Father's Day (and Belated Mother's Day)

I think this is going to be more of a Parent's Day post--because I didn't make a Mother's Day one.

So here it is: an ode to my parents!

I pretty much had the greatest childhood ever. As long as I can remember back, days would start with Niki and I waking up and going to the brown couch in the living room to see what mom had laid out for us to wear. Niki would usually get there first, and trade our outfits. I never noticed, or minded. Then, we'd get in the car and dad would take us to Ms. Gladys' (the babysitter's) house. We'd always stop by The Looney Baker and drive through the drive-thru. If Sue was working, my dad would just have to say "It's Jeff and the girls" and Sue would be ready with my dad's medium coffee--little cream and 2 sugars; my glazed doughnut, and niki's apple doughnut.

My mom doesn't like this story, but it's one of my favorite memories. I think it shows how my parents really encouraged us to be independent, and most importantly: not complain!

My very first day of kindergarten, my mom packed my lunch in my red Duck Tales lunch box and when it was time to eat it I bit into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was a little over-jellied. That afternoon when I came home from school, I told my mom that she put too much jelly on my sandwich. I don't remember much of the dialogue that followed (I mean, sheesh! I was only 5!) but I do remember that from the 2nd day of kindergarten until I graduated high school, I (along with all my siblings) made my own lunch.

I will say, I'm super-glad that I wasn't one of those middle schoolers whose mom packed her lunch every day.

My dad really likes airplanes, I guess. I only recently pieced this together when he made a comment one time about how planes are so heavy and made of metal, but they still can fly so high. When we were little, my dad used to pile us kids in the van and we'd drive down to the airport. He'd park outside the fence, and the planes would take off and land right over our heads. It was always so cool, because they were so loud and so big!

My mom is the master of french braids. And when I say master, I mean MASTER! With three very fine-haired little girls, you have to be a master! My mom would braid our hair in anywhere from 8 to 10 french braids at night time, and we'd sleep on the braids so when we woke up in the morning, our hair would be all crimpy. [Note: in hindsight, this probably wasn't the best decision we could have ever made in our lives. . .but at the time it was AWESOME!]

Both of my parents raised us with a healthy appreciation (well. . .at least exposure) of working hard. We'd be out in the yard every fall, raking tarpload after tarpload of leaves out to the road. We always had to help dad stain whatever project he was building (decks, swingset, shed, etc.). My mom made sure that each weekend each of us kids had a main room, bathroom, and our own bedroom to clean, dust, and vacuum. We learned to appreciate how nice a clean house was, and that sometimes things that suck (like cleaning) are necessary.

My mom's family would have a campout every year. From early age, I loved being outside and covered in bug spray and sunblock, swimming in dirty lake water, eating campfire food and washing the dishes in fire-heated water.

I'm glad my parents made us ride the bus--even though the bus stop was 1/4 mile away. I'm glad they let us play with our neighbors outside, going on walks, riding our bikes all over town, hiking through the woods, and other things that some parents cringe away from fearing their children will get hurt or stolen. I know my parents never wanted us to get stolen or anything, but they still gave us that autonomy.

We got into trouble, and had curfews, and had phone and internet time limits. We had bedtimes, weren't allowed to watch rated R movies, couldn't take 2 snacks in our lunches, got in trouble for not minding, and all those things that parents get lots of greif for.

I love that by first grade I knew how to look things up in the encyclopedia. And by 2nd grade I did my own hair every day. And by 3rd grade, I could use the stove, oven, and my mom would let us bake cookies or pancakes or mac and cheese if we wanted to. I love that my dad would let me wear his t-shirts and tube socks to bed. And that he taught me how to play hard and smart at sports. And I love that my mom was able to crank out 3 dresses in one night for us girls to wear for any given holiday. And she always seemed to make even the ugliest fabric look awesome in dress form. I can't explain it.

I pretty much had the most perfect childhood ever. Because I had the best parents.

Happy Father's day, dad!

And Happy Belated Mother's day, mom!

You're the BEST!

Here Comes the Bride!

As a girl, I--like most girls--am planning my future wedding.

I mean, that's how it works, really. The girl plans out all of the details, and the future groom (whoever he may be) is just the final piece of the puzzle.

I just wanted to share my ideas with my few close friends and blog-readers.

Here's the plan: Christmas Wedding!

I'm really excited about it, because winter is my favorite season in the whole year. However, Christmas is not my favorite holiday.

To anyone else, this would create a dilema, but to me, it won't. My wedding will incorporate both winter, AND my favorite holiday.

Here are the bridesmaids' dresses:

And the Groom's Men, appropriately will wear: Those hats are super dumb, though. And VERY. . .over the top. So the boys (groom included) will wear these:

Speaking of the boys, here is my handsome groom's tuxedo!

And finally, the part you've all been eagerly waiting for: MY DRESS!!!!!

Every Rose Has its Thorn

There is a saying that goes something like, "well if that isn't a thorn in my side. . ."
And from the context in which it (and similar phrases) are used, you can tell it's talking about something that probably sucks. You know, because thorns hurt. And if one is in your side, that would probably hurt really badly.

I guess what I was thinking about earlier this weekend was why a random thorn would be in someone's side. Wouldn't it be more powerful or descriptive to talk about like, say, a shovel in one's side? Or a knife? Pitchfork? Or are we assuming that the thorn is people-sized?

The obvious question: what comes to mind when you hear this phrase?
I don't know about you, but I immediately think of a rose.

Sooooooo

Think about roses, then. They've got thorns. All over them. Lots of people cut the thorns off. It's like the thorn is the enemy. Thorns hurt. We don't want one in our side. They're sharp, pointy--almost considered the downside of a bouquet of roses.

But why?

The rose doesn't feel the thorn.
In fact, the thorn protects the rose. It doesn't hurt it--not in the least. Without the thorn, maybe roses would all be eaten or something.

Why do we so often think of the thorn the antagonist and the rose the protagonist, rather than seeing them as a team?
Without the thorn, the rose would be weak.
And without the rose, a thorn is just a bother.

Alright now, here it comes:

Think about the thorns in your side.
The things that annoy you,
the people who drive you NUTS.

If they're not part of your team,
you're probably not the rose.