Happy 50th (blogpost) Etta!

It came to my attention today that this is my 50th post on The Flan Dad blog--a blog that I started over a year ago as we were anticipating the arrival of little Etta!

I've very much enjoyed being able to use my blog as an outlet to express my thoughts of being a dad to the greatest daughter to ever grace the earth. :)

To celebrate post number 50, I quickly made a video to a song that I was recently introduced to called "Daughter" by Loudon Wainwright III. I absolutely LOVE this song and thought it went well with pictures of little Etta--emphasis on quickly, it's not pro-quality, so don't judge me!

Along with the video, I thought I'd take a moment to list my Top 50 things I love about little Etta! (Truth is I could make a top 50,000,000 list, but for time, I'll keep it to 50.

So, without further ado, enjoy blogpost 50!

Top 50 Reasons I love Etta:

50. Her zest for playing with her toys in a very aggressive, organized, and precise way.
49. The way she yells when she plays with anything.
48. Her cheeks.
47. The way she looks at her mommy. :)
46. Her eyes.
45. Her smile.
44. Her scrunchy face smile which she delivers in very special and funny situations.
43. The way she looks around the room at other people when she thinks something is funny...as if she's making sure they all got it.
42. Her belly.
41. Her thighs.
40. When she wears skinny jeans.
39. The fact that she could probably benefit from a bra.
38. That she thinks her Uncle Tyson is as weird as the rest of us do.
37. The way she plays with her toys at Grandma and Grandpa Strongs and Mamo And Papa's homes...and watching them play with her like they're little kids as well.
36. The way she melts the hearts of her Uncle Ben and Uncle Sam.
35. When she comes to visit me at work.
34. How she's changed my perspective on so many things.
33. How I tear up at random times throughout the day when thinking about her.
32. When I hear her mommy reading her books and I see her participating in the reading.
31. That I haven't had a day where I didn't smile since her birth.
30. The fact that she makes me genuinely, sincerely smile...like the type of smile that kind of makes you cry.
29. When she helps me get the mail.
28. When she eats her puffs.
27. When we go on walks and she sits in her stroller just silently observing.
26. Our trips to the park and watching her on the swing.
25. How ticklish she is.
24. That she can go from screaming mad to so happy just by us letting her walk while holding her hands.
23. How much she loves being in her walker and speeding throughout whatever room she's in.
22. When we clean out her ears and she nearly falls asleep.
21. When she falls asleep in my arms while I'm feeding her.
20. When she bonks heads with me in our "bonk heads" game.
19. That she finds me hilarious most of the time (I think many people could learn from her on that!).
18. Her lips and tiny mouth.
17. That she gets loopy when she's tired.
16. That she's generally as annoyed by the dog that lives in our house as I am.
15. That she sleeps through the night...most nights anyway.
14. The way she people watches in public places.
13. That she's a huge Braves fan...totally unprovoked.
12. That she loves tickling and "getting" mommy and daddy.
11. When she waves hello and goodbye.
10. When she gives me a high-five.
9. When she holds my hand when I'm carrying her.
8. When her other arm is on my shoulder or around my neck when I'm carrying her.
7. When she scoots across the room on her bum.
6. When she throws a mini tantrum.
5. That she laughs when I "booooooooooo" her.
4. Her crazy morning hair.
3. How much she loves being in the bath and playing with her bath toys.
2. That she's here. She's ours. She's living in our home and is a part of our lives. That all the pain, hurt, tears, trials, disappointments, frustrations, confusions, and even anger in the journey to get her here are all 100-percent worth it and all things I would do a thousand times over--and at even a thousand times more intense--just to have her here with us.

1. Moments like this, tonight:

Happy 50th (Blogpost) Etta!

The Civil War and Mr. Kevin Giddins

In an effort to keep ourselves culturally sound and well-rounded (ahem, we may be failing anyway), Annie's parents have been getting us season tickets to the Hale Center Theatre for the last few years as a Christmas gift. We love going to these plays and look forward to them every time they come around.

I'm constantly in awe of the performers that make that tiny theatre feel like it has all the resources necessary for a caliber production worth far more than the price of admission. Every single time we go to one, I am filled with envy of each of the performers and always tell myself I'm going to audition for the next play and fulfill one thing on my bucket list (then the next one comes and goes and I say I'm going to do it next time, etc).

But my lack of any plays on my acting resume is not the focus of my thoughts tonight.

Tonight we saw The Civil War performed at HCT. Usually the plays we see there are comedic in nature and we leave having laughed the entire time--but this musical had a much different feel to it, as you can imagine. The stories told and the journey into that time in our country's history are significant and worthwhile. If you haven't seen it, you should go see it. Click here for tickets and support local theatre! (I get zero commission for tickets sold).

I had many thoughts and observations during this musical, two of which I think are worth noting:

1) I am amazed at how great of hair so many men in this valley have and I'd kill for just one day with the hair I used to have, which I think was equally as great. You should see some of the locks of hair flowing in The Civil War...and the facial hair, don't even get me started on the facial hair. I mean, as if I'm not already jealous of these guys for them being in plays and being able to sing and act, etc, I am green over the ease they boast with regards to facial hair. Ugh. If only.

2) The racial lines are clear in this play and, obviously, the topic of slavery is at the forefront. In the play, there is a married older couple--black slaves, Clayton and Bessie Toler. Coincidentally enough, the characters of Clayton and Bessie were played by two African-Americans who are in fact married outside of their theatrical responsibilities.

Lita Little Giddins played the role of Bessie, and she was fantastic, emotional, and quite endearing.

The role of Clayton was played by her real life husband, as I mentioned, Kevin Giddins. While I was impressed with the way that Kevin and Lita portrayed their characters on stage and the way they let emotion tell the story of what the slaves must have been going through during that time, I was even more impressed with what I think is probably Kevin's life philosophy--and I read it in his bio in the show program.

After mentioning his work outside of theatre it goes on to explain that he was raised in a home with eleven brothers and sisters. Then, Kevin says something very interesting in his bio--which I'm assuming he wrote and believes wholeheartedly in.

"His father was Catholic and his mother was Baptist while he, being raised in a Jewish community, a high school girlfriend who was Pentacostal, and boyhood friends Jehova Witness, his sister's a Muslim, and Kevin served an LDS mission. Kevin's middle name is 'Diversity' and a civil war NEVER erupted in his home because there was an awareness of what was...a hope of what could be...and, love."

There were several instances in the musical that nearly brought me to tears (or maybe did bring me to tears), but these words in Kevin's bio struck the same type of emotional feelings. I found it so fitting to read those words, especially during this time in our country where tolerance of ALL people's beliefs and ideas is lacking.

Kevin's family and social circles sound as diverse as one could possibly be, and he made it a point to stress the respect they all had for each other's beliefs and thoughts--so much respect that a civil war NEVER erupted amongst his family. I love the way that is worded in his bio.

My family features many different types as well--straight, gay, Mormon, Catholic, Baptist, Athiest, Agnostic, drug addicts, alcoholics, and so on and so forth. Yet, I've seen some civil wars erupt in our family. Fortunately, I've also seen those civil wars seem to be repaired, at least a little bit, but it's still sad to see it happen sometimes.

The point is, I know there are so many families that allow a civil war to erupt because they aren't willing to just have an awareness of what was, a hope of what could be, and love. And it really isn't worth the loss.

Support gay marriage...oppose gay marriage...so what? Just respectfully believe what you believe and love each other regardless. Think the Mormons are a cult...or that the Catholic church is corrupt...or that Athiests just don't see the point...or that believers of God are in fact often blinded...or whatever the case may be? Fine. Great. Respectfully believe it and don't let these issues cause a civil war to erupt in your families.

My hope for my little Etta is that she can become a well-rounded, culturally sound young woman and be able to see people for who they are and respect all walks of life--regardless of her personal thoughts on the subjects at hand.

I love the diversity and differences in my family. There may be areas where I differ slightly, but I think that's ok, and it doesn't change how much I love my family. And it certainly doesn't change my respect for them.

Sometimes the world scares me when I think of Etta growing up in it. But, the majority of the time, I'm fine because I truly think that, like Ann Frank said, people are mostly just good, despite all the evil (I'm paraphrasing and too lazy to look it up exact
ly, but you get the point).

So, in conclusion, conduct yourself in ways so as to not allow a civil war to erupt amongst your families, and I'll help Etta do the same. :)

Also,  I understand Kevin Giddins lives here in Orem...if anyone knows him, tell him thank you and great work on The Civil War.

Thanks Mitchell and Luke

Tonight I read a post on the Facebook page for Mitchell's Journey.

If you aren't familiar with Mitchell Jones, it would be worth visiting the Facebook page and reading the articles that have been posted online here, here, and here recently.

The story of Mitchell Jones first came across my view from a post from a Herriman, Utah resident linking me to the Facebook page for Mitchell. I read a little bit about the young man and followed his story as best I could through the Facebook page and through the posts from people who lived in Herriman close to his family and knew his family.

I didn't know Mitchell and I don't know his family. But I'm so incredibly thankful that they opened the undeniably sacred and exclusive doors to Mitchell's Journey to all of us because it will forever change the way I view trials and tribulations.

His story has made major headlines and has accumulated a following of thousands of people online--many of whom I believe experienced the same emotions and feelings I did through following his story.

The Jones family posted some heart-wrenching photos of the funeral preparations on the Facebook page. The agony and pain that is so clear and obvious is undeniable. Yet, the hope and understanding they eloquently portray that accompanies those negative emotions is even more so undeniable.

This story has made me appreciate every single day I have with Etta. It's made me realize what a precious gift she is. So many things change in our lives, but that's one thing that will never change--she'll always be my little girl, no matter what, and that is such a happy emotion.

I can't imagine going through what the Jones family has gone through. I don't even want to try to imagine it. But their hope made way for my hope to grow stronger. And I'm thankful to them for that.

Mitchell passed away on Saturday, March 2. According to the Facebook page, the night before he passed away his best friend and neighbor, Luke, wanted to come over and hang out with him. The family very lovingly obliged.

You can find this post on the Facebook page, it's titled Boys Made of Clay. It's written by one of Mitchell's parents and it's one of the most beautiful tributes and one of the most shining example of people who get "it."

I wanted to include it in this post, so the following is from Boys Made of Clay from the Mitchell's Journey Facebook page. Thanks Mitchell and Luke.

Boys Made of Clay

"The night before Mitchell passed away we sensed that time was running out. As the sky quickly darkened the air grew eerily cold … and with each breath we felt a heavy, somber feeling grow within our hearts. That abyss that was inching to devour our son had its mouth stretched wide and was beginning to take away my son.

We were preparing to cuddle with Mitch in his room and read him stories and comfort him when we received a call from his best friend and next-door neighbor who wanted to see if he could play. Unaware that Mitchell was already slipping away and was coming in and out of consciousness (mostly out), we asked this young boy if we could speak to his mother … which we did … and described what was happening. We quickly learned that Luke wanted to come over and say goodbye to our baby, his best buddy.

What I then witnessed in the quite of Mitchell’s room was the most tender interaction between two young boys I have ever seen. It was a sacred exchange between two boys made of clay – each being shaped by experience, hardship, sacrifice and love.

Lying on the bed was our young boy much too young to die, standing next to him another young boy holding his hand, bearing his young soul … much too young to say goodbye. It was not my place to ask God why such heavy things were required by hands of these two innocent souls. Rather I began to ponder deeply and pray in my heart to understand what we were meant to learn from this hardship. These aren't the only two children to experience this, and they won’t be the last. But they were our kids … and we love them so. And it hurt so very much to see.

This young boy, who had loved Mitch like a brother and faithfully served him with all his heart told Mitchell how much he meant to him, that because of Mitch he learned what it meant to be a true friend and that he would never forget him. Luke struggled to hold back the tears, his voice was broken with emotion, as Mitchell lay unable to move or speak as he listened to tender words of affection and friendship. My wife and I wept as we witnessed love and friendship in its purest form.

I knew that Luke, Mitchell’s faithful little friend, was breaking inside. I hugged him and told him how much my wife and I loved and appreciated him. I told him that I was sure if Mitchell were awake he would tell Luke that he loved him like a brother and that he appreciated how he was always there to help him when his muscles were too weak, and to cheer him up when he was sad. I told Luke that he taught Mitchell and his parents what it meant to be your “brother’s keeper” and that we were so grateful to him.

Later that evening I couldn't help but think of that tender experience between these two young boys who were forced to grow up much too fast. I pondered the meaning of human suffering and the difficult experiences we are sometimes required to endure. I have learned to appreciate an old Jewish proverb that basically states "Don't pray for lighter burdens, pray for a stronger back". It would seem that in all religious texts, no matter your religion, God makes no apology for pain and suffering. In fact, I have come to understand there is a sacred relationship between suffering and spirituality, if we learn to listen and endure it well.

I admit the burden of losing my precious son has my knees trembling and hands shaking and my soul in tremendous pain. There exists no word in the human language to describe this pain. It is simply, utterly, bewilderingly heavy. But, like all suffering, the sting of that pain can make way to a deeper compassion toward others, a greater capacity to love, a stronger desire to reach toward God and understand His purposes.

The truth is we are [all of us] no different than these two little boys. We are all made of clay. And with each choice we make, each reaction to events in our life, we carve out something beautiful or something hideous – something that loves or hates. We need only look at our own life experience to know this is true … we have all seen some let the clay in their hearts harden and become brittle or unmovable. Others allow the tears of suffering to keep their clay soft and pliable.

Today my clay is soggy. But the tears will eventually dry and I will do all that I can to remain pliable."

Two Walks, One Day

Today I went on a walk with Etta around our neighborhood. We covered a little over a mile on our walk together. I had my music playing very softly in my headphones and I could hear the groans and noises Etta was making throughout our walk as her eyes filled with tiny tears for a brief moment. We looked at trees, snow, ice, and plants as we walked together. I told her some stories about this neighborhood, this city, this world that she is still getting adjusted to, but that I know and that I have adjusted to. I knew where I was going. I knew that she depended on me at that moment to help her learn and get back home.

I didn't know that while I was on a walk with Etta here in Utah, my Uncle, Jimmy Kuehnau, was in Sacramento, taking his last few breathes on this earth. My mom's brother passed away today. He succumbed to liver disease at the age of 55.

Admittedly, I didn't know Jimmy very well. I don't think I'd seen him in person in nearly 14 years. We were Facebook friends, although with the amount of activity on his Facebook page, I highly doubt he actually knew we were friends on the site...or that he knew he actually had a page at all. :)

But what I do know is that he is sorely missed. By me. By my mother. By my grandma. By my aunts , and my other uncle. And by his family, including his one adorable little granddaughter.

My grandpa passed away nearly nine years ago, and while it may have come sometime after the walk I had with Etta this morning, I believe that today, somewhere better than earth, a father was taking a similar walk with a child who was new to his environment.

Maybe my grandpa and my uncle covered a little over a mile on their walk together in the next world. Perhaps there was music playing softly. Maybe they were both shedding some tears reminiscing about the time they spent together on earth and sharing stories about the pride they have in their grandchildren. Maybe they looked at the scenery of wherever they are...trees, snow, ice, plants, etc. I bet my grandpa told some stories about the neighborhood, city or world that my uncle was going to need to adjust to, but that my grandpa had spent the last nine years becoming acquainted with. I believe my grandpa knew where to go and that my uncle was depending on him to help him get around.

And furthermore, I believe that they both have found their ways back home. I believe that my uncle has had a chance to meet his Father, his God. Maybe my grandpa reintroduced them.

Even though I didn't have regular contact with Jimmy, I'll miss him. 

I hope they enjoyed their walk with each other as much as I enjoyed mine with Etta.

And in 100 years, I hope to take a similar walk with Etta.

Dear God, Please Help

Editors Note: Belief in God is a personal choice. I have friends who don't share that choice with me. I love them and respect them. This post centers on God. 

I've started and deleted this blogpost a dozen times tonight. I've written paragraphs. And I've deleted those paragraphs. I've cried. I've mourned. I've looked through photo slideshows. I've read articles. I've watched videos.

And yet, I can't figure out how to put my emotions into words. A Utah Jazz beat writer, Jody Gennesy, wrote a wonderful piece on the Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy, and I echo every single one of his sentiments.

Then, as I learned more about the tragedy in Connecticut this afternoon, my thoughts turned to my daughter. My thoughts turned to the little six-month old blessing that sleeps in the room next to me. My mind wandered to her smile. Her laugh. Her cries. Her eyes. Her hands.

I longed to hug her. I needed to hold her. I needed to see her.

I thought of those that I love dearly. I thought of my nieces who were on an airplane coming to visit. I thought of my nephews. I thought of my nephew who is due this week. I thought of the world he was coming to. I thought of the phone call I had earlier in the day with my friend Cora--a kindergartner herself. She asked for my address so she could mail a letter to our family dog. I gave her my address. She said she loved me. I told her I loved her too.

I thought of her sister, Penny. I smiled.

I thought of our friends, Olivia and Hannah--both elementary school children. I thought about their families. I thought about how much I enjoy their visits. I thought of all my friends with young children. My friends who take so much pride in their children's accomplishments. My friends whose eyes light up when talking about their kids or their nieces or their nephews.

I finished work. Got in my car. Drove to my mother's home eagerly--to pick up Etta. I fought back tears pulling into the driveway. I fought back tears walking to their door. And I fought back tears as she reached for me when I walked in the room.

I held her. Kissed her. Hugged her. Laughed with her. Smiled with her.

I thought about how she wasn't aware of what happened across the country.

Then, I thought about how she was one person I know who has more insight to where these young shooting victims now were.

Then I thought about God. Certainly He was pained as these young children were taken from their families in such a senseless act of violence. Certainly He wept. Certainly He hurt. He had to have put His hands to His face as these children's lives were cut short. He had to have been in pain as He watched another one of His creations exercise agency in such a heinous way.

Then I thought about His reunion with each of those children. I thought about Heaven's newest additions. I thought about God meeting each child with a hug. A kiss. And a smile.

I acknowledge God's hand in so many things in my life and in the lives of those I love. I think He loves to help His children. I think He helps His children all the time. I think He is there even when I'm not seeking Him out.

Then I stared at a blank page and composed a letter. A letter to God. A request for continued help.

Dear God, 

Please help. 

Please help those families whose homes feel empty tonight. Please help those mothers and fathers who have one less tucking in to do tonight. One less bedtime story to read tonight. One less set of teeth to remind they need brushing. One less goodnight kiss. 

Please help their hearts. Please help their spirits. Please help. 

Please help us all put aside our differences. Please help us all mourn together. Comfort each other. Smile at each other. Help each other. Love each other. Be there for each other. Be tolerant of each other. Be friends. 

Please help us recognize our blessings. Please help us take nothing for granted. Please help. 

Please help our society come together. Please help our leaders. Please help our future. Please help. 

Please help, 

Me

"Don't Give Up, Don't Ever Give Up."

"Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It can not touch my mind. It can not touch my heart. And it can not touch my soul." -Jim Valvano-

This evening as I was sitting downstairs with Annie and our nearly permanent house guest Tyson (who we love), I saw that the Monday Night Football crew was reminding their viewers that this week was Jimmy V Cancer Research Week and I instantly thought of one of the most stirring speeches and moments I've ever heard and seen--a speech that makes me literally weep when I watch it.

Lots of emotions run through my mind when I think of this speech, and I don't really know where to start when I think about writing them all down.

I think of a very sweet co-worker/friend who is taking on cancer right now and she's giving it everything she has. She's fighting so hard.

I think of some of my best friends who I know are struggling with an array of things in their lives. I love these people like family and I hurt when they hurt--even if I don't always show it.

I think of those I know that have lost little ones in recent times, and who continue to be examples to me of never giving up.

I think of my family.

I think of Etta.

Then, I think of this quote from Valvano. "Don't give up, don't ever give up."

While I'm not battling many of the things my close friends and family are or have, I still have daily battles in my mind and my moments of giving up on certain things seem more and more frequent.

And it takes a quote and a speech like this to help me keep perspective. Valvano delivered a speech at the 1993 ESPY Awards that has created a legacy. The entire speech can be found here, and if you find yourself with 11-12 minutes, I suggest sitting down and watching the speech in full.

But if you only have a couple minutes, then please watch this two minute clip as people remember that moment and some of the most inspiring lines ever delivered from a podium are shared (if it doesn't play embedded here, click the YouTube icon to watch it in YouTube where it will work). 

If you aren't familiar with Jim Valvano, please visit the website for more information on the inspiring coach and his foundation.

In the full speech, Valvano gives three suggestions that every one should do every day.

1. Laugh-I love that the first suggestion he gives to everyone is to laugh. This is a man who would die less than two months after giving this speech. A man who knew that there would be no cure in his lifetime, but who wanted a cure so badly for future generations. A man who stared death in the face. And he laughed daily. It was the first suggestion he gave to people.

Today, I walked in the house after work, put my keys on the table and turned around to a smiling Etta playing on her toy and watching me. I laughed. And not a boisterous or out of control laugh. It was a simple laugh, but it was a real laugh. A genuine laugh. It was the kind of laugh that I believe Valvano was suggesting we have each day. Annie walked in the room and Etta lit up, like she always does around Annie, we both laughed real laughs.

2. Think-Valvano said that everyone should spend some time in thought each day. I wonder what my thoughts would be like if  I was faced with his situation or my co-worker/friend's situation. How would I react in my mind? I believe that Valvano's moments of thoughts were clear and I know my co-worker/friend finds absolute clarity in her thoughts.

After laughing with Etta post-work. I stared at her. I ran my hand through her hair. I tickled her neck and squeezed her cheeks. And I thought. I thought real hard. I thought about the kind of dad I currently am and the kind of dad I want to be. I thought about providing for her. I thought about my career. I thought about where I was going. I thought about what our relationship will be like as she grows older. I thought about how I can ensure that relationship is strong. And for the first time all day, I thought about NOT giving up. It's so easy for me to give up these days at work. It's so easy for me to quit fighting that sometimes the thoughts of giving up can cause me to be lethargic and depressed, quite frankly. But when I sat there with Etta, I realized that giving up is simply not an option. Regardless of my state of mind at work, church or whatever, giving up is not an option. It wasn't an option for Valvano and it's not an option for me. It can't be.

3. Have your emotions moved to tears-Valvano suggested that everyone cry every day. He suggested that we all find something that moves our emotions to tears. At first I thought how easy it must have been for him to find something that causes his emotions to move to tears when staring death in the eye. But I don't think his physical status had anything to do with his emotions being moved to tears.

A couple of my really good friends pride themselves on not crying. However, I've seen them both cry at different times over the last little while. They may not know it or have realized it, but their moments of emotions moving them to tears triggered my emotions that, at some point, moved me to tears, and I'm thankful to them for that. I truly think Valvano knew that when our emotions are moved to tears, it's not always only a good thing for us--but for those around us. The other night Annie was telling me about a lady she knows who has a baby grandchild that is really struggling physically and is in and out of the ICU. Annie's emotions were moved to tears because of gratitude for Etta's well-being. This caused me to tear up. And I think it caused us both to offer a silent thanks for our little girl.

After laughing and thinking while sitting next to Etta this evening, my emotions moved me to tear up (literally, how could they not? Look at her!). I caught myself before the water works completely set in, but I wish I wouldn't have. I wish I would have let the tears flow. There were a variety of reasons for my emotions being moved to tears and I should have let them move. The overwhelming reason was Etta. She brings so much happiness to our home. She's everything.

I'm so thankful to have come across the Jim Valvano speech again. I watch it at least once a year, usually during this Jimmy V Week, and each time I watch it, I resolve to have more resolve, and I needed that today.

Sometimes I just want to hug my friends or family that I know are going through some difficult times in their respective lives. Other times I want to shake them violently and literally grab their eye lids and open them (I realize that the latter is not a good approach).

Then I realize that perhaps, at times, they want to do the same thing to me. Perhaps at times, they feel that I've given up. And sometimes, maybe they're right.

I think what I need to do is think of Jimmy V. Look myself in the mirror. Hug myself as I go through difficult times. And, if needs be, shake my face violently and literally grab my eye lids and open them to all the blessings I have.

"Don't give up, don't ever give up."

Don't Take Etta's Future Away

If you know me very well, you know that no one enjoys a bit or a joke or a sarcastic comment more than me. I list these things as hobbies. So I joke about things a lot--including politics in my comedy special, "That's the Democrats for Ya" (edited and narrated by Tyson Camp). I shouldn't think I'm that funny...but I do. :)

For our election night festivities, we went to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner--where Etta passed on the apps and cheesecake and opted for an Enfamil-filled bottle.

I've watched Etta when we've gone to restaurants and malls. No one gets love of all people more than Etta. She smiles at everyone--and she doesn't care what their race, religion, sexual preference, political party affiliation or whatever is. She just wants to make them smile...and I think there's a lot to learn from that--even if she is just five months old.

But, all joking aside, I was actually bothered tonight with the conclusion of the election...and I'm not referring to the outcome. I'm not referring to Ohio, Virginia, Florida or any state. I'm not referring to the candidates at all. I'm not even referring to the stupid celebrities speaking out in favor or against the reelection of Obama (let it be known that I despise celebrities in general and I especially despise them when they insert themselves into politics so flippantly and wrecklessly).  I'm referring to the people in my own neighborhood and communities. I'm referring to the people who damn the whole the world from an election. I find these people a lot more dangerous than any politician.

Do I think that President Obama deserved another shot at fixing our country? No, I don't. Do I think that he will lead our country back to economic stability better than Mitt Romney? I don't know. Did I think Romney has the tools and experience and leadership to bring us back economically? Yes, I did.

And I voted for Romney. I voted for Romney because he spoke of bipartisanship. He spoke of reaching across the aisles and working together, both parties, to accomplish great things. And that's why I voted for him.

Do I support President Obama now that the election is over? Absolutely. 100%. I hope and pray now that he too will use a bipartisanship approach to work and bring our country along to where it needs to be. One man is not the answer. It's a collaborative and cooperative approach that will bring us back, and that's what I hope happens and what I think can happen if pride and egos are set aside from both parties.

Here's why I refuse to accept the reelection of President Obama as such a miserable thing: Because my little girl has a lot of living left to do. She has a lot of potential. She's earned the right to have a dad that is supportive of the country she lives in. And you can say "but Kyle, the national deficit will continue to grow under Obama, etc." To which I say "ok, so what?"

What am I going to do about that now? Guess what? Regardless of who won tonight's election, I am getting up at 5am to make a bottle and change her diaper. Regardless of whether Obama or Romney lead our country, I'm responsible for making sure Etta is safe and warm. Don't take Etta's future away from her by damning the whole world because one man was reelected. You don't have to agree with Obama or the reelection of Obama...there's plenty of things about the last four years that concern me. But they don't concern me enough to start freaking out about Etta's national deficit. Right now, all Etta needs to worry about is her next bottle.

I can't stand the ney-sayers and people who are willing to chalk the next four years up to the worst in our country and to tout that the world is ending. My world just begun. Five months ago. It's not ending. Not in our home.

We'll continue to evolve and adjust to whatever is thrown our way--and we'll continue to support America along the way. Why would I lose faith in America at this point? It's too exhausting. I stood next to Etta's crib tonight and smiled. I didn't care about 16, 20, 25 trillion dollars or whatever the debt is or will be. I just cared that she was breathing. I just cared that she was smiling. I just cared that she was here, in my house and my family.

Tough times may come and if they do, fine, we'll handle it. Yes, there are things that will affect Etta and our family, I recognize that. And those issues are important and I wouldn't begin to mark them irrelevant.  But that's ok. I'd be fooling myself if I didn't think we'd ever have to overcome any obstacles at all regardless of who our President was.

I want Etta to live in a country of people that work together to make decisions. Gay or straight, black or white, Republican or Democrat, Christian or Atheist, I want Etta to see people working together. I want her to see gracious losers and dignified winners. I want her to see winners welcome losers and together continue to build a country worth living in--which I still believe we have, Obama or NO-Bama (see what I did there?).

Don't take Etta's future away just because we have a reelected leader.