Dad's Birthday is Today!

This year I have written blogs about my kids on their birthdays and I really enjoyed doing so.  I'm playing with the idea of doing this on many birthdays over the course of next year.  I thought I'd start with my Dad.

Dad was born this day in 1941, in Pearl Harbor, just nine days after the bombing.  I think that is incredibly cool.  I was wondering last week if he could join the Pearl Harbor Survivor's club....he was technically there.  He grew up in La Mesa after a brief stint in Cleveland.  He played little league in La Mesa and lived on Dana Drive, which was close to where my Mom grew up on Harbinson.   He had a great dog named Tippy and a duck that hated his Mother.  Mom and Dad went to the same school, but Mom was younger so they didn't date until later.  Dad joined the Air Force and spent some time in Germany.  See, I did listen.  You said I didn't listen!

Some of my first memories with my Dad are when we would go "dirtin" in the back yard.  I loved to help him in the garden.  He was always great about giving me my own plants.  I always got a couple of my own to plant or an area with just my seeds.   We had fucshias, ferns, vegetables and boysenberries.   One time we were working in the garden in the very back portion of our huge yard and a swarm of bees came swooping down the giant hill the lead into our yard.  We had to run to get into the house.  That was cool!  When Dad built the patio onto the house we had a tarantula on the patio.  That was creepy.  Speaking of spiders and creepy - one time I was putting my bike away behind the gate.  I got the gate open and then realized there was a very large black and yellow spider.  Bigger than the tarantula.  I KNEW it was going to jump on my face and kill me and I froze, while screaming.  My Mom came out of the house and told me to get away from the spider.  Seems so simple, but I sure as hell couldn't think of it.  She made my Dad come home from work and he killed it with a big stick that had a stiff wire net on it for catching crawdads.  Dang it sounds like I grew up in Alabama.  My Dad made the crawdad catcher thingy and we went hunting in the riverbed of the San Diego river if I recall correctly.  Once I figured out what the hell a crawdad was, I was OUT.  I think I was about seven.  Luckily he saved the day by catching a huge tadpole that we raised to frogdome and let go at Lake Murray.  So lots of good childhood memories.

Then I grew up.  We parted ways when I was about 13.  Just couldn't get along.  By then the parents were divorced.  I had been living with Dad in the house I grew up in.  Mom moved away when they divorced.  In a stroke of parenting genius Mom and Dad figured a way for Dad to leave the house and Mom to come back and I got to stay put.  Good work parents.  I loved that house and neighborhood, leaving would have destroyed me.  So we had some rough years.  

I think things started getting better when I had Samantha.  Unfortunately, for reasons I now totally get, Dad and Sandee (Step Mom) moved to North Carolina.  At the time, I was so angry.  I spent some years pretty angry.  No need to discuss that here, it's all water under the bridge.  Given the circumstances I sure as hell would have left as well.

Today I am so lucky to have such a wonderful Dad.  I'm so pleased that we are closer than ever.   This year we had a great trip to Vegas and I am so glad we went.  I think we should go once a year and I mean that.  I do wish you were closer, but I understand, I really do.  I am so glad you have a wonderful wife that makes you happy.  I am grateful that I was able to find a man, like you, who puts family first and works hard to make me happy every day.  Happy Birthday Daddy.

My Girl

My girl turned 14 today. 

I can't believe how fast the time has gone by.  I still vividly recall the day I found out I was pregnant.  I was working at The Broadway dept store at the age of 25.  I've never been so happy and scared all at the same time.  Until that day having a baby just seemed like a great idea, now, suddenly I was going to be responsible for another human being.  Wow, that makes it so much more real. 

I remember the first sonogram.  She or it at the time because we didn't know it was she was a little peanut with a tiny beating heart.  Months later we found out she was a girl, this was a truly happy day.  I wanted a girl so badly.  Months later I would hijack Father's Day by having my water break at home during the final 7th game of the NBA finals.  The Bulls were playing and her Dad could barely believe we had to leave for the hospital on Father's Day, much less in the 2nd quarter of the game.  Fast forward 18 hours (we could have stayed home) I gave birth to Samantha Brittany.  Ironically, on her birthday this year, another final game in the NBA.

Sam was the best baby ever.  The worst thing she did was to give back a little bit of every bottle by way of spit up.  She barely cried, had a regular schedule, got 2 to 3 teeth at a time and her gas was easily remedied with Mylicon.  She was a joy, so happy and funny. 

Cute story.  I took her to my Grandmother's house pretty much daily.  I worked weekends and nights part time so I could stay with her and help Grandma.  We would run errands and go to lunch and hang out at the mall etc.  Being a stay at home Mom was the bomb, easy breezy.  I don't care what any stay at home Mom says, it was EASY!  OK, but I digress.  Sam would nap at Grandma's house daily, she had a crib there and her own room.  She would wake up and stand in her crib and call out, "anybody......somebody.....anybody....."  hoping one of us, or presumably someone would come get her.  She didn't cry, she just called out.  We would make her wait because it was so funny to hear her.

We moved to the current house when Sam was 18 months old.  She immediately found her best little friend Isabelle, who is 11 months older.  They got along famously except for the infamous day of the collar grabbing argument over sidewalk chalk.  Isabelle's Mom and I watched, we wanted to intervene, but it was funnier to let them duke it out.  Then there was the day Isabelle gave Sam a makeover while we thought Isabelle was helping Sam to use the potty.  The image we will never forget, Isabelle in the hallway saying, Mommy don't panic, and then seeing Sam in the bathroom, standing on a step stool with terribly bright fuchsia lipstick applied horribly and a handful of hair on the ground.  She actually got a haircut along with her makeover.  We weren't mad.  We still laugh about it. 

Then we had the staples in the head.  This was great timing because the office store Staples was running the ad campaign slogans saying, Staples, Yeah,We Got That.   She was about 2, we taught her to say, "Staples, yeah, I got those".   A couple weekends at Children's Hospital while we were dealing with an asthma diagnosis (you can thank Mom for that gene).   Only a cold here and there, and few injuries. 

Fast forward to now.  My girl is a successful student, good friend, very cute,  taller than me, fashion forward without being a snob and hilariously funny, even when I am mad at her.  She's a good girl.   I love her very much and I am so glad she is remarkably different from her Mom at this age.  

Happy birthday Sam.  You're a good kid.  I love you and I am proud of you.