In February of 2012 my father underwent life-saving surgery to repair a burst intestine and stop the resulting sepsis.  His recovery was the second long one he had to endure, the first being after a heart bypass 8 years before.

Although my father’s favorite occupation since his retirement was sitting in a chair watching the Game Show Network, for some reason these long bouts of being home bound really put him in a grouchy mood sometimes.  (See previous post about Dad’s Constipation Expression).

Anyway, I moved into my parents’ house for a month after this operation to help out with stuff while he recovered.  One day he grouchily said, “Yeah, they fixed me up this time, but for how long?  5 years?  It seems like a waste.”

Well, Grouchy McGrouchster, yes, you made a full recovery and lived more than four more years.  In that time:

1. You spent a week at the beach celebrating your 80^th birthday with all of your kids and grandkids.
2. You got to star in a community production of 1776.
3. You got to watch The Tidewater Tides play baseball a few times.
4. You got to see your beloved Red Sox win the World Series!
5. You celebrated your 60^th wedding anniversary with the love of your life.
6. You saw your last 2 daughters, Meg and Jennifer, find love, get married, and welcome 2 new sons-in-law and 2 new granddaughters into the family.
7. You got to play FDR in a community production of Annie.
8. You got to see your granddaughter graduate from Princeton.
9. You got to see your grandson get married.
10. You got to see your first great-grandson.
11. You got to see 2 grandsons graduate from high school.
12. You got to spend a second week at the beach with kids and grandkids (thanks for paying for that one).
13. You got to educate hundreds of tourists as a docent at the MacArthur Memorial.
14. You got to make lots of trips to Holyoke to see relatives and attend school reunions, and host even more relatives in Norfolk.
15. You got to spend 2 days per week with your college-aged grandson, who loved  you so much he moved from New Mexico to attend college just a mile away from you.
16. You got to whomp us all in Trivial Pursuit.
17. You got to reunite with some of your West Point buddies, and write glowing tributes for those that had passed on.
18. You got to travel to lots of places, including Colorado, where you ate Rocky Mountain Oysters, and saw the Colorado Rockies play while you wore a mullet cap.
19. You had countless bowls of ice cream, chocolate cake, hot dogs, diet coke, coffee, and all the other stuff you love..
20. You experienced a renewed energy in your Catholic faith, and even joined a men’s Bible study group at Holy Trinity.
21. You spent hours and hours with your PIGS group, your Saturday night dinner group, and with countless other friends.
22. You spent many joyful hours with your loving wife, letting her laugh at your same old jokes, as if it was the first time she had ever heard them, never taking for granted that marrying her was the best decision you ever made.
23. You exited this world yesterday with pure class and grace, after winning over the entire medical staff that was taking care of you.  You let each and every one of us know how much you loved us, and you got to hear that we all thought you were the best husband, father, soldier, actor, singer, mentor, and movie buddy, and that we were all going to be okay.

RIP, Dad.  Even your grouchiness was funny.

To the rest of you reading this:  Never underestimate what will come your way, even if you do nothing but wait…..

When my older sister Fritzi was about 12, she discovered “Rock n Roll”.  With 8 children and only 2 parents, Classical music, Broadway Show Tunes, and Petula Clark were soon replaced by The Monkees, Paul Revere and The Raiders, and The Beatles.   Fritzi had a little portable record player where she played her latest 45’s or albums, and the 4 of us girls would sit around and listen to them.  Inevitably my father would come to our room with an annoyed expression on his face and ask “Is someone sick in here?  It sounds like someone has a stomach ache.”  He would pause, and then say, “Oh, it’s just your music.  Turn that down.”  Contentious arguments would follow, while Fritzi turned the music down incrementally until my father was satisfied, and he would turn and walk out of the room with Fritzi wailing, “But Daaaaaaaaad.   Now it sounds tinnnnyyyyyyy!!”

Over the years my father’s annoyed expression made an appearance frequently in our lives.  It became a source of amusement to us, and someone finally gave it a name:  Dad’s Constipated Expression.  A slightly scrunched nose and furrowed brow, as if he had smelled something bad.  Or, as if he was trying to…you know.

Dad’s Constipated Expression was especially prevalent during our teen years.  Whether it was us just being noisy, wearing too much makeup, or talking on the phone too late into the night, there it was.  It was definitely there the time my sister and I broke down on the New Jersey Turnpike and my Dad had to drive from Virginia to rescue us.

My father is a very meticulous person.  Before his heart bypass a several years ago, he used to have a ritual of cutting up squares of cheese and eating them with crackers while he did his logic puzzles in front of the television every night.  One time I dared to grab a cracker when I was walking by, and there it was…full on Constipated.  It wasn’t because he didn’t want to share, but rather because now the squares of cheese wouldn’t match up to the number of crackers.  (A friend of mine suggested he might not have the Constipated Expression if he stopped eating so much cheese).

After his bypass, my mother put the kibosh on eating unhealthy things, so the Constipated Expression would come out when she reminded him one piece of pie was enough, or Activia for dessert was just as good as chocolate ice cream!

This week I sat with my father in the hospital after he suffered a stroke.  He can’t talk very well, but he’ll answer yes or no, and it’s clear he knows what’s going on.  He hasn’t been interested in eating for several weeks, even before the stroke, and he’s not allowed liquids because of a silent aspiration risk. One afternoon he called me over and spoke very clearly.  “Meg, can you get me a chocolate milkshake from Doumar’s”?    I laughed out loud before replying, “Dad, remember you can’t have anything that will melt into liquid?”  And there it was…Dad’s Constipated Expression.  I will cherish it.

I am a total sucker for Christmas!  Some time after Halloween I start planning my decorations, presents, making travel plans to spend time with family, and getting events on the calendar that will keep me festive.

This year, we decided to have high tea at a fancy restaurant that is renowned for its Christmas decorations.  The group included my 2 besties, Wendy and Beth, and their 3 preteen daughters; Wendy’s daughter Laura, and Beth’s girls Samantha and Nicole.

A side note:  I knew these women long before they were married and having children.  When they did start to have babies, I just assumed we would drift apart because as a single, parentless woman, I didn’t think our lifestyles would mesh.  Nobody ever told me that my friends’ kids would be super fun to hang out with, and in this case, become my best friends, too.  It’s been that way since they were newborns. 

As the time got closer, someone suggested we should also have a cookie baking day, and with our tight schedules, the Friday night before our Saturday tea date worked out to be the best time.

Friday came, and we all assembled at Wendy’s festively decorated house.

To be fair, Beth and I don’t really bake, so it was more of a “let’s go to Wendy’s and watch her and Laura make cookies” evening.

But the little girls did decorate all the cookies with a dedication and intensity that their grownup counterparts don’t display unless there is wine, cheese, or boys involved….

How about the aprons?  They were all Wendy and Laura’s, one was Laura’s toddler apron, which she wore as a sort of bib.

There were some piano players…

…and one of Santa’s elves made sure the Instagram world knew ALL about it.

The big girls drank champagne, then wine…

then left the house completely in search of more grownup beverages (within walking distance, silly!).  We left the kids to watch movies.

Such a fun day/night and a wonderful way to reconnect with old friends.  🙂

The next day was high tea.  We brushed the flour off our aprons, took 2 aspirin and headed out to The Briarwood Inn decked out in our finest.  The restaurant was beautiful.

with good stuff to eat..

but we had picked names for a gift exchange and were all eager to start.  The girls made a big show of walking around the table “musical chairs-style”, not making eye contact, then  stopping at the person whose name they chose.

Lots of surprised smiles…

And lots o’ hugs, too!

These two days were perfection.  I’m so grateful for these girls.  All of them.  And we clean up pretty good, too!

I hope you spent some time with the people you love this year!

The other day I was driving through my old neighborhood and spotted a father and his daughter, about aged 4, stopped on their bikes. The young father patiently looked into space as his daughter struggled to blow a fuzzy dandelion puff. It was taking an inordinate amount of time but the Dad just waited.

I brought me back to Tempe, AZ when I was just about to enter 2nd grade. At the beginning of the school year my mother would always take the school-aged girls shopping to get fabric for first day of school outfits, and a new pair of shoes. That year, I had a baby sister who was teething. To take some of the pain away, she was given an over-the-counter medicine called “Numzit” or something with an equally catchy name. I tasted it and it tasted good, and since I didn’t have to ask my parents’ permission to eat it, I ate it. I ate a LOT of it, and it just so happened that on the day we were supposed to go school shopping, I was heaving Numzit into the toilet. So, my Mom and sisters went shopping without me, and I had to stay home with my Dad, the little kids, and “the boys”. I distinctly remember being bent over the toilet spewing red Numzit with my Dad hovering over me. He turned to leave, because, well, who DOESN’T leave the bathroom when someone else is puking? I grabbed his leg and cried “Don’t Go!” so he stayed, and I can only imagine that his face had the same expression on his face as the father I spied with the pulmonary challenged daughter and the dandelion…bored and resigned, and in my Dad’s case, a little nauseated.

But he stayed.

When my husband was separated from his first wife, he found himself living alone with 2 teenaged daughters. He had to take on the girly tasks, like buying tampons, and making gynecology appointments. It was a difficult time for him and the girls, but through the sadness and struggle, he just did it, with no complaints. Although he had always had a close relationship with both daughters, the story goes that he had never changed a diaper (or maybe just one), so I don’t think he ever envisioned having “lady parts” conversations. But to his credit, he didn’t pass it off on a female relative or friend. He stepped up.

That’s what good Dads do. Moms get a lot of credit for child rearing, and while Dads don’t always come by it naturally, the good ones are the ones who find a way to give their kids what they need even when it’s not fun or comfortable.

This is not the day to point out that I had to go first day of school shopping with my Dad and “the boys” a few days after the Numzit trauma, and spent the whole of 2nd grade wearing the most hideous black velvet saddle shoes that my Dad made me buy. (But, I had to mention it of course). Today is the day to celebrate the Dads who wait, and the ones who stay, and the ones who step up.

Happy Father’s Day!

When I was in 4th grade we lived at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. We would only live there a year while my Dad attended a school. I have mostly happy memories of that year, but there were some challenges. That year was the first of a lot of times that someone called me “chubby”, and without dwelling on it, it set in motion a mental struggle that continues to this day. I tell you this to set the scene for my Mother’s Day story.

Love, your sluggish, liar of a daughter.