Yesterday was Father’s Day (or in our case, the plural, Fathers’ Day) and it was our first one celebrating as a family with our baby. It was very rewarding and humbling to wake up knowing we’re parents. Daniel and I had a good day with our son.
The first time I saw Mika perform in concert was in 2008 at Terminal 5, a music venue in Hell’s Kitchen, NYC. The 24-year-old singer was alive with an infectious energy and passion for self-expression. He was colorful and loud, with so much to say about everything. The stage was filled with larger than life props and characters, many of which spilled out into the audience, breaking down an invisible wall that usually exists with performers.
I was lucky enough to meet him after the show, although just long enough to shake his hand, tell him I loved the show, and take a picture with him. I was surprised at how reserved he was, with a bit of a shy quality. I guess I imagined him to be surrounded by a legion of friends, laughing and carrying on, making plans to go to some big after-party that involved glitter and drugs. But he wore a modest white t-shirt and black cardigan, and seemed more likely to be returning to his hotel room to eat take-out and watch TV alone.
I’m coming up on ten years since I started this blog. I was 23 at the time, and my first blog post makes me cringe because it reads like something a 23-year-old would write.
A part of me wants to erase it because the post seems immature somehow. It embarrasses me. But on the other hand, I admire my honesty in the post. I don’t open up like that anymore, at least not unless it’s to someone I know and trust.
That’s the difference between being 23 and 33. Now I’m just pondering this… Do we really mature or do we just self-censor?
With age, we realize our words and actions will be heavily judged and scrutinized by others. It starts when we’re children, a time when we express ourselves so freely. Then the older we get, the more we water down what we say to conform to society… To blend in and be “normal.”
Even though the first post I wrote is embarrassing for me to read, I can’t argue with its sincerity. And I feel exactly the same ten years later. I’m just less likely to share those feelings openly.
So have I matured at all, or just learned how to censor and hide everything I feel from the world? Aren’t we all self-censoring anyway?
Over the past month, our baby has been working on learning to laugh. He’d made “laugh-ish” sounds a couple of times. Well this week, he finally made a breakthrough and had a full-on gigglefest with Daniel and me. It was so rewarding to hear his sweet laughter for the first time.
Check out the video below:
Ten years ago, I moved to Nashville and soon thereafter, this blog was born. This city and the people in it have helped shape my adult life, the man I’ve become, and I have a million memories because of living here.
As the milestone of living here for one decade approaches, plans are in motion for us to leave Tennessee. Funny how life happens, right?
We’re excited, and scared, and a little sad about moving to a new place. The plans aren’t set in stone yet, but it’s looking like a strong possibility.
With the thought of leaving Nashville on my mind, I’ve been reminiscing about all the experiences I’ve had here. There are things about living here that I will be so relieved to leave behind. But there are also many good things and good people we will miss.
– I will miss our friends and family. We have a strong circle of people here who are supportive and loving—and unique and funny too! We’ve shared many hilarious times together that I feel would be worthy of a sitcom.
– I will miss the smell of honeysuckle in the springtime. It’s fragrant in the park across the street and it fills the air in our neighborhood. Honeysuckle is a scent that takes me back to childhood, when I used to walk down a country road with my mother. She would always break off a strand and share it with me. She loves honeysuckle and every time I smell it here, I think of her. There won’t be honeysuckle in the place we’re moving to.
– I will miss the bitter chill of a winter night, cuddled up to Daniel in our bed on the electric mattress, reading a good novel. A lot of people hate cold winters but I don’t. There’s something peaceful and beautiful about it. The whole earth seems to be sleeping and time seems to move a little slower so we can stop and enjoy it. There are no bitterly cold winters where we’ll be living.
– I will miss the sound of raining tapping on the windows and the smell of wet grass after a storm. Just a few days ago, I enjoyed a lazy rainy day in the nursery, rocking our son while reading him a story. There isn’t a lot of rain where we’ll be moving.
– Lastly, I’ll kind of miss living in a place called Music City. Nashville really packs a punch. A lot of music, movies, and TV shows are made here, and it’s fun running into celebrities at restaurants or bars or out shopping. There’s always something to do here and the city is always being reinvented. It even feels different than it did a decade ago.
When plans become final, I’ll reveal the location of where we’re moving (although I’m sure there are some obvious clues above). Or maybe I won’t reveal it. Hell, it could be kind of fun to keep it a secret! I don’t know.
In any case, it’s important to reflect on where we’ve been, what we’ve experienced, and how we’ve grown from all of it. Nashville is the city where I met my husband, where we fell in love and started our family. It will always hold a special place in my heart.
June is Pride month and it could make history if the Supreme Court rules in favor of marriage equality for same-sex couples everywhere in the United States.
It’s an exciting event to witness and we are hoping for good news this month. But even if the time isn’t now, it will be very soon in the future.
I’ve been thinking about this lately and what it will mean for the future of Pride. Even when marriage equality passes here, there will still be struggles with discrimination, as there is with any minority.
But the cornerstone of Pride has always been the fight for equality. And once marriage rights are equal here, it will lessen the impact of the marches, the parades, the loud and proud banners and waving rainbow flags. We’ll essentially become like everyone else.
I’m excited that future generations will never have to fight as hard as we have. I’m happy that perhaps they will be able to grow up with love and acceptance, in a way many haven’t. But I’m also a bit nostalgic to think that 30 years from now, Pride events will probably be obsolete.
This year’s Pride may feel like the last dance. I’m honored to be sharing it with my husband Daniel.
I’m not sure where the last few months have gone, but winter seems to have faded into spring, the trees and flowers bloomed, and in the blink of an eye, our son has grown from a tiny, sleepy newborn into an active, talkative little boy.
As I write this, he’s on his play mat, cooing up a conversation and practicing his grip with his rattles. He can’t speak words yet, but he is learning how to express how he feels. He recognizes faces and acknowledges us when we talk to him.
It was an indescribable feeling the first time he responded to my voice. I said his name, he turned his head and looked right at me and smiled. He knew his daddy was talking to him. He captures our hearts in new ways every day.
I guess I need to come up with a way to reference him on my blog. I don’t feel comfortable using his name. I don’t know if it matters, but I don’t want to share it (at least not yet). So I’m going to just call him “niño,” which is Spanish for “boy.” It has a nice sound to it.
Daniel and I are enjoying Daddyhood with our little Niño. He’s sleeping through the night now, so we’re not sleep deprived anymore. And we’re enjoying the journey of finding out who this little person is growing up to become.
That’s the latest news from our home.
Recently a friend was holding our baby and taking pictures. This was his response:
Yep, definitely our son.
We’re settling in with our new little addition to the family. The first few days were long, but he’s becoming more consistent with feeding times. He still likes to sleep all day, then cry all night. We’re working on that. Life is good, sleep is rare, but we’re filled with love and my heart skips a beat when I look at him and realize he’s ours.