Yes, Virginia, I do have a father

Someone who calls them self "blogfan" wrote this in the comments to my flooded basement post:

you have a dad? i have been reading your blog for quite some time now. you seem to worship your mother. she is mentioned and praised over and over. what about daddy? does he not inspire you like your mother?

I started writing a response in the comments, but thought that what I was writing deserved more than a "comment" so here it is:

blogfan:

I don't know who you are, but thanks for reading. I didn't realize that anyone but my family and a few friends read anything that I write....ever!

Yes, I have a dad. He is a wonderful and amazing person. He is a role model, can wear a mustache with a swagger, and is a fantastic grandpa.

He comes to my rescue more than anyone else ever has, helping me move, rescuing me from a dead car on the freeway (and the credit union parking lot) or standing in inches of water and he never asks for anything in return. One day, when I was in college, he even drove out of his way early in the morning, to campus to put my parking pass in my car because I left it at home and I didn't want to get a parking ticket. He even has magic powers because he didn't have the right car key, but he got my door unlocked anyway.

He loves to read books, and we love to talk about history. I've got great memories of driving to University basketball games and talking WW II in the car to and from because we both just finished the latest book. Or arguing about minute details from something that we both read, and he was right, even though I insisted that I was.

I like that I can teach him computer stuff over the phone and that, unlike many of the teachers I work with on a daily basis, he remembers what I told him and can do it again.

I think it's funny that he does Sudoku puzzles and won't write in pen just in case he makes a mistake. I like that he is protective of his kids and likes his girls just as much as his golden boy. When Willie was born, a gentleman that we referred to as "dick-and-he-is-one" said to my dad, "Aren't you so excited that you finally have a son that you can play catch with," and my dad replied that he's been playing catch with his girls for years!

My dad is a thinker, and a ponderer, and a pretty spiritual guy. I trust him with anything and everything.

Feelin' Hot, Hot, Hot!

Today, the gang went to the zoo. We got started late, and it was not only free day for the military and their families, but it seems that every single school group (or young adult county rec soccer team) that owns matching t-shirts showed up wearing their matching t-shirts. That, plus some major heat made the zoo a little trying.

Elliott was a very good and happy boy, even falling asleep in his stroller for a bit. We didn't see too many animals, but went to lunch at Hires after sweating to death. Yum.....Hires.

Dead men tell no tales

Believe it or not, I'm not a fan of celebrations or national holidays. I know that in the history of this blog, I've shared my disdain for many holidays, but have I whined about the 4th of July yet? Who cares, I'll whine now.

Here's the deal. As a kid (I mean, oh, 15 years old until...um, now), the 4th of Joo-lie has always stressed me out. With parades, and luncheons, and barbeque's, and all family tugging in every direction at the same time, the day is just one that I try to skip. There are too many places to be at the same time and it stresses me out (because I'm that kind of person) and I do my best to avoid the 4th. The first year Ross and I were married, we went backpacking. The second year of our marriage we stayed and though I can't really remember, I'm pretty sure I was grouchy and not too much fun to be around. The last two fourths, we've been in California, San Francisco and San Diego, respectively.

This year, with this whole baby thing, we stayed. I wanted to go to Yellowstone but we're going to do that over labor day. We decided that this year, we'd do the Petersen barbecue in Ogden and that I'd be grouch free.

The morning got off to a little bit of a rocky start with some timing problems, car problems, work problems for Ross and Annie almost breaking her grouch free oath problems. But, we pulled through and eventually, got things rolling and had a great day. Don't believe me? Look at these pictures to prove it!



Pleasantness abounds, right? I mean come on, we even did a group photo to commemorate the day. My little family and I had a beautiful, leisurely drive home and things seemed to be ending on a high note. The timing problems, car problems, work problems and Annie the Grouch problems all seemed to dissolve. That is, until we got home.

You see, Ross bought this thing called a soaker hose. And, well, to make a long story short, it does what it claims to do. The water running down the alley could have been my first clue that something was amiss, but you see, I didn't know that Ross had turned the soaker hose on at 7 am. So there was no reason to think that all the water was mine. Even when I saw it running down the driveway, and storming out of the garage where it leaked through, I said nothing. However, once I got into the basement and sloshed through enough water that it hit the bottom of my ankle, I realized that something was amiss.

Our basement was flooded. The whole basement. It is a disaster. Hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of water sloshing around on the basement floor. We now know where the high spots are, and unfortunately, where the low spots are. The TV and play station? Safe! My precious school files, books and important documents? Gone to soggy paper heaven. It's amazing sometimes how, when stuff that you haven't looked at for years gets ruined, that you cry. Yes, I know it was just stuff, and that I have electronic copies of a few things, but holy cow, it's pretty rough to see things you've collected and used over the years totally destroyed.

We wet vac'd as much water out last night as possible. I owe my parents a lot (you guys name your price) for rushing to our rescue last night and helping us with the monkey and the bailing. Good thing we're all strong swimmers, because we came close to putting our skills to the test!

This morning, the basement had filled again, but this time just with about half an inch. Dad, thank you for spending your day with the swimming pool pump cleaning out the water while Ross was at work and I was playing at the zoo. You are a lifesaver and a wonderful dad.

You ask, what lessons have I learned from all of this? Several:

1. The fourth of Joo-lie is cursed and never to be celebrated again. We are going back to running away!
2. Flooding your own basement is a great way to motivate cleaning and reorganization in a hurry. Everyone should do it.
3. Cardboard is absolutely disgusting when it has been soaking in water for 12 hours.
4. My window sills are full of giant wolf spiders.
5. You don't have to say a word to your husband after something like this happens. Staying quiet and keeping your mouth shut seems to inspire more guilt than yelling and carrying on like a fool.
6. I still LOVE Ross, even after he flooded my basement and even though he is turning into an absent minded professor.
7. My family is wonderful and oh so helpful! Cookies for a year won't even begin to repay them for all the help and support. I am offering cookies for a year though.
8. Once things get cleaned up, it's really not a big deal and I'm happy that I showed some self-restraint and didn't get mad.
   
   

He's just too cute. What else am I supposed to do?

We had the helmet fitting yesterday. It was okay, minus 10 minutes of total suckage where monkey screamed so loud and fervently that he turned purple. He gets his helmet next week. He'll wear it at least 6 weeks, but probably more because the kid's head is super flat!

However, today was a good day despite the trauma yesterday. We went swimming and monkey loves to swim. I dunked him under the water and, welll...he didn't hate it.

When we got home, I played with my new toy. A remote control for my camera. Yeah! Now I can take pictures from up to 15 feet away. Very cool.

Whilst playing, I took these. I can't resist. Could you?

No! Not hammer time, Helmet Time!

On Friday, my Mom and I took Elliott to the helmet doctor. To make a 2 hour appointment short, the monkey needs a helmet. His head is flat and lopsided a bit (see illustration) and needs to be fixed. Today, we have an appointment to get a mold of his head made for the reshaping head helmet. He will have to wear it for as little as 6 weeks up to 6 months, depending on who we talk to.

(Illustration borrowed and adapted from www.infantheadbed.com)

I'm a little disappointed and nervous about the whole process. It makes me think I'm a bad mom and I couldn't keep my little baby's head round and that, when he is wearing his helmet, people will think there is something wrong with his cognitive ability/ability to not hurt himself, etc. But, on the bright side, he won't grow up with a grotesquely misshapen head, and I can get him any color of helmet I want. It will be so red, you'll see him a mile away!