A Letter To Dad

Today marks five months since my father has passed. Here is my latest journal entry:

Dear Dad, I'm writing this letter to tell you that I think of you every day, and miss you even more. Many people who sent me cards when you passed told me to "find strength in my memories," which is what I try to do.

Here are a few of my favorites...

How when I was younger, you would talk me into giving you footrubs for packs of grape Bubble Yum, and I would jump at the chance.

How you stayed up late helping me make a lamp for a science fair at school. I admired how you knew what to do and was proud to turn in that project.

How you saved the letters that your daughters wrote to you from the airplane when Mom, Michelle, Kris, and I went on Spring break. You couldn't join us until later because it was tax season, and I would cry during part of those flights.

How you loved the hamburgers from a local pub. I remember bringing those to you with Mom and Michelle and having lunch at your office. I met you there for lunch a few years ago, and they didn't quite taste the same. Yet, the company was just as good.

How as a teen you scolded me for wearing jeans with rips in both knees to a neighbor's graduation open house. I tried explaining it was the look at the time, and you wouldn't have any of it.

How that same neighbor told me after you died how you would offer to drive her home, even though she lived only three houses away.

How you would tease me that people in town would ask if you're Deborah Honeycutt's father, and you would reply with a laugh, "Never heard of her."

How when we danced at my wedding, you held my hand in yours and led the way. And how I could tell you were a little embarrassed that eyes were upon us.

How you attached a silver pencil sharpener to the wall out in the garage, and I would run out there to sharpen my Number two when doing homework.

How I rarely saw you cry, yet I remember you doing so when we went back to see Grandma when she died. I will never forget seeing you shed some tears for your mother.

How every Valentine's Day since I was a teen, you would send all of your daughters flowers. A vase of three red roses, because you had three girls. And how, for many years, your flowers were the only ones I'd receive.

How when I would call you, I would say, "Hey Dad, it's your favorite." And you would say, "Shel? Kristen?" knowing it was me all along.

I could go on and on, and you would be glad to know that both Griffin and Hayden remember you daily.

Out of the blue yesterday, Hayden told his doctor during an exam, "My Papaw died...he was so silly." And Griff described you better than anyone during a recent conversation. He sighed, and said...

"Papaw was just...the BEST."

What Was I Thinking?

Ever had one of those moments you wish you could take back?

A stuck-your-foot-in-your-mouth-occasion? A time when you wish you could roll back the clock? That happened to me.

Tune in tomorrow morning, we'll have all the details at 7:10 am.

Noodles and Meltdowns

All parents have them.

Disastrous encounters at restaurants with their children.

And my turn was last night. Somehow, someway, my four-year-old traded places with another child, one who might possibly be from another planet.

We were dining at the Old Spaghetti Factory, and it started with the coloring sheet they bring to kids. Hayden began coloring away, but welled up with tears when spaghetti sauce from his entree spilled over the side of his bowl and landed on his artwork.

I guess the boy gets it honest. His reaction was similiar to the one I would have if Starbucks went belly-up, or the one his father would have if CVS had a shortage on bubble bath. Either way, it wasn't pleasant.

The kid wanted a new coloring sheet, and he wanted it NOW.

Hayden also suffered a terrible bout of "manners-amnesia," and suddenly began shoveling food in his mouth as if he was part of those hot-dog eating contests I can never watch on tv. Hayden then found humor in shaking his head back and forth as the noodles half-hanging out of his mouth were flipped all over the table.

Realizing he was in big trouble, Hayden announced he needed to go to the bathroom.

Great, considering the so-called RESTroom would be nothing but after an inconvenient trek down several flights of stairs to the ill-located potty. I told him to hold it, knowing he wasn't desperate to go, just desperate to avoid time-alone.

We finished our meal quickly, made a pit-stop in the dungeon-like bathroom, and ran for the doors faster than the Kenyans who win the Mini-Marathon, but instead of music on the way home, we listened to the longest tantrum in history. I think it just may make the record books.

The only comforting thing was knowing Hayden isn't always like this, and every parent has a less-than-proud moment in public. At least I hope. If you haven't, please don't tell me.

I choose to believe we parents aren't in this alone, which is why our kids aren't registered on Ebay.

Not yet, anyway.

Ask The Important Questions

For as long as I can remember, Greg has asked our 7-year-old the same question each time he gets out of the bathtub.

Now that he's older, he asks Griff the same question just after a shower.

Not sure how this little tradition got started, but I've quietly observed it over the years. Greg always waits till Griff has dried off and left the room, then calls him back. Here's what happens...

Greg: Hey, Griff...

Griffin: Yeah?

Greg: You feel better now that you got a bath?

Griff: DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!

It's usually followed by a rolling of the eyes and a grin that wonders why his Dad asks him that over and over.

Last night, I was helping Griff towel-dry his hair after his shower, and I had to smile when he said...

"Aren't you gonna ask me?"

Goodbye, 2008

It's 2009...hard to believe.

Time flies when we get older.

I can remember my holiday break from school lasting what seemed like forever, and these past two weeks have gone by faster than when my son hits fast-forward on parts of a movie he doesn't like.

Nevertheless, I made a list of all the things I liked about 2008. Sort of a way of finding some good in what ended up being a terrible, life-changing year, personally.

And here they are...

My nephew, Jackson, was born. His grin melts my heart.

I finally started my blog that I'd wanted to do for awhile. It's been good therapy.

Blogging about life led me to take the leap and start writing my first book. I find myself jotting down notes in line at Starbucks and while sitting at a stoplight. Yes, I've heard some honking.

I am learning how to dance the West Coast Swing for a charity event, even though I'm rather clumsy at times. Go figure.

I got in another year of working with great friends, which doesn't, well, seem like work. Makes getting up at 2:30 am that much easier.

I road-tripped with my husband and two boys three, count 'em, THREE times in one year. Twice to Florida and once to North Carolina. That means I heard "Are we there yet" a total of 31 times.

I STILL have the cell phone Greg gave me for Christmas a year ago. Oh, I lost it, but always found it, including the time I left it on the counter at Starbucks.

I read more. I've always loved to read, just like my Dad, and made more time for a good book.

I have caught up with old friends. It's true when they say "Old friends make the best friends."

I've realized, more than ever, how much I love my Mom, two sisters, and Grandma.

Last but not least, I have Greg, Griffin, and Hayden, who make life fun.

So, there you have it. I'll make notes of the good things in 2009 and check back a year from now.

Happy New Year.

I Love Your...Heart

My 7-year-old, Griffin, is about as sentimental as it gets.

Sure, every parent hopes their children will remember at least 25% of what they tell them, such as "Say thank you when you're given a gift, hold the door for others, and show compassion for friends who are sitting alone at lunch."

Anything else is an added bonus, though "don't pick your nose" wouldn't hurt, either. I'm pretty certain my youngest son missed that memo somewhere along the way.

Last night, we went ice-skating and like many of us on the ice, Griffin was having some trouble. It was our first time, and I think he was initially disappointed that his legs were like wet noodles. I tried telling him that the guy in the orange shirt had been there a few dozen times before.

Griff had a deathgrip on my arm while he wobbled, and did several faceplants. Once, he took me down with him.

Later, as we unlaced our skates, Griff said, "Are you okay from falling, Mom? I hope you're not mad that I went down so many times." Goodness, no.

That night, as I made out my grocery list, I asked him, "Do you like the crinkled fries you had at your friend's house this week, or the smiley fries Mommy gets at the store?"

Griff was silent for a bit, then said...

"Either one, Mom. I like both. I just don't want to hurt your feelings."

I love Griffin a bunch, but I love his heart most.

Small Moments

Ever since I lost my Dad, life has been different. Life would be different for any one who loses a parent.

Yet, if I have to find some good, it is the small moments that don't pass me by. Maybe before, they did. Maybe before, I took them for granted, but I don't any longer.

Those small moments now define who I am and the memories I will tuck away in my heart.

Here are a few...

Walking through the family room, I spotted my youngest son with his head on Griffin's shoulder, while they watched tv.

Santa brought Griffin a new football bulletin board, and I noticed Griff had placed a photo of a classmate on it. Next to the pic, he had written directly on the cork, "Best Frind."

After Hayden opened his birthday gifts from us last week, Griff grabbed the wrapping paper and tape and disappeared. He then presented an interesting-looking gift to Hayden...an old "SORRY" game that he found in his closet. Hey, it's the thought that counts.

At the Children's Museum, my now four-year-old and I were waiting our turn at the Carousel, which sits under a "sky" of many stars. During the ride, Hayden asked, "Which star is Papaw Mike? I hope he's watching me."

Having a sad moment on Christmas Eve, the doorbell rang, and it was a UPS delivery. My friend Michelle from Georgia had sent some gifts. I've told her that as a child, I wished my name was 'Daisy.' I opened a gift box titled "To Daisy" and found a necklace with the silver flower hanging from the chain. She remembered.

Whether it's a sentimental phrase, or an act of kindness that stands out from the others, I treasure the small moments in life. Take note of them.

Life is a series of small moments, and strung together, they become our memories.

Kellie Gets Up Early Next Week

Just sitting here trying to decide what to make the kids for breakfast. They've been late sleepers during their two-week break for the holidays.

Meanwhile, it's back to work for me on Monday.

Can't remember what day, but we talk to Kellie Pickler next week. She's always a fun interview. Last time we chatted, she told us she does ONE stomach crunch a day.

The one it takes to sit up in bed.

Gotta love it.