for them yet again, a futile cry for solace, and then I prayed, something I don't do very often.

I prayed for insight and guidance, protection and continuity, stability and resilience. The yellow light from the streets below seeped through the sheer curtains and caked like pollen in the corners of my swollen, wet eyes.

Moments later I wiped them clean and called my wife, my friend, my lover, my confidant, my muse, the sun to my moon, the mother of my beautiful daughters.

I recovered and said, "I love you so much."

"I know. It'll be all right," she said. "We always have what we need; it always works out."

"Yes, you're right. I just want to be home with you and the girls. I'll see you tomorrow," I said.

"I love you," she said.

"Give the girls a kiss."

"I will."

Prayer answered, I fell fast asleep and dreamt of crossroads lit in the morning light...

Dear B and B, here's to babbling profound

Dear B and B,

Your beauty astounds. Not just because I'm your daddy and think you're pretty and sweet, but because of your literal purity of ever-expanding thought and longing to explore and learn. That's tough to maintain as you get older, and yet still very possible to do. You probably won't understand most of what I'm talking about at this point, but soon enough you will, like waking one day and reflecting back on all that's come before, what lies ahead and what makes today.

You'll also learn soon enough that daddy likes to babble profound, and I'm sure you'll continually remind me of that someday.

In the meantime, know that you have an amazing mother and grandmother who take care of you and I'm so thankful for them. I'm also happy I've been able to work from home and help when I can. In fact, if I can instill anything in the both of you during these early years of life, it's for you to continually explore, learn, ask questions, empathize without compromise and always encourage your fellow "brothers and sisters" to be the best that they can be, because that in turn will inspire you to do the same, creating reciprocal motivation to truly make this world a better place.

There will be those who scoff at this kind of positive idealism, and you will yourself at times. You will learn that this is how your daddy ticks, how his hopeful outlook comes from knowing heroes abound -- we're the heroes who save one another every day in single moments -- incremental yet transformative interactions where we share relevant information that is absorbed, adopted and applied in new contexts that propels each other forward.

And so it goes. This is the beauty of learning and growing and how everyday heroes are born. Each of us offering ideas that continue to build on one another, creating bodies of work that are similar to the formation of rock over a geological span of time. We can see the layers of growth and progress in one another, because of one another, where a better world emerges from the layers below -- generating a new level of wonder and wisdom.

The beauty astounds and it's what makes it all worthwhile.

You are my heroes. Here's to babbling profound.

I Love You,
Daddy

It's Your Birthday, Baby, So Let's Dance

Sometimes spontaneity sputters and burns with the white hot flame of a mindfully present love.

And those can be the best of times.

It's not a indictment on what doesn't happen day after day in a long-term relationship, complete with kids. The Mama and I love each other no matter what and through it all -- whatever "no matter what" and "it all" bring. The girls are our world and we wouldn't have it any other way.

The "romance" may not be as regular as in olden days before children (which was years in the making), but there is romance, alive and well, usually semi-scheduled but always enjoyable. (You big kids with kids know what I mean.)

And then there's the spontaneity, so precious and memorable that even the seemingly simplest of actions light up the memory centers of head and heart.

We took the Mama's mom out for her birthday a few weeks ago just before Valentine's Day, and one of the first stops we made was at a local winery. In the middle of our tasting, a mixed gender barbershop quartet appeared and entertained all us tasters with some classic a capella. Then they fired up some sweet 1950's doo-wop and that's what sparked the white flame.

The Mama called me out from the bar and we danced a little swing and a little traditional hustle, at least the moves we remember from our dance lessons years ago.

But remember them we did. Dancing with her in that moment was delightful, just as it was the day I married her, when we actually made up our own dance, years before the lessons.

Who says that an old married couple with kids can't cut a rug? We don't, and neither do our girls. We've got a colorful disco ball in the living that we light up for B-hive dance parties, birthdays and other special family occasions.

It's your birthday, Baby, so let's dance.

"I wanna with rock you, yeah, all night..."