A letter to my daughter on her birthday.

Today you turn four.

I've sat before my computer staring at that statement for too long. My goodness sweet girl where has time gone. You've lectured me about how important it is to turn four so that you can, on your tippy tippy toes, reach the cereal shelf in the pantry like your siblings. I've begged you to hit the pause button just allowing me a couple of extra days to get used to the idea. "But if I never turn four den I never turn five and den I never tall enough, like this." When you speak every muscle in your body is on stage. Your eyes grow double in size. Your arms navigate your words through sweeps and claps. You are so incredibly dramatic. It's simply fascinating.

You are growing in to such a little lady. I can't help but think of your birth mother today. She must of loved you so very much to have given you life. She must of loved you so much to have carefully planed for you, and hand picked Daddy and I to love you forever. Today we will light a candle in her honor. We will thank her in our prayers for given us the most beautiful gift any father could hope for. You have never known anything other than love.

I cannot imagine my life with out you. You were one missing piece to our puzzle. I love you so very much. If someone would of told me ten years ago that I would have the honor of parenting a little girl as perfect as you I would of laughed out loud. You are so special and don't ever forget that.

You are amazing, Elsie. I would describe you as sweet and sassy. You are stubborn and strong-willed, but you still want to please. Sometimes, I find myself in these little arguments with you and your logic is so sound that I just have to resort to “because I am the boss.” I cannot even tell you how many times I have Googled “toddler ADHD” because of your unbridled energy. You ALWAYS want to play. And you can’t simply walk anywhere, you have to bounce or run instead. But you are always pausing to run to me for hugs and kisses or simply to say “I love you.”

This year has been an explosion of learning for you. It suddenly clicked that all those letters make actual words. You like to ask me how to spell things so you can write them out. You can also count and write your numbers up to 30 (you can count to 100, but after 39 I have to prompt you on the tens). I think you are incredibly smart. Your teachers all marvel at your memory (you remember everything). You also love to tell jokes. I taught you a few knock-knock jokes awhile ago and you have turned into a joke telling monster! But you always make me laugh.

You became a big sister this past year and I was so worried how that would make you feel. I should have known better. You love being a big sister more than you love being a little sister, which is remarkable. You have been known to proudly announce to cashiers, “This is my baby sister, Julia. She is awesome!” You are so sweet and gentle with Julia and can always get her to laugh. I love watching you when you are with your brother and sisters.

As you grow and experience life, I want you to remember who you are and where you come from. Remember that you are strong and you can accomplish anything no matter how long the roads to your goals look. Nothing is impossible. Think outside the box. Always have faith and stay true to yourself. Be confident and take pride in who you are but also stay level headed. Remember that everyone is different and different is beautiful. Be kind and compassionate. Not only to everything around you, but also to yourself.

Laugh. Oh do laugh! Your giggle is just one of the many things I love so much about you. The room lights up when you laugh and my heart sings. Laugh with your friends, laugh at the world, and laugh at yourself. If you can’t laugh at yourself then you take life too seriously.

Dream big. Dream colorful. Dream magic. Dream beyond the stars. Everything big starts as something small. Leap high and go for it!

I have faith in you my beautiful daughter. I love you forever and look forward to a lifetime of experiences with you. Thank you for all the smiles and even some of the tears. Thank you for always loving me and teaching me everyday how to be a better person. Thank you for being a part of our family. But most of all…Thank you for just being you.

With all the love in the world,

Dad.

When young F. W. Woolworth was a store clerk, he tried to convince his boss to have a ten-cent sale to reduce inventory.

The boss agreed, and the idea was a resounding success. This inspired Woolworth to open his own store and price items at a nickel and a dime. He needed capital for such a venture, so he asked his boss to supply the capital for part interest in the store.

His boss turned him down flat. "The idea is too risky," he told Woolworth. "There are not enough items to sell for five and ten cents." Woolworth went ahead without his boss's backing, and he not only was successful in his first store, but eventually he owned a chain of F. W. Woolworth stores across the nation. Later, his former boss was heard to remark, "As far as I can figure out, every word I used to turn Woolworth down cost me about a million dollars."

I'm From Harlem

I submitted this story for the website: www.imfromdriftwood.com

I remember this day so clearly: My oldest daughter, Isabelle, begged Trevor and I to allow her to have her friends over for dinner and sleep over to celebrate the end of her basketball season. Traditionally, we disallowed visitors from Isabelle’s conservative catholic school for fear that Isabelle and her twin brother would be “outed” and therefore teased or tormented. But if she was ready to come clean to her class mates, who were we to tell her “No”?

The team arrived to our home, sleeping bags in tow. We greeted each parent and introduced ourselves…actually introduced ourselves. We were not brothers, friends, or roommates. We were Isabelle’s Dads. Four of the seven mothers decided not to allow their children to stay in our home. The remaining teammates ran through the house and eventually gathered in the kitchen awaiting the arrival of the evasive pizza delivery man. I have never been so proud of what happened next.

“Isabelle, are both of those guys your dads?” One little girl started in…I rushed from the next room toward the kitchen to diffuse the situation, but Trevor stopped me. He urged me to listen closely, but allow our daughter, who we raised, who we taught, who we loved, to handle the situation in whatever way she thought best.

“That’s disgusting.” One girl commented, “That’s a sin.” said another.

Isabelle responded in a matter-of-fact tone saying, “Some boys kiss boys, and some girls kiss girls…deal with it.”

The conversation was over and no one ever mentioned it as a problem again. Today Isabelle, Garrit, Elsie and Julia are all out and proud children of two gay dads.

Reason # 6,898,233 that I hate fox news:

A reporter, speaking about airline safety, stated: "I do all sorts of (racial) profiling, I don't care! My safety is at stake."

Julia

One Month Old Today!

Rainbows and Sunshine!

In the words of my daughters "Some boys kiss boys and some girls kiss girls, deal with it!"

Puzzles

"We need you to come down to school."

For any father, those words almost always accompanied with a sigh, a head tilt, or a roll of the eyes because they're usually followed with a meeting about something your son has done or said that was terribly wrong. Last week when I heard those words, I thought that was where the conversation would be headed. I drove to the school later that afternoon, prepared for another long conversation about Garrit's outbursts, arguing, and disruptive behavior. I figured out quickly that was not the case. I walked into the office, accompanied by the principle, Garrit's teacher and a guidance counsel at the school. The counsel sat down facing me and uttered words I'll remember until I die: "Your son has autism spectrum disorder."

I have experience some serious highs and lows in my lifetime-- losing friends and family, adopting 4 beautiful, amazing children, and being told I have cancer, again, amongst others. This new piece of information hit me with the same level of impact. Inwardly I am a very emotional, very passionate person, which can be both a good and a bad thing. However, in times of crisis, I know how to keep it together. This was such a time. I didn't overreact I didn't cry or go nuts. I said, "Okay, now what?" I don't know any other way to handle situations like this other than to immediately accept where you are, figure out where to go, and get moving.

That said, and having ADD myself, It wasn't long before my mind started racing. On the first lap I nearly crashed and burned as countless visions from 9 years of frustration and anger ran through my mind. I was overcome with an immediate and overwhelming sense of guilt, horrible painful guilt only a parent of a child he loves more than life itself could possible know. At the same time, about ten different pieces of the undecipherable puzzle that was Garrit fell into place. I didn't know what ASD meant specifically, but I knew that answers were coming--answers I'd thought I was years from finding were now, right on the horizon.

All of my children are unique in their own ways, but Garrit is VERY unique. Garrit did things that befuddled me, which, in and of itself isn't odd for a nine-year-old. But the degree to which Garrit marched to his own drummer seemed very unusual. Most remarkable, the depth of emotion Garrit felt and expressed went far beyond what I'd witnessed in many adults. Sometime I was so over taken and proud that MY son could love things so deeply, so unconditionally, at such a young age. At other times, I was frustrated and angry that he could stare me in the eyes, watch me speak, and completely ignore everything I had to say. It was maddening, it was stupefying and, at very least, it was incredibly confusing.

Over the years I have had my own medical battles, that have resulted in me spending months at a time in various hospitals. This meant that a lot of my "parenting" was done compliments of Sprint. Congratulations, good nights, happy birthdays, admonishments and many other parental duties were carried out over fiber-optic telephone lines. While I am certainly not the best dad in the world, I will never stop wanting and striving to be. I can remember one day in Chicago, sitting at a red light with Garrit in the car. He was asking me about Pokemon cards. He kept asking, and I was in my own deep though, until he finally unbuckled his seat belt, tapped me on the shoulder and said "Dad! Why aren't you listening to me?" I was thinking about how I wanted to change my interior layout of a project I was working on. It was December 28th, and the due date was only weeks away. We have all made mistakes in life, all I can do is learn, and grow from them

The thing about asperger's is that its tough to phone in. To really understand it you have to be face-to-face with it every day. You have to wake up with it, eat breakfast with it, take it to school and try as hard as you can to find the person underneath it. I knew long before the diagnosis that something was not right, but it didn't matter.

Over the past 9 years, I have experienced a life time of growth. I am sometimes asked if I miss being child-less, if I am sad I missed out on some of my teenage years, and my young adulthood that so many gays experience and enjoy. But, I don't miss a single thing about that time. I don't regret any of it. That, of course, is a direct result of my kids and the education they provide me with on a daily basis. My kids have forced me to look at myself in plain daylight with no filters, to assess who and what I am, and what I stand for. I know I didn't like what I saw upon first glace, so since then I have worked hard to make noticeable change, which I am still working on, and will be forever.

I cannot imagine a minute of the past 9 years of my life not having my amazing, world-changing kids in it, and I pray I will never have to see that in my future. I am (WE ARE) facing another journey I never knew I would have to go on, but as with every other journey we've ventured, we can do this too, and we can survive it, and we will become stronger, happier people because of it. I am eternally grateful, and will proudly announce to the world if I ever get the chance, that Garrit is my son.