My darling Monsters,

I read through my last few letters for you, shocked to find they were written over two years ago. Shocked to realize now how young you truly were at the time of your Mom’s accident and how long her recovery was. When I wrote the last letter, your Mom had hit rock bottom in her recovery. She’d lost nearly 40 pounds and tears and despair had become our new norm… until it wasn’t. 

After a year and seven months, with things seemingly trending down in her recovery, your Mom got a new doctor, some new medicine, and new physical therapy to help her recover from the concussion. Around this time your Mom started talking about buying a bike for the summer, but she wouldn’t try one out, sitting on a bike still made her too uncomfortable. Then on April 10, 2021, one year and nine months after her accident, she bought a bike from our neighbors who were cleaning out their garage and rode around the block.

The next day she rode a few more blocks. Then a mile. Then five miles. Then she started shadow boxing, then hitting the bag. A month shy of two years, she boxed with me for the first time. Then on the two-year anniversary of the accident, Mom and I boxed 24 three-minute rounds. 

I should add that one major development for me was that I started boxing. In an effort to give Mom something else to focus on, I let her train me for my birthday. She really missed training and started asking to train me more. I hated it at first, given that it was so hard, but now it’s become an important part of my life. 

The fall after your Mom started boxing and training again, she launched the Swing State Boxing Club, renting out the basement of a local gym. Starting at a time when people still had to wear masks during class, she grew the business to what it is today, an amazing community of fighters who push and encourage each other. You’ve both taken a class there and so many of the fighters play an important role in your community and were an integral part of Mom’s recovery. She’s also back to riding bikes, now more than ever, routinely riding countless miles in the morning before the three of us even get out of bed. She loves running Swing State and it’s amazing to see how quickly she’s grown her dream of an inclusive, fun boxing gym into a thriving business.

It’s been truly amazing to have your Mom back to her motivated, wonderful self, but I feel like I owe you both an apology. I’m sorry that at times I was so short during this time. Trying to support your Mom, and work, and take care of you kids… I truly didn’t have the patience you deserved at times. It is crazy to think you were only 4 and 6 when the accident happened and by the time life returned back to its new normal, you were 6 and 8 and had gone through a global pandemic that left you attending school via an iPad every day. 

In my defense, during this time I was fighting too! While fighting with you both to go to bed after a day of working and caretaking, you probably needed more comfort because of what was going on, but in reality, some nights I had little or nothing left to give. I was trying to help your Mom as she was fighting to get her life back, while at the same time, I was fighting to keep my sanity, and fighting to get my partner back, especially after COVID hit 9 months into her recovery… Anyways, I’m sorry if I wasn’t as patient as I could’ve been. I truly love you both so much. 

But just as your Mom came out of her fog of recovery, so did the world. School opened back up for part of a day, sports began to resume, and we jumped in head first. As I mentioned, Mom started her gym, and you two started joining as many activities as we could drive you to.  

Our hobbies during COVID fueled our activities after—music, and sports. 

Arlo, you watched the movie Mighty Ducks and became infatuated with hockey. You split a pair of rollerblades with us and by the end of your first day, you were cruising up and down the street. Mom signed you up for a class each week to learn the basics of the sport, and at the end of the school year, you tried out for and made a traveling roller hockey team. The following school year you became more obsessed with soccer and started playing for a club. Every day after school you’d go to a nearby field to practice. 

When basketball season came around, you played, but at first, weren’t interested and told me, “If I could go pro in basketball, I wouldn’t. It’s not my sport.” That was until you had about five steals, a bunch of blocked shots, and got to the basket anytime you wanted, in your first game. After the first game I said, “If you practiced, you could dominate. You had five steals, which led to five fast breaks, resulting in five missed shots. Practice some layups and you’ll be deadly.”

After the next game, when you played even better and sunk your first 3-pointer, you got hooked. You now practice basketball before and after school every day and have adapted the pro soccer player dream, which was modeled from the remnants of a career in the NHL to a goal of playing in the NBA. We’re working with you on being humble because in your mind, you’re already the GOAT at most things… One day I caught you in the act of being modest and I was really proud. Someone asked if you were a good ice skater and you said you were pretty good, but still working on it. I smirked. You caught my expression and said, “Ladies I was trying to be humble for my Dad, but let me assure you, when it comes to skating, I’m the real deal.”

Elliott, you learned how to do a cartwheel from Cira and you were hooked. You spent days practicing and perfecting them, even holding mini-clinics at school to teach others how to do them. You joined a gymnastics team and are doing really well, having competed in a number of competitions, winning a bunch of medals and a trophy. You also played and dominated in soccer, but decided to sit out this spring season. Not sure if you’ll make your triumphant return or not. 

As for music, we found out early on in COVID that Paulie, my old college roommate and close friend, and one of the most talented musicians I know, had been diagnosed with cancer. Seeing how much people’s support meant to your Mom in her recovery, I decided to try to do something for Paulie. Nearly every day during his recovery, I’d record a different cover song and send it to him, often with one or both of you singing backup or singing the entire song yourself. Mom even joined us on a handful of tracks. You both got really into the song choice and learned a lot of the songs. 

We had a whole lot of music around our house during this time, and still do. Arlo, you wanted to learn electric guitar, then drums, you tried them both and then gave them both up to play more. You can’t be bothered to sit still long enough to practice between all the hours of soccer and basketball you cram into every day. Elliott, you started playing piano shortly before Mom’s surgery and then took a break during the first part of COVID, but are now back to playing. You’re getting really good and I love hearing you play and sing songs you love. Right now you’re learning a lot of Rihanna songs. I can play so many different genres of songs in the car and joyfully hear you two chime in with all the lyrics, from John Prine and Langhorne Slim to Lizzo and Elle King and Eminem, you know if all. Elliott, you hear a song once and the next time you hear you’ve retained 80 percent of the lyrics, it’s crazy.

We’ve now seen Elle King, who you both discovered from a song in a video game, in concert three times, and on the first two occasions, we got to meet her. The first time Elliott made a sign and when Elle saw it she came over during the concert, took Mom’s phone, and then recorded her singing with the two of you. 

You also both started to get into fashion, Arlo from your brief, but still a present obsession with Justin Beiber, and Elliott, from anyone you think looks stylish. We watched a lot of Queer Eye during COVID, so you both got into makeovers. Arlo, you chopped your hair off and pierced your ears, adopting baggy ripped jeans until you realized you couldn’t play soccer in them. Elliott, you’re always mixing up your styles, but typically whatever you wear these days is accompanied by your signature pale pink Doc Martens. 

So much has happened in the last two years it’s hard to encapsulate it into one letter. We’ve had battles and love fests and everything in between. For me, as a parent, these have been the most frustrating times as a parent, since you’re both still young, but sometimes not young enough to warrant the behavior you’ll throw our way. Luckily you’re both still cute, so we allow you to keep living here. You’ve nearly outgrown the hours of creating extravagant dioramas, for lack of a better term, where you stage a doll house and the floor leading up to it with animals and fake food, an entire world of scenes within scenes. You still color and create, Elliott you still bake and Arlo you really like to make cookies, mainly so you can eat them. 

Screens are a thing at times, but not terribly so. Arlo, you’re typically fine to ditch your iPad for any athletic event, while Elliott, I think you’d be content to sit and binge-watch shows all day while coloring. 

Arlo, you had to have a hernia surgery last year, which was especially traumatic for you since they had to check your growing and private parts. You were lecturing the doctor about how you’re not supposed to let anyone touch you there, which he agreed with, except in a medical situation. You finally relented only to turn into a parkour master the moment he went to do his exam. One minute you were on your back, the next you’d flipped over backward and rolled off the table, then jumped over the table when I tried to grab you… It was something. 

You were telling Mom and Elliott how terrible it was. I told you it only gets worse, when you get older a doctor will have to stick a finger up your butt. You asked if girls have to go through any uncomfortable exams, to which Mom assured you, as a woman they have to have exams on a regular basis where they have to insert instruments into her, which she assured you is worse.

“What kind of instruments, like banjos?” you jokingly asked. Then you insisted a finger in your butt was worse because people don’t wash their hands. Later in the car, I heard Elliott mockingly shake her finger at your face, “Dirty finger, wooooo!”

Following this surgery, you had a growth removed from your hand, a procedure that was equally stressful for you, Mom, and the doctor. After you told everyone, “They literally set my skin on fire.”

Arlo, you also learned about sex during this time, after an older neighbor started talking to you about some topics that were thankfully over your head and you luckily came to us with questions. I had “the talk” with you, and you immediately looked down at the ground, got a hilariously awkward grin on your face, and then responded, “Goodbye childhood…”

After learning about sex you had more questions for me and Mom, including about how you were made. “When you made me, were you real mature, like calm,” and you mimicked slow kissing, “Or did you do it all frantic like,” and you started kissing your hand like a spaz.  

Other parts of life are changing, my company is selling after nearly 11 years, and I don’t know what that means exactly. Arlo, you recently encouraged me to start working on some picture books again, which I did, and Elliott, you’re trying to convince me to go work in shoes. You routinely tell everyone I’m a shoe designer. I have no clue where it started, but you’re consistent. One day you said, “I’m a palm reader and I see you’re going to be a shoe designer that will put all other shoe designers out of business and you’ll move into a mansion and only feed your kids steak and make money. And you and your son will grow up to be very handsome” Then you started making it rain. To this day anytime anyone asks what I do for a living, you giggle hysterically and respond, “He designs shoes!”

These past few years were like the beginning stages of starting a band. There was a lot of noise, sometimes yelling, sometimes moments of brilliance, pure chaos, and challenges, and just a lot of fun. I guess that’s life, and we’re finding our rhythm as a family. I’ll try to write more.

I love you tons, 

Dad

4-9-23 (nearly two years in the making)