Dads

Growing up I bemoaned having the strictest father I knew.  I always had to tell my parents every possible detail of each and every social outing I ever went on.  Who would be there, what we'd be doing, what time I'd be home.  I should have typed up an itinerary and just handed it over before I went out, it would have saved a lot of explaining.  We didn't always see eye to eye on things.  We still don't.  Let's just say politics are not something we can discuss with one another.  As I've gotten older I have realized what a blessing his over protectiveness was in my life.  I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there were many times when I thought twice before doing something because I'd imagine having to face the wrath of Dan. 

I've learned a lot of things from my dad.  He taught me how to ride a bike.  He taught me how to drive.  He taught me how to check a car's oil and how to change a tire, although I've never had to actually change one by myself.  He's come to my rescue on numerous occasions.  He taught me to never give up on yourself.  In the basement of my parents home there was a handwritten note attached to the freezer for many, many years.  In my dad's clear, upright handwriting he had written three lines in bold black marker  I will.  I can.  I am.  To me it's always been a recipe for progress.  He put it in a spot where he'd see it each day when he was training for a cycling event, or a marathon.  More than that though, I think he's used it as a blueprint for his life. 

He is the product of depression era, working class parents.  This means he is frugal and hardworking.  He once took my mom to a high school dance.  At the time he could not afford to go out and buy a new pair of black shoes to match his tux.  As my mom tells it he showed up at the door in a tux with his brown pair of shoes painted black to match.  There is something very sweet and touching about the gesture and it says a lot about what kind of a man he is. 

My dad worked full-time while finishing his degree at Utah State.  At the time he had two children and a wife to support.  I can't imagine how hard it must have been for him.  I so appreciate what that sacrifice meant to our family.  Although we weren't wealthy by any means, I never lacked for anything I needed.  I think, for the most part, moms get all the glory.  Because traditionally they have been the ones caring and nurturing full-time.  My dad woke up every morning for thirty plus years and put in 8 - 10 hours.  As a child I didn't really think anything of this.  This is what dads do, right?  Never once did it cross my mind that there were probably a million other things he would have liked to be doing.  He did it because he wanted to take care of us.  He sacrificed a lot of his wants for our needs.  I understand it more now and am grateful for a man of that caliber to be my father.  I love you, Dad. 

I can't let Father's Day slip by without giving a shout out to the man who gave me my two beautiful daughters.  When I met and fell in love with my husband I didn't give any thought as to what kind of a father he might be.  Heck, I didn't even ask him if he wanted kids!  In hindsight I'm sure that's a big one.  Kids, talk to your prospective mate about how they feel about fathering your babies.  As Martha says, "It's a good thing."  Obviously my hormones were making the decisions back in 2002.  Tall? Check.  Dark?  Check.  Handsome?  Check.  I do. 

As a couple, our journey has been well documented.  Probably more than he would like.  He's a very private man.  I don't think he talks to near strangers about awkward honeymoon nights or intimate, though very obvious body parts you wished you could get surgically reduced.  Yes, just the other day I found myself talking to a woman in our neighborhood about boobs.  It's who I am I guess.  In many ways we are opposites.  In some ways it's been a blessing, especially as two people trying to parent our girls. 

He is patient when I am flustered.  He is calm when I'm freaking out.  He is firm when I'm so tired of hearing it I'd just rather give in.  He is in control when I feel overwhelmed.  He's a man who loves his children deeply.  I don't doubt for one second that he'd protect them with his life.  Having given birth twice, my favorite part of the experience besides meeting my babies for the first time was watching his face when he saw them and held them for the first time.  And for me it never gets old.  I still love watching him interact with our children.  One day I hope my girls will fully realize how lucky they were to be raised by him.  Although I'm sure this post embarrasses him for me even mentioning him I'd like to stand and bare/bear (Which is it?  I've always wondered.  Is a testimony something you bare...like throwing open the bathrobe on the truth beneath?  Or is it something you bear, like something you carry around with you?  Will someone get back to me on that?  Random tangent over.) my testimony of my husband's devotion to being such a wonderful daddy.  Happy Father's Day, Sugar Britches!  (Embarrassing enough for you?)