“Get in your damn car seat, Charlie. We’re going to be late for the pumpkin patch.”

Yes, these words actually came out of my mouth. And yes, this is precisely what two toddlers and too many Pumpkin Spice Lattes can do to a dad by mid-Autumn.

This October, I often found myself beaming with pride and fully embracing the joy that Charlie and Jack bring me on a daily basis. And then, moments later, I would occasionally find myself fighting unwinnable battles against those defiant, inpatient, and irrational autocrats…usually when Jordan and I were just trying to do something festive and fun for the little Jack-o-lanterns.

Years from now, when I look back on Fall 2021, I’ll have adorable photos capturing some amazing moments throughout the season. Pictures of the beach, hayrides, Penn State parties, Halloween, and everything in between. However, the pictures won’t tell the full story because not every moment was sunshine and pumpkins in the Janiec house. So I’m writing this to preserve the unfiltered narrative of this important chapter of my life- to treasure the good times, learn from the bad days, and gain strength from the struggle. I want to tell our truth, not as a cry for help, but as gratitude and recognition for the entire roller coaster ride of parenting. And during our next toddler tantrum, when Jordan and I take deep breaths to reassure ourselves that “this meltdown won’t last forever,” I’ll also be sure to remember that this special time in my life won’t last forever either, so I’d better cherish every moment.

This fall, I’ll remember the time we spent witnessing our kids growing up.

I’ll remember the sounds that came every morning at 6:40 am when Charlie would open her door, run across the hallway to Jack’s room, and shout, “Wake up, it’s a school day, bud! How’d you sleep, bud?!” After a few giggles and a few more “buds,” I’d hear both of them yell a beautiful chorus of “Dahh-Dahh” and “Daddy, Jack’s awake. It’s time to come get us. What are we having for breakfast?”

And I’ll remember the way that Charlie and Jack would jump out of my arms and climb into bed to cheerfully greet their Mom every morning.

I’ll remember the stories told at breakfast about Charlie’s classmates as we sang songs about “Peanut Buttuh,” and Charlie said hilarious things like “Hey Mommy, Daddy needs accoutabilee.” I’ll remember the car rides to school with Charlie nailing the chorus to “Fancy Like” and Jack bobbing his head and waving his arms to the drum solo in “City on Down.”

I’ll remember the school pick ups at the end of the day when Charlie would sprint and Jack would power waddle down the hallway and across the classroom to leap into my arms. I’ll remember the adorable questions like, “Mommy, are we having Chicken Parjohn for dinner?” or “Can we play the Pinio?” or “Can we see go on a walk to see the pink sky?” or Jack’s go-to question of “Dahhhh?” I’ll remember the squeals and giggles when we wrestled on the floor, threw around the nerf football, chased each other up the stairs, or danced around the kitchen. I’ll remember the excitement we felt when Jack took his first steps. I’ll remember how Jack looked up to his big sister and the way Charlie took care of her little brother.

I’ll remember the cute little girl in pig tails frolicking through the pumpkin patch or laughing and jumping at the edge of the ocean. I’ll remember the look on Jack’s face as Uncle Joe’s hayride took us through the field and past the horsies. I’ll remember our Penn State Cheerleader and fluffy Nittany Lion getting dressed up and excited for the big games. I’ll remember “Charlotte’s Web” and “Wilbur the Pig” hunting for candy and playing with their cousins on Halloween.

But this fall, I’ll also remember the time we spent experiencing our kids melting down.

I’ll remember the school day meltdowns that sounded like, “I want Blueberries in my yogurt!…no, not Blueberries!! I want strawberries!!!” Or “I want to wear my grey mask! No, my blue mask! No, I’ll put on my rainbow mask by myself, not you, Daddy!”

I’ll remember the full scale hostage-like negotiations to simply get the kids in and out of their car seats in a timely manner. Many of these struggles required me to seek help from our lead negotiator, Jordan, who would need to mute her important 8 am conference call to enforce law and order, so I could take the circus on the road and out of her home office.

I’ll remember Jack’s ridiculous shriek that would shake the house when I took away a dangerous “toy,” or tried to change Jack’s rancid diaper or when Jordan and I took longer than 2 seconds to serve the big man the dinner that was cooling down on the countertop. I’ll remember the big tuna flopping around the bathtub throwing toys and splashing bath water all over the room. I’ll remember the property damage, the bumps and bruises, and the “No, Jack!”s that came along with the Marshmallow Man knocking things off shelves, chewing on anything, and whacking his head on hard surfaces throughout the house.

I’ll remember the daily defiant chess match that Charlie played at bed time when she’d exploit creative loopholes, try crafty experiments, and exercise stubborn stall tactics. “It’s time for night-night” was often followed with, “I need to go potty. No, one more book. Where’s my giraffe? I need my giraffe. No, not the giraffe. The doggy! I gotta go potty. I need my water. Noooo!!!!! I need to turn the light off! Not you!”

I’ll remember the overflowing laundry room and kitchen sink, the jam-packed diaper bag and social calendar, the pile of toys and crumbs all over the floor, and all the fevers, stomach viruses, diaper rashes, new teeth, and high-stress moments that came with it. I’ll remember the ups and downs of raising a girl who is transitioning from her “terrible twos” to her “three-nager” years and raising a baby boy who is transitioning to a loud and mobile big man. But when I look back at Autumn 2021, I’ll be grateful for it all.

Because while Charlie and Jack weren’t the only ones melting down- Jordo and I had our fair share as well- they weren’t the only ones growing up either. Jordan and I treasured the good times, learned from the bad days, and gained strength from the entire journey as an exhausted but dynamic duo. As Matthew McConaughey says, “Most things are more rewarding when you break a sweat to get them.” This Fall was likely the most rewarding and “sweaty” time that we’ve had as parents. And before I wash off the blood, sweat, and tears, I’m writing this to preserve every last drop.

Jack,

Today on your first birthday, as I think back on your year, a few things come to mind.

I hear the pitter patter of hands and knees as my “Silly Bud” sprint crawls across the Daycare floor when I pick you up at the end of the day. I hear the joyful squeals of “Whacko Jacko” when I toss you up in the air, chase you around the couch, or play peekaboo with you at the table. I hear my little “Piano Man” enthusiastically pounding away at the keys in the living room. I hear the high pitched jibber jabber and sound of “Dada” coming from the stroller on our runs. I hear silence on the baby monitor when you fall asleep around 7 pm to when you wake up around 7 am. I hear the happy babble of a sweet little boy who loves everyone he meets.

I see the smiley bobble head in my rearview mirror as “Jackaroni and Chaz” dance to Dad’s special playlist on the way to school. I see “Jack Lasso’s” big blue eyes and toothy smile greeting me at 6:40 every morning (even though your sister probably beat me to it and is already sitting by your crib reading you a book). I see “Big Man Stan” splashing around like a crazy man on the beach, at the pool, or in the bath. I see my “Chunky Monkey”eating every bite on his tray, drinking every drop in his bottle, and searching for every crumb on the floor. I see your mischievous look any time you’re about to do something you’re not supposed to do. I see you waving to every neighbor we see on our walks. I see the thrill in your eyes when I push you on the swing. I see the curious way you watch and take in everything your sister does…for better or worse.

I hold onto the feeling of a 26 pound cuddly medicine ball that always seems to make my heart skip a beat and my biceps burn a bit.

I think about the bond that you built with both Mommy and Charlie (even though you’ve replaced me as their #1 guy).

I’ll never forget the snuggles with my chubby and plump jolly old elf.

I’ll be forever grateful for how easy you’ve been to parent, and how much easier you are to love.

Jack- You’re a kind, loving, and joyful guy in a world that could use more kind, loving, and joyful guys. You’re a goofy ball of sunshine born at a time with a lot of sad and serious headlines. And by just being you, you brighten the day of everybody who spends time with you.

When I look back at your first year, I’ll always cherish how special it was to have you in our lives. You have so many special people that will always be there for you as you grow up. You’re well fed, well rested, and well loved. As you know by now, you have the best Mom and sister anyone could ask for.

While I share these memories as we celebrate your first birthday, I’m really celebrating and even more excited about what the future holds for you. I can’t wait to see what kind of person you become. I’m curious to find out how you impact the world and to see the lives that you touch. And I’m just so lucky to be your Dad.

Now go smash your cake, Birthday Boy! You deserve it.

Love,

Dad

I smoked my tee shot 185 yards up the right side of the fairway. I was pumped. My trusty 4-hybrid put my Pinnacle 3 in a great location to clear the pond with an iron and reach the green in 2. I had already donated too many golf balls to the South Carolina waterways throughout the weekend, and I was on a mission not to do it again.

The back balcony of the Caledonia Club House was crowded with other golfers and members eating lunch and watching our approach. It was the most beautiful golf hole that I’ve ever played, so as Johnny took his shot I paused for a moment to take in the scene.

Johnny launched his ball over the green and into the bushes. If I was more thoughtful about my strategy, I would’ve learned from my partner’s mistake. The right move would probably have been a 7 or 8 iron to safely loft my ball over the hazard and 2-putt for par. But as I peered across the water, it looked far more daunting than the comfortable 150 yards measured on the Golf Cart GPS. The heat index was more than 100 degrees. I was fighting off the looming hangover from the night before and the butterflies in my stomach were coming alive with the big moment that awaited me. I went back to my bag and pulled out my 6 to give me extra room for error.

With my club, I lined up the shot and took a few practice swings. I visualized my ball reaching the green. I took a deep breath, settled into my stance, and focused my thoughts.

“You got this. Easy on the backswing. Good. Knees bent, head down, arm straight. Alright, here we go. Now, swing!”

Well I swung…and I duffed my shot 50 yards into the pond.

At first, I desperately wanted a mulligan. I knew if I had another chance, I surely would’ve kept my head down and got my hips and hands through to make cleaner contact. But there were no redos. This was my unfortunate reality. I looked down at a missing chunk of the earth. I looked ahead to a penalty stroke. I looked up to the sight of Johnny and Spins giggling.

I was in Myrtle Beach for the “Lord Duffington Classic,” a golf trip with 7 of my best friends in which most of us are just trying to break 100 and all of us are just there to have a good time. The world’s best caddie, Jordan Janiec, was back home taking care of the birdie and the bogey (Charlie and Jack). So as I looked out at what appeared to be a terribly disappointing golf shot, all I recall from my experience was another hilarious moment with the crew. In fact, every flub, slice, hook, and worm burner that I hit over the weekend was well worth the price of admission for a weekend away with my boys.

I mean sure, keeping my ball out of the woods would’ve been ideal. But I’d hit every branch at Grande Dunes if it meant getting another round of Transfusions and a new 12 pack of Millers with Rustad and Pici at the turn.

And of course I’d like to be able to get out of a sand trap without experiencing a total meltdown. But I wouldn’t trade a consistent bunker game for the epic scramble match that Jim and I had vs. Snyder and Balestras at True Blue.

I’d much prefer to hit my 3-wood farther than 190 yards, and it’d be nice to keep my ball out of the ponds at Arrowhead, but if a few water hazards are all it takes to puff a few cigars with Johnny and Spins then count me in.

And even if Pici shoots a 70 or Snyder breaks 90, the only outcome that really matters is who takes home the “Lord Duffington” jacket for the last place performance. Fortunately, the jacket will be staying in NYC with Balestras for another year.

But what matters more than the score is that the Lord Duffington Classic is about the laughs that are shared and the memories that are made. Whether it’s playing the nicest golf course in South Carolina or taking a lap in a nasty looking “Lazy River” at a Dirty Myrtle hotel after losing a wager, it’s about the moments in between all the slices and the flubs. The weekend is about jamming out to “American Girl” and “Wagonwheel” at Tin Roof on Saturday night, and 8 hours later trying to muster up the strength and focus to shoot closest to the pin. And even if I’m rarely in for par and more likely in for double bogey, I’m always in for a great time with my fellow Duffingtons.

So as I watch my shot trickle into the water on 18, do I want a mulligan? The answer is no. I’ll forever cherish every one of the 400+ strokes that I took throughout the 2021 Lord Duffington Classic. Can’t wait for the next one.

Since our trip to Colorado, Jordan and I have been on a “Rocky Mountain High.” A few things might have contributed to this feeling.

Maybe the high came from the rare opportunity for a kid free vacation with Jordan, my parents, my sisters, and my brothers-in-law. This was only made possible because the Bonders stepped up big to watch Charlie and Jack for the long weekend. And since painting your nails, throwing a ball, swimming in a pool, and eating treats for breakfast is always cooler with your cousins, the Bonders gave these kiddos one of the best weekends of their life.

The high could have also come from Casey and Mikey asking me to officiate their wedding. I’m so honored and I can’t wait to bring our late night “heart-to-hearts” to the altar next summer. Mikey and Casey: Please send over your nutrition and workout plan in advance, so I can try to look the part too.

Perhaps the high came from the meaningful conversations that we shared with Jessi and Pete as we drove through the mountains. Apparently any topic is free game above 6,000 feet.

On the flip side, the high could have also come from all the meaningless conversations and hilarious moments that were inspired by the strong drinks and staggering altitude throughout the entire weekend.

The high could have come from the literally breathtaking bike ride alongside Lake Dillon into downtown Frisco, or maybe dinner at the Quandary Grill with some of the best people looking out at some of the best views.

Or it might be from the white water rafting trip with our guide named “Squirrel.” Although our adrenaline spiked amidst rapids like “Zoom Flume,” all the normal stress in our lives seemed to wash away as we floated on the Arksansas River through the gorgeous canyon.

The high could’ve also come from jamming out to “Scotty Doesn’t Know” at Rocky Mountain Underground, or the late night we had at Gold Pan Saloon where we tore up the dance floor with an eclectic cast of characters who we might never see again, but won’t forget about either. The high might have even come from our last night at the Air B&B playing “Pass the Pigs” and “Fishbowl” when everyone seemed to turn up a little bit.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t credit part of the high to Mikey’s ridiculous magic shirt. Dad relentlessly heckled Mikey about his Colorado fashion statement until Dad gave the shirt a try and immediately became the most admired guy on Breck’s Main Street.

The high largely comes from the actual occasion that brought us out to the Rockies. Mom and Dad: this was such a special way to celebrate your 60th birthday. You’ve always shown us how to celebrate the big moments in the best way. I’m so grateful for all you’ve done for me as my parents, and for also continuing to be some of the best friends, next door neighbors, and grandparents we could ask for. I love you guys to the top of the snow capped mountains and back.

As we settle back into reality and the mountains fall out of view, the high still hasn’t faded. We have new memories to reminisce, many experiences to look forward to, and the same special people that make ordinary life as extraordinary as the Rockies.

I guess when people say that they got “Rocky Mountain High” in Colorado, this must be what they’re talking about…right?

When I woke up on the morning after Jordan’s 30^th birthday party, my mouth was dry and my head was pounding.  The symptoms were a result of my attempt to make up for a year of missed celebrations in just one night.  And while it was not a feeling that I typically enjoy, there was something about the idea of being “hungover” that I kind of missed. 

The weekends that followed Jordan’s birthday included a couple of weddings, a big Bonder family barbecue, a trip to see Jade & Steve, Jordan’s girls’ day out at Grace Winery, a neighborhood happy hour, lunch out in West Chester, beers on patios and around fire pits, and an impromptu trip down to Sea Isle. In between these long overdue social events, we were back to meeting clients in person, booking travel, working out at the gym, and awkwardly hugging and high fiving the people that we missed the most.

And all throughout the month, I loved seeing the smiles as we reunited with friends that we haven’t been able to spend quality time with. I watched Charlie and Jack snuggle and giggle once again with their great grandmother, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I listened to the laughter of my buddies and the familiar sound of the same old stories as we picked up where we had left off. I sang songs at the top of of my lungs like I WAS the “Piano Man.” I embraced a few of the 30-some Bonders that came together singing the words, “Ain’t no river wide enough…to keep me from getting to you!” I was fired up by the sight of Madison Square Garden going wild to kick off the NBA playoffs. I found my toes in the sand and a koozie in hand once again. And it felt so nice to replace the routine comments of, “We’re taking precaution and keeping our ‘pod’ small” with conversations like, “What are your plans next weekend?”

I am so grateful for everyone who contributed to the vaccine efforts and all of those that paved this road to recovery. All it took was a little prick on the shoulder back in early April, and a few weeks later I had a new lease on my social life. And for all of the conspiracy theorists out there: In the 1 in a trillion chance that Bill Gates did put a microchip in the vax, his tracking device would simply find me having the time of my life.

As the summer continues and we get more used to our “normal” life and social schedule, I assume we’ll naturally begin to take the hugs, the crowds, the unrestricted gatherings, the freedom, and the peace of mind for granted once again. But I hope that I don’t.

I hope that I never forget the excitement that I felt when I returned to my domain at the center of the dance floor. I hope I remember how it felt to belt out “Mr. Brightside” with friends that I haven’t seen in a year. I hope I forever cherish the memories of Charlie exclaiming, “It’s a surprise” every time she gets excited to see somebody new. More than anything, I hope I never lose the joy and appreciation that I’ve felt in these initial reconnections.

So wherever you are this weekend, I hope you can high five a stranger, hug a friend, and clink a glass/bottle/can with someone special that you’re reuniting with. Celebrate this weekend like it’s long overdue, and never forget how you felt during Memorial Day Weekend 2021. Because once you’re fully vaxxed, it feels damn good to be back.

Cheers,

Kevin

“Ain’t it funny how life changes?” Thomas Rhett sang the words, but I’m certainly living them.

Jordan and I are sharing 30-packs of diapers with the same friends we used to share 30-packs of Natty Light.

Instead of hanging at the pool bar in Punta Cana with Penn State Greek Life, we’re spending Saturdays at Goldfish Swim School with Charlie.

Bottle service no longer means popping champagne at a night club. It now means feeding Jack with Mommy’s milk supply.

Instead of borrowing outfits for the Thursday night social, Jordan and her friends are passing around maternity clothes.

March Madness used to consist of watching basketball games at the bar or getting ready for daylong season at Penn State. Now we spend it spring cleaning the yard and waiting for the daffodils to bloom.

The Kids’ Table at family gatherings is no longer occupied by me and my cousins. It’s occupied by our kids.

My Instagram feed is filled with new babies and new homes. My conversations are about potty training and patio projects. My calendar is filled with home maintenance and pediatrician appointments. I find myself sitting on the lawn mower on Saturdays instead of the bar stool.

My Dad warned me about this life stage. Long ago he said, “Son, there will come a time when parties will end long before your pre-games used to begin.” I thought he was joking. He wasn’t.

And all month, I kept looking around my home and seeing obvious signs of the change.

A few weeks ago, gathered around a table full of Coronas, Margaritas, and Chicken Enchiladas were some of my best friends and all of our kids. We had to take turns eating. The conversations were choppy. It was hard to sit long enough to enjoy a drink without having to clean up a spill or fetch something from the diaper bag. But there was something special about the chaos.

A week later, I looked up from the burgers sizzling on the grill to see my Grandmom, Aunts, sister and cousins playing with toddlers and babies all over the backyard. It was the same yard where we used to play when we were little kids visiting Grandmom and Pop Pop’s house. The sound of “Mom…Dad…I need a snack” was no longer coming from us, but rather directed at us. And there was something beautiful about the sights and sounds.

A week later, Jordan’s best friends from high school and the driving force behind many of my Sea Isle shenanigans over the years, came over for an afternoon filled with children’s books and “baby talk.” While we did spend a lot of the time rehashing old stories, that’s all they are now…old stories. We also spent time sharing sleep training techniques and comparing stages of development. Nevertheless, seeing the way we’ve grown up, I couldn’t help but smile.

These are the friends and family that Jordan and I grew up with. These are the people we learned from and leaned on as we navigated through many stages of life to get to this point. We’ve gone from sitting at the “Kids’ Table” to actually having kids of our own. And now, as adults, homeowners, parents and aspiring professionals, we’re going to continue learning from and leaning on these people as we navigate through the stages of life that lie ahead. We will be there to lend each other a hand or just hand over a glass of wine when we need it most. We will be the “village” that our children are raised in. And if our kids can forge the same friendships and family bonds that we were lucky enough to have, the future will be special.

Because I picture Hudson Rustad and Jack Janiec giggling and spitting sunflower seeds in the Little League dugout after JJ Walter strikes them both out. I envision drinks on the deck with the Reids after Maddie and Charlie’s East Girls Soccer game. I can taste the Coronas and Seltzers on the beach with the Fuentes or McDonalds while the kids build sandcastles in front of us. I can hear the tennis ball volleying back and forth on a Sunday afternoon with our friends as our children run around our backyard. I picture my cousins and siblings running “Camp Janiec” with our kids the same way Grandmom and Pop Pop did for us. I’m fired up for the birthday parties, backyard BBQs, sporting events, and after school functions. And I can’t wait to meet all those kiddos that haven’t arrived yet as the crew and family continues to expand.

The journey will be fun, the changes will be overwhelming, the challenges will be stressful, but the moments will be worth it. They already are.

This April, I’d like to wish a happy 1st birthday to Drea Ayoub and JJ Walter. Welcome to the world, Hudson Rustad. It’s great to finally meet you, Maddie Reid, Madison McDonald, and Milo VanHefter. I can’t wait to see all of you little guys grow…and your parents too.

“Ain’t it funny how life changes?” But like Thomas Rhett says, “I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

There are some moments in life that you just can’t miss.

As the sun was shining, the waves were crashing, and the engagement ring was sparkling on Newport Beach, my family was experiencing one of these moments.

My sister’s boyfriend had just proposed and unbeknownst to her, we were getting ready to celebrate only a quarter mile away. Over the years, Mikey had absorbed Casey’s hints about what this day might look like, and in recent months, Mikey had listened to the guidance from Mom and the sisters to figure out the logistics.

Casey dreamed of a private proposal in a beautiful location that was special to them. But she also hoped there would be an opportunity to celebrate with family soon after. Considering that Mikey and Casey live across the country from our family during a pandemic, it was looking less and less likely that it would pan out that way. Nevertheless, somehow Mikey made it all happen and executed it perfectly.

Here’s how it went down:

Jessi and Pete had organized a quick trip with Casey and Mikey in Newport Beach to break up the dreary winter. Casey was under the impression that it was just going to be a relaxing weekend of brunch and beach games.

However, on Friday morning when Casey and Mikey drove to go “pick up coffee” for the room, Mikey navigated towards Pelican Point instead. He fumbled to put on the right song and began acting awkward as hell on the ride over. Suspiciously optimistic, her heart began to race, her face began to crack a smile, and she began to question whether this particular coffee errand was really a coffee errand after all. Casey did a quick TSA security check on Mikey’s pant pockets, but he had the ring elusively stuffed in his back left pocket.

Connected to the Pelican Point parking lot, there was a path that led to a designated area at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the beach below. They giggled nervously without speaking as they walked down the path. When they reached the outlook point, there was no coffee shop waiting for them at the spot, but instead there were decorations, quotes, flowers, pictures of the happy couple and a sign that read, “Will you marry me?”

As they arrived at the spot, Mikey turned to Casey and attempted to speak. The speech he rehearsed for weeks did not come out…only a high pitch crackly sound combined with a lot of tears and babbling sniffles. After a few seconds of this (it felt like 30 years for Mikey) they were bursting out in laughter and she reminded him that he might want to at least get on one knee. Like a good future husband, he listened to the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. He proceeded to reach into his pocket, got down on one knee, presented the box, and inaudibly muscled out the question.

She prepared to respond with an emphatic “Yes!” But no words came out for her either. Only more of her own tears and sniffles. A response he knew to expect as her acceptance. She threw her arms around him and the happy couple hugged, kissed, and took in the moment.

At that point, the Hollywood trained paparazzi camera man jumped out of the bushes and began capturing the scene. After a few minutes of pictures at the proposal spot, Mikey, Casey, and the photographer made their way down to the beach below.

A few minutes into the photo shoot, Jessi and Pete joined them to celebrate on the beach. Then Mikey’s brother, sister, and sister’s boyfriend (who all decorated the proposal spot) joined the group as well. Finally, Jordan and I snuck down the path with my parents while Casey was turned the other way looking out at the ocean. When she turned around, her full picture of the dream proposal was complete.

She had the love of her life by her side, an ocean at her back, a ring on her finger, and her family ready to pop champagne in front of her. As we all embraced, we meant to express our “Congratulations” verbally, but we couldn’t either…so we resorted to the family default- hugs, sniffles, and tears. Must’ve been something in the California air.

After the flurry of surprises, we caught up and took pictures until it was time to head back to the Marriott where we were all staying. For the next 24 hours, we hung by the pool, played games, got torched by the sun, shared stories, took in the Orange County views, ate, drank, laughed, and celebrated.

On Saturday, we took a Duffy Boat around Balboa Island.

I have never seen Casey and Mikey smile as big as they did when they were singing along to their carefully constructed “Engagement Party Playlist” with the people they love.

I have never heard my Dad laugh as hard as he did when we blasted “My Heart will Go On.” The Minutillo boys reenacted the “King of the World” scene from Titanic on the front of the boat which influenced the neighboring Duffies to do the same. As you can see from the picture below, Dad got a kick out of it.

I’ve never seen my mom beam as proudly as she did when toasting to her kids and their significant others for the people they’ve become and the relationships they’ve developed.

And Jordan and I were just thrilled to know our lovable children were safely playing with their Aunt Nona while we were partying on a little boat 3000 miles away.

These are the moments in life that we can’t afford to miss. However, it certainly was looking like we might have to.

The success of the weekend required the thoughtful coordination of the Janiec and Minutillo families. It was dependent on our amazing friends, Katie and Johnny, and our wonderful Aunt “Nona” stepping up big to take care of our little ones while we were away. It required two fun and adorable kiddos, Charlie and Jack, to be on their best behavior.

The weekend was able to happen because our generous employers granted Jordan and I the flexibility to not only go on the trip, but safely work from home and quarantine upon our return.

We didn’t miss this moment because Jordan wouldn’t let us – whether it was her continuing to remind me about the moments that matter most or the 5 page comprehensive playbook she prepared for Charlie and Jack’s babysitters.

But most of all, this moment was possible because of two people that bring as much joy to our lives as they bring to each other. We would’ve crossed the Sahara for Casey and Mikey, let alone the Pacific Coast Highway. They represent the epitome of why relationships flourish when you make your partner laugh, cry, and think every day. And without fail, Casey and Mikey gave us a moment in life that we just couldn’t miss, and one that we’ll never forget…

And they are just getting started! It’s going to be an amazing year and an even better lifetime. Can’t wait to be along for the ride!

On February 1, I started a new chapter of my career with Financial Coach.

I made the move because I wanted to be a trusted advisor for some of life’s most important conversations and decisions.  

I hoped to be a guide for people in my own community that would become like family.

And I wanted to serve these clients with a team that could deliver more value and deeper expertise than I could ever bring by myself. 

For about two years, I scoured the websites of wealth management firms in the greater Philadelphia area.  I researched and dug into each service offer, planning philosophy, and investment strategy. I had extensive conversations with the teams to get a feel for their culture, structure, and vision.  I wasn’t just looking for a good place to start a new chapter, I was looking for the place that I would want to spend the rest of my career.

At the end of my comprehensive search and interview process, I was most confident that Financial Coach was that firm.  I felt that they would provide me with the best opportunity to bring joy, meaning, and growth to the people in my community.  I also felt this team would be the most fun and rewarding to work with.  

As I carefully reviewed Financial Coach’s offer letter, I reflected on the ways this group could change the lives of:

1. Stressed out working parents that are trying to determine if they can take the more flexible job now AND still support their kids through college in the future.
2. The expecting couple that needs to secure life insurance coverage and necessary estate documents, so they can complete their baby registry with peace of mind.
3. Busy families that need help staying organized and accountable as they renovate their home, shuttle kids to little league games, juggle their own demanding careers, and navigate multiple financial goals.
4. Uncertain shore house owners who are deciding whether they can host 4th of July in Sea Isle, or if they need to rent out their house during the prime weeks of the year to afford the mortgage.
5. Families looking to gain clarity and shared understanding on all aspects of their financial picture, while facilitating uncomfortable conversations about the unique and complex decisions that each family faces.
6. Divorcees and widow(er)s that need a boost of confidence, security, and positive momentum as we plan to help them through this difficult time and begin to write their next chapter.
7. Pre-retirees dream about how, where, and when they would like to retire as they balance “living for today” and “securing financial independence for their future.”
8. Retirees navigating the kitchen sink of Medicare selections, social security decisions, supplemental income strategies, and significant life changes all at once.
9. Wealthy seniors considering how they can maximize their purpose, joy, and legacy through meaningful experiences, trips, and gifts over the remainder of their lifetime instead of letting the money go unused.
10. Any investor that needs help staying disciplined when media noise, peer pressure, and hardwired human behavior can leave them vulnerable to make “the big mistake.”

As I thought of those common situations, I could think of a specific person that I knew currently living each experience. I reflected on the clarity or confidence they might feel if they just had a financial plan and a trusted team of advisors to guide them along the way.  And that was all the inspiration I needed to finish my job search, make the leap, and begin this new chapter.  

“Where do I sign?” I asked. 

This month marked the start of a special career as a wealth advisor.  It also began a long and steep learning curve for me.  But I’m ready to grow, I’m eager to serve, and I’m curious to see what we can accomplish together.  

So if you’re experiencing any of the challenges that I mentioned or have any questions about your financial picture, please reach out.  

You now have a friend who is a Financial Coach.

If you’re approaching or in retirement, learn more about us at Financialcoachgroup.com

If you have a growing family and/or an emerging career and need help navigating all of the financial and life decisions that come along with it, learn more about our offer at http://thenewwealthproject.com

Dear Vanguard,

Today is my final day as a crew member. As I embark on my next journey as an Associate Wealth Advisor at Financial Coach, I wanted to thank you for making the start of my career so special.

8 years ago, you took a chance on an unpolished summer intern who performed a poem at the College to Corporate Capstone event. You developed that intern into an MBA and CFP® with sales, leadership, and financial planning experience. You matured a Penn State frat boy into the husband, dad, and friend that I am today. Through your mission, your people, and your culture, you instilled principles in me that I’ll continue to live by as a community member and trusted advisor.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had a chance to connect with many former colleagues and friends to recount old memories and reflect on how far we’ve come. Through our conversations and email exchanges, I was reminded of important lessons that I learned from my time at Vanguard. So to properly say “Good bye,” I’d like to propose a toast to three key takeaways that I’ll never forget.

1.      The power of compounding:

I spent most of my time at Vanguard in meaningful discussions with clients about the benefits of investing, the importance of planning, and the power of compounding. But when I think about my own professional learning and development journey in my 20s, my personal growth pattern looks very similar to the classic chart that we show new investors making their first contribution to a Roth IRA or 401(k). And I sure hope that this pattern continues on the same trajectory as the purple line pictured below.

I greatly benefitted from the investments you made in my training and education. Each concept that I learned led to new questions which led to better resources which led to bigger opportunities which led to breakthrough experiences for my personal development. Along the way, skilled and dedicated coaches helped me craft and implement thoughtful plans to set the right goals, take the right risks, maintain the right balance, and stay on the right course. Then day after day, this personal and professional growth seemed to compound itself. With consistent investment and disciplined patience, I’m pretty happy with where my ending balance stands today.

As I transition from Vanguard crew member to like-minded independent advisor (that will use plenty of Vanguard ETFs, of course), I will simply rollover my compounded returns and use these assets in my new role to advance your mission of giving people the best chance for financial success.  

My time at Vanguard taught me the power of compounding in more ways than one.

2.      Do the right thing:

It was an honor to work for a company founded on a mission to do the right thing.  You constructed a unique ownership structure to avoid conflicts of interests.  You challenged industry norms and blazed a trail for investment managers and financial services professionals that were committed to take a stand for investors. You powered a flywheel that continues to positively change the way the world invests. And even after a half century of unprecedented growth, you developed an internal culture that seems to keep getting better at doing the hard things for the right reasons.    

2020 was a perfect example of that. All year, you took bold action and made creative decisions to make sure we felt safe, supported, and included. You challenged us to work in new ways and discuss uncomfortable but important topics. You helped me become a more inclusive teammate and more open minded person. You consistently showed me that doing the right thing and taking care of others will allow us all to flourish in the long run.

The positive example you have set since your founding, and especially this year, is how I intend to conduct my career and my life going forward.  Although it’s time to turn in my headset, my laptop, and my G-tag, I promise to never lose sight of this mantra. 

My time at Vanguard taught me that whenever in doubt, always do the right thing.

3. Work with great people:

Throughout my Vanguard career, I had the privilege to lead, work for, and serve with an incredible collection of people. These colleagues shaped the path that I’m on and the person I am. Some fellow crew members did this through powerful conversations, but most of them simply influenced me by the example they set and the little habits I borrowed along the way. For example, I won’t forget:

…my sales partner who consistently modeled the highest standards of client service, communication, and teamwork that I’ll hold myself accountable to for the rest of my career.

…the leaders who rarely seemed to give a definitive answer, but instead always asked that question that would spark curiosity or inspire action. 

…the mentees who showed the same kind of engagement when meeting with me that I felt when meeting with my favorite mentors. 

…the peers that challenged me to get a little better every day.  Especially the guy who never complained about metrics, but instead always picked up the phone before me, and didn’t stop making phone calls until after I left for the day.

…the teammates and friends that always made the work day more fun whether it was their antics in Series 7 training in 2013, the happy hours and intramural sports seasons through the years, or the daily banter on the Microsoft Teams chat in 2020. 

…the role models that represented not only how I want to conduct myself at work, but also who I want to be to my family, friends, and community.  

This chapter of my career taught me that life is better when you work with great people.

So on my final day as a crew member, as I reflect on these three lessons and think about what I’m most grateful for during my time at Vanguard, this thought came to mind: 

I once heard happiness described as being able to answer those Monday morning/Friday evening questions.

On Monday morning, do you have work that gives you a sense of purpose and dignity? And on Friday evening, are you going home to spend time with family and friends whom you love?

Vanguard enabled me to proudly answer those questions every single week for the last seven years. And for that, I’ll be forever grateful.

Thank you for everything,

Kevin Janiec (Crew member: 2013-2021)