Happy Birthday Dear Daddy, Happy Birthday to YOU!

today is my Daddy's birthday. he's a pretty amazing man. yes, of course i'm biased, i'll cop to that. but even so, he's pretty awesome - all my friends - my entire life - have always told me how wonderful, cool, loving, considerate and fantastic he is. he's so nurturing, my mom has always said that he should have been the mother.

allow me to introduce you...
this picture is of him and my son - taken back in November.

My Dad is a true country boy. born and raised on a farm in south mississippi.
He likes to hunt and fish and spend time with his family.
He graduated from LSU's School of Forestry.
He served in the National Guard.
He owned his own timber business until he retired.
My dad served on the Mississippi Forestry Commission for several terms - once as the governor's appointed commissioner.

but that's all logistics. could apply to anyone.

so let me tell you who he really is....

since he owned his own business, he could come home for lunch pretty often. Sometimes, he take me out in the woods with him to survey timber. one of my earliest memories is sitting on his shoulders - walking through the tall Mississippi pines.

i was never ready on time when it was time to leave with him. he always had to wait on me. it caused undo tension. my mom told him he'd have to teach me a lesson one day and just leave me. so that day came. i was told to get ready to leave. i didn't. he left me. my mom says she doesn't know who cried more, me or him...

i was always scared of bad weather as a little girl - maybe because i lived through a couple tornados as a small child. but every time a big storm would roll through at night - lots of thunder and lightning - i'd always wake up my daddy. i don't remember him ever telling me to go back to bed - that he had to get his sleep. he would get up and sit in the kitchen with me till it had passed and then we'd both go back to bed. or i would at least, i doubt he ever really got back to sleep on these nights.
and as i got older, i tried to be braver. and not get up and disturb him. i remember one storm in particular. i awoke in the dark to the distant thunder. i stayed in bed. it got closer. i snuggled deeper in the covers. i stayed there - in my room - as long as i could stand it. until it sounded like lightening hit a tree right outside my room. the boom was deafening and the windows rattled in their frame. my feet didn't even touch the floor - i was off.
my Dad met me in the kitchen - arms open.

i had a childhood sweetheart. and i was soooo sweet on him. his family moved across country. so i wrote my young sweetheart letter after letter after letter. my dad would take them and mail them for me on his way to work. i never received one letter in return. not a single one. i kept writing, but finally, after months and months of no response, i tapered off and quit.
brokenhearted.
years later, when i was in college, i contacted this childhood sweetheart and his brother again. they were living in Calgary. it was 1988. winter olympics. they invited me up for the festivities. my Dad took me to the airport. as we were waiting for my flight, he asked if i remembered writing all those many letters. i said yes, of course. he asked if i remembered that i never got a response. yes, i remembered that too. he told me he always suspected my sweetheart's step-MONSTER never gave him the letters i wrote. i agreed with his assessment. he told me that it broke his heart. and that after a while, he quit mailing the letters.
i was shocked.
but then from his pocket, he produced the age-worn, yellowed envelopes with my childish handwriting on them. there were about 4 of them. unopened. he told me to take them with me and deliver them myself. that this way he knew my sweetheart would get them. and indeed, these were the first letters he ever received from me.

when both of my daughters were born, my parents came from Mississippi to Texas for the glorious occasions. I had all my babies induced - mainly so they could be in attendance.
My Dad went home a day or two after the births. and my mom would stay for two weeks to help out. it was WONDERFUL - she did all the things a mom would do for a new mother. she washed, cooked, cleaned, rocked, changed diapers and i got to sleep, eat and focus on recuperating and my new baby.
and at the end of the first two weeks, my DAD would come and spend two weeks. and he did the exact same. washed, cooked, cleaned, rocked and changed diapers. and at the end of his two weeks - when babies were four weeks old - and deemed old enough to travel - he would load us up and drive us to Mississippi to meet the kin folks over there. i nursed all of my babies. and so we'd have to stop every two hours or so to feed them. and the first one had some sort of gastric distress and the diaper rash to go with.

He was the most patient human being on the planet when this 8 hour drive turned into more like 14 hours - stopping every 30 minutes or 30 miles - whichever came first. and being the first time mom that i was, i wouldn't even drive across the parking lot without her being strapped in her car seat. (i'm still pretty anal about that, actually)
he never complained once. not once. he helped me every second of the way. if it was time to change a diaper, he handed me each individual wipe as i needed them. squeezed the desitin onto my finger - all without me ever having to ask. time to nurse, he would park us strategically so that i would not flash any passerby's. i had to go to the bathroom, he snuggled and loved our baby girl whilst i was gone.

he's the kind of daddy every child should have.
one that loves their mother.
is dedicated to his family.
is a role model of goodness, kindness, fairness, compassion and hard work.

he's my SuperMan. my Prince Charming. my Hero.
he's my Daddy.

Happy Birthday Daddy.
all my love,
your little girl