How I Felt On My First Father’s Day

She’s officially seven months. Sunday was Father’s Day. It was my first Father’s Day as a father. Today I saw her sit up on her own for the first time. She sat right up. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t celebrate. She didn’t look at me for approval. She didn’t cheer with glee. She simply just sat right up. Then she grabbed a purple block from a collection of blocks and stared at it. She is marvelous. She doesn’t know it, of course. She doesn’t know that when she sits up my heart completely stops, shatters into a million pieces,…

8 TV Moms This Gay Dad Wants His Daughter To Know

I recently started watching old episodes of Roseanne. I put my iPad up on the kitchen shelf and listened to their raucous household rumble through bad grades and teen smoking and the honeymoon they never had. I was all warm fuzzies about it, ready to slowly make my way through Conner family history until this last week. Last week I gave up on Roseanne. I’ll let you google that if you need to know why. However, it got me thinking about moms. My baby girl doesn’t have a mom. She has two amazing dads, and I know without a doubt…

Wear the Speedo

Last week I took my daughter to a lake in the city, and as we parked, a man walked by. He older, perhaps close to 70. He was wearing the shortest shorts I’ve seen since the summer began. I was startled. The shorts creeped up his backside, and in long, spindly strokes his legs stretched ahead of and behind him, making his way toward the lake. His faded blue jeans were ragged at the edge where a pant leg could have begun had there been any leg to these pants at all. In the place of the legs were merely…

6 Months of Fatherhood

Our sweet one is 6 months old, y’all. Half a year ago I said goodbye to sleep. I’m literally nodding off right now. 6 months ago the phrase “on a whim” flew the coop, and on the same wings flew “good night’s sleep” and “strutting your stuff”. These have been replaced by “do you have the diaper bag/day school bag/stroller base/binky/blanket/formula/time to run home and thaw the breastmilk?” and “what’s really so bad about 4am?” and “but can you really SEE the barf on my shirt?” Honestly, I feel like a crazed chicken most days. But I couldn’t be happier….

The Same Apartment

I went to Wisconsin to work on a new project, and I’m staying in the same apartment we stayed in when we brought our baby home from the hospital last fall. We didn’t quite bring her HOME home. We brought our days-old baby here, to this apartment. This is the apartment above our surrogacy agency. Two days before our baby girl was born, we drove four hours, arrived here, brought our bags upstairs. We set up a pack-n-play, put our baby’s bassinet in it and folded a paper thin receiving blanket with cameras on it, draping it over the side….