The Importance of a Father Being A Daddy

If you are the father (or stepfather) of a little girl, then LISTEN UP!  I didn't plan on being so transparent in this post but it happened anyway.

My father

When I was growing up, I was Daddy's Little Girl.  At the time, I didn't know what that meant.  All I knew was that I loved my dad and he loved me.  He was supposed to though, right? There were a few times I got the belt to my butt and it was SCARY.  His general speaking voice is very deep and very loud so you can imagine what yelling was like.  I knew my parents fought a lot but before it got really bad, there were some good days in between.  My parents each had a motorcycle and we traveled around with the group every week.  I think I was about 9 when my dad taught me how to drive one.  He would use his legs to keep us propped up but I did the steering and changing gears.  He had absolute total confidence in me.  It felt amazing. 

When he left, I lost more than a father.  I lost strength in myself.  I thought I lost the promise of a happy family.  My brother was gone.  My sister was gone.  Now my father was gone.  People kept leaving me.  It was me and my mom.  I knew what he did to her was wrong but sometimes I still blamed her.  Maybe it wasn't blame, it was just anger with how our family was built.  While others had families built of steel, our seemed to be  like a straw shack sitting in the middle of a tornado.  Honestly, I was 12 years old.  I had so much going through my heart and head it's a wonder I turned out the way I did.  Of course, that may not be a good thing either.  I wonder.

For a long time it was just me and mom.  She taught me to be independent.  She taught me not to rely on a man for things I could do on my own.  My view of love and relationships was certainly jaded.  I still catch myself trying to rationalize why I feel the way I feel, in all things.  I look back at high school and wonder what in the world people thought of me.  I didn't fit in with the cool kids.  I didn't fit in with the smart kids.  Then, and now, I still battle with the feeling of not fitting in.  Clothes, accessories, hair, weight.....I don't have all the right things and even the things I do get right I still question.  Yes, I am fully aware it shouldn't be about "things".  There used to be a time years ago that I could look in the mirror and smile back.  Now, I only look in the mirror because I have to see to put make up on.  Walking thru stores, seeing surveillance camera monitors, getting my hair cut, working out at the gym.....Im surrounded by mirrors and it literally makes me nauseous. You can forget about selfies from me.  I never, ever, ever take pictures.  Ever.  (Not trying to sound like Taylor Swift, just expressing a view!!)

It took me roughly 20 years for me to come to terms with the person my father is. I will always love him and I genuinely do forgive him.  It hurt so much to question why my father didn't want me, why all the lies, why the distance.  It was molding me into a bitter person.    There comes a point, as a person and a mother, that you have to decide what is best for you and your child.  If you met him, you would probably say he is very kind and loves his family.  I'm sure there's a part of him that does.  Like most people, there's an underbelly and that's what you don't want to cross.

In saying all of that, I say this......your kids remember more than you know.  Your tone, and your words, can make the simplest of words feel like a stake through the heart to a little girl that adores you.  Every time she walks out after getting ready and you don't say a word, it's remembered.  Every time you tell her she can't do something because she's a girl, it's remembered.  A newly painted picture, a silly dance, a horribly sung song.....these are things that shouldn't be blown off!  Your reactions to these things build a foundation for her. Every negative comment is placed in the internal file cabinet of her heart. They.....we.....remember the acknowledgements and the blow offs.  You may not understand or even like something they like, but get over yourself and let them know how proud you are of them, their accomplishments, their creativity.  I am NOT saying to treat your child like she's a Queen, give her everything she wants and make the world all about her.  Just love her.  Genuinely love her. That's all she needs.  She will feel like she can conquer the world without you having to do it for her because YOU gave her the confidence to do it herself.  There's no love like a mother's love but to a little girl, nothing in the world compares to the love she gets from her Daddy.  Honestly, all of this applies to boys too.  We're supposed to build them into strong, sensitive men that will one day be husbands and fathers.  Show them now how to do it right.  Don't repeat a cycle.  Don't make them feel like they're a nuisance.  Being a parent doesn't mean you always get the last glass of milk,  last cookie, first serving of something or whatever, just because you're the adult.   Being a parent doesn't mean that your children's thoughts don't matter because they're children.   THAT just shows immaturity to me. ENCOURAGE them to think and do for themselves but don't expect them to know exactly how to do something.  HELP them. Ugh, the more I type the madder I get so I need to stop before I get too grumpy.

My mom married a man that chose to be my dad.  He loves me unconditionally and makes sure I know it.  He gives his heart and soul to his family without question.  My children have so many memories and continue to add more because of the person he chooses to be.  It is a choice.  He chooses to love us like his own. Your choice matters. So what you might have failed at it for years.  SO WHAT!  If you're still here, make it right.  Swallow your pride and make it right.  If you don't know where to start.... read this.  Even if you're already doing it, read this.  If you don't take the time to show her, who will?  I don't know about you but that's not something I'm willing to gamble on.

Rules for Dads Raising Daughters

Gonna Party Like It's 1999

Fall of 1999:
Josh and I had been secretly dating for a few months.  His parents found out what was going on and......well, lets just say it didn't go over well at all.  I understood it.  He was 17 and I was 25.  He had plans to go to med school and they were worried I would ruin all of it.  The problem was, we were in too deep by that point.  Like I said before, whatever it was that clicked between us locked up and refused to be unbroken. We made sure we worked the same days since we both still worked at Red Lobster.  Every time a new schedule would come out, we would trade off with other people to make sure we were there at the same time.  He would come to my house before work to pick me up, we would ride to work together and then he would drop me off at night.  All the time we knew his parents didn't approve but we just couldn't leave each other alone.
One night while we were leaving work, I noticed a car sitting way off to the side in an empty parking lot.  I told Josh not to look but to get to the truck in a hurry.  We did and took off.  We flew around the mall, cut off at the Shops on the Circle and headed to my house.  Made it.  He went straight home and before he walked in, he put his hand on the hood of his parents car.  Hot.  It was them.  We knew it was.  He was forbidden to see me but the rebel I had created didn't listen.
We continued to sneak around as much as possible until it just became unbearable.  His relationship with his parents wasn't going well (mine was fine because they loved Josh!).  I don't know when or where it was decided but we decided the only way to be together was to get married.  School was ending soon for him and he was turning 18.
For about 3 weeks prior to his birthday, he would bring a couple of things at a time over from his house.  Just a few things at a time so it wouldn't be so noticeable. The day came.  June 2, 2000.  Josh turned 18 and we had a plan.
Josh was on the yearbook committee at school so that morning he told his parents he was going to school to work on it.  He didn't.  He picked me up and we met 4 of our friends at the courthouse.  We Was Gettin' Hitched!  We signed in and paid the fees then waited in the hallway for our turn.  We all watched the hall like hawks, waiting for his parents to turn the corner and stop the marriage.  Instead, the clerk came out and said they had a problem.  She said even though it was Josh's birthday, he was born at night so technically he wasn't 18 yet.  !!!!  Panic set in.  My heart fell to the floor.  BUT, then she said she was just kidding.  *LOL*
Josh was a nervous wreck.  He had some crazy rash all over his eyes that got worse the longer we were there.  All nerves.  Anyway, we went through with the ceremony and then went to IHOP with our friends! Ha! Ha! Ha!  His rash went away after we were married.

Josh's parents told him previously that if he was determined to see me, he would have to turn over his truck.  SO, after we all ate we had a friend of ours take his truck to his mom's work with a letter inside explaining what happened.  Josh knew she was going to be at work that day so after it was dropped off, we came home and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Nothing.
About 9pm, Josh decided to call his family since we hadn't heard anything from them.  His sister answered and they were all there.  Josh's mom was never at work.  She took off that day because they were going to surprise Josh for his birthday.  Cake and all.  Josh had a copy of the letter so he just told them to check their email.  LORDY, all hell broke loose from there!!!!
Cousins called. Uncles. It was crazy for a while but eventually it settled down.  What's done was done, no going back. 
A week or so went by and I received a call from his mother.  Josh was about to graduate high school and they had family coming in from out of town for a party.  She didn't like what was going on but she wanted to invite me anyway.  I went and I survived.
Things were pretty rocky for a while but eventually everything calmed down and we started our married life together.  We were in the duplex I was renting from Chip Bailey in a rather unsafe part of town.
Josh started college and I continued to work.  He was already working at the medical center so he kept pretty busy.  I worked 8-5, he worked 3-11 and had school.  We didn't see much of each other.  Like most newlyweds, we had growing pains.  We fought, a lot.  I was bad about wanting to run away from it and he was good about keeping the promise of our vows.  We traveled around here and there when we could.  We went to New Orleans for his 21st birthday. I gave him skydiving for his 20th birthday.  We went to San Antonio, visited family in Ohio and went to a few Nascar races (we were at the Daytona race when Dale Earnhardt died).

In San Antonio

He's saying "I Love You Baby!!"

My grandmother's health started to decline so my parents bought the house next to hers.  Since my parent's house was vacant, we decided to move there.  It was the house I grew up in.  Definitely not the best memories.  Things were still a little rocky but we were making progress together.
After being married about 2 years, we decided we wanted to have children.  I should have known, based on my past, that it wasn't going to be easy.....

Act Your Age!

Have you ever taken the time to delve into the depths of your brain and find your very first memory?  I always wonder, at what point did a first memory etch itself into my child's brain.  Asking them now won't do any good.  I want to hear how they remember their childhood when they're older.  What did I say or do that left an impression over other things?

My first memory?  I was 3.  I was sitting on some funky green carpet in our living room.  I have no clue what I was doing but I remember my mom saying "Act your age!!!!" and I remember being confused.  How did a 3 year old act? Was I doing it wrong? Apparently so.  And then it fades.....

The memories that follow are a huge mixture of every emotion possible.  I remember riding in our vomit green conversion van (with Snoopy in a spaceship flying over the moon...YES it was the 70s) with our neighbors singing Crystal Gayle & Carpenters songs.  "Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue"  "Im Sittin On Top Of The World"   I distinctly remember the unfortunate incident of me and a permanent marker drawing on the back of the chairs in the van.  (Probably why later my mother invested in a shirt for me that said "I Didn't Do It").

Yeah, y'all thought I was kidding didn't ya!?

School.  1st grade.  I met a group of girls that remained my best friends for years. Teresa, Amanda and Katie. We were always with each other and I loved them dearly.  Their families were still intact and....happy, and I was jealous.  I wanted to be anywhere but at home.  My sister left at 17.  My brother left at 19.  That left me. My friends witnessed things at my house that no one ever should.  I couldn't have spend the night company.  Well I could, but any fun we had was overshadowed by screaming and the sound of my father beating my mom.  Embarrassing.  I don't think I ever told any of those girls what their friendship meant to me as I was going through that.  I hope they know.
Any good memories of a possibly happy family were forgotten from that point on.  I have pictures of all of our travels together but when I look at them, I remember what it was really like.  Not what the camera caught.

  In 3rd grade, I met my Dena.  Dena Rae Hoover.  She was new to the school and we became instant friends.  Somehow, I meshed my friendship with her and my friendship with my girls.  It worked drama free.  Dena and I have continued our friendship for 32 years.  Births.  Deaths.  Marriages and divorces.  Seems like we have been through it all together and I know I'll have her til my last day on this Earth.

Middle school brought out a whole new me.  I met Davy-Randy-Heather  and Laura (more girls I am still friends with to this day!!)  Things were at their worst at home and I was getting older.  Old enough to get in trouble. In 7th grade, I was walking through the mall with Teresa, Katie and Amanda.  My mom had just told me they were getting a divorce and I was telling my girls (even remember it was right in front of what used to be Kirklands).  I don't know what I would have done without the solid friends I had.  Something snapped in me.  12 years old.  I started drinking, smoking and smoking pot.  Thinking about my children being 10 right now and doing what I did at that age absolutely terrifies me. 

Then came high school........