DAD: A Tribute

Daddy,

I realize Father's Day has come and gone therefore rendering this post to be a tad outdated. In my defense, you were the one that went and had a heart attack that day, resulting in my lack of cognitive skills which I need in order to remember that I even have a blog. I accept your apology and please don't ever have a heart attack again. Thank you. Let's get to that tribute now.

You were born.

Unfortunately, I'm unable to prove this. I considered the traveling cost to Chicago to procure a fake birth certificate for you but I was afraid they would botch your name and you would end up as Richard rather than Robert and you don't look like a Richard. I guess I could go with Bob, but what if it came out as Boob? Saved myself about $400.
That being said? Is there any chance that the kid on the left in this picture is you? It's the only proof I have that you were a child.

And while I'm at it, do you have a name for your friend in this picture? He looks like a George to me. So I'd land on that name if I were getting him a fake birth certificate.

Perhaps you already knew that this picture of you is now famous?

I don't have a picture of you at Prom. So here's the next best thing:

 You with a farmer's tan!

Oh the memories I have. For one thing, you instilled in me a love for traveling. All of the camping trips you took us on when I was little. I still look that cute in a life vest. But seriously. If you never wore a shirt, why didn't your torso ever tan?

Mushroom hunting.

 Billy Goats. Poker Games. Square Dances in the garage. Lots of friends and laughter.
This picture has nothing to do with any of those items I just listed. I just like the shirt you have on.

 I want you to know I'm not bitter that I never owned a horse named Pogo Pete or Snort but my sisters did.

 Nope. Not bitter at all. I quit trying to take the calico cat out for a gallop once I turned 6. She was always pregnant and couldn't go fast enough.
I'm also not bitter that I wasn't born soon enough to make into this family picture.

60's colors would have looked great on me.

I still remember the whistle you used to wake me up every morning before school.
When you walked me down the aisle.

I salt everything just as I learned from you (including grapefruit) and I put pepper on my chicken noodle soup. (Was that learned from you? Otherwise, I probably learned it from Uncle Ray- he was always up to no good.)
Other than the memories ...
You are one of the funniest guys I know.
I LOVE YOU DAD.

A Concert in the Spring.

This is Dawson.

Dawson had to dress up in his Sunday best for his spring concert. Which was actually in the spring. I cannot be held accountable for the amount of time that passes between blog posts. Or for my addiction to Arial font. 

Dawson arrived in the gym and sat with his class. That's Dawson telling all of his surrounding buddies that he sees his mom dad and they're all frantically looking for us because Dawson told them how awesome and well dressed we are. That's his music teacher kneeling in the front giving them the pre-choral prep talk. "Now kids, remember, try to smile, and don't pick your nose."

 Dawson is very serious about his first song. So is the kid behind him picking her ear. Which, of course is fine because the teacher specified to avoid the picking of the nose, and didn't mention the ear.

Oh Look! There's Dawson. Waldo would be jealous of that hiding skill.

 Looks like this is the part where they actually begin to sing.

♪♫O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree♪♫

Dawson looks so small behind that mic stand.

 This is the part where their supposed to still be sucking their bottom lips but apparently only Dawson and the girl in the plaid dress in front of him got a part of the action.

 Yes Dawson. I can always find you with a camera lens. Even when some fuzzy head tries to photo block me. Not on my watch.

 I'll bet there will be some more singing eventually.

 Dawson was super excited that he got selected to play a musical instrument during one of the numbers. It reminds me of the time I didn't get selected to sing the solo "tomorrow" from Annie because someone else got it and I cried. But I did get a different solo for another concert because I have a picture of it and I have no clue what the solo was. I must have been great.

OH Look! He might be singing!

 Yep. That's my kid. The only one seeking out his parents while everyone else is paying attention. I guess he has a well dressed friend in the back row.

 This was the last song and the kids got to wear sunglasses. I'll bet you couldn't have figured that out.

 Hey little sock hop girl, face forward and sing.

 Hey super cool cat. I'm hip to your jive. Great concert buddy. Next year I'll be the mom that sneaks up to the risers and sticks the camera in your face so that we can hear you sing. You'll love it!

A Little Bit of This

This is Evan.

Sometimes Evan helps me with the laundry. He does so by pulling out everything in the laundry basket and then throwing it in a reckless manner strewing it all across the living room floor. You can all see how this helps me, right? So that I have to go all across the living room floor and pick up the laundry that would have been laying silently in the laundry basket, lonesome with no one to fold it except for me.

Speaking of Evan. Guess who is in a front facing car seat?

What. Did you think I meant him?

That's just nonsense.

"Hey ladies, my mom's feeding me lunch today at noon if you wanna come over."

Sometimes when I picture Eskimo babies in my mind, this is what I think of:

Is that what they look like?  I wonder if Eskimo parents wear green DC shirts.

This is Evan discussing the DOW and how the stocks rise and fall on a daily basis. He uses the toothbrush for emphasis.

Actually, Evan might be the only toddler I've ever heard of that carries around a toothbrush and fights me when I try to take it away from him. And, he always sits with his legs crossed. I think it's cute.

Several weeks ago, that was not a Mother's Day, I liked my hair, so I asked Jason to take a picture of me and Evan because I forced him to wear his Newsies hat.

I like Evan's smile in that picture, however, It seems that my smile is actually saying that I thought my hair looked okay, but really it sort of looks like I have orange highlights when I'm in the sun, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

Now I'm happy and Evan thinks his hat makes him look like he has orange highlights.

But this picture below... I like because of the look Evan has while he's looking at me. I think he likes me.

This was how we both felt when the photo shoot was over.

Since I'm talking about myself. I would just like to say that I have lost 52 pounds since Evan was born. I think it all went to my hair. The past few times I've tried doing my hair it has felt heavily sedated and looks ill.

My plan is to lose 55.8 pounds if it's possible. And if I do, it won't.mean.a.single.thing. This is because I suffer the same thing as all normal women in society. Insecurity. And therefore I will always feel fat. However, I read a book by Beth Moore called "So Long Insecurity" and I have new outlook. I have not changed my outlook regarding women of ANY age donning booty shorts or shirts where their cleavage lights up a room like Aurora Borealis. Nor do I approve of women wearing only a sports bra when they go running. Women, if you are a reading this and you are guilty of any or all of the insecurity crimes mentioned above, perhaps you could come over for a nice cup of coffee and chat about it. Please wear a snowsuit when you come. I don't want to see any of that stuff you like to have hanging out. Maybe someday I'll have a nice little blog post about women and security. I'll think about it. Otherwise, you can plan to read a blog coming soon about Dawson's spring choir concert.