Five years ago, I left D.C. to move back to the NYC area. Coming from a close-knit Italian family, I felt so far from home sometimes, even though I could still get home by train or car in just a few hours if I ever really had to. I missed missing out on birthdays and simple family gatherings that made up the fabric of a family’s shared experience. I won’t lie – I moved up here just as much for career reasons, too – but family was a huge part of my move.

And being able to hop on a train and be home in around an hour yesterday to see this little muffin (my cousin’s daughter) for her second birthday: absolutely priceless.

And being able to spend the day with my mom, my best friend, on Mother’s Day? Sure, there was some fun stuff going on in the city that I missed this weekend, but I wouldn’t trade spending Mother’s Day with my mom for anything. (Um, nor would she let me. Please see: Italian mother, only child.) We went to breakfast at Raymond’s, a relatively new restaurant in Ridgewood, a few towns over. We spent the day just hanging out together at home and then had dinner at my favorite restaurant in NJ, Portobello. (Her request, not mine, I swear!)

I’ve read some posts today about those who have lost their mothers, those who are going through difficult times with family, and I’ve thought of friends and family who have or are having problems having children, and I wish peace to all of them as I hug my mom a little tighter. A very special happy mother’s day to all of those new moms and moms-to-be!

Yesterday, after the triathlon, there was some celebrating to do.

Obviously.

We celebrated my triathlon finish, and we celebrated Father’s Day early, since I was coming back into the city last night.

  

That’s my dad and my cousin’s sweet little baby, Lexi.

I caught my dad on the floor with her in the family room, helping her learn how to crawl.

Just like he taught my bunny how to hop when I was growing up.

He indulges my silly penchant for banana photography.

As well as my passion for running, even though I know he doesn’t quite understand it. (This pic is from the Disney Half, where it was POURING. Even more recently, he spectated my tri yesterday, which I really appreciated.)

When I’m staying with my parents, and I come home and have had a few drinks, he indulges my late-night conversations. (Or maybe he’s just amused.)

He’s a really quiet man, but when he talks, you know he usually really has something to say. He doesn’t talk just to hear his own voice.

He claimed to be allergic to dogs when I was growing up, but now, when we talk, he asks when Bailey’s coming home. (Not me, just Bailey.)

His success inspires me everyday, and if I can be half as successful as him one day, I’ll consider that a huge accomplishment. His strong moral compass guides me everyday. He’s the biggest goodie-two shoes you’ll ever meet. Me? Not quite so much, but the morals he taught me means that I will try to do the right thing 99 percent of the time.

I nag him death to take care of himself because I love him, and I want to see him healthy forever.

I love you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day from me and Bailey.

Happy Father’s Day to all the other fathers out there, too! What’s your favorite memory of you and your father?

It’s a cheesy one, but my favorite memory of my father is him straightening the back of my hair on my college graduation morning. When I was little, my mother tugged my hair too much when she combed it, but my dad was much more gentle, so I always asked him to comb it. I brought my straightner over to the hotel that morning and handed it to him. And yup, made a grown man cry.