From the annals

When my daughter was little, I used to sing to her when putting her to bed. It was the usual stuff. But, I'd sing little "ditties" that I'd make up. Usually a two line poem put to a melody. Well, as time went on, I started stringing together the "ditties" and eventually came up with a song. The next step was to make a music video out of it. I happened about this video while looking for something else, so I thought I'd share it. My daughter is around two in the video, and she's almost nine now. So, it's a little old. Still, I think it's cute. My song for my little girl, Jamie. Daddy's Little Girl:

Another girlie story

I had to work a 12 hour day yesterday. We have an annual show many of our clients participate in, and it's hell week. Lot's to do, little time to do it. Anyway, when I finally got home I was able to spend just a few minutes with my daughter before putting her to bed. She asked why I had to work so much. I told her, and that it only happens every once in a while. She was concerned for me and asked if they (work) provided dinner. I thought this was cute in that she was not only looking out for my well being but that my efforts should be rewarded, in the very least, with something to eat. Truth was, I had a late Taco Bell lunch and wasn't hungry until I got home. None the less, this didn't sit well with my daughter. She said she would make me a lunch to bring to work.

This morning I woke Jamie when I got up as she had a little homework yet to do. She got up and promptly grabbed her folder. I took my shower. As I got dressed, I noticed she was busy in the kitchen. I thought she was making herself some breakfast. Nope. She was making my lunch! Unfortunately, because our fridge has been on the fritz, we didn't have to offer. So, I got a cheese sandwich with chips and some pudding. Nice! She also wrote a note, but I can't read it until lunch so I can't tell you what it says.

Anything. Anything she wants.

I have the best daughter in the world!

We've been busy as a family. My wife is working late, I've been working late, and my daughter has been spending time with her cousin at the sister-in-law's. As such we eat late, and with the late start on the evening, my daughter is finishing her homework close to bed time. It's a short term thing. In fact, my wife has already cut back on her hours so she can be home when my daughter gets home. Point is, we miss each other and haven't had a lot of time to spend with each other in the evenings.

Last night, my daughter had dance. Sometimes I go with her. This time I couldn't as I had a late recording. We were supposed to decorate the tree. Now I wasn't sure we would. Anyway, I got this note from my daughter when I got home:

Dear Daddy,
I hope we can play Mall Maddness $$. But, when I get home I have to do the rest of my HW. Aka, Home Work!
Love a lot, Jamie
p.s. I hope we can put on the ornaments!
p.p.s. And watch WALL-E
p.p.p.s. And when I say "a lot" of love, I mean TONS! I mean . . . I don't know. But, A LOT!

I've said it before . . . this kid can have anything she wants.

I'm framing that note.

We stayed up late to finish the Christmas tree.

Now, excuse me while I cry.

Theory of Relativity

So my daughter asked me to come out and play with her yesterday. She had a fever but you know how kids are. I tried to tell her she should rest but she said she's been resting and feels good now. Then I remembered I sprayed the lawn for weeds. I told her that we'd have to wait until tomorrow to play on the lawn.

"Tomorrow?" she said "That's like forever!"

"It's not that long." I said.

She answered, "It is in my world."

Ha! You know, she's right.

Best way to start the day!

When I stepped out of the shower this morning, I saw that my daughter had written "I love you, daddy" in he mirror that had fogged over from the shower.

That made my day.

The Show Must Go On!

No, not the Oscars, my girlie's birthday party! This weekend my girlie, who is now 8, celebrated her birthday in decadent style. She wanted a chocolate-themed birthday party . . . and sleep over! If you follow this blog you know this was supposed to happen last weekend, but thanks to my daughter's curse, she was sick and we had to post pone until this weekend. Well, everyone originally invited saw fit to squeeze Jamie in to their busy little schedules and so it was on. My girlie and 7 of her best buds . . . I mean, BFF's were about to get their party on.

So, I get sick. Really sick. Fever sick.

I think anyone who knows me knows that I take my daddying very seriously. So not being able to be a part of the preparations and potentially the celebration of my girlie birthday is heart wrenching. But, you gotta take care of number one first if you're to be of any good to anyone else. So, I had to sit this one out a bit.

Now, anyone who knows my wife knows there is no "half way", no "cutting corners", no "scaling down", no "do it the easy way". Nope. Nope. Nope. Doesn't matter if it's our wedding anniversary party or my daughters 8th birthday party, you go all out and make it special. Not that I disagree with that. But, when I do up a football party it's a bit different from how my wife does it. Yes, in most cases, thankfully so. But there are times when taking an easier approach to things doesn't lessen the enjoyment people get out of it.

She'll dispute that. And she'll be right. People notice the little things and it does add to everyone's enjoyment. One of the many reasons I love her to death.

Anyway. So, along come 8 girlies looking to party on. My wife had everything ready. All I had to do was enjoy it and at one point read a story. The girls did crafts, went outside and played in Jamie's playhouse, built a chocolate house, played some games, and ended the evening with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They stayed up a bit past midnight just so so we could say it was the next day. They all slept like cute little rocks until about 7:30. Then, my wife made pancakes, they did chocolate fondue, and ended the morning learning the Oompa Loompa dance from the DVD. It was wonderful.

All the girls are a part of my wife's Brownie Troop so we both know them pretty well. Still, they were a great bunch of girls. No fighting, bickering, nothing. They all had fun and were a pleasure to have.

First today I'm feeling better and can help out by cleaning up a little. Very little. Jackie did most of that, as well.

I'm a lucky guy to be blessed with two wonderful girls in my life. I love you both very much.

Things that never grow old

I'm not the type of person who brings work home. I can walk through the doors at the end of the day and, poof! All done. I look forward to going home and being with my family.

That said, there's nothing quite as satisfying as walking in the house and having my 8 year old daughter scream "daddy" as she runs to give me a hug.

I'll never get tired of that.

She's a genius . . . part 1001

My daughter of almost 8 sometimes uses a stapler for her projects. We have one. It's a POS. But, for light work it seemed to be fine. The last several times we've used it, though, it really wasn't working. It wouldn't shoot a staple. You had to open it, pound it a little, then maybe it would shoot a staple. Sure, I checked it over but I always chalked it up to being a cheap stapler.

Well, my daughter was trying to make a booklet the other day and was having the same problems with the stapler. She asked me to help her with it. Once again, I opened it, pounded it, and got it to shoot a couple of staples. Enough for her and her booklet. Afterward, I vowed to buy a new one.

A couple of minutes later my daughter comes up to me and says: "Daddy, I think I found the problem. There's a staple stuck." I was fairly certain she meant that there was a staple stuck in the opening of the stapler, as is often the case. She had the stapler open and showed me a staple stuck under the mechanism that pushed the staples forward via a spring. Sure enough, a closer look revealed just what she said. I was dumbfounded. I got out my leatherman and took the staple out. After which the stapler worked beautifully.

I couldn't help but tackle my girlie to the floor and give her about a hundred kisses, telling her all the while I thought she was a genius.

And thanked her for reminding me, yet again, that I am not.