To some, today is Cinco de Mayo. To some, it is just Tuesday. For me, today is super special... Better than cheese dip and margaritas. Twelve years ago today (it was a Monday) at 7:46 am (Central), I became a dad. It is a role that I never expected, and honestly, didn't think I wanted, much less needed. I was in my mid-forties and still hadn't grown up, so the thought of being responsible for another human, a tiny living, breathing, helpless being, was terrifying... For everyone. But here's the thing: after the initial shock wore off, which was surprisingly brief, I was excited. Terrified, yes, but genuinely excited. At that point in my life, I was excited about a lot. I was in love. I was happy. And now, I was going to be a father... no... a dad. I had a father. I swore I would do better. I remember everyone joking about me changing diapers and all the worst parts of parenting a baby, but none of that scared me. What truly scared the crap out of me was failing. Not be...
April is often equated with Spring and rain, not gloomy gray days, but happy little showers that bring life and beauty. Everything is colorful and lively. But for me, April is a tough month. As I sit here writing this, I am acutely aware that one week from today marks the 12th anniversary of the passing of my mom. It seems unreal even as I type those words. Twelve years. I don't need a calendar or reminder app to keep up with that. My mom passed 13 days before my first biological child was born. I spoke with her the night before, and that conversation began exactly like every conversation I had with her began for the previous few months... "Do we have a baby yet?" To say that she was excited is like saying Pompeii was a bit warm in 79 AD. The fact that she never got to see my baby or hold her is one I will never get over. In 20 days, my oldest girl will turn 12, and I can barely believe it. She never got to meet the woman who raised my sister and me by herself. She nev...