Damn It Daddy...

So my lovely husband Rob is pretty damn manly. No metrosexual here. Nope, no sir. Even when it comes to Lucy I think he's going to encourage her to be a tomboy, and since I'm not the world's girliest girl it may very well happen.

So far I've put up with the ban on pink (she still wears it sometimes) and the requests NOT to put any bows or clips in her hair. Fine. I don't particularly want a giant rose on her head anyways. However, I put my foot down when it comes to hats. I love cute hats and there are SO many cute hats out there for babies. Not to mention we're going into fall...you know, when it starts getting quite COLD outside. So hats? Probably not such a bad idea. Rob puts up a fight when I put hats on her, but do I care? No. This is coming from the guy whose idea of dressing up is putting on the first clean t-shirt on top of the pile in his drawer (I have to rotate them to get him to change it up a little).

So she has a whole drawer full of cute hats and you know what happens when she spends two whole days with daddy?

This:

"Noooo. I hate hats. Or at least Daddy told me I did....Mommy, why are you doing this to me? WHY?

"Daddy showed me a trick, now if I just grab the back..."




"Then give it a tug..."



"Ah HA! Success! Nice try Mommy. Now you're never going to get me to keep one of this damn things on my head!"



Thanks a lot Daddy! Seriously though folks, she absolutely will NOT keep a hat on her head now. Damn it! Foiled by Rob!

"A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again. "
-Enid Bagnold

Daddy's Girl...

I was a Daddy's girl all the way, and from the looks of it Lucy is going to follow in Mom's footsteps.



I leave to write my blog early yesterday morning and this is what I came back to (my husband does wear shirts, I promise!):

"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. "
-John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994

Daddy...

Dear Lucy Lou,

You and I, we're lucky girls, you know that? You have the most wonderful dad and honestly, that is one of the best things you can get in life. I should know, I had one myself, even if only for just s short while. I just hope that you appreciate him, even though I'm sure he'll embarrass the hell out of you numerous times in your life, and realize how much he has loved you before you even arrived on this earth. I don't want you to realize what a wonderful thing you had too late, so I'll be sure to tell you every day how incredibly lucky you are to have him.

He's taken care of your mommy so well these past 7 months, and for four years before that. From the moment we met, in fact. As we speak he is vacuuming the carpet for me and is going to make me dinner, as he does every night. You're also damn lucky that your dad knows how to cook, because although mommy can make some darn good dishes,(we've counted and there's about 10 solid standbys that I can make), but they pale in comparison to the gourmet meals daddy serves up every night. I'm sure at some point you'll complain because you want boxed mac and cheese, like all your friends, but you'll come to realize that to have a Le Cordon Bleu trained father is an amazing thing, just wait until you can truly appreciate his salmon burgers with basil aioli and sweet potato fries, or his apple cider pork chops with homemade applesauce and creamy mashed potatoes. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it!

It is my hope for you that you are a total daddy's girl. That daddy can do no wrong in your eyes, even when you become an obnoxious teenager. Let mommy deal with that part and let daddy continue to be the hero. You never know how short a time you have with people in your life, life seems especially short with the ones you love the most.

I love your daddy so much and I can't wait for you to love him as well because he so deserves all the love we can give. We are the luckiest girls in the world my Lucy darling, we truly are.

Love xoxo,

Mommy

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"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."
-Pablo Neruda

Father's Day...

For about the last seven years Father's Day has been a rough, and although this one had the fun celebration of Rob's quasi- First Father's Day, it still wasn't easy. Ever since my dad has been gone I've dreaded the day. I think about him every day but on Father's Day you really notice the absence of a father, especially one like mine. I really can't put into words what an amazing dad he was, and unfortunately, I really don't think I ever appreciated him enough while he was here.

I know that he would be over the moon thrilled about this baby. I just know how incredibly, amazingly happy he would be about it. But what makes this particular part of my pregnancy so bittersweet, just like my college graduation and my wedding, I just wish he was here to share it with me and with my mom.

I never had a grandfathers, both passed away well before I was born, and although Baby M will have Rob's dad, and no offense to him, he won't hold a candle to the grandfather my dad would have been. Of course I'll tell stories, but it hurts that Baby M will never really know him, not well enough to realize how amazing he was. I miss him so much and I wish he was here, in person, to share this time.

"A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal. "

-Big Fish