Overly Ambitious Goal for 2012

I had decided at the beginning of this year to read more.  After having a child, the opportunities to get lost in a book for hours (or even 30 minutes) become very rare.  I believe I've read less than 10 books, fully, within the 4 yrs of Adalee's life. I have a terrible habit of starting 5 books at once, and whichever book can hold my attention the longest is the one that I finish.  The other 4, half-read books get tossed to the side and forgotten.  I decided to try my hardest not to do that this year.  Start one; finish one. 

The first book I started was Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Aside from the very far fetched plot (a young boy wandering all over New York,  going into strangers homes to find clues that he believes his dead father left behind for him...)  I really, really enjoyed it.  I finished it in less than 4 days, which was... invigorating.  I hadn't finished a book in less than a week in years.  It felt so gooood.  I started having all kinds of crazy thoughts.  At this rate, I could read 2 books/wk.  And, technically, that would come out to 8 books/month... 96 in a year!  I am going to read 96 books in 2012! 

Hence, my overly ambitious goal for 2012 ;)

I have since settled down.  My momentary high from finishing one book has waned a bit.  The high has died down to what I would describe now as a mere buzz, which still feels excellent.  I still want to commit to reading on a regular (preferably daily) basis. 

Since reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, I have finished 2 more books.  And I am half way through 3 more (yes, I fell back into my habit of juggling multiple books, but instead of choosing 1 and dumping the rest I am committed to finishing them all)

So, my new goal is to read 2 books/month, as a minimum.  24 per year compared to 96 is pretty sad, but at least it's realistic. And, it's much better than the previous quota of 2 per year.  If I can finish the 3 I am half way through before April begins, I will still be on track.

2012 Book List:

1.  Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close- finished

2. Angela's Ashes- finished

Excellent memoir of a young boy growing up poor in Ireland

3.  The Hunger Games- finished

Yes, I finally caved and began this teen series.  I was very hesitant, due to the popularity of the Twilight series and how disappointed I was in those books.  This is much different.  Still, it is very obviously written for young teens, but the plot is much more appealing than that awful, vampire, love triangle story line of Twilight.

4.  Mockingjay- currently reading- 2nd book of Hunger Games series 

Update:  Finished

5. Attaching in Adoption- currently reading

6.  Jane Eyre-  currently reading  (I read in high school and wanted to relive it)

Update:

Bad news:  I began 2 new books before finishing #5 and #6

Good news:  I FINISHED those 2 new books :)

7.  Catching Fire (3rd in Hunger Games) - finished

8.  The Lost Boy - finished

by Dave Pelzer (same author as A Child Called "It")

A Child Called "It" chronicles Dave's childhood as an abused child,

being raised by a mentally unstable and alcoholic mother...

The Lost Boy is his experience going through the foster care system

after escaping his mother's abuse.

Exciting News

Dan and I had been discussing adoption for a few years now (basically, since Adalee was born 4 yrs ago) With all the craziness of Papa's illness/death, the holidays and trying to figure out Adalee's neurological issues, it was too difficult to find the time to write about that subject.

Last summer we started to seriously research and discuss our options.  I always felt a tug on my heart, leading to the foster/adoption route, but Dan had decided that he would be more comfortable with a domestic infant adoption...so we started down that road.  The more and more we discussed and discovered information on this avenue of adoption, the more tension and disagreements we faced.  It got to the point where we just called it quits on the whole thing.  We decided to pray individually and not bring it up, until we felt certain of something.  I was certain where I stood, but I would never push Dan into something he wasn't sure about.  So, I just waited. 

It was so heart breaking, seeing as this has been something I have wanted my whole life, and especially in the last 4 yrs, knowing this was our only option of growing our family.  I went to a church women's retreat in October, hoping to just take my mind off things and have a great time.  About 10 minutes after being there I unloaded all my emotions onto the women I was rooming with. Ha!  It just spewed out.  I had no control.  But they were very kind, and it felt good to get it off my chest.

Literally, less than 2 weeks after that retreat Dan came to me and said "Now, I don't want you to freak out or anything but....I just wanted you to know that I've really been feeling God leading us towards the foster/adoption route.  I'm not absolutely sure, but I think that's what he's telling me"
As time passed, Dan felt more certain of that idea.  Discussing the infant adoption brought so much tension and anxiety, but with every discussion we had about adopting through the state we both felt such certainty and peace.

We attended the informational meeting and then tried to sign up for the 30 hour required training, but the Dec/Jan. classes were full. 

So we signed up for the Feb/Mar classes.  I wanted so badly to tell people our decision, but I was worried about one thing;  my health.  Although I am capable of raising my daughter and caring for my household, my doctors do not want me working full-time.  I feared that my health issues would affect our application being accepted.  I mean, if my doctors do not feel that I'm capable enough to work, why should someone else find me capable enough to handle the demands of multiple children?  That fear haunted me. 

 I decided not to officially announce anything until I was assured that my health would not be an issue.

Today the case worker called me and said that she received the health forms that my cardiologist filled out and also the forms that I had filled out. She shared them with her supervisor.  Neither she nor the supervisor, found anything in them that would cause our application to not be accepted, and we are welcome to start the training. Such great news!  And on my Papa's birthday, too :)

So, the news is that we are officially starting the adoption process.  Our first class is this Saturday.

We will complete our 30 hour training on March 8th

Then begin the massive amounts of paper work. 

After the paper work is completed we will start the home study. 

After the home study we wait for a match.

It's going to be a long process, but we are ecstatic to finally begin, and see what God has in store for us.

Remembering Pa

I feel like my last post was extremely depressing.  It felt good to write out my sad thoughts, but now I need to share some good memories of my Papa.

Pa was always very quiet.  A man of very few words.  I never experienced what would constitute as a "conversation" with him, until I was in my 20s.  But I do have fond, quiet memories of him .

Whenever we spent the night at Pa and Gram's, my cousins and I would sleep in the living room.  Pa would sit in his recliner and watch All in the Family 'til all hours.  I have many memories of falling asleep to the sound of Archie Bunker.  That show always reminds me of Papa

I have no memories of Pa ever raising his voice to us, but because of his silence we were all a little scared of him.  During these sleepovers, Pa would stay up late watching t.v. in the kitchen (or in the living room recliner)  The times he was in the kitchen we would dare each other to go in there.  It started off with "I dare you to crawl down the hallway and look into the kitchen"  Then we took it up a notch to "crawl down the hallway, and into the kitchen" ...  "crawl down the hallway, into the kitchen and go into the pantry and do not let him see you"

It was always terrifying.  We, for some reason, expected him to catch us and scream "What the hell are you kids doing?!"  He never did.  He would pretend he didn't see us and I'm sure he got a good laugh at how ridiculous we were being, crawling sneakily around the kitchen.

One night we got really bold, and I'm not sure who it was that thought of it, but it was an open dare, to anyone who felt they were brave enough.  "I dare you to crawl down the hall, across the kitchen floor, open up the cereal cabinet, and then make yourself a bowl of cereal.  Don't say a word to Pa.  Just sit next to him and start eating a bowl of cereal... and see what he does"  We thought it was the craziest dare we had ever heard.  Pa would flip out if we went in there at 2 am and started making a mess in the kitchen!  We were sure of it.

My cousin Tim took up the challenge and we watched, with our breaths held, as he crawled down that hall...to his death.  We were so disappointed when, after a long while, there was no screaming.  There was no Tim, running in tears from the kitchen, like we had imagined.  He simply came back after a while, shrugged and said "He didn't mind"  But did you eat the cereal?!  Did he say anything?  "Yeah, I had cereal.  He just said 'How are you doing?' "

It was a thrilling night.  And slightly disappointing.  But now we knew that we were allowed to eat cereal at 2 am, and that's always a good thing.

Speaking of cereal, another great thing about Pa was that he remembered the little things.  He always remembered that my favorite cereal was Banana Nut Crunch and whenever we would visit the cereal cabinet happened to be fully stocked.  Even after they divorced, and Pa lived separately  he would buy specific things that he knew we liked.  And it was never because we told him, it was always out of observation.  And whenever I would say "Oh my goodness, you have these!  They're my favorite"  He would say "I know.  Eat 'em"

But the number 1 thing I remember about my grandfather was his sense of humor.  When I was finally an adult and started having actual conversations with him, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my grandfather was hilarious.

Pa was the funniest guy I've ever known.  Anyone that ever met him would agree he was extremely witty.  He was not the in-your-face, boisterous, loud guy.   

He had a very dry, sarcastic and quick wit. 

Even while dying, he mustered up some humor. My mom told me that when he told her he had cancer (in December)  he asked "So, you think God could use a brick layer?"

And my mom got very emotional and told him, "Yes, he can.  In fact, he's building a mansion up there for all of us and he definitely needs more brick layers.  You gotta go build that mansion for us, daddy." 

Without missing a beat, he responded, "Well, shit, Terri.  The world's going to end in 2012..there's no way I can build a damn mansion in time"

I am choosing to remember Pa the way he would want me to remember him.

Quiet   Observant  Thoughtful  ...and above all...  Hilarious

The Longest Week

It has been such a long week.  So many things pressing heavily on my heart and mind.

This year has already been so eventful and overwhelming, and it isn't even February.  2012 decided to follow suit with the start of 2011 and bring heartache.  Literally the same week (almost to the day) that Branson passed away last year, my Papa passed away this year.  Such a different experience. 

I almost felt guilty crying over my Papa (a man who left the legacy of 5 daughters, 15 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild) when I knew that another family was grieving the 1 year anniversary of losing their young son/brother.  I know of so many other grieving families and it felt selfish to be upset about an old man dying.

You can always find something more or less tragic than what you are experiencing, but it doesn't make your sadness any less valid.  I had every right to grieve.  And once I had that revelation, I grieved.  Heavily.

Papa's life was marked by such tragedy:

- His sister died when she was 4 yrs old. 

- His mother died of cancer when he was 13.  His mother's death deeply scarred him.  Throughout my 27yrs of life, he told me multiple times  "I haven't cried since mom died.  I've tried.  I just can't" 

- His older brother died suddenly in an accident 

- His father suddenly died on Christmas Eve of a heart attack

- His sister Connie died suddenly of heart complications in 1995

- And then his last living sister, Dolly, died 2 yrs ago from cancer.

- After Dolly died, Pa's oldest brother (the only living sibling left) discovered he had cancer

Pa struggled with alcoholism and depression.  He was what some may call "mean"

Last year Pa found out he had cancer.  He refused treatment and he didn't tell anyone until it had spread to his liver and kidney.  The doctor told him he probably wouldn't make it 'til Christmas. 
2 weeks before Christmas he told his daughters.

Pa was a grumpy and stubborn man.  He was very complicated and very difficult to live with, which is why after 47 yrs of marriage my grandmother filed for divorce.  She loved him with all of her heart and still loves him, but it was too difficult, and he was too stubborn to compromise or meet her needs. 

I don't blame her. 

I don't blame him.

Seeing how he treated her towards the end of their marriage, I can't blame her. 

Looking at what life dealt him, I can't blame him.  I'm not saying the way he chose to live his life was justified.  But who am I to say that I could be any stronger given the circumstances?  Who am I to say that I knew his heart and his mind, and knew how great or small of an effort he was really giving, in spite of wanting to just give up? 

There are some lives that inspire you to be a better person, because they were such kind, loving, positive people and you see the impact their way of living had on others.  There are others that inspire you to be a better person, because you see the impact of not being kind, loving and positive.  Whether it was Papa's choosing or just a natural result of the chaos and sadness in his mind, I know he was miserable for much of his life. 

Underneath those broken pieces, there was goodness still there and a kind heart.  And I did see beautiful glimpses of that in his life.

I remember he told me once  "There's a man down the street that no one talks to.  They hate him.  They tried to kick him out of the neighborhood...he's on the sex offender registry.  I talk to him.  He's a good guy.  I don't know what's wrong with people.  The man did something thirty something years ago and is still paying for it" 

That statement kind of sums up Pa in my mind.  He related to people who had failed miserably in life and felt like the world just threw them out.  He was empathetic and kind to those people. 

He tried.

He loved my grandmother the only way his broken heart knew how to love.

Although they hadn't spoken since the divorce, my grandma came to him the night he died.  He was on morphine and in and out of consciousness, but I believe he knew she was there.  She sat with him and held his hand, and prayed over him until he was gone. 

He was surrounded by his 5 daughters and the only woman he ever loved when he passed on from this world.  Not many people get warning before death and get to be with those they love most.  He did and that brings me some comfort.

Pa also longed so badly to be with his mother; to see the family that was taken from him long before he was ready.  That is what gives me peace about his death.  He is finally reunited with his mother. The grieving little boy, who never had a chance to heal on this earth, is being healed in eternity.

I love you, Pa.

Everyone Has An Answer

Adalee has been suffering from migraines for 2 yrs now.  If you want the entire story of her migraines and the different routes we have taken you can read them (in detail) at the bottom of this post.  


During these 2 yrs of researching and diet change and frustration I discovered something: 
Everyone has an answer.

Well, they sure think they do.

And let me just preface my rant by saying that I know that most people come from a sincere place of love and a desire to help you "figure it out". I know

My mother in law really wanted Adalee to see a chiropractor, because she insisted that a misalignment in her neck or misshapen skull was the cause.  Turns out that the neurologist agrees with what I suspected, that these types of migraines would not benefit from chiropractic care.  He also completely disagrees with children under the age of 5  having their, still very weak and loose, joints/tendons manipulated.  I am not opposed to her seeing a chiropractor when she is older, because I know of many adults who have benefited from it.  As of right now it's not the route we are going to take. 

My sister insisted that I get an MRI, because what if, God forbid, it's a brain tumor.  We had the MRI and it was completely normal.  In fact, the neurologist said that if he had seen her prior to the MRI he would not have even ordered one.

People have insisted that it's   sinuses!   allergies!   stress!   food! (even after we did the diet they insisted)  the list goes on...and on...and on.  Where do people get the audacity to think that their expertise not only surpasses yours, but also that of the specialists you have seen?  It is quite arrogant.

To those people that may read this and feel that I'm talking about you,  let me just say, if you suggested something to me I am not talking about you.  I love knowledge and hearing other's opinions, and I am grateful for the different suggestions that have been given to us.


BUT...it is beyond irritating when you tell someone the route you are choosing to take in terms of health care for your child, and you tell them exactly why you feel that way, and you also tell them the doctors that support that decision... and they still feel that they somehow have the right and expertise to tell you what you really should do instead.

OR when someone suggests something. And you explain why you believe that is not the cause or solution, and a month later they suggest it again...and again...and every time you see them.  Thank you?    

It is flat out disrespectful. I'm sorry, but there is no other word for it. It is not helpful. Nor supportive. Nor loving.   It sends the message "I heard what you said, but I really don't think you know what you're talking about, so listen to me again"  So, yes, if you have done this I am referring to you.

And I know that this is very cowardly of me; to blog about this and not directly say it to those who have offended me. But it's a first step.  If I can collect my thoughts in writing it helps me later in confrontation.  I am a writer, not a speaker.  It's hard for me to collect my emotions and thoughts in the moment and say what I want to say.  I need to breathe, think and regroup, so that I don't lash out on people. 

I realize that there are so many different approaches to health/medical care and people have such strong opinions.  And it took me a very long time (it took having a child of my own) to realize that there's not one right way of doing things.  God may lead some families the natural route and some to modern science and we can not judge each other's choices. 

So, please, if you are a parent and are reading this, do not assume that your way is the only way.  We all know the feeling of being judged for our parenting choices and we know how unfair and hurtful it is, so why do we turn around and do it to others?  If you want to help a parent struggling with trying to find a medical solution, do not give advice out of arrogance and assumption. 

Listen to them.  Trust what they tell you.  Pray for them

For those who have done that for me, I am so so grateful.  It means the world.  Thaaaank you





Adalee's Migraine Timeline:

 Adalee has had terrible migraines for 2 years now. They only happen once a month, but when they do they are so severe that she vomits repeatedly, and is unable to walk or even hold her head up to take a drink of water. Her face gets super pale and her eyes are so sunken in and dark that she literally looks like death. The migraine will last anywhere from 24 hrs to 3 days. And then her body is so depleted of energy from the migraine that she has is weak for a few days after the migraine subsides.

It took us an entire year before we discovered that it was migraines. Because when a 2 yr old vomits and acts sick, you just assume she caught a bug. When we finally noticed that there was a pattern, and she was able to tell us it was her head, we had her tested for food allergies. We also had extensive blood work done.  Blood tests came back clear.  Food allergy tests showed a very mild sensitivity to dairy, beef, gluten and eggs. Even though it was so mild that she shouldn't even have a reaction, we decided to take her off of everything, case that was the reason for the migraines.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to feed a 3 yr old no dairy, eggs or gluten?

So we did that for 1 yr. No changes. Well, there was a slight decrease in the intensity in migraines, but I believe that was because of the fact that we actually knew they were migraines finally, and we were treating them as such (i.e. ib profen, placing her in a dark quiet room, wearing sunglasses while outside, etc...)

Right before her 4th birthday we took her off the crazy diet. Also during this time, we had been doing as much research as we could on migraines and we stumbled across "Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome"
I was so thrilled when I read about it, because it sound very much like what was happening with her. We brought it to her pediatrician's attention and she agreed that Adalee very likely could have that.

Well, just assuming that maybe she has this cyclic vomiting thing that I (not the pediatrician) discovered and just treating it as such without really knowing, was not satisfactory for me. So I went to another pediatrician for a second opinion and he ordered the brain MRI (the 5 min. mini MRI, so she wouldn't have to be still for the whole 45 min)

Thank God that came back clear! I was a complete mess for the 2 days while waiting for the results.

We were then referred to a neurologist to see if he wanted to order any further testing.

We saw him 2 days ago and he felt that although her migraines last longer than the norm in children her age, he did not find it so abnormal that he wanted further testing. He suggested we do preventative treatment of Magnesium and Butter bur (all natural, which I love) and also prescribed a medication for abortive treatment. We felt that he really listened to us and knows what he's talking about. And although the thought of giving my 4 yr old medication does not thrill me in the least, I trust that he knows better than I do, and if it can help my daughter we might as well give it a go.

Here's to 2012 and finding a solution for my sweet girl!

Didju do that?! Yes. Yes, I did.

It has been almost a year since I began crocheting.  Sadly, none of my creations have been worthy enough to post.  There are so many crafty people in this world, with crafty little blogs showcasing their talents.  I don't think I will ever be one of those people.  But, every now and then, I hope to create a winner that I can share and not be ashamed of.  Little masterpieces that will evoke questions such as, "Didju do that?!" 

I decided to try my hand at Amigurumi - Japanese word that literally means "crocheted stuffed toy"

They are so freakin cute, and seeing as I have a 4 yr old little girl that loves soft cute things, I decided to give it a go.

She initially wanted me to make an ugly looking airplane, which didn't really even look like a plane, even when crocheted by professionals. I am not about to put in that much time, effort and yarn to make a toy that looks ridiculous. I vetoed that choice and had her choose between the 3 that looked like real toys:  Bunny, Giraffe or Elephant.  She agreed on the giraffe.


So with no further adieu....

He is pretty darn cute, I must say.  I need to work on sewing the pieces together a bit, because I kind of jacked up the neck seam....

...but Adalee didn't notice.  She named him Carlon - her favorite girl's name is Carla, so all boys are "Carlon"

Ta Da!!

Love you, Dad

I have always been a daddy's girl.  One of my favorite movies is Father of the Bride and I will cry at just about anything having to do with daddy/daughter relationships. 

My father is not perfect, by any means.  And our relationship has been very, very rocky at times (during the divorce I wrote him a 4 page poem, entitled "Shit", which basically just called him shit in many different ways.  Yep, rocky)

So, don't worry, all you dads out there with teenage daughters that hate you.  It can get better!

I have hundreds of stories about my Dad and it's really hard to choose my favorites, but I tried to narrow it down.  In honor of Father's day -and my dad- here are a few things my father taught me throughout my 26 years. 

(By the way, I totally jipped my mom on my mother's day blog! I'm totally going to do a redo and give her the credit she deserves. I love love love her and I'm sorry I only talked about being hung over and throwing plates...that would be me, hungover and throwing plates, not her)



1.  There is no wrong time to take a nap. 

My father is a huge napper.  If I'm not feeling well, or just in a bad mood his suggestion is always "just take a nap"  He can nap 2 hours after waking...and again at noon... and again at 5 pm.  Really, there is no limit to the amount of naps you can take in a 24 hour period.  He takes his sleep very seriously.

When we were young, my siblings and I would always be very quiet when dad was napping or he'd yell at us in a half-asleep, crazy daze.   He was never violent, he would just yell and threaten, and give us "crazy eyes".  One of my favorite (and funniest/most traumatic) memories of this occured on my 8th birthday...

I had a slumber party with about 7 of my closest friends.  We all slept on the living room floor.  The morning after the sleepover we were all waking up and giggling quietly when someone suggested that we scream as loud as we could to wake  the last girl who was still asleep.  Seven, high pitched, 8 yr old girls huddled together and on the count of three...1...2...3....screamed "WAaaaaKE Uuuup, Jeeesicaaaaa!!!!"  All of a sudden my parent's door bursts open and my dad is standing there in his boxers, ( I want to say he was holding a belt, but I can't quite remember if it was that dramatic- it felt like it, though)  like a mad man, screaming "If I hear one more word, EVERY SINGLE ONE of you is getting spanked!!!"  In his half asleep/half awake mind I'm sure he had forgotten that it was my birthday party and probably assumed it was just me and my brothers and sister out there yelling.

My mother hurried to the rescue and quickly got my dad back into the bedroom, then ran out to console the 8 hysterical girls crying in the living.  Happy Birthday To Me. 


2.  Never hesitate to invite strangers to church

One Sunday morning, when I was about eh...7?, we were getting into the car to go to church when we saw a man attack a woman and take off with her purse.  We lived on the south side of Chicago, so this was not an unusual occurance, but I had never seen it live.  We were told to get in the car, my mom called the police, and my dad took off down the street to get the theif.  I was kind of scared for my dad.

I remember having so much pride for my father when I saw him walking back to the house with this criminal.  This is the first memory I have of me thinking my dad was, literally, a hero.  By the time they made it back to the house the cops had arrived and were ready to take the guy in.  My dad begged them to let it slide and asked if he could take the man to church with us instead.  My family laughs about this now because, although it was a very kind suggestion, it was probably not the smartest thing to do...having a criminal ride in the back seat with your children.  The cops declined his request.


3.  I am beautiful just the way I am

I remember being about 10 yrs old and feeling ugly.  Very ugly.  It's weird to look back now and think that a 10 year old could feel that way, but I did.  Between the ages of 8-12 it is so awkward for girls.  The tween years were harder than the teen ones.  You start to notice and compare yourself to others.  You're not old enough for makup, so the contrast between the "pretty girls" and the "ugly ones" is very easy to see. I felt like an ugly one.

I broke down crying to my dad one night, confessing that I felt ugly.  I know that must have broken his heart.  He responded with the usual "You are beautiful to me...it maters what's on the inside...blah blah blah...."  When he saw that none of that cliched jibberish consoled me he asked what exactly I thought was ugly about me.  I remember this conversation word for word.  I told him "my nose is big, my eyebrows are bushy, my teeth are big and crooked, my hair is curly and frizzy,  and I have a mole on my face"  Right away he came back at me with "Sarah Jessica Parker has a large nose, big teeth and curly and she's gorgeous!  Boys love her.  Cindy Crawford has a mole on her face and it's what makes her different from the other models.  And she has full eyebrows too!  The girl from Father of the Bride has very full eyebrows and you love her.  All of those things are beautiful in their own way" 

Now, I must admit, at the time I thought his response was horrible.  Basically, he confirmed that I did, in fact,  have all of those ugly features.  I remember wanting him so badly to laugh and say "Becky, you're crazy! Your nose is not big at all.  Your teeth are not crooked.    Your hair is not frizzy.  I'll tell mom to tweeze your eyebrows.  I'll look into how much mole removal will be"  That's what I hoped his response would be. 

Looking back years later though, I'm so happy he didn't say that to me.  I love that he didn't just say that I was something I was not to make me feel pretty in the moment.  He saw me exactly the way I was (big nose and all) and still thought I was beautiful, and encouraged me to accept every feauture I had as beauty.


4.  Guns are nothing to joke around about.

Here's another fun, birthday story.  On my 16th birthday my dad took me down to the DMV to get my license.  At the time we lived in Memphis, Tennessee.  Anyone who has lived in Memphis knows that the DMV is equivalent to hell.  You usually have to wait 2-3 hours no matter what you go in for and the people who work there hate their jobs and are not helpful in the least. 

Anyone who knows my dad, knows that he is not very patient. 

DMV + Dad is a terrible combination.

About 20 minutes after we took our number and finally found a seat in the crammed waiting area, my dad got up "to see what's going on".  They hadn't called a new number since we sat down and he was not happy about it.  He came back frustrated and decided to get some fresh air outside to calm down.  This whole  sit-see what's going on-get frustrated-take a breather outside  went on for about another hour until he couldn't take it anymore.  Finally, he says to me "This is ridiculous.  They have 6 people working up there and not one of them is doing a damn thing"  And then he took off to...see what's going on...again.  I watched his hands wave around as he got into a heated exchange with the woman at the front desk.  It was only about a minute and then I saw him abrubtly storm out of the building and go to his car.  I assumed he just needed a breather.  The woman at the front looked horrified and I saw her making some calls and talking to the other workers.

10 minutes later I see the police pull up and now the entire wait area was whispering about some crazy man who has a gun.  I instantly knew who they were talking about.  I turned to the man next to me and asked "What's going on?"  He said that a man had threatened the woman at the front desk with a gun.  I looked outside and saw the cops talking to my dad and then escorting him inside.  I reassured the guy next to me that he did not have a gun, "That's my dad..he's never owned a gun in his life...yada yada..."

Apparently, when my father went up to the woman at the desk he ranted about how long he had been waiting and how slow the workers were.  His closing lines to her were "What does it take to get anyone to do their job around here?!  A gun?"  And then he stormed off and started rifling through his car.  Which, perhaps, gave her the impression that he was getting a gun.

I actually wasn't that embarassed.  It was too funny.  Had my father actually owned a gun and threatened her with it, it would not be funny.  My father had never even shot a gun before, so the thought of everyone thinking he was going to go on some crazy, shooting rampage was hilarious to me.

They searched him for a gun and made him apologize to the workers, which took longer than it should have because he refused to apologize.  Finally, he caved and made ammends.

 I did, eventually that day, get my license.  Happy happy birthday.


5.  Sometimes it's OK to lie to your children

Just recently I started going over some childhood memories in my mind.  I was thinking about some of the stories my dad would tell me, to help me deal with issues I was having.  He would always relate to what I was saying in some way and then tell me about a similar situation he's dealt with.

I started to remember some of the stories my Dad would tell me about himself as a child, and then it dawned on me.  He made them up.  All these years of hearing heroic tale after tale about my father...and they never actually happened.  I'm sure there was some truth dispersed here and there, but  the majority were fabricated.   They always had some moral lesson in them.  Fables, I suppose. I'm slightly embarassed that I didn't figure it out sooner.  I was 26 yrs old before I even questioned their validity.  It's so obvious looking back now.

Here are the two that I recall most vividly:

1. Once I learned the word "asshole" (at about 11 yrs old)  I would whisper it to my little brother Joe all the time when I was mad at him, and eventually he got tired of it and told on me.  He told me he was going to tell my dad so I went to the backyard and hid behind our pool...as if he'd never find me there.  After about 5 minutes of hiding he found me, and told me to come sit with him and talk.  He then told me a story about when he was in school and all the 'cool kids' ganged up on him and were teasing him and telling him he 'better swear or else!'  He proudly told me that he refused to do it.  He told them that they could beat him up if they wanted to, but he wasn't going to say those words, cause it was wrong.  So I asked "well,  what happened?"  And he told me that they were so impressed with his stubborness that they let him go. 
Moral of the story:  Stand by your morals no matter the cost, and in the end even your persecuters will be impressed.

2.  My brother was having a school dance and they were talking about asking girls out.  He took the opportunity to tell the story of when he was in high school.  He wanted to ask the most beautiful girl in school to the dance, but he was nervous.  He was nerdy and she was popular.  It was the day before the dance and he decided to just try, assuming she probably already had a date.  Turns out, no one had asked her yet because everyone was so intimidated.  She said yes to him, because she was impressed with his confidence and everyone else was jealous and regretted not trying. 
Moral of the story:  Always go for what you want, because you never know how it will turn out and you won't want to regret not trying.

Anyway, after I had this revelation that my father had told me false stories the majority of my childhood I got angry and started ranting to Dan.  After I stopped, Dan says,
"Really?  So your dad made up stories about himself to try to be a good role model for you, and to encourage and help strengthen your morals?"  ...and then he laughed... "Do you know how many kids would love to have a dad care enough to try to give a good example, even if it's not entirely true?  Seriously, of all the mistakes a father can make you're going to hold that against him?" 

He had a point.  My father had good intentions and a good heart.  It may not have been the best way to go about things, but it was all out of love.  And it worked!  I clung to those stories and I was encouraged by them. 

So thank you, Dad.  For all the good and not so good.  It makes for good lessons and greater memories.  I love you.