<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss version="2.0"
	xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
	xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"
	xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
	xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
	xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
	xmlns:slash="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/slash/"
	>

<channel>
	<title>WIRL Project &#187; Dad</title>
	<atom:link href="http://www.wirlproject.com/tag/dad/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://www.wirlproject.com</link>
	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Thu, 30 Apr 2026 22:46:33 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<language>en-US</language>
	<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
	<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
	<generator>https://wordpress.org/?v=4.1.37</generator>
	<item>
		<title>Paper Towels, Medical Reports and Basket Weaving, Oh My! (My Real Absurdly Unique Dad)</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/paper-towels-medical-reports-and-basket-weaving-oh-my-my-real-absurdly-unique-dad/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/paper-towels-medical-reports-and-basket-weaving-oh-my-my-real-absurdly-unique-dad/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 26 Jun 2015 07:55:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Maura McCarthy-Sanborn]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[basket weaving]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[embarrassing moments]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[father's day]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hawaii]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[medical journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[paper towel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Real]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[unique]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7146</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s a random title, right? Yet that’s what pops into my head when I think about my Dad. He’s a simple man with a complex witty mind and I am often bewildered by the things he does and shares. Most of the time I laugh or shake my head at the stuff he comes up with, but then sometime later I realize how it truly connects to him and resonates with me. When I was younger, my dad often said “Show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are.” I know there is a great lesson in this quote, but being a snarky teenager, all I could think was, “I’m not showing you any of my friends, you will just embarrass me!” My Dad was notorious for blurting out observations and humiliating me in front of my friends. I would tell him, “When you pick me up at the movie theatre, please park at the far end of parking lot and I will find you.” Well that was all he needed to hear to do the exact opposite. He would come speeding into the theatre parking lot in his 1976 Ford F150 truck, beeping his horn loudly. Then he would park right in front and jump out waving his hands in the air yelling “Hey Maura, your cool Dad is over here!” Oh how I wanted to camouflage myself and deny any association with that crazy man! As the years passed and I finally outgrew my self-centered teenage status, I became more aware of how my Dad really is a wonderfully unique man. He was raised in New York City, the only child of Irish immigrants, whose education did not go beyond elementary school. He worked diligently to achieve and surpass his parents&#8217; accomplishments. He became a physician after studying at a medical school in Switzerland, where upon arrival he had not spoken German a day in his life, yet mastered the language quickly. He then built his own medical practice, serving a great community in New Jersey. I remember him getting phone calls in the middle of the night, talking with hospital nurses and listening intently to his patients. And among all this brilliance and compassion that I witnessed, he was still my quirky, loving Dad. My Dad loves medicine and he is fascinated by human beings and the world around us. He shares this enthusiasm by sending me copies of the Center for Disease Control reports and the Mortality and Morbidity reports (uplifting reading material!). I often get letters in the mail (yes he still uses the US Postal Service!) from him with copies of medical journal stories or excerpts from  “The Economist” about medical advancements or warfare. He says that we should all be informed and even includes my young children in what he calls “interesting fun”! Because learning about the latest disease epidemic and deaths around the world is oh so fun?!? He has an obsession with paper towels and I have no idea how it all started. There is always a paper towel in his pocket or lying on the counter nearby or on his desk or in his car or in his book. He would tell me that it is a simple multi-purpose item that can be used for clean-ups, bandages, bookmarks, notepaper, and more. If you need to find my Dad, just follow the trail of paper towels. I don’t know why Bounty never contacted the man to endorse their product! He went to Hawaii recently and came back with a new-found respect for basket weaving. Doesn’t everyone go to Hawaii and come back raving about basket weaving? Who cares about the beaches and wondrous natural beauty of the islands, let’s talk about the history of basket weaving! He copied information on the topic from his 1970s circa set of World Book Encyclopedias (who needs Google when you have outdated reference books?!) and told me to read about it for our next discussion. He even gave me samples of the material used to make baskets, that he picked up while watching workers weave. I’m holding on to this just in case I decide to make my own basket someday instead of buying one at Target! A few years ago he said, “I’d much rather have my face in a book than be on Facebook.” Well you’re not on FB, Dad, but you inspired me to write this blog because I love you and all your crazy, nutty, tender, and compelling words of wisdom. I know that through all your frankness, you are sharing a part of yourself with me and now your grandchildren too. You have raised my awareness in the world, shifted my perspectives, and exemplified keeping true to yourself even when it goes against the “norm”. You are an amazing father and role model and I will proudly show my friends to you anytime!]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.wirlproject.com/paper-towels-medical-reports-and-basket-weaving-oh-my-my-real-absurdly-unique-dad/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Leaving Your Baby at the Hospital &#8211; Two Weeks as a NICU Mom</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/leaving-your-baby-at-the-hospital-two-weeks-as-a-nicu-mom/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/leaving-your-baby-at-the-hospital-two-weeks-as-a-nicu-mom/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2015 18:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Mandi Johnson]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baby]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blood Pressure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[boy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hospital]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[newborn]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NICU]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pre-eclampsia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Preeclampsia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnancy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnant]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[protein]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Urine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[weight gain]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6922</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[15 Days. Fifteen days that felt like an eternity. Having a child in the NICU is a long, emotional roller coaster that nothing can prepare you for. Luckily, my story is a good one, and we now have a healthy 19 month old. However, I’ll never get back those minutes, those hours that I could not hold him, I could not kiss him. I wasn’t the first, second, or probably even the third person to hold my son. Back to the beginning – after 34 weeks of what seemed like a “normal” pregnancy, I was starting to swell.  My shoes didn’t fit, my ring didn’t fit and I felt miserable –but I thought this was all “normal” pregnancy symptoms. I gained 10 pounds in two weeks. At my 34 week appointment I was admitted to the hospital for high blood pressure. After 24 hours and an extremely high protein count I was diagnosed with severe pre-eclampsia. My son needed to be born now. Pre-eclampsia is the the leading cause of maternal and infant illness and mortality.  (For more information visit here) Pre-eclampsia is the the leading cause of maternal and infant illness and mortality. I was rushed to the OR – I didn’t have time for my doula to arrive, I didn’t have time to think about what was going to happen to me, and I definitely didn’t get to ask the question about what would happen to my baby after. I knew he would likely spend some time in the NICU. But no one warned me that I couldn’t hold him, that I wouldn’t even get to see him (other than the quick – over the sheet glimpse) for OVER 24 hours. Those hours were the most agonizing 24 hours I have ever had to endure. Because of my blood pressure and my high protein levels, I was at risk for having a seizure. To minimize that risk I was on a magnesium sulfate drip. “Mag” as it is lovingly referred to – is really nasty stuff. I felt like I was on fire. It makes your muscles feel like rubber bands. &#8230;no one warned me that I couldn’t hold him, that I wouldn’t even get to see him (other than the quick – over the sheet glimpse) for OVER 24 hours. Those hours were the most agonizing 24 hours I have ever had to endure. I felt like I was a prisoner. I couldn’t go see my son – I was hooked up to two IV lines, oxygen, leg pressure cuffs, an oxygen monitor and a BP cuff. They had the lights off in my room, and the TV was not on. All to minimize the risk of having a seizure. My husband split his time between staying with me and visiting our son. I recorded a tearful message on his phone that he played for him in his incubator. It wasn’t until months later that I found out that he didn’t hold him in the NICU until I was allowed to go and see him. My husband wanted me to hold him first. It wasn’t until months later that I found out that he didn’t hold him in the NICU until I was allowed to go and see him. My husband wanted me to hold him first. The day after he was born the doctor came in and I was awaiting the words that I was ok to be taken off of the magnesium and wheeled down to the NICU and I could finally hold my baby boy. My blood pressure was still high and initially I was told I would not be allowed to see him – that I still needed the “mag” for another 24 hours. I broke down. I balled. I couldn’t handle it.  They couldn’t keep me from my baby! I was told to “calm down”  because my BP skyrocketed. In the end I was told I could be taken off the magnesium to go and see him for an hour. I could barely stand to get into the wheelchair and the nurse shielded my eyes in the hallway from the lights. Finally, I got to meet our son. This was just the beginning of our NICU journey. I was discharged two days later – only to leave the hospital and leave our baby boy behind. Coming home without your child is probably the hardest thing to do. However, knowing he was ok, and was in good hands in the NICU is a small comfort. Coming home without your child is probably the hardest thing to do. Our daily routine consisted of my mother-in-law driving me to the hospital in the morning, me sitting by his side – staring at him in the incubator and hoping that all of the nurses notes would show that he was doing better, getting stronger, and meeting the milestones he needed to in order for us to bring him home. Those milestones consisted of getting him to eat so much at a feeding, gain weight, and to keep his body temp up on his own. I was an emotional wreck and anytime there was any setback I wanted to scream. I remember trying to coax him to eat just a few more milliliters from his bottle. My husband went back to work so that he could take time off when we got the baby home instead of spending time at the hospital. We would both go back in the evening, or if I was too exhausted my husband would go and stay with him. Our first diaper changes were through the portholes of the incubator.  We had to watch the “wires” and re-connect his oxygen monitor. We would sit and listen to the different beeps that came from the monitors showing that he was breathing, and that his oxygen level was ok. The first few times an alarm goes off it&#8217;s scary! Those beeps become strangely comforting and the first night home without them is nerve-wracking! Our first diaper changes were through the portholes of the incubator.  We had to watch the “wires” and re-connect his oxygen monitor. Each night we had to say goodbye. They tell you it’s hard to leave your baby, but they fail to mention that you have to repeat this day after day after day. I was told that this wouldn’t last forever, that it would come to an end and it did. Thankfully, I had a wonderfully supportive husband and we got through it together. We were the lucky ones, our baby boy is doing just fine and at the end of our 15 days – we finally got to take him home. &#160;]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.wirlproject.com/leaving-your-baby-at-the-hospital-two-weeks-as-a-nicu-mom/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>What It&#8217;s Really Like to Meet and Marry a Single Parent</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/what-its-really-like-to-meet-and-marry-a-single-parent/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/what-its-really-like-to-meet-and-marry-a-single-parent/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2015 18:00:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Heather]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Biological]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bloodline]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Daughter]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Father]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Parent]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[single]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Single Parent]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6817</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I was around 10 when I learned that when it comes to family, bloodlines don&#8217;t mean everything, and in some cases, it doesn&#8217;t mean ANYTHING. According to the dictionary, &#8220;Family&#8221; can be defined as: a. A fundamental social group in society typically consisting of one or two parents and their children. b. Two or more people who share goals and values, have long-term commitments to one another, and reside usually in the same dwelling place. Nowhere in these definitions does it state anything about blood or biology. In today&#8217;s society it is not uncommon for a child to grow up without knowing one (or both) of their parent&#8217;s. In fact, it&#8217;s almost becoming abnormal if you ARE raised by both parents. I was around 10 when I found out that my dad, who had been raising me, wasn&#8217;t my biological father. My biological father was out of the picture by the time I was two, around the same time my mom met my dad. I was definitely hurt and confused by everything when I found out. I remember asking myself, &#8220;What is so wrong with me that my own father doesn&#8217;t want to be part of my life?&#8221; It was difficult, especially at a time where you&#8217;re already confused about the changes going on in your life. Even at ten, I never questioned who my DAD was. A father is someone who helps give you life, a dad is someone who helps makes you who you are and is PART of your life. My dad is the one who taught me how to play softball. He almost never missed a softball, basketball, volleyball game, or a track meet. He woke my brother and I up every Christmas morning by yelling &#8220;Ho Ho Ho Merrrrrry Christmas&#8221; with my mom. He helped me move more times that I can count. He taught me what to look for in a guy by giving me the greatest example of what a man could be. Then he walked me down the aisle when I found that guy. I always remember asking myself, &#8220;How could someone just take me in and raise me like I was their own, without thinking twice?&#8221; and then came Dave and Devon. Devon was six when Dave and I met, and had just turned seven by the time that I met her. Dave and I wanted to make sure that we were serious before I met Devon and had the chance to get attached with her and for her to get attached to me. You see, Devon has a very similar situation as I do and her birth mother has never been in her life. Dave was a single father for six years. Most people don&#8217;t even know that Devon and I don&#8217;t share blood. She looks like me&#8230;. A LOT! (A sign that we were meant to be a family, if you ask me.) We hit it off from day one, and I can honestly say that I fell in love with her before I fell in love with Dave. We could not get along any better (even now that Devon is heading into her Freshman year of High School). There were definitely some things that we had to figure out and work through as a family. When Dave, Devon and I started spending time together it was very&#8230; tricky&#8230; trying to find my place in the family. I wanted to build a friendship with Devon, but I also needed her to see me a mother figure. I had to learn when and how to step in and be a parent without feeling like I was overstepping my boundaries. I needed to spend one-on-one time with Devon to get to know her and for her to get to know me. Dave and I both knew that if things did not work with Devon and I then they wouldn&#8217;t work with Dave and I. We didn&#8217;t want to form a family where all three of us would be miserable because Devon and I did not get along. I&#8217;m very lucky that I met Devon when she was seven. Knowing her strong personality, it would have been MUCH more difficult to become a family if we met now instead of 7 years ago. Do I wish that I had met Dave and Devon sooner? Absolutely! But I am thankful that I&#8217;ve already been in Devon&#8217;s life for more than half of her life. (Which she made note of on her 14th birthday &#8211; that she had officially had me for half of her life.) When people do find out that I&#8217;m not Devon&#8217;s birth mother they always comment on how lucky Devon is to have me in her life. What they don&#8217;t understand is that she has been just as good for me. Although Devon doesn&#8217;t share my blood, she is my heart. It is from loving her that I understand how and why my dad could accept me and love me as his own. There is no doubt in my mind that Devon was meant to be my daughter (like I said, the resemblance is almost freaky) and there is no doubt that my dad was meant to be my dad. Some of the best parents that I know are not biological parents. They are people who stepped in and loved children for no other reason but to simply LOVE them and not because they felt like they had to.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.wirlproject.com/what-its-really-like-to-meet-and-marry-a-single-parent/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;? Seriously?</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/the-dad-bod-seriously/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/the-dad-bod-seriously/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 14 May 2015 16:30:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sara Brennan]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Body]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad Bod]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fluffy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Gym]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Man]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom Bod]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Not Fair]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Seth Rogan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[weight]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Woman]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Workout]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6147</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[So, what the hell is the &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;? It&#8217;s been trending on social media and showing up on the news lately and I&#8217;m not sure what to think of it. I guess this, &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221; has always been around&#8230;it&#8217;s the guy who is over the age of 25 and has a healthy balance of hitting the bars and hitting the gym. He wants to look good for the ladies his lady, but loves his beer just as much as he enjoys his &#8220;high protein/low carb&#8221; meal to come in the form of chicken wings. Underneath the belly hair and beer gut you&#8217;ll find a nice set of strong abs, but this is not for all to know &#8211; only a select few will ever get the privilege to know that this man is &#8220;ripped&#8221;. And lastly, somehow, this guy is always popular; he had loads of friends and enjoys his social time. Probably because he&#8217;s not spending every last waking second at the gym, right? Well, call me crazy, but women seem to LOVE the Dad Bod! Oddly enough, the super fit guys, like the ones in Magic Mike, come across as self-centered and insecure; why do they feel the need to be spending SO much time at the gym? I mean yeah, sex sells, but at the end of the day, I&#8217;d rather be next to a smart, intelligent, funny, empathetic, chubby guy over some muscle head who is only concerned with himself. For me personally, I was lucky enough to marry a rare breed of man&#8230;one who is super concerned with being fit, but also holds the traits of the man who typically has the &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;. Wow, I feel special! &#8230;at the end of the day, I&#8217;d rather be next a smart, intelligent, funny, empathetic, chubby guy over some muscle head who is only concerned with himself. So, anyway, I said I was not sure what to think of this whole Dad Bod thing and here&#8217;s why&#8230;why is it called the &#8220;Dad&#8221; bod? And what about the &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221;? Women bear the child and deal with ALL KINDS of bodily changes including stretch marks, fat in extra places, saggy boobs, a stretched uterus, and the urge to pee when we laugh, sneeze or jump&#8230;but yet, &#8220;sexy&#8221; for a woman is still the extremely slim, barely clothed, ripped, long haired woman &#8211; who does not represent the &#8220;mom&#8221; community the least bit! If a mom chooses to only workout periodically (or never), she is considered chunky, think, or even frumpy! I know, a lot of guys are all-about-that-base, but it&#8217;s not really what is projected, especially on TV, magazine covers, and social media. Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter are full of selfies, especially from women, but how many &#8220;takes&#8221; and &#8220;edit&#8217;s&#8221; did it take for you to publish the one you did? LOTS! I mean, the standard is set pretty HIGH (see right). To get the perfect selfie, you have to make sure you have the right light, angle, makeup, and that you crop out that extra arm fat, right? Or you have to exhale so hard and hold your breath to make your stomach look thin that you literally pass out mid selfie! Sheesh, it takes a lot of effort for a woman, let alone a MOM, to look &#8220;good&#8221;. But, not the man who owns the &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;&#8230;he&#8217;s hairy, fluffy, and fabulous with very little effort? WTF? It&#8217;s just not fair! I have nothing against the &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;, I actually agree with the fact that sexy can be something other than tanned, toned, and perfect! So, to wrap this up, I&#8217;ll finish by saying I have nothing against the &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;, I actually agree with the fact that sexy can be something other than tanned, toned, and perfect. However, we need to shift this thinking towards females as well! Let&#8217;s empower the &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221;! So what IS the &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221;? It&#8217;s not perfect &#8211; that&#8217;s basically it. I would say the &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221; could be defined as a woman over 25 (or who&#8217;s had a baby) who tries her best to fit working out into her busy schedule, but also enjoys a grande Carmel Ribbon Crunch Frappaccino from Starbucks every now and then (or everyday) along with a cupcake, cookie and/or piece of pizza (sometimes). The woman who wears the &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221; is strong mentally, but also physically from picking up her children hundreds of times per day. She&#8217;s not fat, but she&#8217;s not a toothpick either &#8211; she&#8217;s got muscle, but it&#8217;s not bulging. She also has a lot of friends, but may not have the time to socialize with them as often as she&#8217;d like and her close friends and family see her inner AND outer beauty.  I challenge us women, in true WIRL style, to start posting the &#8220;real&#8221; you online and on social media; no filters, cropped pictures, or retakes &#8211; just the raw, real you! Show us what it&#8217;s really like. I&#8217;m sure we all know a woman who may be insecure in her &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221;, we all are! I challenge us women, in true WIRL style, to start posting the &#8220;real&#8221; you online and on social media; no filters, cropped pictures, or retakes &#8211; just the raw, real you! Show us what it&#8217;s really like. And, I&#8217;ll bet we&#8217;ll find that men LOVE it&#8230;just as much, if not more, than women love the &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221;. What do you think? I&#8217;d love to see your thoughts in the comment box below. (Watch this video below for more of a dialogue of this &#8220;Dad Bod&#8221; vs &#8220;Mom Bod&#8221; conversation.)]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.wirlproject.com/the-dad-bod-seriously/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>My Dad Died 8 Years Ago, But He&#8217;s Still Teaching Me Life Lessons Today</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/my-dad-died-8-years-ago-but-hes-still-teaching-me-life-lessons/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/my-dad-died-8-years-ago-but-hes-still-teaching-me-life-lessons/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 25 Mar 2015 09:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sara Brennan]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Technology/Web]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Big Dreams]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Entrepreneur]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lessons Learned]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[life lessons]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Small Town]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Visionary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[WIRL Project]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=4564</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Ever since I was little, I wanted to build a business/brand/invention/something&#8230;but I never knew what that &#8220;thing&#8221; was. I&#8217;ve gone down a few paths before, and given some things a shot, but could never quite put my finger on what I was destined to do. Growing up, I always wanted to start a club or group in my neighborhood, but that &#8220;club&#8221; always ended up being me and my neighbor girl (lol) and never really amounted to much. I am from a pretty small town, called Corry, PA, where only about 6,600 people live. My dad was a Metallurgical Engineer and my mom worked in our school system as a Teacher&#8217;s Aide. I had a great childhood and was surrounded by very positive, friendly people (for the most part). But, when it came to choosing a career, I never considered anything too &#8220;outside the box&#8221; because those kinds of jobs didn&#8217;t really exist in Corry, PA. I didn&#8217;t know that you could get paid to re-arrange furniture and decorate someone&#8217;s home! My mom and I did this all the time and I loved it! I didn&#8217;t know that you could video yourself doing something, post it online, and make money from it. And I certainly had no idea how to design a website or build a platform for social sharing&#8230;I didn&#8217;t even know these were viable options! And, to be honest, being involved with computers meant you were quite &#8220;nerdy&#8221;, which was not what I was going for in my teenage years (ohhh, how the tables have turned now, lol). I ended up getting a degree in Biology (not nerdy at all, right?) and then followed that up with a Master&#8217;s in Education. Being a teacher was one of the few career paths I was very familiar with as a kid&#8230;that and being a banker, waiter, doctor, shop worker, and retail associate. After I got out of graduate school and discovered the power of the internet, I realized that I had not even come close to tapping into the big world of opportunity that was out there; I was surely bit by the &#8220;entrepreneurial bug&#8221;. Then it hit me&#8230; my own father had his own international business, run out of our basement, and was an entrepreneur all this time! But, to me (growing up), all that meant was that he traveled and was on his phone/computer a lot. He never called himself an &#8220;entrepreneur&#8221; and I had NO IDEA the sacrifices, challenges, and hardships him and my mom faced to support our family, especially in the early &#8220;risky&#8221; stages that are full of uncertainty. Occasionally he would talk about a successful &#8220;deal&#8221; he&#8217;d won, which usually meant he wanted to celebrate! He&#8217;d treat us to a nice dinner or give my mom and I some money to go shopping ( ), but I never knew the courage and strength he had, because I was simply too young. But now, I&#8217;m super curious and wish I could sit down and talk with him. My dad passed away almost 8 years ago&#8230;I was 22 when he died. I&#8217;m really pissed about the fact that ALS (Lou Gehrig&#8217;s Disease) took him away from me too early&#8230;I had so much to learn from him and didn&#8217;t even know it. My parents did a great job of &#8220;sheltering&#8221; my brother and I from the pressure that owning your own business can bring, especially with all of the international travel and stress that can cause on a family/marriage; we, for the most part, had no idea. But I don&#8217;t want to be &#8220;sheltered&#8221; anymore. I want to know the real hardships, struggles, challenges, and successes (that usually only your family well tell you, but), I have to learn about my father and his journey through a third-person, my mom. She has great stories and information to share with me, but it&#8217;s nothing quite like hearing it from someone who&#8217;s been through it first hand. She often recalls phrases or lessons she learned from him, regarding his business, and passes them down to me&#8230;one of them being &#8220;Don&#8217;t ever burn a bridge&#8221; and I really do take this advice to heart. When I think about it, I get really sad that my dad isn&#8217;t here on Earth with me to see what I&#8217;ve accomplished so far. When I escaped the &#8220;bubble&#8221; of my small town and migrated to the beautiful city of Charlotte, NC, I became even more motivated, driven, and passionate about making something of myself. For me, teaching just didn&#8217;t cut it, however I enjoyed my several years in the classroom&#8230;especially the people and student&#8217;s I worked with. But, as I&#8217;d think about my life, and what it looked like (I have visions&#8230; I know, it&#8217;s weird), but I never envisioned myself being a teacher forever; there had to be something more&#8230;but what was it? As I said before, I&#8217;ve dabbled in a few little &#8220;ventures&#8221; but nothing compares to what I feel for WIRL Project. I can share so much about my life on this platform and people actually care! I can connect people to empowering and inspirational stories that will help them, and I can be myself without using a filter, hashtag, or fake persona&#8230;I can be me. I can get advice and read stories from people who are like-minded and who also want to share their story&#8230;this has always been what I love doing anyway, it makes sense that I am so passionate about it. Recently, I met with a small group of entrepreneurs in Charlotte and one of the guys from our group gave me one of the nicest complements I&#8217;ve ever received&#8230; it solidified everything. He said, &#8220;Sara, you&#8217;re a visionary &#8211; you see things other people can&#8217;t see and have a passion to bring these visions to life. You are going to make something of yourself, and I think WIRL Project could really be &#8220;it&#8221; for you.&#8221; Now, I barely know this guy. He doesn&#8217;t know my story, or that I&#8217;ve been searching for years to figure out what I was meant to do, but when he said this to me, it all made sense. So now, I look back on my life and the lessons I&#8217;ve learned along the way in a different way. I don&#8217;t look back simply to remember, I look back to recall the experiences and lessons I learned from my dad, mom, hometown, school, colleagues, and from work and I&#8217;m still learning everyday. Who says you shouldn&#8217;t look back&#8230;for me, it&#8217;s teaching me invaluable lessons and launching me forward in ways I&#8217;d never thought possible. &#160;]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.wirlproject.com/my-dad-died-8-years-ago-but-hes-still-teaching-me-life-lessons/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>
