Four Stars for the Fourth

Before my husband I had the boys, we used to go to the same festival each year and discuss our wishes and dreams on a blanket under the stars and fireworks. Inevitably, our conversations eventually led to having children. We usually ended up giggling and hugging when we thought of starting a family. But I remember both of us saying that it would probably be a long time 'til we were able to experience fireworks with little children. We had a feeling our kids might be the type who detest loud booms. And we were right. For the most part.

But we know now that our kids do love....

...dancing to their Pop Pop's band...


...playing fun games with fun prizes...


...making themselves comfortable when the mood hits...




...eating yummy treats at dusk (even if some is left on their faces)...

...celebrating our great country...

...and snuggling with their parents while anticipating their first real fireworks!

Besides the insane traffic leaving the event, we had an unbelievably successful day. In fact, Eric and I marveled at how well it went. When we were leaving, Peanut even said, "Mommy and Daddy, thank you for taking us here." Surprisingly, Pumpkin only shuddered a bit at the first few loud booms, but he was so impressed with the sight of the fireworks that he "ooohed and aahed" with the best of them. And -- unlike many days of late -- no one shed a tear. Unless, of course, you count the happy ones from me.

Flashback Friday: Daddy's Little Girl

Dad and me at three weeks old

Since Father's Day is right around the corner, I thought this would be an appropriate Flashback Friday. I have and always will be a daddy's girl. I think most girls are -- I know that even my mom, my stepmom, and my mother-in-law were all daddy's girls, too. There's just some kind of unspoken code between a daddy and his daughter. My dad chose his words carefully and could scare the dickens out of me with just a stern look. He could also alert the entire neighborhood with his powerful whistle that we could all hear blocks away to indicate that it was dinnertime. We had a ritual when I was little of watching Fat Albert together on Saturday while eating grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup that he made. And he always gave me the sandwich with the most cheese drizzle, even though I know he liked them that way just as much as I did. But the most powerful of all things he has given me through the years is his unconditional love that has never wavered, regardless of some of my idiotic decisions or my immature perspective. While my dad's glares and whistles were strong, his hugs were even stronger. And he still is the best hugger ever.

At my Senior Voice Recital, December 1991

One of the funniest stories my dad tells is how I would not talk to him after he grew a moustache when I was three. I was scared of men with facial hair. If you think back to the seventies, you can see why; all men with facial hair were "bad guys" with the exception of Santa Claus (although I was not a fan of his facial hair, either). So, imagine my surprise when recently my dad arrived at my house, and I saw his upper lip for the first time in 36 years!

May 2009 -- My Now-Moustacheless Dad!

I know I am blessed to have such a wonderful bond with my dad and to have also had such other amazing fathers in my life: my Pop Pop who was my heart, my grandpa, my father-in-law, and now my own husband. (It is no wonder with such strong father figures in my life that I chose someone to love whose second job is being SuperDad.)

So, Happy Early Father's Day to my dad and all of the other dads who have influenced my life. And Dad, thanks for always letting me be Daddy's little girl, even though I'm not so little anymore.