Little Milestones, Big Personalities, and 50 Things I Hope My Daughters Remember

 Life with two little girls continues to be an exhausting, hilarious, and heartwarming adventure. Joni is exploring the world with reckless abandon, parroting practically everything we say and adding new words daily. Her latest favorites are “uh-oh” and “oopsie,” usually delivered after doing something that probably could have been prevented.

 It’s fascinating watching her little brain develop, although occasionally heartbreaking when she struggles to communicate exactly what she wants. But she is nothing if not determined!

I also suspect we have a future soccer star on our hands. Despite not quite mastering running, jumping, or climbing, she can somehow dribble a soccer ball down the field and score a goal! Perhaps she’ll follow in the footsteps of her uncle and cousins. We’re also continuing our weekly swimming adventures as I shamelessly attempt to steer her toward becoming a swimmer. She recently experienced her first fever illness, which was miserable for her but secretly delightful for us because our fiercely independent toddler suddenly became the world’s biggest cuddle bug. She also discovered popsicles, which may have permanently altered her expectations of being sick. Perhaps sweetest of all, she’s started giving her little sister kisses, which melts our hearts every time.

Meanwhile, Evie is developing quite the personality, complete with enormous smiles, adorable coos, and occasionally judgmental stares. She’s holding her head up, loves watching her mobile, and increasingly insists on being wherever the action is. Sleep is finally improving, with only one or two wake-ups most nights. Thank God! Watching the girls interact is wonderful, although Joni’s displays of affection occasionally resemble a full-contact sport. 

Overall, I’m tired but incredibly happy. These girls are growing far too quickly, and I’m trying to appreciate every moment, even the exhausting ones.

I did want to take a slightly more serious turn with this entry. Recently, I’ve witnessed several deaths in the emergency department, including young parents leaving behind children. It’s a sobering reminder of how fragile life is, and becoming a father has made those experiences hit much closer to home. Coming home afterward and holding my own girls makes me appreciate just how fortunate we are.

So, in case life ever has other plans, I wanted to write down some of the lessons I’ve learned along the way. Some are serious, some are silly, and some I hope you’ll discover for yourselves. But they’re all things I hope my daughters will carry with them as they grow.

Here are 50 little pieces of advice for Joni and Evie, from their dad.

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50 Little Pieces of Advice for My Daughters

My sweet girls, life is going to be a wonderful, messy, unpredictable adventure. You’ll make mistakes, fall in love, get your hearts broken, discover incredible places, and become people I can’t even begin to imagine today. Along the way, I hope you remember a few things.

On Life and Happiness

1. Never forget that I love you! No matter where life takes you, that will never change.
2. Collect experiences, not just things. A passport full of stamps will tell better stories than a closet full of shoes.
3. The world is much bigger than your worries. And remember, worrying rarely solves anything. Spend your energy on what you can change.
4. Order dessert. Especially if it’s chocolate. Life is too short to always be sensible.
5. Learn to enjoy your own company. If you can be happy alone, you’ll never need someone else to complete you.
6. Be curious about everything. Ask questions, read books, and never stop wondering why. 
7. Take the scenic route occasionally. The best parts of life are rarely the most efficient.
8. Spend money on a good bed. You’ll spend roughly a third of your life sleeping. You might as well be comfortable.
9. Don’t suffer through the journey just to reach the destination. Enjoy the process of pursuing your goals, not just the moment you achieve them. Life is happening along the way.
10. Don’t wait for someday. Someday is a surprisingly unreliable date on the calendar, and believe it or not, your days are numbered. Make them count.

On Love and Relationships

1. Marry someone who makes you laugh. Good looks fade, but a shared sense of humor can last a lifetime.
2. Choose kindness over being right. Especially with the people you love. Winning an argument isn’t always winning.
3. Never chase someone who makes you question your worth. You are worth it, and the right people will recognize that.
4. Tell people you love them. Frequently, enthusiastically, and sometimes for no reason at all.
5. Find someone who will jump into freezing water with you. Or at least cheer you on from the shore. Your mother set a pretty high bar.
6. Your sister is one of life’s greatest gifts. You’ll fight, disagree, and drive each other crazy, but I hope you’ll always be each other’s safe place. That’s why we made two of you.
7. Learn to apologize without adding “but.” A sincere apology is a superpower.
8. Love is a verb. It’s showing up, doing the dishes, listening carefully, and choosing each other on the hard days.
9. Surround yourself with people who celebrate your successes. Real friends don’t feel smaller when you shine.
10. Remain connected to family. They are your support in this world. Nurture those relationships, even when life gets busy.
11. Never suffer fools. 

On Courage and Confidence

1. Be brave enough to be bad at something new. Every expert was once a beginner who looked a little ridiculous.
2. You can be both kind and fierce. Being gentle doesn’t mean being weak.
3. Never shrink yourself to make someone else comfortable. Take up space. You belong in the room.
4. Learn to say no without explaining yourself. No is a complete sentence, even when spoken politely.
5. Don’t confuse being busy with being important. A full calendar isn’t necessarily a full life.
6. Failure is one of the most valuable parts of life. Don’t shy away from it. Learn from it, use it, and become better because of it.
7. Speak up when something isn’t right. Even if your voice shakes.
8. Be the girl who asks the question everyone else is afraid to ask. Chances are, half the room is wondering the same thing.
9. You don’t have to follow our footsteps. Your mother and I have our own dreams. Your job is to discover yours.
10. Trust yourself, but stay humble enough to change your mind. Confidence and curiosity make an excellent pair.

On Adventure and the World

1. Travel far, and travel often. The world is full of people who live differently, think differently, and can teach you something wonderful.
2. Learn another language. It’s like being handed a secret key to another part of the world.
3. Try everything at least once. Eat the strange-looking food. Some of life’s greatest discoveries begin with, “What exactly is that?”
4. Always be kind to waiters, flight attendants, housekeepers, and strangers. How you treat people who can do nothing for you says everything about your character.
5. Get outside, even when the weather is terrible. You’re Alaska girls. A little rain never hurt anyone.
6. Watch sunrises and sunsets. They’re free, they’re beautiful, and no two are ever exactly alike.
7. Don’t be afraid to get lost occasionally. Just make sure your phone is charged and someone knows where you’re going.
8. Learn to swim, cook, change a tire, and manage your money. Independence is a beautiful thing.
9. Remember that history is often shaped by those who write it. Learn to question the stories you’re told, seek out different perspectives, and write your own history.
10. Remember where you came from, but don’t let it limit where you go. Alaska will always be part of your story, not the boundary of it.

On Becoming Extraordinary Women

1. Your value has nothing to do with your appearance. Beauty is wonderful, but character is what makes someone unforgettable.
2. Be financially independent. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it buys choices, freedom, and the ability to walk away when you need to.
3. Find work that you enjoy. You’ll spend a 3rd of your life working. Don’t be afraid to change careers later in life. If you don’t enjoy what you’re doing, find a way to do something different. Life is too short to be miserable five days a week. 
4. Read widely and think critically. The loudest person in the room is rarely the wisest.
5. Take care of your body. Not because it needs to look a certain way, but because it carries you through every adventure you’ll ever have.
6. Be generous with compliments and cautious with criticism. You never know what someone else is carrying.
7. Know the value of your time and your work. Don’t let people take advantage of your talents. Work hard, be generous when you choose, but never accept being undervalued.
8. Live your life. Don’t just record it or sit as an audience for other people’s lives. Put down your phone, look around, and participate in the wonderful world happening right in front of you.
9. When life gets hard, remember how much you are loved. There is nothing you could achieve that would make us love you more, and no mistake that would make us love you less.
10. Above all, build a life that feels wonderful on the inside, not just one that looks impressive from the outside. Be happy, be adventurous, be compassionate, be yourselves. And remember, no matter how old you get, you’ll always be our little girls.

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One Last Thing, Girls

Joni and Evie,

Your mother and I have traveled the world, worked incredibly hard, and experienced more wonderful things than we ever imagined. We’ve seen extraordinary places, met incredible people, and accomplished goals that once seemed impossibly far away. But of all our adventures, being your parents is the greatest one.

I hope you grow up brave enough to chase your dreams, wise enough to appreciate what you have, and kind enough to leave the world a little better than you found it. I hope you laugh until your stomach hurts, fall deeply in love, travel to places that challenge everything you thought you knew, and build lives filled with people who adore you.

I also hope that someday, when you’re older, you’ll read these little entries and get a glimpse of how much joy you brought us when you were small. How your silly little words made us laugh. How your smiles could turn an exhausting day into a wonderful one. How we marveled at every tiny milestone, even when we were too tired to keep our eyes open.

I don’t know what the future holds, and my work reminds me all too often that none of us are promised unlimited time. But I do know that right now, in this wonderful, chaotic chapter of our lives, your mother and I are incredibly lucky to have you.

And when you inevitably ignore half this advice, make your own mistakes, and decide that Dad is hopelessly out of touch, know that we’ll love you just the same.

Love always,

Dad ❤️

Last Days in Mexico

 

Oy vey. Now I remember why I stopped drinking tequila in my twenties.

With a righteous hangover, we moped our way out of bed and tended to our children, who, because toddlers and babies have absolutely no respect for the consequences of their parents’ decisions, were in spectacularly energetic spirits. There is something uniquely cruel about waking up after five tequila and mezcal tastings to the delighted sounds of small children who have slept for ten hours and are ready to ATTACK THE DAY.

Fortunately, we knew exactly what modern medicine recommends for this particular condition: more guava rolls.

So we made the fantastic decision to return to Café Rosetta. I’m not sure whether it was the butter, sugar, guava, coffee, or simply having something to live for again, but those pastries were every bit as heavenly the second time around. No regrets. If anything, I regret not ordering six.

With our blood sugar restored and the tequila demons temporarily subdued, we headed back toward the Zócalo, this time to visit the enormous Catedral Metropolitana de la Ciudad de México. The cathedral dominates one side of the Zócalo and is absolutely massive, the largest cathedral in Mexico and one of the largest in the Americas. Construction began in the 1500s and continued for roughly 250 years, which explains why the building is a spectacular mashup of architectural styles from different eras. Even more fascinating, it was built in the heart of what had once been the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, right beside the ruins of the Templo Mayor. Like much of historic Mexico City, the cathedral has also spent centuries slowly sinking into the soft ground beneath it, requiring major engineering efforts to keep the enormous structure standing.

Inside, it was breathtaking. Even Joni stopped in her tracks, stared upward with her mouth open and occasionally whispered, “Wow!” We slowly meandered through the enormous church, admiring the towering ceilings, chapels, altars, artwork, and sheer scale of the place while listening to the Word of God delivered in Spanish. I understood very little of what was being said, which, given my current tequila-induced cognitive capacity, probably wouldn’t have been significantly improved had the service been in English.

From there, we took a long taxi ride to make another attempt at the library.  This time we actually got inside, and holy crap, it was incredible. Easily one of the most visually impressive libraries I have ever seen, with this enormous, almost futuristic interior that makes you stop and stare the moment you walk in. We had specifically come hoping to explore the children’s section, which naturally meant that the children’s section was closed for… reasons.

There was presumably an explanation.

It was in Spanish.

We accepted defeat.

So, after another morning of attempting to culturally enrich two children who mostly wanted snacks, naps, and the freedom to run in whichever direction was most inconvenient, we headed home for an early siesta. Amazingly, both girls crashed for three hours. Three! Apparently our strategy of dragging them all over one of the largest cities in the world has accidentally created champion sleepers.

Once everyone recovered, we headed back out for some final shopping and wandering around the city. There wasn’t much of an agenda anymore, which was actually perfect. We walked, browsed, ate, people-watched, and soaked up a little more of Mexico City before heading home.

Tomorrow was our last day in Mexico.

And then, somehow, we got another great night of sleep. I am desperately hoping this is a permanent developmental milestone and not something that immediately evaporates the second our plane touches down in Alaska.

Our final morning was wonderfully uneventful. We had breakfast together as a family and went for one last stroll, stopping by the post office and wandering around the neighborhood. We also had one final, critically important mission: locate some last-minute horchata for Joni. The child has become obsessed. At this point, I’m not sure whether we introduced her to Mexican culture or simply created a tiny horchata addict who will spend the next several months wandering around Juneau demanding a beverage nobody has.

Eventually, we returned to the apartment and attempted to get the girls down for one final nap before our flight.

Absolutely not.

Apparently they were simply too excited to return to America, because neither child slept. Nothing ominous about taking two fully awake children under two onto an international flight after learning firsthand what happens when their schedules implode.

We packed everything up, took one last look around our spectacular apartment, and said goodbye to the place that had become our home base through one hell of a trip. And because the Rosenfeld Travel Curse apparently wanted one final opportunity to remind us that it was still very much alive, the moment we set out for the airport, Mexico City began a nationwide earthquake drill.

Suddenly, speakers across the city started blaring. Then our phones started blaring. Alarms were going off everywhere. Traffic stopped. People paused what they were doing. For a brief moment, as two Americans standing there with two overtired children and a mountain of luggage trying to get to an international flight, we had absolutely no idea what the hell was happening.

Of course.

Of course the entire country would simulate a major natural disaster at the precise moment the Rosenfeld family needed to get to the airport.

Absolutely. I’d insert this right after the earthquake-drill paragraph and keep the escalating “we’re almost there… nope” energy:

Eventually the alarms stopped, traffic started moving, and we were airport-bound once again. Luckily, we made it to the airport without any additional national emergencies, natural disasters—real or simulated—or other incidents. Now all that stood between us and America was a five-hour nonstop flight.

Five hours.

I had low expectations. Joni had steadfastly refused to nap before we left, meaning we were about to trap an increasingly exhausted toddler inside a metal tube for five hours. But we boarded and immediately received our first little gift from the travel gods: Emily and I each had an aisle seat with an empty middle seat next to us. After the journey down, this felt suspiciously close to first class.

I took Joni for the first stretch. Naturally, both my entertainment screen AND hers didn’t work, because apparently the Rosenfeld Travel Curse has a very specific sense of humor. Fortunately, we had enough activities, snacks, toys, and assorted toddler distractions to keep her reasonably occupied. She actually did pretty well, and for a while I began to think we might pull this off without incident.

Emily and I had wisely negotiated a prearranged prisoner exchange at the halfway point, and right on schedule we swapped children. I received Evie, who was an absolutely perfect little traveler. Quiet, content, snuggly—the kind of baby who makes you look around an airplane smugly thinking, See? Traveling with babies really isn’t that hard.

Meanwhile, Emily inherited the ticking time bomb.

Joni finally reached the end of her rope during the last hour of the flight. And when I say the end, I mean there was no more rope. She was DONE. Nothing could soothe her. No snack, toy, activity, parental plea, distraction, or act of God could overcome the fact that this poor kid had been awake far too long and was now being held against her will at 35,000 feet.

Luckily, the plane was absolutely packed with other children, so at least we weren’t the lone family destroying everyone’s peaceful flight. There were babies crying, toddlers toddlering, and parents throughout the cabin wearing the same thousand-yard stare. We were among our people.

But then, finally, the wheels touched down.

WE LANDED.

America! We had made it! All we had to do was get off the plane, grab our stroller and car seats, collect our luggage, and leave.

Easy.

We exited the plane and waited at the jet bridge for our gate-checked stroller.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing.

Eventually, a very well-intentioned young man disappeared downstairs and triumphantly began bringing up strollers and checked car seats. There was just one minor problem: none of them belonged to any of the parents standing there waiting for them.

So there we all stood, a small herd of exhausted parents holding increasingly heavy children, staring at a collection of completely useless baby equipment belonging to people who apparently were not there.

Eventually, we gave up.

With no stroller, we picked up both children, gathered all of our carry-ons, and began what felt like a mile-long pilgrimage to baggage claim. At this point my arms had ceased being anatomical structures and had become two numb straps connecting my shoulders to a child.

Surely our gear would be waiting for us there.

Narrator: It was not.

Our previously gate-checked car seats had also temporarily vanished into the great airline abyss. So we stood around for another 30–45 minutes while various people attempted to determine where exactly our extremely necessary child-safety equipment had gone.

But then…

They found it.

The stroller appeared. The car seats appeared. The luggage appeared. The children were still alive. The parents were still married.

And, at long last, WE MADE IT.

We had survived Mexico City with two under two.

Now we just had to get home to Alaska.

I especially like ending with “Now we just had to get home to Alaska” because after everything that happened on this trip, it sounds less like a conclusion and more like a threat.