The Dad-o-rama begins

I'm listening to the dishwasher running, I've watched a movie (Ocean's Twelve--while the story was not as good as Eleven, the eye candy was), and dealt with the dogs since 6 am.  What?  Where are the kids? 

Sleeping.  And it's 9:10 am!  What the ??  That's fine with me, considering it'll be nonstop mom-mom-mom once they're up, I can handle a bit of solitude.  

I should be cleaning....but I'm trying to stay quiet, so they sleep.  Yeah, that's the reason I'm procrastinating, really.  It has nothing to do with laziness...

It's Father's Day this Sunday.  I haven't gone out and gotten anything for Mr W, or his Dad, or my Dad, for that matter.  I know I'll be telling stories about them here, as the weekend progresses.  And I'm sure I'll be cooking up some favorite something (probably lasagna) on Sunday for my dear spouse and my Dad, so I'm not sweating it.  No ugly ties from me.  The kids, on the other hand, might craft an ugly tie for Dad, it's become a sort-of tradition. (Their preschool makes this tie out of paper plates, with glitter and all kinds of decoration, and it's hideous, I mean cute, and Mr W always allows me to take a picture of him wearing it with all the chitlins around him.  We have no one in preschool right now, but I remember how to make it, and may set them to work on it today..heehee, just because :p)

Anyway.  I knew the weekend assignment would have to do with Dads, so here we go:

Weekend Assignment #64: Tell us about a moment with your dad that serves as an example of one of his best qualities. That would be a personal moment between you and dad.

Okay, I'm not following this to the letter....

I am fortunate enough to have lots of great moments with my Dad.  Although he is one of those yell-y guys, he is really a sweetie, deep down, and now that we are grown, doesn't yell nearly so much (imagine that).

We spent alot of time in the car, growing up.  Because we lived in a small town about 2 hours from a city, we'd drive up for shopping, doctor's appointments, and to visit relatives.  During those trips in the car, I discovered my Dad was a good teacher.  He taught us fractions or did math problems with us during the day (drive up) and told us stories from Greek mythology or astronomy at night (drive home). 

When he coached Little League, we'd hang out at the ball park and wait for him.  I caught my first glance of Mr W during one of those times, watching this kid slide into home, all legs, eyes, and teeth; thinking he was cute even though I was probably about 8 and had no business looking at boys.  I remember he looked right at me, and it's just one of those things that stuck in my mind; that made me laugh once I actually started dating him.  Small towns, ya gotta love 'em.

When we'd be at family weddings or events that involved dancing, I'd beg him to dance with me, but he wouldn't: "Not until your wedding day,"  he'd say.  It took my breath away, on my wedding day, when he did finally dance with me, and was sooo smooth that he made me look good.  No small feat, considering my reputation for leading and stepping on toes.  The fact that he was at my wedding leads me to believe he got over that "green-eyed monster" coming to our house all the time, knocking on his door, seeking his daughter's affection.  (They get along just fine.)  We have never danced together since, either, which makes the one time we did that more special to me.

He's hovered over me throughout my pregnancies, scolding and clucking moreso than even my Nana or Mom, over every little symptom.  And he has been at the hospital or there soon after the birth of all my kids.  He rode the elevator up to the nursery with Nolan when Nolan was moments old.  He helped Mom watch the others as our family grew.  He was in my room with me, after I'd been wheeled in shortly after Audrey made her appearance.  Was I ever glad he was there when I started to throw up, b/c Mr W had stepped out and I couldn't reach the basin.  Dad crossed the room in a flash, trashcan in one hand, the other hand on my brow, telling me it would be alright.  Could this really be the same man, I wondered, who once yelled at me for using his last razor?

Watching him become enchanted with each of the grandchildren has included some of the sweetest moments of my life.  There's the time he got down on all fours so Nolan, Ben and Gabriel (my nephew) could wrestle him.  The time he let my niece put barrettes in his hair. His conspiratory times with Ryan, going over the Power Ranger pamphlets and picking out Ryan's next acquisition.  The time I saw him, just last weekend, carrying a drowsy Audrey from the van into Costco, because I didn't have the stroller with me, bad-back caution thrown to the wind.  And all the other times when I've watched him sit a grandchild at the table (on the table) with him to share his breakfast.  Sans chiles, of course.   He finds a way to spoil them all, and I have learned to step aside and let him.

Last Sunday, he had an interesting little job for Ryan, organizing one of his many tool sets...teaching him about fractions as they did it.

I don't think I need to tell you about the smile that was on my face as I watched them.