This is a story that’s just for you, and maybe a little something for parents too.

Each day the sun rises and shines through the sky, over mountains and trees and seas from on high. It beams on your house and peaks through your blinds, saying “wake up! It’s morning time.”

You watched the sunset with a glass of red wine, high hopes of good sleep and some time to unwind, but the kids were restless- no dreams for you and that blasted sun woke them at 6:42.

Kick off those blankets, and put on some clothes, stripes and pokadots, rain boots and hair bows. It’s a wonderful day maybe try on a dress, good outfits are found in the midst of a mess. Don’t forget little brother he needs clothes too, a romper and slip-on running fast shoes.

Who’s turn is it this time? You debate for a minute, it’s one of those days you’ve both reached your limit. And then a big crash and a bang ring out- “kiiids!”...

Your soft eyelids gently shut, lashes long and fanned perfect. I watch you as you lay still. If I hold my breath I can hear you breathe, and I do because I love to hear you breathe.

It’s been a good day. I want every day this good. It’s so simple, and it doesn’t take much.

We hike, we run wild. “Up high, up high” you chant up to me, so I reach down count down from 3 and throw you high into the air. You laugh and point up again wanting another. 3…2…1… You launch high into the air and down into my arms. The cold grass crunches under your muddy toes as I gently set you back down. I chase you both in circles, watch you swing and bounce up and down and twirl. Again you come up to me and stand on my feet stretching your arms up to me, I let you hold my thumbs with your 18 month old hands - you grasp tight enough so that I can lift you off the ground. The way it feels to have you holding...

I know you think this is as bad as it gets. I know you think this is rock bottom. It isn’t. There is no such thing. Life is not a sliding scale defined by how low or high you can feel. Whenever you want- you can make it better or worse. External forces don’t define who you are. You decide who you are.

You’ve been pounded down, you’re worn out. Your YOU has fallen into the background, and it’s hard to even see who you are anymore. I see you. It hurts to see you right now. You are amazing. You’re deep. You are compassionate. You are naturally positive, but right now that doesn’t seem to shine or come to you so easy. You give. You wake up early, you go to bed late. Nobody is coming out and being supportive. The ones that do offer support, you can’t fully come clean with and explain what is going on- because they “wouldn’t understand.” You turn on that smile for appearances, and turn it...

I look down and see a text message on my phone from a friend, “Call me. I have something to tell you. It might be weird though.” A strange text to get at 3:38pm on a Friday. I pull over and make the call.

“What’s up?” I say. He goes on to explain that he is producing a TV show based on psychics and mediums. He and the film crew were shooting at his house and the medium was doing a reading on his wife. At the end of the reading the medium asks “who’s Josh?” His wife says that they don’t have any family named Josh but they do have a friend Josh. The medium has a message for me from my mom who passed away. She asks if my mom had any abilities in this spiritual sense, my friends didn’t know to what extent but said she was a writer and definitely spiritual. The medium explains that she can tell because the message from my mother is clear.

A little background: My mom was very intuitive, a...

We hear her wake up across the hall calling out from our bed, “Mama… mama.” Mom’s busy with Remi so Daddy is going to play the role of Mama for the time being. I walk across the house with a sort of impatience from not being able to get more than 30 minutes of quiet, ever. It’s dark in my room. Let me emphasize that she is not in her own bed. As I get closer to the bed I can tell that she is in a half sleep state. She lays the wrong direction on the comforter so I pick her up and prop her back onto a pillow and climb in next to her. Any previous feelings of not wanting to get up and comfort my little girl wash away. I’m exactly where I want to be.

Quickly these thoughts of happiness come to me as I listen to her breathing. I prop my arm up above her head to get a little closer but as I do it grabs her hair and immediately wakes her up. “Daddy! ow. Stop it.” as she swings an elbow my...

She was 18 I was 21.
Walked into my life with her high heels on.
Blonde shoulder length hair and big blue eyes.
She smiles right at me to my surprise.

Late night drives. Dinner dates, and parties at my place. Quiet nights that were just right, where the rain came down and we fell into place.

We were in love in an instant
But too young to hold onto it
It was meant to be
But not meant to be right then
We moved apart but our friendship didn’t end.

We grew up quick with city dreams
Meeting other people that were in the scene
It was 7 years dating around
Before we realized true love was already found

we found ourselves In separate states.
Dating other people, calling each other late.
We talked and laughed about our lives a bit
Pretty soon we were planning trips.

We were in love in an instant
But had to sew wild oats to get it
It was meant to be
But meant to take time
Our marriage is one...

Foreward: I remember when I first found out I was going to have a kid. A cold blanket of fear came over me as my brain tried to calculate all the life changes that were about to take place. I remember looking online for a blog/story/letter anything from another guy my age that talked about what I was getting into. I searched and found very little in which I could relate. I promised myself then that at some point I would take the time to write what I was looking for at that time in hopes that it would be helpful to someone. It’s been about 4 years at this point since the initial shock. I now have two kids, and a ****load of experience… at least with pregnancy, babies, and toddlers. I’m not saying I’m some sort of guru on the subject, but I can at least tell you what my experience has been like.

Background: I wasn’t yet 30, I co-own a creative company in Venice, CA- and my life pretty...

I’ve been a dad for a whopping 3 years now. It’s strange to become a parent when most of your friends aren’t. You see yourself changing in a way that doesn’t totally relate to the way your non-parent friends are changing (by the way there is no judgement here, I think not producing is just as important as producing). One thing I’ve noticed about myself is that I really do care more than I used to. My pre-parental angst of not giving a chips-and-salsa has transformed into looking into my kids’ eyes and seeing down the tunnel to their future.

The struggle to swim through the thick, gooey, media filled day to something real. My head is full of other people’s thoughts and ideas of stuff that makes no difference in my day. My contribution to this world is consistently tainted by advertising via social media and campaigns loosely hidden by an aesthetic of “good design” and commercialized...

The brain is triggered by fear and survival- depending on the micro decisions available at that moment we make a decision to stick it out or run away. Sticking it out can be painful, it can lead to touching rock bottom and possibly having your ego handed to you on a paper plate. By fighting we are saying that we are invested in what we have and we are willing to take it all the way. By fighting we are unwilling to let go- the reward of holding ground outweighs the pain of defeat or running away. Flight is what you do when you feel you have nothing to lose. When your current situation is not worth saving. You run only when you think that the unknown has to be better than what you have. If you will have no regrets, no “what if” thoughts, then and only then you should run. Both fight and flight are addictive habits. The people that choose to fight will do it again. You will put yourself in...