A Love Letter to Norah, On Her Birthday.

Eight years ago, my shining light was born. 

I know, that's hammy and cliché. But it's true, and let me tell you why:

Already goofy from her first portrait on

Before I met Phil in 2004, I hadn't really anticipated plans to get married or have children. I was solely dedicated to performing, and everything else in my life was a distant second.  

But how could anyone not want to have babies with this guy?

Coach Phil FTW

We conceived a couple of months after my grandmother Eleanor had died, and had decided that if we had a girl, she'd be Eleanor Alison; if we had a boy, he'd be Jacob Danger.

Sort of glad we had a girl.

JD wouldn't have been able to rock the blonde wig as well?

(I did have to promise that if we had a second child, their middle name would be "Danger", regardless of gender expression. Dodged that bullet.)

I've discussed the joys and anxieties of having a child who is so emotionally competent, that I'm afraid that her heart will break for the world. But there are moments when I catch her awkwardly dancing in her room, limbs twisting unreservedly, without a breath of self consciousness; or times when I tell her that I'm sad and I don't know why, and she stops what she's doing to put her hand on my forehead and hug me, and I think, "Man. She's going to be OK."

Plus, she does a great Freddie Mercury impersonation.

I can only speak to the one child I have, but raising a kid can be terrifying. It's a balance of allowing freedom and enforcing rules, a delicate see-saw of being permissive and being authoritarian. I've told her that we try hard to say yes to things, but if we say no, there's a damn good reason. Fortunately, she's not a person who generally throws tantrums over toys or desserts, so she ends up getting a lot of the things she asks for (except for her birthday; Norah, we are NOT getting you another cat).

This blog is really challenging to write, simply because my relationship with my daughter is so organic and (usually) easy that I don't know how to elaborate on it. I can only hope that with every year comes more maturity, more intellectual advancements, and greater respect.

And, hopefully, more snuggles.

The Cat Lady, in her natural habitat

My dearest Norah,

You are a joy. To know you is to love you; to speak to you is to be amazed by your maturity and intelligence; and to be in your presence gives an emotional buoyancy like none other. We are so grateful for all you are, and are proud of the person you are becoming.

But enough with the Roblox.

Love,
Mom, Dad, and everyone you touch


And now - a photo dump of some of my favorite images of our weird little kid over the years.

No, Eleanor, we can not take the animal go-kart home.

Leather Face meets its match: Tortilla Face

Vogueing in Florida, 2016

Teleporting in West Haven, 2017

Alice Ball project completed (100%!), 2018

The bucket is empty because she ate all the blueberries

Always my goofball

Tonight there will be pizza, and Sunday there will be a non-party hangout ("I don't like being the center of attention," she said. I blinked; clearly she inherited that from her father).

Happy birthday, my sweet Eleanor Alison. May every year bring you closer to changing the world.