More about you – From Ryan to Reagan and Koen

On Reagan’s Only Child Trip

Boys,

This one will be mostly about Reagan because this past week, we dressed you up like an only child and took you to FLA to see your grandparents. Koen, we had every intention of bringing you too, but you caught a little bug a few days before we left, and we decided to leave you home-home with Deb-Deb and Tutu. We decided very quickly as we checked in to the flight out and watched Reagan BFF anyone near a window with a view of any airplane that leaving you home was the right choice. Your mom was even feeling cocky enough to get a pre-flight drink while we waiting on the plane.

I also just need to include the fact that this trip has been planned and rescheduled 3-4x over the course of the past two years. The first time we had to cancel, we got Covid and pushed it back a few months. Then your grandma (Memaw) got it and we had to reschedule. Then another sickness or random hurricane kept pushing things back, so when Koen began to get sick earlier in the week, we almost decided that the universe was working against us and we’d never get to go to FLA. But since the rest of us felt OK, we decided to forge ahead as a family of three.

The flight down was pretty low-key. I sat with you, Reagan, and we mostly played on your Switch, drew on some design app on my phone, and talked until we began to descend into FLA. We saw the same woman you befriended by the window on the way out, and you were curious if she was going to join us at your grandparents. After we decided to go our own separate ways, we had Memaw pick us up and we drove back to their house.

So aside from spending time with family, I had an obstacle course race lined up for the day after we landed. It was to be my “coming out of retirement” race, but it unfortunately went the same way as the race that sent me into retirement went — ended with an injury. Some might point to me being a little older, a little less Crossfit than I was when I did this seriously, or that my little baby hands couldn’t hold up to an hour-and-a-half of grip and strength obstacles… whatever the reason, at the next to last obstacle, my grip gave way on a hold and I tore open two blisters on my right hand. I couldn’t complete the obstacle, and finished the race a little bummed at how well it had gone to that point and how frustrating it was to lose my place that late in the race.

However, happy I didn’t try to push it and feel like I am on the mend now that it’s been 4-5 days since the race. From there we headed home and decided to hang by the pool for the remainder of the day. We grilled out burgers and worked on setting up a giant umbrella for your grandparents. After a few hours of grinding with a nail file, a trip to the storage unit for some power tools, and the waining sun, we finally had some shade. Your PaPaw did most of the work, but we were there to supervise and make sure everything went to plan.

I have to say, you were feeling like the king of the world as the only grandson there. You had the whole pool to yourself, all the toys to yourself, and both your grandparents’ attention the whole weekend. The next day, we went putt-putt and you and Memaw beat your mom and I. It was close, but you guys were the winners and you couldn’t have been happier. Your golf game might need a little work, but you played all the holes and aside from a pee break that took way too long based on how hard it was to get to a bathroom mid-round, things went well.

We then picked up Papaw and headed over to their golf course where they work. We had lunch and talked to some of their friends there at the course before heading home and taking a nap. After that, more pool time, more attention for Reagan, and we finished the night with some pizza.

The next day it was time to say goodbye to FLA. I was feeling a little exhausted, and now that it’s been a few days, we realize that I ended up being a little sick. After I started to get better, you got sick and that is where we are now. All in all, though, we had a pretty great trip and your mom and I were happy that you got to get all the attention for a few days, that Koen got to get better and also get some Tutu-time.

Now things are settling back down and we’re all ready for Ohio weather to feel more like Florida weather. Reagan, I know you’re bursting at the seams to get outside as much as you can, and hopefully that happens sooner than later.

Until then, I love you boys.

Dad

On Reagan

Reagan,

This one is for you. I think when we’re all older and we look back at this time in our lives, we’re going to remember that I was Koen’s person. With that, he demands a lot of my attention, so I don’t always give you as much of my time as I’d like to sometimes. Your mom and I joke that I’m Koen’s favorite person, and mom is your favorite person. I’d like to think that she and I are both your favorite people, because you’re my first born son and I think we share a bond that only we’ll be able to understand (I was a first born son too, you know).

It think it’s worth noting that I’ve deleted and rewritten this a few times over the past few months. I think it used to be easier to talk to you this way (me writing to you) because it was harder to express myself and how I felt to you in person since you were so young. What I’m finding now is that you understand so much more and I can have real conversations with you in person. As I write this, I can’t help but to think how cool that is and what a fun age you are!

But, as I imagine you reading this when you’re older, you might want to know a little more about yourself at nearly five years old. As an adult, I think my earliest memories are at about that age (not many, mind you). I remember my two best friends when I was that age who lived on my street in Reynoldsburg – Trent Spangler and Eric Fryer. Eric hadn’t moved in yet, so maybe that was a year or two later, but Trent and I used to play all the time. I remember going over to his house and watching Top Gun (his favorite movie). We’d play baseball in the big field behind his house and we’re ride his Power Wheels jeep (you also love driving your Power Wheels jeep).

The other memory I have from that time is a reoccurring dream that probably started for me at that age. I still have it from time to time, but it was more frequent when I was younger. I was alone in your great-grandma’s house (Tutu’s mom) and there was a monster upstairs. I had to kill the monster, so I remember walking up the stairs. It was an L-shaped staircase, and at the elbow where you would turn and head up the final four or five steps to the second floor, someone was there holding a blue and pink book in each hand. To defeat the monster, I had to choose the right color book. I chose pink because as a five-year-old boy, I remember thinking that blue was “too obvious.”

For awhile, I thought about that dream and thought that it meant I was supposed to have a girl when I would get older and become a dad. But, I don’t think I ever believed that because I always felt in my heart that I was meant to be a “boy dad.”

There are so many things I love about being your dad — I love the playfulness we share and the energy you have for the things you love. I love seeing you grow and learn and stand out in whatever crowd you’re in no matter how big it is. I love how you talk — both your little country-twang that comes out every now and then, but also the goofy things you say that can come out of left field some days. Just last night, your mom and I were sitting downstairs. She was working on her computer and I was reading. You came out of your room (as you often do once we put you down), and go into the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, until a faint little whimper comes out from the bathroom.

Side bar: this is a reoccuring thing you do. We put you down, you come out 3, 4, maybe 29 times for the next hour having to either “gotta go pee!!” or “I fell out of my bed and really hurt my arm.”

Anyway, that little whimper got a little louder when neither your mom or I acknowledged what might be happening up there. A few moment later, you come out and call down to us that the toilet seat fell down and hit you in the head. The mechanics of how your head was between the toilet seat and (presumably) the bowl are still a mystery, but your mom and I laughed pretty hard at that one after we assured you that you were OK and to go back to bed. Like I said, you just say such funny things!

In the dream, I never did see what the monster looked like or got to see if my choice was correct or not. I would always wake up after picking the pink book. At the end of the day, I don’t think it matters. What does matter is that you are the absolute perfect kid, even when you’re being a little too crazy, a little too goofy, or a little too excited to maybe stay down and go to sleep. Your mom and I are so lucky to be your parents and I’d go to the edge of the earth for you if you ever needed me to.

Love you so much, buddy.

Dad

On Velcro-baby, Hey-Dad, and Trains

Boys,

It’s been a little while so I figured it’s time to check in. It’s summer and your mom and I are currently in French Lick, Indiana. We don’t get a lot of chances to go away without you boys, and while we do appreciate being able to sleep in (I haven’t been able to, BTW), we do miss you both a lot. Luckily, you’re in good hands with Deb Deb.

Koen, you’re going through what your mom and I call “velcro baby” phase. Basically, and I don’t think your mom would argue this, but I’m kind of your security blanket. If you get upset, you usually just look for me and run up and just grab my legs, stare at me with big tears, and hold on for dear life. Deb says I need to be strong and not pick you up, but you put the velcro grip on and I can’t get away.

Reagan, if Koen is in his velcro baby phase, you’re in “Hey Dad” (or Hey Mom) camp. Pretty much every conversation starts with “Hey Dad.”

Reagan: Hey Dad.
Me: Yes, Son?
Reagan: Um. I gotta tell you somethin’
Me: OK
Reagan: Um. I love you, Dad
Me: Love you too, buddy

You’re both very smart and it will probably frustrate you as you get older because you’re setting a pretty high standard that your mom and I will expect a lot out of you. Koen, you are 20-ish months and can say all your letters and pick out every letter if I ask you where a certain letter is. Reagan, you can pretty much read at 4 years old and you always surprise me with how much you know. The other morning, I was telling you about a trip to Japan I went on a few years ago and I was telling you how it was an island. I asked you if you knew what an island was (maybe a dumb question, IDK?), but you just gave me this “yeah duh, dad” kind of response. I guess that doesn’t necessarily show you how smart you were, but it made me think not to question you. Point taken, son.

Reagan, you also LOOOVVVVVEEEEE trains right now. I was just running this morning, and there was this old, rusted out train near our hotel. And without hesitation, I had to stop my run and take a video of it because I know how excited you’ll be to watch it 1000x in the next few days once I get home. You also are in a phase where, nearly every morning when your sound machine turns green, you come down to our room, go pee in our bathroom, then jump up in our bed (whether we are in it or in the shower), and turn on Youtube train videos. Just one train after another, on loop, for as long as we let you. Eventually, we make you get dressed, and the train-dream gets put on hold until the next day.

You’re both at a fun age. You’re both also at a tough age because Koen, you’re just a few months away from really being able to communicate and, maybe more importantly, being able to be communicated to — not sure if that makes sense but I reread it and it makes sense to me. AP Style be damned! Reagan, you’re just headstrong and like to push the limits of your mom and my patience.

Either way, wrapping up and I love you boys so much. Until next time…

Love,

Dad

On Reagan’s Poop-Phase

This isn’t an easy topic to cover, but sometimes you have to call out your own son on some sh…

Reagan,

This is me taking the power back. As I write this, you’re less than a month out from your 4th birthday. You’re very kind, love trucks and construction equipment, enjoy playing in your room with me, and are just genuinely in a place where having fun is your top priority. However, you’re also going through a “poop-phase.”

Now this “poop-phase” isn’t like the horror-movie, enter the room and cue the shrieking sound effects, “decorate the walls” kind of “poop-phase.” It isn’t a “curiosity with the utility” kind of “poop-phase.” Thankfully, that side of the coin is kept mostly under wraps.

No, your “poop-phase” has to do with the word itself — “poop.”

The face you give **every single time** you say the word, “poop.”

I think being a good parent means that I should engage with you and ask you questions. I think I should challenge you to explain how you feel or why you reacted to something in a specific way. I want to stimulate your brain so that you expand your sphere and think bigger, outside-the-box thoughts that will change your world.

I think I might be a tad ambitious, because as of recently, your little brain just defaults to “poop” whenever I try to ask you questions.

Me: Reagan, what’d you dream about last night?
You: Poop
Me: You dreamed about poop? Do you have to go to the bathroom?
You: Poop!
Me: Uh-huh. Did you dream about anything else?
You: Pee
Me: Good talk, son. Go brush your teeth — excited to pick up on this conversation when you get downstairs.

Oh, and guess what song you want to listen to non-stoppity-stop on the reggie — The Poop Song by The Toilet Bowl Cleaners. I hope that you read this when you’re an adult and click on the link and it still works somehow and you listen to it and say to yourself, “why was I such a strange kid?” Guess how many unique words there are in this song — not 2…not 3….not 4…

Now I want to build a relationship with you and your brother where you can tell me anything — good, bad, embarrassing — whatever it is, I want to know about it. With that being said, too much of anything can tiptoe toward too much, and I think that is where your “poop-phase” has taken us.

Your grandma told me that your uncle Tyler had a “poop-phase” too, and that it was super annoying at the time, but funny looking back at it. I’m sure that is how I’ll feel one day, but I also wouldn’t be mad if we moved on from the “poop-phase” in the near future.

I digress. In truth, I know this is just you exploring your silly side and I love seeing you find your sense of humor. Everyday you and Koen become a little more unique, say and do new things that I’ve never seen or heard, and it becomes more and more fun to be your dad. Would I enjoy being your dad just as much without us going through this “poop-phase?” Maybe. Probab…yes. Yes I would.

Love you boys.

Dad

On Koen is Almost One!

Koen,

As I write this, we are about 12 days away from your first birthday. It’s crazy to think about all the stages of this past year. But just so you have something to reference, here they are:

STAGE 1: ‘So this is what all those sounds I heard from in there is all about’ stage

STAGE 2: ‘I understand sleeping, but I refuse’ stage

STAGE 3: ‘The hold me and bounce me or else’ stage

STAGE 4: “OK I’ll sleep at night, but all bets are off during the day’ stage

STAGE 5: ‘The hold me and bounce me or else — part 2’ stage

STAGE 6: ‘So these teeth are coming soon? Well, then everything hurts’ stage

STAGE 7: ‘Hey look I can crawl! But I still need you to hold me and bounce me or else’ stage

STAGE 8: ‘I’m on the carb-only diet, TYVM’ stage

So that is about it. I was going to elaborate on each of these a bit, but I think it is pretty well understood what was going on during each of those stages just by the titles. At the end of the day, the important thing is that through all the holding, chasing you around the house, and angry meal time screaming because we’re trying to get you to eat something other than Ritz crackers, your mom and I kind of like you.

As a second child, it’s really hard not to naturally compare you to Reagan. I want to describe your looks, temperament, personality, etc. to the way Reagan was when he was your age. But I realize that as you look back and read this, that isn’t really fair to you. You’re your own person and while some things might be very similar, they are inherently yours.

You’re very much a monkey-see-monkey-do kind of kid. Maybe it’s ironic that I call you “monkey.” But you love doing a voice, waiting for me to do the same voice back to you, and then doing it again. There is a game we play (usually when I’m changing you or getting you ready for a bath) where I’ll look away and wait for you to make a noise. As soon as you do, I’ll whip my head around to face you and you will just gut-laugh. Your laugh is one of my favorite things in the world. I will I could save it on my phone and play it on repeat all day long.

Another thing about you is that while you just started crawling not too long ago, it almost seems like you’re over it and ready to walk. You love pulling yourself up on furniture or toys and using those things to move around the room or around the house. I’m always nervous when you’re on the hard floor that the toy is going to move a little faster than you, and you’ll faceplant into the floor. So, you usually ask that I follow you around and make sure that doesn’t happen. (When we’re on the carpet, go nuts! I’ll be over here).

We’ve been on a few runs together, too. I don’t think we’ve done a 1-on-1 run yet, but you mostly enjoy going in the double stroller with me and Reagan. I’m glad we have a good running double stroller, but even still, you two are NOT easy to push on that thing. Actually, the pushing isn’t the hard part, it’s the maneuvering. There is a little bit of a wheelie-and-pivot thing going on and it is a momentum-killer. I’d say you enjoy our runs for about 85% of the time. But, if we stay out too long, you let us know about it. There was one time you had enough and we were about 2 miles from home. I think I broke some course records getting us all back, all the while talking you down and explaining to Reagan that it was really hard to keep a conversation about trains with everything else going on in those 15 minutes (he is such a talker during our runs!).

Right now in our lives, there are a lot of bad things happening to the people we love around us. I don’t think this is the right place to talk about it, but ask me in a few years and I’ll let you know what was going on. But with so much out of my control that happens in this world, I am so thankful that you are healthy, more-or-less happy, and (along with your brother) bring me so much joy. I know all of that can change in a minute, but I want to acknowledge you now and pray that continues throughout your life.

I love that you are the one that completed our family. Your mom is great about getting pictures of you and your brother (and dog Rogue) up all around the house. And as I’m sitting here now, watching you sleep on your monitor, I’m looking at pictures of all the places we’ve been in such a short time and I am so happy to have all these great memories with you. I was running by myself this morning and thinking about the cicadas that took over earlier in the spring, and how it will be another 17 years before they come back — you’ll be almost 18 the next time they come back and won’t have any idea what these things are or how they got here. But I’ll think about this first year of your life and how crazy of a time it was for our family.

So cheers to a wild first ride around the sun, and cheers to a lifetime of new memories that we’ll look back on one day and cherish forever.

Love,

Dad

On Paw Patrol

Reagan and the addiction that is Paw Patrol — The Movie

Boys, — actually no, just Reagan for this one,

Reagan,

So I was literally in the middle of another post about changes that you boys are going through when ezyour mom decided to “free trial” Paramount+ so we could watch The Paw Patrol Movie.

Instant Side Bar: “free trial” Paramount+ the same way we “free trialed” HBO, HULU, YouTube TV, those things from Target, a new rug to replace the other rug that we’ll move where the other rug used to be, and those things from Target — yea we’re going to have Paramount+

I digress. I was in the middle of this meaningfully-charming post about the seasons of change in your young little lives when we started watching Paw Patrol and lets just say, we’re Chase-deep in some serious Rubble. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that its been two days, and we’ve probably watched that movie six times. Between your sleeping and napping, that is like 75% of your waking hours are spent watching Paw Patrol.

Now Paw Patrol had its heyday in our house probably like, a year ago or so. It was one of those shows that you locked in on for a bit, then moved on to bigger and better things (Blaze and the Monster Machines, anyone?). I mean, we did go as 2/5 of the Paw Patrol for halloween last year, so maybe I’m underplaying it. So when your mom decided to put it on, I thought it would hold your attention for a few minutes then you’d be back to Blazing with Blippi.

Second Side Note: Blazing with Blippi would smash on some PPV channels and YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THE BLIPSTER DOESN’T….

I digress. In honor of your new fav. movie, I’ll offer my cinematic take on The Paw Patrol Movie. Don’t worry, parents — no spoilers.

Synopsis: The Paw Patrol head to ~~New York~~ Adventure City to save the city from newly elected Mayor Humdinger’s latest scheme.

What they got right: so my biggest issue with Paw Patrol has always been how Rider/Ryder(?) financed the whole Paw Patrol operation. I mean, it’s not like Adventure Bay is some booming tech metropolis, and yet here is this skyscraper of a command center that houses retractable slides, fire trucks, helicopters, a central elevator shaft which just has to drive design engineer’s nutty, and the whole thing, I’m pretty sure, is on some kind of a hydraulic lift for god knows what reason. But can you imagine the taxes those people must be paying to keep that operation running? There is a character who just bakes pies all the time, usually gives them away to the townspeople anyway, and he’s probably got to shell out $100,000 every month in local taxes. Beyond that, I’m pretty sure they also have a waterfront post that is equally as impressive — probably just to make Zuma feel good about his place on the team because, lets be honest, his inclusion in the Paw Patrol feels more like charity and less like necessity.

Zuma, a fisherman who spends half of his life on the water capsized and he’s over there treading water pretty calmly in the still bay water, take your million-dollar hovercraft over to him and shoot him a life raft!

What was I talking about?

Oh, so they do acknowledge how they can afford their new, and even more impressive, command post in the center of ~~New York~~ Adventure City which I can appreciate.

The story is pretty good and it is entertaining throughout. Each character gets to flex their importance to the team, with the exception of Zuma. he does save a family in the big climatic final scene whose car happens to fall into the only tiny channel in the entire city.

Can you imagine being Rider/Ryder(?) and doling out directions to the Paw Patrol and him being like, “OK guys – lot going on. Need you all to get out there and save the people in the city. Oh, but Zuma, just hang by that little piece of water so in case anyone falls in, you can jump in and get them back out. What’s that, Chase? Already shot a net over the water to prevent anyone from falling in? Great thinking! Zuma, take the night off, again.”

I digress.

What they got wrong: Zuma is still on the Paw Patrol.

-Dad

On Facial Hair

Boys,

Who am I to speak to trends decades from now, when other males your age may or may not find that growing facial hair is something worthy of pursuit? What I can speak to is that in today’s world, men of just about any age can coif a scruffy moustache or tightly kempt beard and look flier than a feather in zero gravity.

Before I continue, I should apologize. There are many things I will pass on to you both — rugged good looks, unparalleled athleticism, witty word-talk n’ stuff, and I’ll show you both how much one man can love his boys. But what I need to apologize for is that which I cannot give you — facial hair.

You see, I started getting facial hair the same time as most other boys my age growing up — 22 or 23 years old. However, my facial hair has always been thin and, frankly, embarrassing. After a few days without shaving, your mom would whisper sweetly to me that I look like someone who, if I were to do the things that she suggested I look like, would carry a minimum sentence of 25+ years.

This is actually a picture of me on my 21st birthday.

The point is, I can’t grow it and my guess is that you boys probably won’t either. OR — life will play a cruel joke on your dad and give you both glorious facial hair. And you’ll both probably wear it over when you come to visit your mom and I, braided down the chin like Aquaman or something — like I said, I don’t know what kind of facial-fashion 2040 has in store. And the nuts of it is that your uncle Jordan, Papa Rauch and all his brothers, even everyone on your Grandma’s side of the family…can all grow facial hair. Why can’t I?!?

You know, I made this blog as a way to kind of talk to you both as I am now to who you’ll be some day when you’re old enough to pick up on some of my humor and tone. I hope that as you age, you’ll appreciate these posts in different ways and I hope they are something you can come back to and find a piece of who I am, who you both were, and what our lives were like outside of the pictures and videos of us from this time.

But it’s also therapy for me to vent and acknowledge my shortcomings in a way that makes other people smile and allows me to laugh at myself.

So whatever you take from this, just enjoy the ride and I hope that you can find moments of brevity when you can step back and appreciate life’s silly moments. And if I can end on a poker analogy, a 2-7 off cracks aces 12% of the time, so make the most of whatever squirrely chin hair you end up with (or do the smart thing and just keep a clean shave).

Love you, boys.

Dad

To My Son, Koen

Koen,

I think I’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again — sometimes I want to write to just one child. Part of me feels like I’ve written to Reagan for two years before having a chance to write to you, so there is some making up I need to do. In either case, I want to write to you because I want you to know how special you are to me, your mom, Reagan, and our family. (Not to mention, your grandparents and just about anyone else who meets you).

Your mom sometimes calls you a COVID baby — I’m hoping by the time you read this, that won’t make any sense to you. But because you were born in 2020, the sad truth is that your birth year will also be remembered as the year that COVID-19 – aka “coronavirus” — took over the world. This was a time when everyone was forced to stay indoors and away from people. Because of that, you haven’t been acclimated to the world the way a normal baby would the first year of his life.

Despite the struggle to find normalcy this past year, you’ve been such a bright spot for me. Sure, the lack of sleep didn’t earn you many brownie points with me or your mom, but you’re starting to get the hang of it and we’re actually starting to get some sleep at night (you + your mom and me). You getting a good night’s sleep I think has made you a happier baby throughout the day, and that is just a good thing for everyone.

Right now as I write this, you’re 7 months old. Its hard to say the things you like and don’t like, because you’re still figuring out this whole world-thing, but I think there are a few things that make you more happy than others.

Being carried — especially in this “strap-you-to-my-chest-facing-out” thing I wear. When nothing else works, I strap you up and we just walk around the house.
Baths – your mom is usually the one who gives you baths, but the amount of Instagram videos or pics there are of you, naked-butt, being held by your mom getting selfies in the bathroom mirror before your bath is borderline concerning — but it is super-cute and you eat it up so I love it too.
Bouncing- whether it’s in your bouncer or being held under your armpits and just hopping on my stomach, you like to jump.
Raspberries – aka the thing when you get your belly blown on and it makes the big fart sound.
Waking up from naps and seeing your mom or me – you are kind of startled, but as soon as you pick up on what’s happening, you get the biggest smile.
Your blanket — Reagan calls his “Mel” because it’s shaped like a giraffe and we named him after the character in Madagascar. Your looks like a lion, so we tried to name him “Alex” or “Al,” but we’ll see if that sticks.

I just want you to know I’m super excited to be your dad. We have moments like tonight where you and Reagan got up at the same time, so I got you out of bed and we went into Reagan’s room where your mom and he were sitting in his bed. I laid you down next to Reagan and we had a family moment and it just made me really happy. This is just a tiny taste of what the next 15-20 years will look like as a family, and I can’t wait for all the moments — both little and big — to happen.

In the meantime, I just want you to be happy. Keep on figuring this sleep thing out, then we can work on crawling, popping some teeth out, and turning you into the happiest, healthiest, perfectest little person there is. Your mom and I are so thankful to have you complete our family, and we both love you so very very much.

-Dad

On Sleep

Boys,

Now the thing about being a parent is that you’re unable to choose which child is your favorite. With that being said, if favorite child status were based on sleep — which it isn’t — then Reagan would be far and away the favorite.

Now I’ll say this: Reagan, you weren’t the poster boy for sleep when you were a newborn either, but your mom and I have been trying to go back in our minds and remember when it clicked and you became the great sleeper that you are today. It’s very possible that it could be later than where Koen is at now, and our brains just refuse to go back to that place.

I’ll also say this: I’m writing this to you boys the day after Koen decided at 3:45am that he was going to pull an all nighter on your mom and I, so there may be some level of bias in these words. Now three hour sessions like last night aren’t the norm, but they are more common than the “wake up once, take a quick bottle, and clock out” kind of nights that we’ve seen from you.

You’re cute, but not cute enough to keep me from sleeping.

Sleep is a funny thing. When you’re young like you boys are, you sleep all the time. I guess a lot of brain development happens when you sleep, which could explain why you’re a genius, Reagan. I can count on one hand the amount of times you haven’t slept through the night in the past two years.

As you grow into your childhood, sleep becomes something you almost resent. You don’t want to go to bed, try to stay up as late as you can, and generally have enough energy in the mornings to carry you through the day without ever really feeling tired. Then you become a teenager, and you start to appreciate morning sleep like you didn’t when you were a kid. I remember Sundays when I was a teenager and didn’t have baseball practice, I would try to sleep in until noon if my mom would let me. Then college comes and noon is an early day on a weekend.

But as you get older still, and the teen years and college are in the rearview, sleep starts to become something you, dare I say, look forward to. It doesn’t happen right away. You’ll find yourself in your mid-20’s, and midnight hits a little differently than it did a few years ago. You might have Orange Theory in mind for the (not-too-early) morning and decide to bypass that last drink in lieu of getting to bed at a “reasonable” hour.

Now you’re in your late-20’s or early 30’s, and bedtime is kind of the “event” of the evening. Like, you’ll go out to dinner and get a drink with friends at 7 so that you can be home, flossed up and in bed by 9pm on a Friday — big win! If you get a workout in on the weekend, better believe you’re going to at least get an hour on the couch while football is on TV (or Bravo for your mom).

Then come kids and that thing you’ve grown to love, that sweet sweet sleep…. just goes away. Baby naps are inconsistent at best, and parents never really get restful sleep at night in between feedings because the tiniest little movement or sound that comes out of your mouth gets a full sit-up and monitor check from both parents.

Parents make jokes about “going on vacation” to a hotel where they just go to bed early and sleep in. There’s a reason that these jokes hit home with anyone who has lived with a baby for more than a few days.

Listen, I love you both and I’m just venting because your mom and I are in the thick of it right now. I’m sure that, Koen, sooner or later, you’ll figure this sleep thing out and then your mom and I can count on at least a few good hours each night, which would be super fun. But until then, just keep being healthy, hitting us with those 3am smiles that make staying up with you a little bit easier, and we’ll all figure this thing out together.

Love,

Dad

On Reagan’s Special Day

Reagan, today was your special day. Your mom had the idea to go out — just you, me, and her, and make an afternoon all about you.

I’ve said it before, but I don’t think every post I write has to be able something bigger than it has to be — sometimes it’s worthwhile to just highlight a good day we had and let that be that. Additionally, I can already feel a twinge of guilt writing a post that will be about a day that was special for Reagan, but I think that I need to be OK writing to one or the other of you boys. I know there will be posts ahead that will be directed to Koen, but this one is for Reagan.

Reagan, today was your special day. Your mom had the idea to go out — just you, me, and her, and make an afternoon all about you. We built it up last night by making sure you were ready for your big day today, and teased a few of the things we were going to do. One thing I love about you is that your steel-trap memory made it so that the first thing you said to me when I got you up this morning was “today is my special day!/?”

[“!/?” means it was a partial statement, and partial question. Almost as though you were telling me it was your special day and looking for validation — or were you asking me if it was your special day in a way that would tip me over the edge just in case I was wavering?]

So for your special day, me, you, and your mom went down to Bridge Park for check out some ‘struction ‘quipment and make a day of it down there. First, we saw said ‘struction, then crossed the bridge and wandered down to the toy store. Your mom said you could pick ANYTHING in the whole store — two days before Christmas — I know, right? Anyway, you check some things out, and settle on a diecast toy VW bus (see it in the main picture of us on this post). Not exactly “big time move,” but you were happy.

Then we crossed the bridge again, got some lunch a Rebol, and capped the day off by hitting up the chocolate store. With your mom and I being pros in the chocolate game, we hit up the counter and got some good stuff — chocolate covered oreos, chocolate grahams, etc. Once again, we gave you a free shot at anything in the place, and you took a little chocolate santa. And I should say, Santa came only after we had to talk you out of some bottom-shelf chocolate coins that were probably the least exciting thing in the entire store — you’re welcome.

We had a little in the store, but you really dug into Santa once we got home.

Now I’m writing to you a few weeks past your special day. As time has passed, I think about how much I enjoyed spending time with you and mom and hope that we don’t have to wait until 12/23 again to do that!

Now this goes for both you and Koen — but while you’re brothers, you both deserve to be made to feel special because you both are just that — special. Taking days to celebrate one of you, or even both of you, are days that should be done often. Plus, your mom and I had a ton of fun taking you around and doing something different with you guys.

This is your unique, er… “special” new picture smile!

Anyway, this won’t be a long one (partially because it’s taken me 3 weeks to finish this!), but just know that you are special Reagan. Koen, don’t be mad, you’ll get a post too and I’ll remind you that you’re special. But its OK that sometimes, I acknowledge how truly one-of-a-kind you are and how blessed your mom and I are to call you our son.

Love,

Dad