Last minute Father's Day getaway

Jim very casually mentioned something the Friday evening before Father's Day, about going to St. Augustine for the weekend. I've learned that the casual part of his "mentioning" is really and truly his way of trying to let me know he's got something in mind that he'd really like to do, although it doesn't come across as a strong desire. You see, this is bad because I'm a "Here's Your Sign" kinda gal. I don't get innuendo, or beating around the bush. I've gotta have black and white, just come right out and say it because my nearsightedness doesn't allow me to read in between the lines you're holding up 20 feet away.

Another version of him being so "forthright" is when he will ask, "What were you planning on accomplishing this weekend?"

Translation: I'm going to ask you what you were planning on doing to feel you out and then casually mention what I was hoping to do myself just to see if you'd be cooperative enough and know that I won't be able to watch the kids very much.

I'm just now figuring this out and it will be 10 years this August, and I've known him for 13 years. That's how much of a learning curve I'm dealing with people.

So, I've learned to cast the lure back into his waters and search out more information. Turns out, he was serious about going to St. Augustine, staying the night and celebrating Father's Day there. I figured this out Saturday morning.

The good-deal-search machine kicked into high gear. I banned children from the office so I could check out all the websites and make all the phone calls I needed to find the best deal. The room was booked at 9am, we planned to be packed and out the door by 11, didn't make it until 12, but we were on our way.

It might have taken so long to pack because there was a feeding in the middle of all the packing and we have a 2 year old that likes to unpack quicker than I can pack. We also have a 5 year old that is determined to ask every question under the sun and bottom line is this: my brain doesn't function well with distractions. It should have been the part of the test I failed when I applied to become a mommy. I'm pretty sure I packed each bag 3-4 times and went over the contents in my mind about a dozen times each.

We made a quick stop by McDonald's, and ate it in the car on the way there.

There's about 1/2 hour of wooded area that's pretty boring right out of town, so out came the camera and some silliness.
It's hard to get some z's with two older siblings flanking him.
I love this view.
Thinking about life, I'm sure.
Trying to avoid thinking about life for the weekend.
Thinking about heavy equipment.
Thinking about what outfit she's going to change into next.
Both of them took quick naps and by the time we got to the "helltel" (as Katherine used to call them), both kiddos were raring to go swimming. It was still nap time and soon to be feeding time for little guy, so I stayed back in the room.
That evening, we made a trip to our favorite place to eat, The Columbia, and stopped for some ice cream also. Thankfully, it doesn't get dark until later so we enjoyed some walking along the beach.Happy Father's Day Jim. You are the hardest working man I know, and you do it all for us. You show your love for us every day with your big hugs, zerbert kisses, loud exclamations, calm demeanor and trips to work everyday. We are so blessed to be able to call you Daddy and Husband. We love you thiiiiiiiiiis much (arms stretched wide).

My Father's Day

No I'm not a father, but I had a FABULOUS Father's Day.

It started out with my little man waking up earlier than usual. How is that a fabulous day, you ask, well that part wasn't.

Nathan has managed, for the last couple of months, to not get upset when we leave him in the nursery during Sunday School, so that was extra nice. And I've been trying to acclimate him to singing in church. The first time I brought him into church for the singing since he was an infant, he sang louder than anyone else around us, causing people to turn around and take notice. The next couple of times he was more interested in trying to get me to stop singing by saying in his high-pitched, squeaky voice, "No, No, Noooooooo!"

Well, the singing saga has improved. He no longer holds his hand over my mouth nor looks at everyone else around us in disgust.

But Father's Day, oh very cute. Our church lovingly passes out roses to the mothers on their day and fathers get . . . . . . candy bars. Katherine and Nathan both cautiously made the trek alllllllll the way to the front of the church, with the help of Bekah's guiding hand, and brought back two candy bars for daddy.

And then it happened.

(No, I did not eat the candy bars in church! I do have some cooth.)

My little boy fell asleep on my lap!

My little man, who is too busy to be still. The little boy who can't miss anything going on around him. The kid who rarely likes me to hold him even when he's sick. Yes, the one that is allergic to cuddling. He settled right down in the nook of my arms, got real still, and was rocked to sleep by my swaying while singing.

Which all of that in mom-terms meant that lunch was going to be a little bit more pleasant and talk-friendly because of our well-rested child.

It was a very selfish Father's Day for me. My husband is a phenomenal father. He deserved to be able to hold our baby while sleeping (but that would have made both of them too hot and sweaty). He is transforming into this incredibly selfless, thoughtful, caring, gentle, God-seeking, getting-easier-to-talk-to man. And I am so thankful for him.

He did manage to fit in one really important life lesson that day: how grasshoppers can be really cool to play with.
Someone was not afraid.

Someone wasn't so sure.

Happy Father's Day Jim!

Fatherly influence

My husband pulled a fast one on me the other day by singing a tune I thought he had made up. He sang it off and on for an hour or so, all the while I thought he was propositioning me so I made sure to not acknowledge his vocals.

He finally asked me if I knew what song he was singing.

Me: No, it's just one of your silly songs you make up and I'm not paying any attention to it.
Jim: HA! You really don't know what song I'm singing?
Me: No, it's ridiculous and I'm not going there.
Jim: Mrs. "I'm up on all the entertainment news because I watch MTV and E! news" doesn't know what song I'm singing?
Me: What are you talking about? No, I have no idea what you're singing.
Jim: Come here.

We go to the computer where he pulls up YouTube and has a video for me to watch. It was American Idol's visit to Atlanta where 62 year-old Larry Platt, aka the General, sang a song he personally wrote entitled, "Pants on the ground."



and then he pulled up another YouTube video showing Jimmy Fallon's rendition of Neil Young singing "Pants on the ground."



Needless to say, I must have been living in a hole for the past month because it's been such a pop culture phenomenon and I missed every single bit of it.

So here's the funny part. This morning guess who started singing "Pants on the ground" while she was waiting for her breakfast. The 3-year-old remembered from 2-3 weeks ago and started singing the Jimmy Fallon/Neil Young version.

And then, within minutes, she picked up her unactivated cell phone and declared in her white-girl-trying-to-be-ghetto-voice, "Quit calling me floo." (That last word is not a typo, she hasn't been introduced to the word "fool" yet, so I'm not correcting her).

Her father has been quite the influence on her lately.