My Second Mate (or "Finally, a Post about the Second Kiddo")

Just because I haven't written about my son yet doesn't mean he isn't front and center in my life. Quite the opposite, in fact -- I'm not writing because he has joined HD as the main focus of my little life these past few months. So as we embark on his 7 month anniversary here on this planet, I write for my Callum Lad (CL):

My handsome little devil,

There will be times in your life where I'll feel the need to preemptively apologize to you, because you will be subject to many comparisons to your sister. This is not in anyway because she is better or more or bigger or what-have-you. It's simply by virtue of her being older and the sheer fact that she was able to do most things first.  But you've got one-up on her.  She's got the burden of being our first exposure to all aspects of parenting, so you'll be able to learn from her mistakes if you pay attention.

I'll not sugar-coat it, son -- HD was an awesome baby. She was rarely fussy, easily soothed, almost always happy, never sick, a good eater, a great sleeper. She cooed at folks, and they cooed back.  Because of this, your daddy and I just sort of assumed you'd be a demon baby. How could there be room for another awesome baby in the Brill family?  Did we already use up all the awesome with our first?  We were positive you'd be very needy, the male high-maintenance counterpart to our daughter. And that first month you did require a tad more hands-on managing than she did...but I attribute that to you being a newborn during cold weather instead of her summertime first months (our house was pretty cold).  But as we've come to know each other, you have proved yourself to be remarkably low-key and loving.  Then again, that may be due to the fact that Hurricane HD is 3, and the laws of nature allow for only one drama baby in a family at any given time.  Thank God.

CL, you have proved our demon theory so very wrong.  At a young age, you are already a little daydreamer.  You love gazing at sunlight, shadows, and wind blowing in trees, fascinated by the patterns in the light and always trying to physically touch that bit of magic you see.  You can entertain yourself for long periods, working out the mechanics of toys or kitchen utensils.  You are an amazing self-soother, calmly finding your thumb during moments of potential stress. If I happen to be holding you at such a moment, your free hand will stroke my hair (this slays me).  You love to mimic sounds.  Initially, you are serious upon seeing new people, sizing them up and drinking everything in.  But my, do you love to laugh.  Tickling, funny noises, and especially your sister are your primary sources of entertainment.  You adore your Sissy above anyone else.  Craning your neck to look after her movements, you will quickly dive toward her for a hug if she comes close by.

I'm in love with my bright boy.  And STRONG.  You are a serious yoga baby -- already doing full plank position in anticipation of crawling.  You'll get there soon, I have no doubt.  And as you pass each growth milestone, Daddy and I remind ourselves how different you are from your sister.  You've got her beat in some departments (crawling before she did, for sure), and will probably be a bit slower in others.  I can promise that as a family, we will work together to see what talents each of you present and what interests each of you as you get older.  You will like some of the same things (reading and music, IhopeIhopeIhope).  You will also have separate interests.  I just hope above all that you two learn to lean on each other, and remember that your parents love both of you for who you are, not for how you work as any sort of matched set.

And I promise, no photos of y'all in matching outfits over the years.  The one time that happened, it was a total accident, I swear.  I think Daddy dressed you that day.

3 Years Gone By...

Dearest, funniest, most imaginative Hahper Dahlin--

Today, you are three years old.  At this exact moment in time, you are tall, gangly, all limbs and long brown hair and eyes with killer lashes.  I have to refrain myself from exclaiming over how pretty you are, so you don't get a big head or think that looks are too important.  You are a mile-a-minute ball of energy who will pull every trick in the book to avoid bedtime...only to pass out cold for a solid 9 hour stretch once you've wiggled/sung/whispered/cried all your ya-yas out.  You are tenacious; insisting that other kids be your friend ("I'm talking to you!" you proclaim, your face peering a mere 3 inches away from theirs), or repeatedly jamming puzzle pieces around until you make them fit, or repeating your request until you've gotten your object of desire (or a suitable substitute).  Yet, you exhibit strange wells of patience and calm, be it when "reading" a book to yourself, allowing me to teach you songs, or talking to your younger bubba and letting his fingers rove your face while he coos.

Your favorite colors are "yellow and pink and blue."  Like your mama, you refuse to limit yourself to only one favorite of anything.  Your current obsession (now going 6 months strong) is The Wizard of Oz, and you were completely dazzled by the "ruby red slippers" and Wicked Witch doll you received for this birthday.  You have zero fear of the witch; in fact, you seem to believe her main objective is just to keep Toto as her own pet.  You adore "I'm Walkin'" by Fats Domino and the King's version of "Hound Dog."  Whenever Daddy gets home at the end of the day, you squeal and run for a hug, which utterly makes his day.  You have a monster set of pipes and abhor being shushed when you're crying...it only makes you holler louder ("I will not be quiet; I will cry LOUD!!" -- yes, we know).  You enjoy extra garlicky hummus, raw lemons, fish of any kind cooked in any fashion, pickles, olives, and fresh ground pepper on your entrees. 

You call your brother "my baby" and love to show him off to anyone who will listen.  You pet his head and like to kiss his eyes.  Other than your parents, Bubba is your biggest fan, and I love to watch his gaze follow you around the room.  You enjoy the villain characters in your movies and stories more so than the princesses, although you like them too.  You make me exercise all my old acting muscles by insisting that I portray various characters at the drop of a hat (just this week, I've had to be Santa Claus, Jafar, and the Wicked Witch).  You have a huge capacity for love, a memory like an elephant, the vocabulary of a 5 year old, and the fashion sense of Cyndi Lauper. 

I can scarcely believe that you used to be the length of my forearm, with jet black downy fur on your head.  The easiest baby ever, you're making up for lost time by now challenging your parents every single day.  You are 3 going on 13.  But tonight I will still snuggle with you and Pink Puppy, sing "Embraceable You" (you call it The Mama Song) and "Hide Your Love Away," and tuck you in with a kiss.  I will do all these little-girl-and-mama rituals as long as you'll let me.  I'll continue to pray for your health and safety every day, and I'll go to bed excited for all the new independence, ideas, and discoveries that this year will bring for us both.  You are my own special girl, and I love you always.

--Your Mama

We Set Sail on the Annum of Tempests (or, "Two Years Old")

Dearest, most dahlin HD--

You are by far the funniest, weirdest, most intelligent and independent kid I could have ever imagined.  You talk and sing non-stop, pulling out large sentences that we didn't think possible for a kid your age (e.g. "Please, Mama, can you play the Ob-la-di song?" or "Harper wants to sit on the couch and drink milk and watch Yo Gabba Gabba").  There is a strong desire in you to do many grown-up things, but then in true toddler fashion you will pull a 3-second reversal and decide to fear your own power.  Case in point?  You lovelovelove to mop (or, "mob" as you call it), but you want to be held if we bust out the dustbuster.

Daddy & Mama are taking full advantage of this as long as we can.

You are currently obsessed with the Beatles.  You have dictated that your new name is Harper-Ringo (you've always dug the drums).  Then there's Daddy-Paul, and Mama-John.  Aunt Jillean just got you the Yellow Submarine book for your birthday, and you you tote it around everywhere.  Song requests for Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and I've Just Seen a Face are very prominent in car rides with you.  Where do you come from???

You love to read books, visit the zoo, and talk about The Lion King, despite the fact that you're only patient enough to sit through no more than 40 minute spurts of the movie.  Legos are your jam right now, which makes your engineer daddy proud beyond belief.  You've mastered "please" and "thank you," which makes your Southern mama proud beyond belief.

We also suspect that your drama queen antics may be your actual nature, and not just natural toddler manic behavior.  I guess only time will tell there.

You turned two this month, and we had a little family party at Golden Gate Park with just the family.  Much more your style to celebrate with a smaller group to ensure that you are constantly the center of attention.  You received a crown and wand and we dubbed you queen for the day.

Mama's not much for decorations or crafty gift wrapping/birthday crown making...but you better believe I will always cook my heart out for you!  We had muffalettas, caprese sandwiches, homemade salsa, French potato salad, and yellow and chocolate cupcakes.  You especially loved the cupcakes and we were stoked that you knew what to do with the candles this year.  You even figured out how to tear open some gifts.

Hands free cupcake eating!  Dainty pirates don't muss their hands unless plundering is required.

After that, we had a blast just running around the playground and riding the carousel.  Aunts and uncles and grandparents all looked on.  

My favorite part was when you first woke up.  Elizabeth, the fairy who lives behind the red door in your room, had left you a wonderful birthday surprise.  You had bunch of balloons hanging out on your bedroom floor, all ready for you to jump and roll in.  They were your absolute favorite part of the day.  Once we got back from your picnic and park party, you insisted on playing in them the rest of the afternoon.  They had floated on over to the guest room at that point, but who cares where they were?  BALLOONS!!!

Dahlin girl, I hope that you maintain your sense of magic, wonder, and enthusiasm as you get older.  I hope that you always work so hard to demand the things in life that you think you deserve (although, with less tears, snot, and squeals).  You have an infectious giggle and are able to make everyone around you (even strangers) smile and act goofy.  As challenging as you are, you are also the major joy in your parents' lives.  It's ok to give us a tablespoon of exasperation, since you help wash it down with so many cuddles and songs and high fives.  Love you, butterbean.

The Cap'n Finds a Beloved New Port (or, "Girls Trip to NOLA")

Oh my goodness.  I have found a new obsession.  I tend to have lots of those.  It really started two years ago this very week...the BP oil spill happened in the Gulf.  New Orleans (as well as MANY other communities) got socked with a major disaster and subsequent bureaucratic bullshit just a few years after horrendous Katrina and her aftermath.  In spring 2010 I really started paying more attention to that region, its downfall and determination to revitalize, and firm imprint on American culture.  At just about the same time, the show Treme premiered on HBO.  Now, for those of you who aren't familiar, this is a show about life in New Orleans that takes place just a few months after Katrina occurred.  It's by the same team that did The Wire, which is sort of universally known as The Greatest Television Show of All Time Even though It Was Totally Unappreciated by the Masses upon Its Air Time (it's a working subtitle).  Anyway, Hubs and I watched entirety of The Wire over the course of my pregnancy (we finished the show about 3 weeks before HD was born -- I looked at him, depressed it was actually over, and asked, "What do we do now?"  He replied, "We become parents.").  So, having a budding interest in all things Gulf and missing the brilliance of David Simon, I plunged readily into his new show.  And boy howdy, was I hooked.  Not just on the show.  But on the resilience, the beauty, the violence and madness, and the tomorrow-be-damned festive nature of New Orleans.  It was a quiet interest, mostly played out in learning more about the music and reading up on the news stories that inspired the stories on Treme.

St. Louis Cathedral, view from Jackson Square

Then, around this past new year, a group of my good girlfriends from college all decided that since 2012 is the year we all turn 30, we needed to celebrate it up big.  I talked to Hubs and he thought a long weekend away with the girls was a totally fair present for a big birthday.  He'd use frequent flyer points (from his old job) to score me a free ticket, we'd budget for lodging and hefty food/drink costs, and he'd take the kiddo for 3 whole nights and days.  Have I mentioned how much I adore that gorgeous, kind, virile, crazy-amazing, beefcake man of mine?  And can you guess where my friends and I decided to venture?  I finally got to hit the city that's piqued my curiosity for so long.  And I fanned the flames of my Type-A nature by reading both A Confederacy of Dunces and The Awakening before the trip, not to mention downloading all sorts of music from the area, everything from bounce to zydeco.  What?  I like to be culturally competent when visiting a new place :)

These girlfriends of mine?  They're something else for sure.  There were 7 of us in total, and we're an impressive bunch.  Graduate degrees,  interesting & thriving careers, scattered all about the country.  Then there's little old me, the only mama of the bunch...guaranteed none of the other girls freaked out about how grocery shopping would get done while she was away, or asked her spouse 87 times if it was really ok if she could go.  The trip was wonderful, and we had such a blast just wandering without an agenda.  My days are typically so scheduled and structured, it was such a luxury to do whatever we felt like doing.  The only plans on the agenda were dinner reservations at Mr. B's Bistro and Luke, both were excellent.  Guess which OCD mama was the one to research and make reservations?  Like music and literature prep, researching restaurants is my way of psyching myself up for a trip.  Weird side note on food?  I realized the day that I left that I at ONLY seafood the entire time.  Oysters, fish, crab, shrimp galore.  NOM.

So what did we do?  Oh you know...wandered, ate, drank, and danced!  My first night was sazeracs with my buddy Alisa at Old Absinthe House, since we were the first to arrive.  By next morning there were 4 of us, and we perused all the art and day stages of the French Quarter Festival and hit Cafe du Monde.  As the rest of the girls (women by now, I guess?) arrived at a different time later that day, we all met at Pat O'Brien's home of the hurricane.  We had a lovely time catching up and enjoying our drinks (two hurricanes later, I am pretty sure I lost my eyeglasses there...oops).  Night out at Mr. B's for supper where we were totally raucous and annoying to every other diner in our vicinity.  So it goes when you reunite old sorority sisters.  Then wandering the Quarter, dancing to street musicians.  I capped off the night at the hot dog stand, which I am sure saved me a massive hangover the next day.

The next day split the group in half.  One sect toured the Garden District, and the rest of us checked out the Festival.  Tons of fun bouncing from stage to stage.  We saw a really talented jazz band of kids age 8-13 who have been accepted to play at next year's Rose Parade.  Had a ton of fun cheering our friend Rachel on at the swing dancing stage while she boogied.  Saw the super fun Kermit Ruffins and Barbeque Swingers.  We purchased a lovely birthday hat, and had so much fun celebrating a collective birthday party as we passed around the hat and gave each girl her "turn" at being 30.  The girls were nice enough to let me take it home to HD as a souvenir.  Evening was supper at Luke (along with a couple of prom groups, so cute), then a night out on Frenchman Street at several clubs.  We were taken around by a local, the cousin of one of the girl's boyfriends.  He was nice enough to listen to all my nerdy ramblings about how I boned up on music before the trip out.

Anyway, I'll let the photos speak for themselves, in no particular order.  Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Roasted oysters and french bread at the French Quarter Festival.

My love for high five photos is deep.   Luckily, my pal Rachel is feeling it.

Pirate's Alley Bar.  Obviously my favorite stop.

It may not have been Mardi Gras, but Indians were still about.

Our fun self-made go-cups :)

Rachel and Jen T, sporting the communal birthday hat!

The next generation inherits the birthday hat.

My turn in the birthday hat. 

Big Sam playing at Blue Nile

Coffee and beignets, from Cafe du Monde (of course)

Me and Jen, loving the Carousel Bar.

Indian!!

Jen T & Jaisha line dancing in support of the band on Pirate Alley

The whole gang after an amazing supper at Luke.

Drinking Dom Perignon, courtesy of baller Jillean.  Wooo!

Jen V & me, digging into po' boys at Acme Oyster House.

Verily, a Call for Grog an' a Hornpipe (or, "Birthday Party")

"Verily" is perhaps my favorite term in pirating lingo.  But I digress...much earlier than normally in my posts.

Awhile back, Hubs asked what I wanted for my birthday, and I had an instant reply: "To be utterly removed from any party planning."  I am more or less the social director/type-A control freak of our little family, but now and then a matey needs a break.  He did little more than ask for a guest list and run a few ideas by me.  All in all, Hubs is wonderfully capable without my micromanaging!  He planned a great night, with a good mixture of spontaneity thrown in.

WE DID KARAOKE.

Ok, y'all.  It had been a solid couple of years since my pipes did any public singing beyond belting Yo Gabba Gabba tunes in the grocery store to calm a peckish HD.  Color me stoked!!  Item one last Saturday was to dispatch HD to her grandparents' house for the night [Side note -- HD loves her grandfolks, but she threw a snotty-nosed, puddle-sized tear, heaving sobs fit when we tried to leave.  She's been going through major mama separation anxiety a little later than most kids.  She's fine once we leave, but any tips on easing this is appreciated. Comment or email me!].  Item two was to don my best grandma sweater and hit up the unspeakably delicious Dosa for a little quality date time with just Hubs.

Hubs secured a private room at a joint in Japantown, complete with plastic liter bottles of Korean beer and delicacies like seafood pancakes.  There was even a glorious fruit platter.  The room was long and skinny with black vinyl booths, sort of like sitting in a semi-janky stretch limo.  We met up with a slew of friends and brothers and got the party started.

My lovely sis-in-law, rocking the crescent tambourine.

A little warm-up tune.

Hubs and me, now both officially sailing strong in our thirties.

Behold, the glory of a packed private karaoke chamber! Note the fruit platter.

The song options were beyond off the wall.  You had some standard show tunes, top 40, some basic country hits.  The typical variety you'd expect, but with weird little gems thrown in -- like the main tune from School of Rock.  My karaoke twin Shana and I bogarted the mike most the evening, slamming down ditties like "I Would Do Anything for Love" and "Glory of Love".  Because, you know, those are some serious jams.  Hubs did a stellar rendition of "Physical" as an homage to the week of my birth, and my fave Toto song.  We were treated to jokey takes on ditties by Mariah Carey, TLC, Blackstreet, and Boyz to Men.  We made excellent use of the applause button on the karaoke controls.  It was a blast.



And I even busted out a Johnny Rotten impression (which most of our guests kindly ignored).  You can feel free to do the same.

The night rounded out at local bar Blur, where we grabbed a sweet huge booth.  I also was treated to some tasty Sheep Dip.  Then, Hubs and I bid good night and proceeded home.  And for the first time since HD's been alive, we spent the night in our own home without her (we've spent nights away from her, but only if we're in a overnighting somewhere for a wedding or event).   The next morning was the biggest luxury ever, sleeping in until 8am (a HUGE gain for us over the standard 6:30) and going out for breakfast.  Once we retrieved HD, we made it up to her by taking her to Golden Gate Park to ride her beloved carousel:

The past few years, my birthday has been very low-key, which has been perfectly lovely.  But it was still nice to be made a fuss over.  Thanks heaps to everyone who was able to come, and to those who called me anyway to show some love.  This will easily tide me over for another 10 years :)

The Longings of the Yuletide Season (or, "I Miss My OG Family")

This is the third Christmas season that I haven't spend with my parents and brother.  Granted, this is primarily due to my choice to not travel with a baby/toddler during one of the busiest travel seasons of the year.  Regardless, that doesn't mean that I don't miss them like crazy.  So this little random post is my little internet hug to them.

Daddy and Mama -- HD loves the gift you got her.  As we discussed on the phone, I believe that this is the most evil toy in existence.  My new year's resolution is to not accidentally-on-purpose break it.

Did you notice how this toy exerts it's wicked nature upon my kid?!  She's so lured by it's sinful sounds, she literally starts choking another baby!!

The newest thing we're trying to get HD to do is to learn a catch phrase for each member of our family. Let's give this a whirl:

To those who need a little help (since I am not going to attempt to input subtitles on the video), allow me to translate.  "Do what?" is a Southern expression meaning "Pardon me?  I didn't quite hear you/I wasn't paying attention to begin with."  That would be my father's (Pappy's) saying.  "Hey, y'all!" is a oft-used greeting in the South, meant to refer to both genders, not just "guys."  That would be my mother's (Mammy).  My brother is a rabid Raiders fan, hence his phrase.  And my sister-in-law's (Alice) family is French, which is why we went with "Bonjour!".  Also, we picked those phrases since they were pretty easy to teach HD.  That was actually prolly the trumping factor in choosing them.

HD says, "Bye, yaww!" (That would be "bye, y'all").

Thankful I Be on This Day Again (or, "My Thursday Ritual")

HEY, YOU!!!!  Get Thankful!

















Yes, it's time for Thankful on a Thursday again.  As mentioned before, I normally do this on Facebook, but I figured the above photo was reason enough to post it on the ol' blog.

Thankful on a Thursday: for Hubs insisting that we get a gym membership (and the glorious 45 minute lunch time classes they offer), for the tastiness of holiday business lunches, to Neil Gaiman for being such an incredible and creative author, and to a little kids who are infectious in their wonderment over the magic of this time of year.

HD's holiday lingo has expanded to: nutcracker, snowman, baby Jesus, and Santa-Claus-is-coming-to-town.

What's up tonight?  Me merry crew will further our Christmas spirit by visiting Santa Claus.  Even better?  We're not doing it in the mall!!!  Our local fire station invites kids over each year to meet Santa and donate toys.  Way more fun, helpful, and Christmas-spirity than being charged $25 for a basic photo package.  Color the Cap'n stoked.

Ode to the Grand Admiral Madre (or, "My Mother is My Role Model")

Well, I certainly can't get all sentimental about my Daddy without touching on my Mama, can I?

My mother is one hell of a strong lady.  It takes an iron will to be the rock of a family that moved around as much as ours has. She has taught me how to be a better hostess, a decent cook, how to have good manners, and how to come up with a good zinger on the off-chance that someone's being horrid to you.  She taught me how important it is to stand up for yourself; that there's a big difference between being kind and being a pushover. 

Mama, I'm indebted to you for so many reasons:

• When I was maybe 5, you asked for my opinion before deciding your work schedule (working weekends = no biscuits for breakfast, working weekday afternoons = no Mama/snack time after kindergarten).  That made me feel so very important. 
• For dance lessons, letting me read aloud to you, letting me dress up in your old stuff, and all the other little ways you encouraged your budding actress years before I ever even stepped on a stage.
• You remember when we got locked out of our flat in Barbados?  We decided to stack up the neighbor's patio furniture and you let me climb up onto the balcony to get back in.  Funniest example in my mind of creative female problem solving.  And sheer enjoyment of celebratory Coca Cola.
• Always bopping around and singing goofy songs.  Because of you, I have zero shame about dancing and singing along to the muzak at the grocery store, in elevators, or department stores.  By myself.
• For pushing and working so hard for me to get to experience the things you didn't have in your own childhood.  Thank you for summer camp, swim lessons, band, and never making me clean my plate (other than the veggies). 
• Giving me A Tree Grows in Brooklyn at age 11, and telling me how important it was to you at that age.  You remember how battered my copy became?  That's a true testament to how well you spoke to my heart from behind the scenes, at a time when I was definitely a difficult kid.  To this day, I consider that book to be a love letter from a mother to a daughter.
• Thank you for all those random trips to the pet store to look at puppies, just because.  And thanks heaps for being a huge softie for a little red-head Chow Shepard mix with a neurological twitch.  And thanks most of all for making up a story that we were puppysitting so Daddy would have a whole week to fall in love with her so he would let us keep her. Your suggestion to Southernize her name from "Blue" to "Bonnie Blue" sure didn't hurt.
• You were so candid with your stories about how you were teased as a kid for being so skinny.  Thank you for constantly reminding me how it would suddenly becomes an enviable trait as an adult (you so nailed that one!).  And
• For raising me to just assume that I would go to college.  Not only that, but for constantly reminding me during the middle school and high school rough patches that college was going to be so much more fun, open-minded, freeing, and interesting than anything I had yet experienced (it totally was).
• When HD was born, I know you were so excited to see your new grandbaby.  But I know that first and foremost you wanted to make sure that I was ok.  Thanks for kicking it for hours in that waiting room, just in case I needed you.  Knowing you were nearby was a huge, huge help.

 I feel like more than any person in my life, you and I have managed to change, adapt, and grow the most together, always for the better.  I love that we get to be adults together now, and that you can be my friend as well as my parent.  Everyone should get to be friends with someone as honest, funny, and caring as you.

Ode to a Sandpaper Pappy (or, "My Father is Awesome")

There's nothing like being a parent to make you really reflect on your own childhood.  I don't have any illusions that I had the perfect childhood or the perfect family any more than I believe I was the perfect daughter.  But I have no doubts whatsoever that my parents always tried their hardest to do what they believed was the best for our family, and that they did (and continue to) love the bejeezus out of my brother and me. 

My father has always been one of the hardest working people I know.  Cripes, the man managed to get his masters while holding down a full time job and raising 2 kids while his wife also worked.  He had to travel a ton for work, but he still managed to be a very actively involved dad.

Daddy, thank you so much for the following (and lots more):

• When I was a teeny kid, and how you would lay down and let me crawl onto your belly and up to your propped knees so I could slide down your shins.  That was really fun.
• Making our backyard fort, complete with tire swing. 
• Always finding loose change for the ice cream truck.
• Taking me to the Young Writers' Conference at EWU.  That totally cultivated a hobby that I still enjoy today.
• Always making sure that no matter how much you traveled, that you could see at least one show of each of my various high school performances.
• Stacking me and the bro on your back when we would sled down the street.  Even though it was probably dangerous as all get out, it was sooooo much faster than going down by ourselves.
• Cultivating my love of horror movies and teaching me that being afraid is the biggest part of the fun (I'm referring specifically to watching The Shining at age 13, NOT The Exorcist at age 14 -- yikes)
• I owe you entirely for my taste in music.  You taught me to be open to new bands in addition to our old favorites, to love seeing bands live, and that pop music is an important part of American history.
• For being a cuddly daddy, who was never to busy to hold my hand or put an arm around me or give a scratchy mustache kiss.
• Every single early morning before you would fly out on a business trip, you would sneak into my room in the wee hours of morning to say you loved me before you left.  Me being a light sleeper, I'd wake about 85% pf the time, but I never minded.
• For teaching me the green eggs and ham theory -- that you have to try something before you can say that you don't like it.  Because of you, I love to eat.
• For teaching me the importance of knowing and remembering where you come from, and the idea of family as legacy, a linked chain with a shared history.
• Taking me to UCLA Scholar's Day, and subsequently convincing me to ditch the next day's scheduled USC visit to go to Disneyland instead.
• And for that Thanksgiving when I first came home after starting college, you invited me to enjoy a beer with you.  That completely stands out in my mind as the moment you first acknowledged me as an adult (even though I am so obviously still your little Weet Weet).  

You helped me to understand from a very early age what a father and a husband should be.  That I should have very high expectations of the man that I would marry.  Well, you were right and I do.  And I look at the amazing man that I chose to spend my life with, and the way he loves our daughter.  And weirdly, knowing that I have that makes me want to thank you, Daddy.