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

Oh the Tides, They Are A-Changin' (or, "Election Day")

Am I weary of TV campaign and proposition ads?  Yes.  Am I tired of having to read everyone's political opinion and not-so-friendly discourse on Facebook?  Yes.  Do I think my vote matters?  Of course (hell, I handled my research and ballot 2 weeks ago in a fit of excitement).  Do I believe that any one proposition, candidate, or political party can provide all the answers?  Bitch, please.  I'm not that naive.

For the past 3 years, I stopped voting for myself.  I stopped thinking about what was best for my current life situation, or solely based on my own ideals.  I do more research on each candidate and ballot measure than I did for the first 9 years I was able to vote.  For the past 3 years on into the rest of my life, I vote for my children.  I vote for my daughter's right to handle her own body. I vote for my kids' civil liberties, and those of their future friends and peers.  I vote for their public education and their environment and over economic and foreign issues they will inherit long after you or I see any true progress on them.

I feel my son twitching and cartwheeling around in my gut, and I pray that I do my part to give him the best possible world to live in.  I pray that all of these kids will one day be proud of what their parents and teachers and elders have done before them.  We may have been here first, but they are going to be the ones taking care of us someday.  Don't screw it up for them.

Impending Second Mate (or," Thoughts on a Second Pregnancy")

Dear Readers,

My apologies for the extreme lack of summer postings.  Important things such as vacations and Breaking Bad viewing really got in the way of nighttime writing.  That, and the whole exhaustion of my first trimester of my second pregnancy.  That's right -- we're expecting a son around mid-January and HD already calls him George Harrison (no, we're not going to actually name him that).  Which means my belly?  May contain a genius Hindu rhythm guitarist.  Anyway, that about catches you up to speed!  Here are some of the thoughts that have been running around in my head about this for the past few months.

• I suppose it's because I know what to expect this time around, but I feel way more pregnant at a way earlier point this time around.  When I was only 18 weeks in (that's 4.5 months for those in a non-preggo mindset) and I was already all, "Ugh, my hips...bleh, I can't sleep...wah wah wah."  Extra whiny, which you know Hubs loves.

• Everything folks say about how you are way less uptight with a second child?  Well, it's true and it starts very early on.  I'm so much more laid back with this pregnancy.  Lifting a 27 pound child without a second thought, chowing on smoked salmon and bleu cheese dressing despite dire warnings from every pregnancy website, etc.  Sort of relieved to not be so stressed about doing everything perfectly by the book this time around.

• Not only did I apparently stain all my previous tops/dresses and not realize it til now, but I'm completely over maternity clothes very early on.  Too expensive, and/or too freaking dowdy.  I look and feel much better in regular clothes.  I'm just buying a size or two up and working it (note -- this only works with tops and dresses).  Only cheap brands or sale clothing need apply, the looser and longer the cut, the better.  I have the feeling I'll appreciate this decision more post pregnancy when I'm attempting to work off the leftover chunkiness.

• Weirdly gravitated towards purple all summer with random stuff we needed to buy.  Lilac and plum new bedding for HD's new big girl bedroom.  Bought a new bathing suit for myself in "brilliant purple."  Violet tennis dress for HD.  Grape colored tennis shoes are now in her closet.  According to my mother (a former psych nurse), schizophrenics are drawn to purple.  Not sure what that indicates about this little baby of mine, but I prefer thinking that George Harrison just thinks lots of royal thoughts.

• Are we doing a maternity photo shoot this time around?  I counter that question with another -- are you crazy?  I fall in the camp of preggos who don't love having their photo taken.  It doesn't matter how I actually look to the outside world, I feel the size of a mack truck.  Pear-shaped body, cellulite, and bags under my eyes were already my biggest body insecurities, but they're magnetized 18-fold by pregnancy.  I don't care to commemorate them for all time, even if peasant dresses and flower crowns would make me feel prettier.  Also?  This be the reason that no photos accompany this blog post.

• Babymoons?  A stupid word to be sure, but an absolute necessity.  It is so very important to spend a tiny weekend away with your spouse and just enjoy your coupledom before a baby comes. Hubs and I always regretted that we didn't do it when we were expecting HD.  We were smack-dab in the middle of buying a house (closed on the house and moved in my 6th month of pregnancy), so we talked ourselves out of it due to money.  The thing is?  Babymoons don't have to be expensive at all.  Hubs and I just spent a single night in a hotel within 3 hours from our home.  But you could do a day trip together, hit a local spa, go on a hike with a picnic. What matters is that you take the time to get away from your daily routine and go somewhere so you can interact with each other.  Hubs and I talk all the time, but it was really nice to have an evening of conversation that didn't consist of topics such as daycare payments, is HD wearing sunscreen, what's on the grocery list, blahblahblah.  Biggest lesson parents soon forget?  What's good for your marriage is ultimately VERY good for your kids.

• Finally, this was my reaction when I realized that I would be home on maternity leave in front of a TV during the entirety of March Madness.

I'll check in sooner next time with actual goings on, landlubbers.

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.

Conch Shells and Sea Chanties (or, "How HD at 22 Months is Like DP Mama at 13 Years")

Firstly, witness the cute that is my child when she purposely smiles for the camera:

Secondly, be thankful for that extremely rare footage.  We have a hard enough time just getting her to be still enough for us to capture candid stuffs she's doing, never mind a full-blown pose...

Lately, HD has become a little music obsessed.  I am very proud to say that she gets this from my side of the family, as my father, brother, and I are all a bit snobbish and faux scholarly when it comes to music, a la High Fidelity.  

So imagine my excitement the past month or so when all of a sudden, HD wants involvement in all sorts of musical processes.  She's always loved being sung to, and she'll more or less stop in her tracks to pay attention if she ever hears music on TV -- especially, inexplicably, for the HIMYM theme song.  But now?  She's constantly singing (she's got the entire first verse to A Pirate Looks at Forty down pat, I kid you not), she wants to play her xylophone and pots-and-pans drums constantly, and she can identify most instruments when she sees them (thanks to Animal Orchestra!).  I'm on the brink of busting out my old clarinet just to give her a thrill.

I was at Target last weekend, and I picked up a pair of children's headphones for HD.  We're heading on a cross-country flight later this summer, so I picked up a pair thinking we could use them for (last chance, emergency only) cartoon-viewing on Hubs's iPad.  HD was instantly drawn to her pink present, and was astounded when she realized that these magical things were basically her own private musical experience.  And she's been enamored ever since.

  

I've been trying to expose HD to all sorts of tunes.  My view?  She hears enough of I'm a Little Teapot at daycare.  I'm there to help guide her into understanding how pop music and the history of the world go hand in hand.  Do we love the Yo Gabba Gabba soundtrack?  Hell yes.  But it's important that kids know who Elvis is, and the glory of Otis Redding, and Mahalia Jackson, and Led Zeppelin, and Jimmy Reed, and Steve Earle, and Dolly Parton, and Raphael Saadiq, and Jenny Lewis, and the Cure (don't tell Hubs!) and...  Anyway.  Suffice it to say that HD's new fave pastime is to put on headphones, crawl into my lap, and make requests while Mama plays DJ on the iPod.   

Behold, my bebe's first time experiencing her own private concert on headphones.  I am so proud.

The Young Matey Hears the Call o' the Sea (or, "Our Quintessential Suburban Weekend")

This past weekend was the best possible mix of getting boring junk done and having fun.

Getting junk done equated to Target-mania to stock up on supplies and clearance clothes for our little bean pole.  Kid's 19 months old and almost too tall for 2 year old's clothes.  Grocery shopping, gym time, laundry.   And the dreaded little activity of digging through HD's plethora of toys/books/stuffed animals and weeding out the trash and stuff that's too babyish for her.

Yup, that's me wailing in the background.  I know grandparents like to spoil, but this is RIDICK!  There's more junk outside the shot, just waiting to impress upon our child that stuff equals love.

Now on to the funs!  Pinterest is a wonderful thing, no?  Well, not only has it helped me tag lots of pretties that I will never afford or muster the effort to make, but it also actually presents the occasional marvelous idea.  The "I Could Actually Do That" idea.   That particularly magical pin lead me to create a year's worth of pre-planned dates for Hubs as a Christmas gift.  Last Saturday, we did our first one, at home wine tasting.  We hit BevMo and took advantage of the 33% off sale, purchasing 3 wines that are not at all like what we usually drink.  After HD was asleep, we busted them out and did the whole she-bang, rating each wine on color, scent, and palate.  We spent a good hour discussing the wines, laughing, and using pretentious language about tannins.  First date was a roaring success!  I'll be sure to post about each month's date as they occur.  Conjugal details aside, naturally.

Hubs critiquing the Argentinan Chardonnay's not-buttery-enough color.

Boo-zay!

Sunday was a blast for our whole fam.  We headed up to our beloved San Francisco to hit up Golden Gate Park.  It was cold and windy, but Lord knows that doesn't stop a toddler from enjoying a park.  Kid had the time of her life at the huge Children's Playground, which has a tons of slides, those little bucket seats that spin around, sand pits, and cool statues of ocean stuff for climbing.  But our HD was completely enamored with the carousel.  So much so that she begged for a second ride and has not stopped talking about it in the days after.  She even reenacts the slides and carousel with her baby doll and stuffed Cookie Monster.

On her actual first ride.  HD looked so blase during the ride that we didn't realize she actually loved it until it was through and we had to vacate (horror!!).

That's right -- we're riding a pig with a jaunty neck kerchief.  I call him Toots.

The best part of the whole day is actually the part where we didn't take any photos.  Inspired by the wave and sea creature statues at the playground, HD insisted upon visiting the ocean.  Seriously, "Ocean?  Ocean?  Oooooocean?" was the catch phrase of the day, even in the midst of fun park stuffs.  And since the park is pretty much right there, we drove on over after we were done playing.  We got out and braved the blowing sand and walked our little bug-lette down to the Pacific.  I stood with my little family in the freezing wind, eyes squinting against the sun on the water, and knew that moment was so much better than any photo of it could ever be.

This Annum Needs to be Keelhauled (or, "Finally, the End of 2011")

The past few years have been a complete whirlwind.  Witness the following:

• 2008 -- The year Hubs (who was not-yet-Hubs back then) and I each moved from LA to San Francisco and started new career paths.  We also got engaged and started making a (teeny-tiny rented) home together.
• 2009 -- We married, we traveled, and we decided to start a family.  We also started the super-duper-amazing-I-mean-no-it-sucks-shoot-me-now process of house hunting.
• 2010 -- On New Years Day, we placed an offer on a beautiful Victorian house (20 miles south of our old apartment).  It was accepted, and we moved from the city to the 'burbs to become real mortgage-paying homeowners.  Hubs did a ton of travel for work; I got a promotion.  And of course, we became parents to the awesomest kid on the planet.  It was sort of a monster year for being thrust face first into adulthood.

So on New Years 2011, Hubs and I decided that we had had enough change to last us for awhile.  We said that our resolution was that 2011 would be the calmest year ever.  Keep it nice and easy, just work on our house, do our jobs as well as always, and have fun being parents and learning about our new town.  Apparently, God thought that was pretty funny.  And life continued to happen, you know, as it does.  

This year has had plenty of good, and definitely some bad.  It sure as hell threw a lot more change our way than we anticipated.    Another unexpected promotion, a new job for Hubs (so grateful and amazed that I can say both of those things in this economy).  Both of our brothers got married, bringing two awesome ladies into our family.  Our teeny gurgley baby became a walking, talking, hilarious drama queen.  We had a health scare that rocked our little family, and we managed to come out ok on the other side.  It's all been a lot more stress than we counted on.  But it was never, ever more than we could handle.  Every bit of it has made us stronger as a family.  And despite any anxieties we faced, we have a pretty good life.

With that, I can safely say that we have no resolutions for 2012.  Just goals and hopes.  To do everything we can to stay healthy, to strive for kindness, to be a good example for the kid, and to have fun.  Oh, and to blog more :)

Hope 2011 taught you all as much as it taught us.  Here's to a bright, shiny, unblemished new year!  Bring it, 2012!  

(And now, for a completely random video)

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.