Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Family Road Trip
Having just come off of a weekend road trip with my parents, I'm now preparing for another road trip in a couple weeks. This one will be over the course of 3 days, with the husband, the kids, and yes--Dad.

The weekend trip actually wasn't as bad as expected. Dad sat next to me and served as both the navigator and the passer of snacks. Mom sat in the back, but watched the speedometer like a hawk, reminding me of the speed limit and the possibility of a ticket. It wasn't anything new. We did have a great meal at Cracker Barrel, where Dad cheated on the little puzzle game that they have on the table and Mom checked out my Kindle.

I was prepared for it being insane and it wasn't. It worked out so well that I'm actually looking forward to the next one. This time, I plan to have the husband drive so I can capture all the fun on video. I'm excited.

Your comments--priceless!!


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Senior Year

So, school starts again soon. And this is a big year in my home--my daughter is about to start her senior year of high school. It's an exciting time-yearbook pictures, prom dates, and college applications. It's hard to believe that, at this time next year, she'll be going or gone.

Last week, we spent a few hours making a spreadsheet of the college application process. We listed application due dates, fees, and visit schedules. It was pretty daunting. Some schools make you apply early, some allow you to wait til later. I was surprised at how much thought she's put into it. She thinks of schools in terms of R, M, or S. R is a reach school, one that she feels would be a stretch for her to gain admission. The M is a match, one that she feels best suited for. The S is a safety school, one she's sure she can get into. She says that we have to apply to a couple of each. I agree.

We also have a stack of mail for her to go through. These contain invitations to dinners, information sessions, and special programs. Some are local, some on the campus. I have no idea how I'm going to swing the necessary travel budget, let alone the application fees. And of course, Dad is coming down for some of the road trips. Wish me luck!!

Your comments--priceless!!


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The Passport Experience


A few weeks ago, I told you all about the planned family cruise for next June. Next year. June. 2010. So, it may come as a surprise to you, but certainly not to me, that Dad needed to apply for his passport while here on vacation. This year. August. 2009. He had no sooner gotten off the plane, when he announced that he had brought his birth certificate, "the one with the raised seal," so that he could get his passport while here.

Nearly everyday, he reminded me that he needed to get his passport. He's heard that there is a backlog and that it could take a long time for passports. He wanted to be prepared for the cruise. June. 2010. So, yesterday was the day. Now, I've known my Dad all of my life, so I did my homework. I found a nearby Court House that took passport applications. I called and inquired about the wait. I was told that there is usually no wait after lunch.

So, we get there, park and go inside. Dad looked at the building and announced that it "looked like there was a jail in there." I'm not sure what buildings with jails look like, but he was certain. We go inside. Because it's a court building, we had to go through security. He forgot to take his phone out of his pocket. The officer with the wand found it. He had to go back and put it in the basket to run through the machine. He wasn't pleased--he ONLY wanted a passport.

We found the office, and sure enough, there was nobody there. I filled out his application, and we went up to the window. Wait--I forgot to say that he didn't have his pictures, but that they offer picture service. Anyhow, we go up to the window. The charges are posted on the glass--$75 for the passport, by check or money order. Then $25 for the processing, in cash or credit card. Dad didn't have his checkbook, I wrote the check from my checkbook. The woman then requested $35 for the processing AND picture. Dad kept telling me that she was cheating because the sign said $25. I explained that the extra $10 was for his picture. He still thinks she's cheating. They took his picture. They showed him the pictures. They had 2. Now, she DEFINITELY was cheating. She took TWO pictures. I advised that they would put one picture in the passport and keep one with the application.

So, all that's left is his signature. He had to sign in the clerk's presence. He did. But then, she bundled his birth certificate ("the one with the raised seal") up with the application, to send on to the Dept of State. He asked for it back. The nice lady told him that he would get it back with his passport in a couple weeks. He wanted it back now. She was confused. I stepped in and repeated that he would get it back in the same envelope with his new passport. He was clearly disturbed, but let it go. And he announced that he did NOT want to go through the metal detector on the way out. He didn't have to. It was over.

However, an hour later, sitting in Olive Garden, he told me that he HOPED he would get his birth certificate back, the one with the raised seal. I love Dad. He's a hoot.

Your comments--priceless!!
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I Am A Dagwood Sandwich

Do you guys remember the Blondie comic strip? Blondie's husband Dagwood would make huge sandwiches to eat between meals. They were much bigger than any human could consume. He would cram nearly everything in the kitchen between 2 slices of bread and top it with an olive on a toothpick.

These past few days have reminded me a lot of a Dagwood sandwich, with me as the middle and my family as the bread. Let me explain. On one hand, I have my parents--they are both post retirement seniors, though neither is hardly idle. On the other hand, I have the youngsters of the family--carefree and careless. I seem to always be caught in between.

Last night, we were out on the town--Miami. My daughters (22, and nearly 18) had decided to get henna tattoos. Henna tattoos are temporary and last for about 3 weeks. The girls have been talking about them for a couple of years. So, when we passed the kiosk, they stopped and browsed all of the designs. They both found ones that they liked. I didn't give it passing thoughts. I figured that it could be worse, they could be contemplating permanent tattoos. So, I wasn't surprised when they excused themselves from dinner as soon as they were done and headed back to get the henna. Everyone else lingered at the table--talking, laughing, having dessert. When we were ready, we headed outside to the kiosk.

My dad took his seat on a bench, scowling. The girls were getting the tattoos. The rest of the family wandered about the area. My dad couldn't understand why they would get that "junk (henna)." He wanted me to forbid it. I spent a lot of time explaining that this is the kind of thing that young folks do and I didn't have a problem with it. In between expressing his disapproval, he did his fair share of people watching. I pointed out young folks with colored hair, rings in their tongues and eyebrows, and designs cut into their hair.

The tattoos came out cute! The oldest ended up getting 2. I should have gotten 1 too. Dad would have croaked.

Your comments--priceless!!

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The Big Porky Pig
Please help me settle a 40 year old family argument! It all revolves around Porky Pig. You youngsters may not know who Porky Pig is, but the oldheads know. Porky Pig was an animated Warner Brothers cartoon character. His most distinguishing features were his severe stutter and his lack of pants(repeated later in Chuck E. Cheese).

Now, some of you may know that I have brothers. They are 14 months younger than me (which means that they, too, are OLD!) and they are twins. Anyhow, when we were all toddlers, our family "acquired" 3 children's plates. I haven't been able to determine how they came to the family, but they were in our kitchen as far back as I can remember. So, we got THREE plates. (THIS IS SIGNIFICANT). We had 3 children in the family. (THIS, TOO, IS SIGNIFICANT). Two of the plates had a huge Bugs Bunny in the center, and the third had Porky Pig. So, let's examine this. THREE PLATES. THREE KIDS. TWO BUGS. TWINS. ONE PORKY PIG. ME.

Well, at EVERY meal, and I do mean EVERY, there was a huge fight about which of us would get to eat from the plate with the big Porky Pig. It was like whatever meal that was on it tasted so much better. Whoever ended up with it gloated while the other 2 glared. For years, we argued about that plate. There were tears, fighting, slaps, punches, punishments, and it usually ended up with everybody being sent to bed early, sometimes without eating at all.

Anyhow, the plate was MINE. The Porky Pig was MINE. The boys had the Bugs Bunny plates. Porky was MINE!!!!! But noooo, do you think my parents would back me on this???? NOPE! We had to rotate Porky at every meal because they claimed they didn't know who rightfully owned Porky. They knew. They knew. It was MINE! And this lack of support, so early in my formative years, probably contributed heavily to the neurosis I suffer from today. But I digress--

S0metimes now, years later, when we get together as a family, someone will bring up the big Porky Pig plate and it will start a fierce debate. Both of my brothers still claim that the plate was theirs. My parents still claim that the plate didn't have a rightful owner, but was rather a "community" plate. Hmmph!! Ok, so I've told my side the story. Please tell me--WHOSE plate do YOU think it was??

Your comments--priceless!!
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Family Vacation: This is Gonna Be Good!

My Dad has struck again. He decided that we should do an extended family vacation next year. Extended family? Is he kidding? I have more close family members than most people, and now he wants to extend that?? Seriously? All of us? The babies? The toddlers? The hip hoppers? The old folks? ALL of us? He can't be serious, but he is.

He's thinks that we should all do a cruise next summer. I guess he hasn't considered that some of us don't get along with others of us, and that some of us are not above murder by cruise ship. We put the FUN, in dysFUNctional. And what cruise line would welcome US on their ship? This is gonna be good.

So anywho, Carnival has a new ship coming out, called the Dream. It sets sail this fall. We shall be on it next summer. A gang of us (pun intended). We'll visit ports in Mexico, Belize, and Honduras. I have no idea how the jail systems work in these countries. Oh yeah..this is gonna be good!

I think I'm excited. Especially when the agent told me that a lot of the decisions rested with me. Hmmmm..you mean that I could "accidentally" schedule my own dinner time apart from theirs? And that "Carnival" could make a mistake and put my cabin wayyyyyyy on the other side of the ship? Hmmmm..this may not be so bad after all...

Your comments--priceless!!
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Happy Fathers Day!


Today, I salute my Dad. He's a lot of things--a dad, grand dad, brother, uncle, cousin, friend, Vietnam Vet, cancer survivor, sports fanatic, lover of fine foods and music. I love him immensely. I wouldn't trade him for the world. He's simply the best. And I know the feeling is mutual. Happy Fathers Day, Dad!



I can't be with him today, but he is ALWAYS in my heart. What about you? Whether he's still with you or not, how will you honor him today?

Your comments--priceless!
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Adult Child Obligations

Ok, here's a question--When does your obligation to your child end? When are you officially "done" with them? When are you RID of them?

Here's the scenario. Your adult child(which you share with an ex-spouse) has a debilitating illness. She is incapacitated. She can not care for herself. She needs constant care. This illness struck her as an adult, after she had started on a career path in another state. Your ex-spouse moves to that state to care for the child. They manage. Suddenly, that ex-spouse passes away. Your adult child is left with no one to care for her. She can not afford funeral expenses, much less the fabulous home that her other parent has provided for her. While she is surrounded by friends, she really has no family within thousands of miles to help her with funeral arrangements, decisions, finances, etc.

Before you respond, let me tell you how this would work in MY family, as dysfunctional as we are. In my family, if the adult child in the scenario were ME, this is what would happen. After I made the call that my parent had passed away suddenly, my living parent would rally the troops. There would be a convoy of planes, trains, trucks, cars, bicycles, and skateboards coming out of the Washington, DC area (and other places), headed to me. I wouldn't care if I was in the North Pole. I have family members that would set out walking, if there was no other way. Neither of my parents would say, "Look, you are an adult. I have fulfilled my obligation to you. I'm sorry about your mother passing-let me know when the funeral is and I will try to make it. But please understand, my obligation now is to my new wife. I hope everything works out for you."

What the heck?????? Again, I can't imagine either of my parents saying this to me. This is so far fetched in my world, that it may as well be a cartoon. I also have an adult child. I can't imagine turning my back on her. Of course she makes me angry at times, but simply to wash my hands of her and not look back is unthinkable. But after thinking about it, I've decided that perhaps my family is the exception and not the rule. So I ask again, "When does your "obligation" to your child run out?

Your comments--priceless!!

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My Plan vs. God's Plan

So, in a classic example of My Plan vs God's Plan, here I lay in Memorial Hospital Miramar, watching CNN cover a highjacking at the Jamaican airport. As you recall, My Plan was to finalize vacation dates with Dad yesterday, followed by a long chat with my good friend Beth. Neither of those things got done, as neither was on God's Plan.

Instead, I woke up yesterday with my left foot wayyyy swollen. My dear husband took a look and shuttled me off to the ER. The doctor wanted both an ultrasound of the leg to rule out a blood clot, as well as blood work. I settled in to wait, with my Kindle.

The ultrasound was negative, but then the fun started. First, my ER nurse, Elizabeth, came over with a strange look on her face. She asked if I knew that my iron was low. I responded that I had been anemic all of my life. She retreated. Soon after, the doctor returned. He advised that my iron count was much too low to allow me to leave the hospital. He further indicated that one of the ways that my body tried to announce this condition, was by the swelling of the foot. I immediately went into Classic Jewel mode and burst into tears, hoping to gain sympathy from him, and ultimately gain my freedom. He pretended not to notice. How do u NOT notice buckets of alligator tears???? As soon as I realized that the waterworks had absolutely no affect on him, I shut them off, deciding to save them for someone more worthy of such a fine display of drama.

So, here I lay, 2 blood tranfusions and 2 bags of iron later. Yesterday was THE DAY, but not for the reasons that I thought. God truly has a way of reminding us that our plans don't necessarily coincide with His.

Your comments--priceless!!
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Today is THE DAY!


So today is THE DAY. Not my birthday. Not Pay Day. But THE DAY. The day that I have to call my Dad and start planning the family's summer vacation.

I am so not looking forward to this conversation. If you are a long time reader, you know that this is no small task, talking to my Dad about the vacation. (If you are not a long time reader, please refer to my post of January 8th--you'll get our vacation history there.) I love him dearly. I love him more than life itself. I love him like French Vanilla Slimfast and Paul Newman lemonade. I can talk to him about nearly anything--EXCEPT vacation plans.

After many years of doing this, I've learned not to try to get him to decide too much at a time. So today, the only thing we need to confirm is which weeks he wants to come. Last year, this talk lasted about 2 hours. Based on our recent conversations, I'm blocking off about 4 hours for today's talk. He's hinted that rather than a week or so in South Florida, he wants to do perhaps a weekend in South Florida and then a cruise someplace else. And, we have more family members coming this year.

This is a man who takes 3 days to decide which sneakers to bring. That wouldn't be so bad, except NOTHING else can go into the suitcase until he puts the sneakers in. This is a man who gets to the airport AT LEAST 8 hours before the flight--he doesnt want to miss it. But he's also a man who has worked all of his life to provide for his family. I must say, he afforded me a wonderful childhood and until I was in high school, I thought we were rich! I have never not been able to do something that I wanted to do because there was no money. I have never not had the latest and greatest. And he has a good heart. If you meet him once, and he determines that you like, say Root Beer, you will NEVER come to his home again when there is not Root Beer there and when you walk in, he'll drop a 12 pack on root beer on the table in front of you and point you to the corner where 3 more 12 packs sit.

So, I will try to struggle through this today. Wish me luck!!!

Your comments--priceless!!

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Daddy Knows Best


My Dad always said it would happen. He told me more than 30 years ago. We were standing in the hallway of Paul Junior High. He says to me, "One day, you will wish you had worn your glasses."

I found out in 7th grade that I needed glasses for reading. When we went to pick them out, he could tell that I wasn't enthused at all. I was too worried that the other kids at school would make fun of me. So I didn't wear them at school, then, after a few months, I stopped wearing them at home too.

My Dad said it would happen. It's happened. I wish I had worn my glasses. My eyesight has diminished now to the point where it's no longer a choice. I NEED my glasses. Not just for reading either, I probably need to wear them in my sleep, so I won't have to feel my way through my dreams.

This weekend, I am going to buy glasses. I have no worries at all about whether my co workers will make fun of me. I don't care. I just want to see clearly, after 3 decades. Sorry, Dad, you were right.

Your comments--priceless!!


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