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In today’s world, I don’t think we can over emphasize the importance of dads. I am grateful for the father that Dave has become. Being an only child, he was not expecting to be a dad (and a stand-in dad) to five children. But yet I watch as he hands the Alan Wrench to 2-year-old Emme to help fix the wobbly table, as he says “NO WAY’ to skirts too short for our teenagers, wrestles with martial arts intensity with Ty, and empties the dishwasher every morning – the job that is the most hated in our household. He doesn’t understand periods, or nail polish, or how one girl can get to 15,000 texts in one month… but he still sits by in a sea of 11 years olds and exclaims, “that is sooooooooooo cute” as Lily opens all her birthday gifts and gives “how to get out of a goodnight kiss” advice to Jade on her first date (which wasn’t really a date, she says). He raps in public. He listens to Justin Bieber. He is actually giddy that Jade will be taking chemistry next year. He is the first to hold a crying girl when the emotions are just too much (and we have a lot, and I do mean A LOT of emotions in this house!). He dodges blaster fire from 6 year old boys. He builds inventions with Ty. He changes poopie diapers. He handles bath and bedtimes every single night. He has learned to make pasta, quesadillas, and a killer grilled cheese sandwich. And he never yells at the kids. Ever.
Oh, and have I mentioned that he has amazing biceps?
I look at the men in our neighborhood, my friends’ husbands who coach their kids’ teams, host bbqs, show up to school open houses, cook dinners, stay home with the kids so their wife can go to work, stay home with the kids so the women can go away for a whole. entire. 24. hours. And I am blown away. We ask them the do all this (and so much more!) and also to be proficient at careers, providing some, most, or all of the income for their families. These men not only take it all on, but they do it pretty darn well…considering that they are not women.
There are days when I think I could simply get by without a man in my life. I mean, who needs another freakin day of tripping over those giant shoes in my kitchen. Or of explaining that cream cheese does not go in the freezer. Or of sharing a bathroom with someone with that much hair.
But I get over it.
So, today I celebrate the dads I know: Dave, Steve, Jim, both Ryans, Ben, Tom, Darin, Mike, Jonathan, and all the others that have turned Father’s Day into something to really celebrate.
Happy Father’s Day!
Through a strange series of questions and topics while snuggling in bed with Ty last night, he informed Dave and me that he plans on marrying his little sister, Emme.
This doesn’t alarm me at all — I know that this is totally normal as kids grow up and explore family relationships and love. Often times a kindergartener will want to marry the parent of the opposite sex. Ty used to want to marry me, but I have been ousted for the new and improved model…little sister.
“Oh, Ty, I am so glad you love Emme so much.” Even as I say this I am envisioning the torment she put him through only hours before. How no matter what he wanted to play with, she snatched it out of his hands and ran off with it. Not really an inaccurate foreshadowing to marriage, but still…
But just to be silly I ask Ty, “Why don’t you want to marry Lily?” One of his older sister-cousins.
“Because, Mommy, she. wants. to. be. a. dentist!!!”
Of course, this makes perfect sense to me.
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Click here to learn more about why I don’t like the dentist.
Because he loves going to pubs to watch sports games… not with the boys, but with ME!
He rubs my feet every single night.
He carries the kids from the living room to the bedroom every single night at bedtime. Even though I am sure he is in ample amounts of pain by the time he gets to kid #4… or maybe even #2…
He loves all kids.
He loves all vampires.
He cannot follow even the simplest plot line on a TV or Movie. This makes me look like a freakin’ genius — especially if I actually PREDICT the ending, which I have taken to writing down and putting in an envelope to be opened after the finale so as to not ruin it for him.
He can do Calculus but struggles with dividing up a single quesidilla amongst 5 kids.
He never ever yells… at anyone.
He calls Emme “Sweet Girl” and there in no one she would rather be with than him.
He has amazing blue eyes, killer biceps, and a sexy jawline.
He tries harder than anyone I know.
He loves 80′s power ballads. Especially, “My Heart Will Go On” from the Titanic soundtrack. Could I even make that up?
He can turn the simplest conversation into a science lesson.
He learned to love baseball just for me.
He is deeply kind.
He works two demanding jobs so I can stay home with the kids.
He loves me not in spite of my cantankerous side but because of my cantankerous side.
His favorite students are the ones on the fringe, the ones who have lost hope in school… and then he wins them over.
That even though he turned 39 yesterday, he thinks he can pull-off looking like he is in his mid-20′s by donning a hat and baggy shorts.
Happy Birthday, honey, I love you!
I worried that I have completely emasculated my husband. True, he’s a TAD bit hen-pecked. But I may have gone too far this time. So, a while back I read that running a gas lawn mower for one hour has the equivalent impact on the environment as 40 cars idling in traffic for the same amount of time. Well, being from the Northwest where being green is a requirement for citizenship, this freaked me out. So, when we were in the market for a new lawn mower, I made the unilateral decision that we would get an electric mower. I remember standing in Home Depot and Dave had this sort of defeated look on his face. The look said, “Is this the battle I want to fight, because I have to pick them carefully….” to which I responded with this look, “40 cars, Dave, 40 freaking cars….” and we went home with the electric mower.
But the sad truth is we both hate the lawn mower. I hate it because I miss that loud, growling noise each time the lawn is mowed. I mean, the sound of a running lawn mower screams, “SUMMER” and is just so “cool.” It’s like the yard work equivalent of a Harley Davidson. You know what I mean. But, frankly, our electric lawn mower sounds like a sewing machine. And I hate to sew. I think Dave hates it for mostly the same reasons — but he would define it thus: It’s a wimpy lawn mower. Don’t get me wrong, it works and gets the job done (when it actually gets used…more on that it a sec.) but it screams “Girlie-Man” like nobody’s business. It doesn’t help that you have to trail a cord behind you as you mow – or that one of the wheels always falls off.
What have I done?
So, because we have the world’s stupidest lawn mower, our lawn is almost never mowed. Which is another reason why I hate this mower.
Here you can see that the indentities of the innocent are being protected. No one wants to be associated with this yard.
This is the situation that has developed in our yard. In our own defense, we are not big yard work people to begin with, but our yard was designed by the world famous Jamie Durie – who, I might add, is anything but a girlie man. But you would never know that our lawn was professionally landscaped — all due to our lawnmower. I think it is my fault. Well, mine and the environment’s.
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