A long time ago, while fishing for praise, I jokingly said to my mom, “Are you proud of me?” Her response, “I’m always proud of you.”

The answer knocked me for a loop because it was so unexpected. To this day, it pops into my mind and always elicits the same warm feelings in my heart.

I say it to my own kids now and hope they also go through life with it tucked into their brains.

I want them to remember that they always have a Mr. Myagi to their Danial-san, a Mick to their Rocky, a Laverne to their Shirley (RIP Cindy Williams 💔)

I mean it too. These boys are always finding new ways to make me proud. And they’re not even trying to impress, they’re just … being. They give me hope for the future in this broken world.

I’d love to take full credit, but alas, I cannot.

Their dear old dad is another one who surprises me all the time. His tender way of raising our boys – the perfect balance of being a “real man” while demolishing the idea of traditional gender roles – will have them making great husbands someday.

And then back to my Mom. If she thought she was proud of me, I’m sure she had no idea how much more her heart could expand when it comes to her grandsons.

She and my Dad can pat themselves on the back for them too though. They pretty much raised our boys with us.

While PJ and I were at work, they fed them, changed their diapers, played with them, brought them to the pool, and watched alllll the annoying kids shows. FOR FREE.

Ask them about The Wiggles and I’m positive they can name the entire cast and sing you a rousing rendition of “Cold spaghetti, ripe banana”.

This is my love letter to them.

Thank you both for always being the Percy & Toby to my Thomas, the Greg & Anthony to my Captain Feathersword, the Marie & Frank to my Raymond … or maybe I’m Robert 🤔 (touches food to chin.)

I love you both very, very much. Thank you ♥️