Hello everyone,
Some weeks are smooth. Some weeks are chaotic. And then there are weeks like this one—where you blink and it’s suddenly Sunday again, and you’re not sure how you even got there. This was one of those weeks. It was one part vacation hangover, one part dad-on-the-go, and a whole lot of family, fun, and a few life lessons about noise levels and staying up past midnight in your 40s.
It started with a family trip home from Illinois. The whole family had been traveling, and we flew in late on Sunday night. You know that kind of travel where the day disappears in airports, connections, and suitcases you’re sure you packed better than you actually did? That was us. We made it home in one piece, but I was running on fumes before the workweek even started.
But there’s no rest when you’ve got a K-pop fan in the house.
My wife Holly is all-in when it comes to K-pop, and one of her favorite groups—Stray Kids—just happened to be performing in Atlanta on Tuesday night. She’d been counting down for weeks, and we’d planned to go together. So, despite still being jet-lagged, I loaded up the car and made the drive to Truist Park, where the Braves play. Now, this wasn’t just a concert—it was an event. You could feel it the second we got near the stadium.
The place was packed. There were two separate lines just to get in—one for the venue, and one for merchandise—and both wrapped around corners like amusement park rides. Teens and young adults were dressed in K-pop fashion, waving lightsticks and snapping selfies. We even brought a guest along for the ride—Holly’s Labubu. If you’ve never heard of Labubu, it’s a quirky little collectible figure, kind of a cult favorite, and apparently bringing it along to concerts and taking pictures is a thing. So Labubu came to Stray Kids, posed for pictures outside the stadium, and now has its own photo memories of Atlanta.
As we waited in line, Holly pulled out a pair of earplugs for me. I laughed at first—until we got inside. Once the lights went down and the band came on stage, the crowd erupted. And I mean erupted. Screaming, shrieking, cheering, you name it. If you’ve never been to a K-pop show, imagine 40,000 people all yelling with every ounce of joy and energy in their lungs. Suddenly those earplugs weren’t so funny—they were essential. I owe Holly big time for thinking ahead.
The show itself was fantastic. The production was on another level—lights, choreography, visuals, the works. Even as someone who didn’t know all the lyrics, I was impressed by the energy and professionalism of the performers. Holly had a great time, and honestly, I did too. It was something we’ll remember for a long time.
We stayed downtown that night, and I had to pivot back into work mode the next morning. I squeezed in a couple of Zoom meetings from the hotel before we grabbed lunch and hit the road back home. I barely had time to unpack before shifting gears again, because the weekend had its own major plans.
Saturday night brought something entirely different but just as intense—UFC Atlanta. It had been six years since UFC held an event in the city, and we weren’t going to miss it. I took the boys, a few of their friends, and we met up with another group when we got there. We were lucky enough to have seats near each other—shoutout to whoever figured that out when buying the tickets.
For a couple of the kids, this was their first UFC event, and it didn’t disappoint. From the early card to the main events, the energy in that arena was electric. There was even a local Georgia fighter on the card, and when he came out, the place exploded. His training crew was just a couple rows behind us, so when he won, we got to see them celebrate in real time. That moment alone made the night.
The final two fights were high-profile: Rose Namajunas, a former women’s champion, took the stage and fought her heart out—even though she lost, she put on a show. Then it was time for Kamaru Usman, a seasoned fighter and former champ, to take on rising star Joaquin Buckley. Usman came out like he had something to prove. He controlled the fight for four out of the five rounds—Buckley made a push at the end, but it was too little, too late. Usman looked sharp and composed, a true veteran performance.
But the late-night adrenaline rush came at a cost. We didn’t get home until 2:30 a.m. And I’ve got to say… I’m just not built for that anymore. The next morning was Father’s Day, and while I was happy to celebrate, I was dragging. That kind of exhaustion—the kind where your eyes burn and your brain feels foggy—had me moving in slow motion all day.
Despite the fatigue, we managed to pack in some more special moments. We celebrated Father’s Day with Holly’s dad on Saturday before the fights, and then with my dad on Sunday. We even threw in a little birthday celebration for my mom. Food, stories, gifts, and just a lot of love all around.
Looking back, the week was exhausting but incredibly full—of experiences, of joy, of laughter, of little surprises like Labubu photoshoots and local fighters taking the spotlight. And even though I’m still catching up on sleep, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
It was one of those weeks that reminds you why we work hard in the first place—to make memories, to show up for family, and to experience life, even when it’s loud, long, and past your bedtime.