Ode to Dad

This past Sunday while we were getting ready I said to Darren, "Do you remember your first Father's Day? I do. Because I couldn't walk yet at that point." Lucy was 8 days old. More than that first Father's Day, I remember him being in the LDR, being absolutely silent because that's what I required of him. I remember her delivery and him spooning ice into my mouth and cheering me on. I remember that he was unofficially voted Most Excited Dad ever by the doctor and nurses.

When I came home from the hospital, he bought me a porch swing and a necklace with the baby's birthstone in it. In those first few nights when we were wondering what we'd gotten ourselves into and she was screaming her head off and I couldn't figure out how to nurse her for the life of me and was bawling my head off too, he said, "You lie down and get some good sleep; I'll take her." And he walked up and down the halls and all around the house with her while I slept for at least 4 hours.

When Elaine was born, I can pretty much just say, "Lather, rinse, repeat."

He's been to countless doctor appointments, changed countless diapers, given countless bottles, and been thrown up on with the best of them.

He's the dad who works far more than a 40-hour work week in 4 days so that he can take care of the girls on Friday, rather than have them go to daycare.

He makes pancakes for breakfast and grilled cheese with ham for lunch.

He gives baths, takes temperatures, and runs out late at night to get Pedialyte/Motrin/amoxycillin.

He takes a little girl to ball games, and they eat nachos and drink Dr. Pepper. He goes on bike rides and takes her to band concerts.

He does bedtime devotions and reads untold number of books. He plays all the characters in "Curious George Makes Pancakes" and "Lyle, Lyle Crocodile" and talks in all the different voices.

He teaches and disciplines and gives lots of hugs and a few spankings.

He goes to swimming lessons and Christmas programs and Kids' Club.

Last Friday night, he woke Lucy up and got her out of bed. They got some books, went to the convenience store and got some supplies, then they camped out together in the tent in the backyard. He had set the tent up with a great air mattress, both their pillows, and a little table. They laid out there and drank grape pop and read stories and went to sleep.

He worries, cries, prays, and laughs over his girls.

That's just the kind of dad he is.

Happy Father's Day, Scooby. You're the best! I love you!