One Fear at a Time

Confession: I like encouraging my kids into uncomfortable and scary positions. Instead of trying to ensure their comfort, I find ways to make them uncomfortable. It's all contextual to age, of course. I wouldn't throw a seven-year-old onto the street at 11 PM and wish him luck. It's little things at their age. Making them pay for something independently at a store. Coaxing them onto a roller coaster. Trying new and unique foods. None of these things are life-altering, but each propels them to the next.

Yesterday was a new one. The boys and I bought tickets to play at an aqua park at our port stop in Haiti. Think of it as an inflatable obstacle course in the deep water of an ocean bay. The boys were excited, but a bit nervous. As our reservation approached, we walked out onto the long dock, fastened our life jackets, and listened to the safety instructions. When it was time to jump in and swim to the obstacles, Pax seized up. Fear had overcome him. I think it was a combination of a fear of sharks snacking on his little body, the fact he couldn't touch the bottom, the long swim, and the uniqueness of the attraction. I held his hand and said I would count to three, then we'd jump. At about two, he started wimpering and changed his mind, but I made an executive decision to pull him in with me on the third count anyway (bold move, I know).

As soon as his head crested the surface and he realized he wasn't dead, he smiled and excitedly started swimming toward the first obstacle. That began a fun and exhausting hour of climbing, jumping, falling, and splashing. They both had the time of their lives, and we made some fun memories. As I do every night, I asked the boys what their favorite part of the day was. Pax: "The ocean obstacle course."

I'm such a believer in confronting fears. Not all at once. One fear at a time. Each time we conquer one (even a small one), it gives us momentum and confidence to face the next one.

Food is much the same way. In our family, we don't get free passes to say "no" to food. There are no special kids' menus or accommodations. They don't have to like it, but they do have to try it. And if they try it but don't like it, that's ok. But they will never know unless they try. Not every food is a hit, and sometimes it can be ugly. On the flip side, their fear turned to tolerance, and their tolerance turned to a fairly diverse palate. It's the power of confronting one fear at a time. If they had it their way, they would have stuck to eight lame items and simply "not liked" everything else. Instead, we pushed them every step of the way.

One fear at a time. You'll thank yourself later.

Pax sitting in the hot tub, enjoying the view, after returning to the boat in Haiti.

Pigs Over Money

Our family will be taking our first cruise soon. I never thought I'd be a cruise guy, but it made sense with the age of our kids, the number of activities available, a robust children's program (#datenights!), and the fact it's a safe, contained environment. Who knows, maybe I'll come back with a whole new perspective (and fandom) of cruises. Crazier things have happened (such as Rex Grossman leading the Bears to a Super Bowl).

I don't like planning my day-to-day activities on vacation, but I now realize that's critical in the cruise world. This includes on-ship activities, as well as port activities. While scanning the various port options/excursions, one caught my eye: Pig Island! Have you ever heard of Pig Island? It's exactly what it sounds like. It's a bunch of wild pigs that live on a tropical island, and you can go play with them. Visiting this place has been on our bucket list since we married. Now, it shows up as a port-day option for our upcoming cruise! It's fate!

I was pretty excited.....until I saw the price: $700. Ouch! That's a lot of money to pay for a 5-hour excursion, especially considering our entire 6-night cruise cost us $1,800 (children-cruise-free promo!).

These are the types of dilemmas I love. It doesn't intuitively make sense. There's no world where spending $700 to swim with pigs for a few hours feels rational. On the flip side, this is a bucket list activity for us. It could very well go down as one of our family's favorite all-time travel memories....or not. But there's only one way to find out. That's the risk....and the opportunity.

We decided to book it. While the financial cost is expensive, the memories and shared experiences will be priceless. We probably won't remember what it even cost when we wake up ten years from now. But those memories will last a lifetime. Here's one last thought. There's very little chance we'll regret doing it, but on the flip side, there's a high likelihood we'd regret not doing it. I hate living with regret. Take my money, pig people!

Meaning Over Money. Strike that. Pigs over money!

Build-A-Memory

Yesterday was a big day in our house. Finn cashed in on a Christmas gift by creating his own Build-A-Bear stuffie. He was beaming, as any new stuffed animal father would be. It's safe to say that he'll be talking about this for years to come.

Do you know how much it costs to buy a Build-A-Bear stuffed animal? Far more than a stuffed animal should cost. In many cases, 3-4x what you'd typically pay for a similar stuffed animal. It's wild.

However (and this is a big however), you aren't really buying a stuffed animal. Sure, you walk out of the store with a cute little stuffie. But that's not what you're actually buying. Build-A-Bear is in the memory-selling business. Every part of the experience (from the moment you walk into their store until the moment you walk out) is a curated experience to create a lasting memory. From the selection of the body, filling it with stuffing, to the little heart-insertion ceremony, to the accessorization, each part of the sequence builds upon the prior.

People can criticize Build-A-Bear all they want, but that company understands something vitally important. Their value proposition is far more than the physical object they are selling. That's why they can sell so many units at a staggering price. They know who they are, they know who they serve, they how to serve them, and they know what they are selling them.

My wife recently had a similar experience. My gift to her was one of those necklaces you design, and they literally fuse it onto your body. It doesn't come off. It's permanent. The only way to remove it is to cut it off. She chose a simple chain with three birthstones: September (the month Finn and Pax were born), October (the month they became part of our family), and June (the month their adoption was finalized in court). Similar to the stuffie, Sarah's necklace cost more than you'd anticipate. Also similar to the stuffie, this company understands they aren't in the necklace-selling business. They are in the legacy business. They help women create pieces that will theoretically be attached to them for the rest of their lives. There's a special sentiment in that process. That's what people are really buying.

What are you really selling? We're all selling something. We all wake up each morning and do something with our time. Those actions and that work can provide something meaningful. Maybe you sell coffee like my friend TJ. Or maybe you train basketball players like my friend Anna. Or maybe you sell insurance like my friend Ben. Or maybe you raise your kids like my wife Sarah.

Whatever you do, look one layer deeper. What are you really selling? Instead of coffee, TJ really sells smiles and hospitality. Instead of training, Anna helps young ladies develop confidence. Instead of insurance, Ben really sells peace of mind. Instead of "just staying home" (I hate that phrase!), Sarah is molding the next generation of leaders.

Sell what matters.

Every Meal Matters

My family recently had the most wonderful dining experience. The food was enjoyable, we had great conversations, our waitress was sweet, the kids had fun, and most importantly, we created some fun memories. It was one of my favorite dining experiences ever. Pretty impressive for $50, eh? Oh yeah, and it was at Perkins. I don't have any photos of the food or profound insights to share about the culinary delights, but I do have this little gem.

To understand why this meal was so special, I should offer up some context. It was a Sunday night, and I was preparing to leave town for the week. The kids were noticeably sad about the prospect of me leaving. We spent the day playing X-Box, watching Elf, and doing chores around the house. But as the hour neared for Sarah and the boys to drop me off at the airport, the kids' spirits diminished. While finishing my packing, Sarah suggested we stop for dinner on the way to the airport. After a quick Google search, she suggested we hit up Perkins, which was right next to the airport. That's the origin story of our amazing dining experience. 

A few things about this meal were different:

• The kids got along remarkably well (which is a departure from their normal twin brother antagonizing).

• They both sat in their seats like actual sane humans (this is a new and exciting twist).

• They excitedly read the menu for the first time ever (those new reading skills are starting to come in handy!).

• We enjoyed fun conversations about the weekend, the upcoming week, and other various 7-year-old topics.

• The kids were excited about their food selections, and eagerly shared theirs with the family.

• Everyone at the table knew I was leaving, so it felt like we were all trying to soak it in. 

This meal was absolutely nothing special, yet it created a seared-in memory for me. We don't need to drop hundreds of dollars to have a good meal. The restaurant doesn't need to have Michelin stars attached to its name to offer a high-quality experience (though I'd take some Michelin-starred dining right now!). The food doesn't have to be fancy or exotic to check the right boxes. Rather, it's the memories and shared experiences. I'm going to think about that meal for a long time. That brioche French toast wasn't necessarily life-changing, but I'll be craving that taste for a long, long time. 

The goodbye hugs were extra long that night. Pax, with a face covered in pancakes, added a few extra firm man pats to his hug. In Finny fashion, Finn threw out a random science fact as I shut the door. All seemed right with the world. 

There are so many lessons to glean from this story. I'll let you take from it what you will. Here's my parting thought: don't waste meals. We only have so many before we die, so make each one count.

Don’t Wait Alone

Yesterday, our church celebrated its 25th birthday. The service was a series of stories, testimonials, and interviews with people who have been part of our church over the years. Awesome day! Through it all, the concept of family and community kept coming up. This felt fitting, as the people in our church are family to us. We've experienced so much life in the 12 years of being part of our church, which flooded my mind as I sat there.

One particular memory stood out. It's a story that I don't often share. I had an inkling to write about it, but I was unsure. Then, something happened. Or rather, someone happened. My friend Suzanne was on stage sharing about her journey. She ended her story with three powerful words: "Don't wait alone."

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Sarah and I started trying to have a child when we were right around 30. We had been married for a few years at that point. Those first few years of marriage were spent traveling, paying off debt, enjoying being together, and learning how to be husband and wife. Then, the day came when we knew it was time to have a child. It's a pretty simple process, or so my fifth-grade science class taught me. Our reality was anything but simple.

After about nine unsuccessful months, we started getting worried. That began a brutal series of medical consultations, tests, procedures, and suffering. We were in our early 30s, facing a fork in the road. The fork wasn't medical...it was community. We were surrounded by countless people who loved us dearly, yet we were suffering in silence. This was our fork. We could either a) continue to bear this weight alone (while people would likely talk behind our back), or b) allow others to carry some of this weight and be there to support us. We chose the latter. We chose transparency.

What came from that experience was absolutely life-changing. We were in the midst of the most painful season of our lives, yet experiencing the beauty of true community. We suffered, but we weren't alone. Every step of the way, people were there to pick us up when we couldn't.

One of the most powerful moments of my life was sitting through service on Father's Day, just two days after losing a child that would have made me a dad. It was arguably the worst day of my life. I could have stayed home and hid, but I needed my church family.

Family cuts both ways. On the one hand, they are there to mourn with you, but on the other hand, they are there to celebrate with you, too. Just four months later, we became parents to two beautiful baby boys. Our church family was right beside us, celebrating like it was their own. I couldn't believe how happy everyone was. It was almost like these children were theirs......and in a way, they were. It's a true love I hope my kids someday recognize.

"Don't wait alone." You got that so right, Suzanne.

Today is the 7-year anniversary of bringing those two little 4-week-olds home. It’s typically called “gotcha day” in the adoption world, but we just call it the day we became a family. We will celebrate by sharing pictures, videos, and stories with the boys. Oh yeah, and maybe some treats. Below is the first photo taken after bringing the kids home on that crisp October 23rd morning.

The Years Are Indeed Too Short

"The days are long, and the years are short."

This phrase was said to me multiple times when my kids were infants. I definitely understood the "days are long" part. With newborn twins, just the 16 bottles per day part felt long. On the other hand, I didn't fully understand the "years are short" part. Everything just felt long....and exhausting.

The boys turned seven yesterday, and we had a great day celebrating. Soccer game, roller skating, ice cream cake....lots of fun stuff. Wow, the years are indeed short. The twos and threes stage felt brutally slow, but they went from four to seven in what seemed like a month. I once read that 75% of all the time we spend with our kids will happen by the time they turn 12. Yikes! That's a staggering statistic. And a depressing one, at that.

Money can buy a lot of things, but it can't buy back lost time. It can buy houses, cars, and technology, but it can't give us back the time, memories, and moments we lost. Over the last few years, as I began to realize the years go by far too fast, I thought I had a solution. I thought if I just tried really hard to live in the moment, it would make time slow down. Turns out it doesn't work like that. Therefore, I eventually conceded that time will fly by no matter what we do, so we might as well embrace it for its rapidly moving beauty.

Happy birthday to Finn and Pax, and I'm excited to experience whatever time I'm blessed to have left with them. It's days like yesterday when meaning over money becomes even more glaring and obvious. Leaving my prior career and starting over 4.5 years ago was one of the scariest decisions of my life. I felt reasonably confident in my decision when I first made it, but that decision has been affirmed over, and over, and over again through the years. Not because it's been easy (it's actually the hardest thing I've ever done), but rather because it matters.

If you're ever teetering on the fence of meaning vs. money, look your children in the eyes. It only takes about 0.2 seconds to realize which side of the fence we should land. Meaning. Always meaning.

The Painful (Yet Beautiful) Cost of Parenting

Today is a big day! Not only is it one of the biggest college football games of our season (Iowa at Iowa State), but it’s Northern Vessel’s official launch party for our new canned cold brew partnership with We Will Collective (Iowa State’s NIL collective). We’ll be setting up a tent alongside We Will, where our entire Northern Vessel team will be there to celebrate the launch, eat good food, and have a fun time together. Many friends, former Iowa State athletes, and other big names will also be stopping by the tailgate to say hello and grab some cold brew (35,000 cans fresh off the line!). Word on the street is President Trump and several other 2024 presidential candidates will also be floating around the premises.

It will be an absolutely fantastic event…..and I’ll miss most of it. Bummed doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. This is the type of thing we’ve envisioned since relaunching Northern Vessel in November 2022. This is the next step of TJ’s dream, and being able to support him is one of the greatest privileges of my life. Yet, I’m going to miss the majority of it.

Why? Finn and Pax have a parks and recreation soccer game this morning. They really want to play, and just as important, they want their dad there to cheer them on. I remember back when I dreamed of one day becoming a father. I made a promise to myself that I would make every one of my kids’ games, concerts, or other events if I had the power to do so. I also think back to my own childhood and remember fondly that my parents rarely missed a game. They didn’t have to be there, but they somehow sacrificed to always be present. If my memory serves me correctly, my mom only missed two basketball games in my entire 5th-12th career (in one, I scored 47 points, and in the other, I was carted out of the gym on a stretcher with temporary paralysis). I always loved having my parents there and want my kids to have the same thing (not the life-flash-before-their-eyes injury part, though…..that’s a story for a different day).

Can we parents all agree that this isn’t easy? In the chaos of life, it’s hard enough to keep my head on straight with the everyday things in my life…..never mind all the extracurricular activities. And the crazy part is, we’re not even into the thick of it yet. We have a few first graders just now getting into sports and other activities.

I’m very torn today. I’m mourning the loss of missing this important event. However, the decision was pretty simple. Many years ago, I made that commitment to myself to be present when I eventually became a father. This is where we find out if I was just talking the talk, or if I’ll walk the walk.

Oh yeah, Go Cyclones!