Dear Ole Dad

Is it strange that I find Father's Day one of the most difficult holidays to be away from home? I do. In fact, I would gladly give up every other holiday, and the days off work that go with them (!), if I could spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Father's Day at "home" with my family.

I don't think Father's Day has always been an incredibly special day to me. In fact, I think it was always more of a Hallmark holiday than anything. Sure, we'd tell Dad "Happy Father's Day". And we'd recognize all the daddies at church on Sunday morning. And we likely made him gifts in school or scouts or something. And he'd get the obligatory card and some kind of little gift. But that was it. Father's Day never came with the fanfare that seems to accompany Mother's Day. Dad didn't get breakfast in bed or a special dinner out or a day to do whatever he wanted. He spent Father's Day just like every other Sunday; reading the Funnies, going to church, napping in his La-Z-Boy, mowing the lawn, cooking dinner.

Then again, I don't think my Daddy is the average dad... He never wanted the special recognition. He does his job as "dad" because he loves it. He doesn't do it to get praised or rewarded; he doesn't do it to earn a new tie every year; he doesn't do it to be pampered for one day. My Daddy is the dad he is because he loves it. My Daddy loves being a dad. And he is one of the sweetest men you will ever meet; that is a fact! I live 1100 miles from my Daddy, yet he would drop everything in a heartbeat if he knew I needed him. Similarly, he would give you the shirt off his back if he knew that's what you needed. He's caring, compassionate, selfless, and loyal. He's the go-to guy for a lot of people and carries that load with joy. I've never met a person that didn't love my Daddy... because there's nothing not to love.

I've always been a Daddy's Girl. Always. And that's something that is never going to change. I may look an awful lot like my mother, but my personality is that of my Daddy. And, even more, my heart is that of my Daddy. My Daddy is the one that taught me to love... whole-heartedly, unabashedly, without hesitation. He's the one that taught me to be passionate in everything I do. He's shown me that life isn't always easy but you'll always come out on top if you let your heart lead the way. My Daddy is my biggest cheerleader, constantly reminding me that I'm a strong woman that can accomplish anything I put my heart into. My Daddy's encouragement when I was younger truly laid the foundation for the woman I've become today. Though it was routine for me to make good grades, he continually acknowledged and appreciated my success... though I was always on the go, he never hesitated to rearrange his schedule so I could get to yet another activity I wanted... though I wore my heart on my sleeve, he was always there to wrap his arms around me and comfort me when my heart was hurting. He never missed a softball game, a football game, a spelling bee... he took me to every flute lesson, cheerleading practice, and bible study... he packed my lunch, cooked my dinner, and kept pop-tarts on hand... he loved my friends as much as he loved me and always kept our door open... he reminded me that, though society often thinks otherwise, being female is not a fault or a hinderance... he encouraged me to spread my wings, follow my dreams, and be my own me.

When I got married, I downright refused to have a Father-Daughter dance at my reception. It wasn't even a point of discussion, it just wasn't going to happen. I nearly broke down when I was all dolled up and saw my Daddy for the first time, knowing he was about to walk me down the aisle, give me away, and ship me off to Michigan. There's no way I would have survived that dance. And that's why I did it. It's selfish, I know, but it was my wedding and I didn't need any more emotion than I already had. If a song had started playing and the whole world was watching my Daddy dance with me, I would have become a basketcase... worse yet, I think my Daddy would've too. I think it hurt him that he didn't get that opportunity, but I think he also understands why. When my cousin got married in November, my aunt tried to get me to dance with my Daddy during one of the sweet little songs... and I still couldn't do it... a full five and a half years after my wedding and I still couldn't dance with my Daddy! Maybe I'll have the courage to do it at my brother's wedding in April?!

My heart belongs to my Daddy. I'm the girl that cried for days when my Daddy left Michigan after moving me up six years ago... I'm the girl that wanted nothing more than to share her newborn baby daughter with her Daddy, so she could be loved the way I am loved... I'm the girl that dreads saying "goodbye" to my Daddy at the end of every visit Home and still cries when I leave... I'm the girl that refuses to turn off the radio when "Butterfly Kisses" or "My Little Girl" is playing, even though I'm blubbering like an idiot... I'm the girl that will never be too grown-up to call her Daddy in tears... I'm the girl that can never have too many hugs from her Daddy or tell him "I love you" too often... I'm the girl that will conspire with relatives and devise a plan to spend Christmas with my Daddy, without him knowing until I'm already in town on Christmas Eve... I'm the girl that knows no physical gift will ever mean as much to my Daddy as my love... I'm the girl that can sit in a room with my Daddy, completely quiet, just happy knowing he's there... I'm the girl that still misses her Daddy, even though I've been away for six years and have a family of my own... I'm the girl that will call my father "Daddy" until I'm 112... I'm the girl that will always think that no other man can fill my Daddy's shoes.

My Daddy is a man of honor. A man of passion. A man of courage. My Daddy is my stronghold. My role model. My hero. I admire him beyond words and cherish him with my all. And, no matter what, I will always be his Little Girl.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!!

You Are My Special Angel

Today is my sweet sweet NaNa's birthday. I wish I could tell you how old she is, but I can't... basically because she stopped getting older when she was 55 and my grandfather was 65. And I can assure you this: that was many, many years ago. Funny thing how age works when you're a kid!

For those of you that don't know, my grandfather passed away on October 13. I was blessed to be in the hospital room with my NaNa, mom, uncle, aunt, and cousin when PaPa took his last breath. It was so incredibly peaceful, one of those moments where you know God just reached down and gently carried his soul away to heaven. I was heartbroken. I don't do funerals, not that anyone does, and PaPa's death was really only the second one I'd experienced in my life. I was a basketcase at the viewing, completely unable to control my tears as pictures of PaPa and I from back in the day scrolled across the tv while "Go Rest High On That Mountain" played in the background. I had so many people give me that "bless her heart" look and hug me tight, which only made matters worse. Watching those pictures, I remembered moments with PaPa. We lived near NaNa and PaPa or with them for a decent chunk of my childhood. PaPa was my favorite and I'm fairly certain I ranked pretty high up on his list. I loved spending the night at their house. I loved playing in their backyard. I was amazed doing crossword puzzles and word-finds with PaPa. I watched those pictures at the funeral home and saw the image of my daughter in me. I saw the faces I made and could relate them to Savannah. I saw a picture of me pushing PaPa on a porch swing, the swing much larger than I was, and thought back to earlier that day when Savannah was doing the exact same thing for me on the porch of the house where PaPa grew up.

My summer vacations were spent in Hinton, WV, where the average age of the population was 65 and I certainly never thought of our visits as a "vacations". We spent the week "visiting"... for those of you that didn't grow up in the South, "visiting" is just that... we literally went from house to house to house visiting relatives, doing nothing but sitting around talking. At Aunt Margie's house, some adults sat in the front room while some sat in the room behind the kitchen; the kid's often occupied the front porch or a room upstairs with games. At Aunt Frances' house, we sat on the back patio or played on the hill among the grapes. At Uncle Allen's house up on the creek, we fed cigarettes to the horse or stood in the kitchen admiring Aunt Macie's mad baking skills or played a game in the front room. At NaNa and PaPa's, we just sat in the living room of their little one bedroom apartment at "the highrise". Every now and then, we'd get excited about walking to Kroger for some Big K Red Cream Soda or the Majic Mart for a new swimsuit. The highlight of my summer vacations was the year they opened a water park... err, water slide... in town! These are moments I certainly didn't cherish as a child, yet they are such fond memories for me now.

Sitting up on the mountain, picking out PaPa's burial spot in the family cemetery, my cousin and I pulled up a piece of grass and admired the view. We sat there close to one another in perfect silence for quite some time. David had supported me the day before, as PaPa took his last breath and there was nowhere else to turn. He knows when to hug, he knows when to smile, and he knows when to merely be in your presence in peace and quiet. After we sat there looking over the edge of the mountain for a few minutes, the memories came flooding in. David said "do you remember when...", which was followed by my laughter and "absolutely, but do you remember when..." I guarantee that the two fo us have never been so solemn and serene in our lives. Nor had we truly realized the value of family... at least I hadn't.

My PaPa and I had a special bond in the early years of my childhood. I have very few memories that don't involve him. Yet sometime in my "I know everything" high school years, I fell out of the running for Granddaughter of the Year. I didn't call him on his birthday. I really dreaded those summer vacations. I didn't care to pick out personal Christmas presents. I was so ungrateful. NaNa and PaPa came down for my wedding in the spring of 2002, but I don't think I paid much attention to them. I remember NaNa watching me wrap presents and joking about a few things here and there, but I don't think anything really clicked with me. I certainly took my time with them for granted and didn't really see it as important. In the nearly six years since we got married, I can count on one hand the number of times I've talked to my grandparents. In those six years, we never once made the 7-hour drive to West Virginia to visit them. Worse yet, I have a three year old daughter that had never met her grandparents until the day before PaPa passed away. Again, not something that ranks high on my list of greatest achievements.

There's not much I can do about letting my teenage years control my relationship with PaPa. The good thing is that I know he loved me whole-heartedly and unconditionally, no matter how stubborn and hard-headed I am. My NaNa, on the other hand, is a different story. It's not too late. Tonight, on my NaNa's birthday, I did what any loving grandchild would do - I called to wish her a Happy Birthday. And I meant it. This is the first time in the two months since PaPa passed away that I've called her, despite my many mental notes to myself to call and see how she's doing. She said that I made her day. I. Made. Her. Day. One little phone call... 30 minutes spent talking to a woman who invested so much time and love in me in my childhood... a moment of conversation about how she makes it through each day... one call to a lady spending her first birthday as a widow. One call. That's all. And I can't tell you how many times I had to fight back tears during that conversation. I love that lady, plain and simple. And I honestly don't think I realized it until two months ago.

As we were ending the conversation and I promised to talk to her at Christmas, if not before, she said "you are my special angel... just like that song from back in the 50s". She's always referred to my brother as her "Tiger" and me as her "Angel", but I never really knew why. Now I know. As I told my NaNa tonight, through tears, hanging up the phone that I love her, she said "I love you, too, my special angel". Grandma's are special people. No doubt about that. And I am one lucky little girl that my NaNa still thinks I'm such an angel.

You are my special angel sent from up above.

The Lord smiled down on me and sent an angel to love.

You are my special angel, right from paradise.

I know you're an angel, Heaven is in your eyes .

The smile from your lips brings the summer sunshine.

Tears from your eyes bring the rain.

I feel your touch, your warm embrace, and I'm in heaven again.

You are my special angel;

Through eternity I'll have my special angel here to watch over me.

We love you, NaNa!

Above all else...

I think I learn new lessons quite frequently. It's part of being curious... or nosy. Being in Canada alone for so many weeks has taught me a million life-lessons. I knew it would be a challenge when I took this new job, leaving before Todd's transfer was complete. But I'm a big girl, a strong woman, I can handle this on my own, right? Wrong! Am I strong? Absolutely. Am I confident? Definitely. Did I make the right decision? No doubt about it. Is this easy? Heck no. I am blessed in that it's never been more than five days or so without Savannah... but travelling for an entire week, week in week out, is tiring. Living out of a suitcase is getting old. Eating out has lost its appeal. It's downright exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I'm drained. In fact, I could probably be classified as a trainwreck.

Todd and Savannah came for a visit this weekend. Mind you, I was home two weeks ago for an entire week, so I've only been in Toronto since Sunday. Yet, when I found out Friday morning that they might not make the trip this weekend, I had a breakdown. In my car. In the parking lot at work. Very professional. It snowed in Canada on Friday. There's an ice storm in Michigan today. The weather gods are definitely not on my side. After my breakdown Friday morning, Todd realized just how important it was to get to me this weekend. Of course, that didn't keep me from fighting back the tears all day at work. It's a catch-22... I get to spend 48 precious hours with my family, which is amazing... but then they have to go home and I have to stay here until I get to make the drive home on Friday.

I relished in every moment I had with my little one. I came "home" from work a little early Friday afternoon to cuddle on the couch with Savannah. We eventually made our way over to Dave & Buster's for dinner. Upon our return from dinner, we put on our jammies, turned on a Dora DVD, and crawled into bed... promptly followed by lights out at 8:30. I fell asleep with my 3 year-old baby rubbing my back. Saturday was very low-key but so fun-filled. We went to IKEA. We braved a Super Wal-Mart, 17 days before Christmas. We ate dinner at Burger King, where it took Savannah half an hour to eat three chicken nuggets. We went to Marble Slab Creamery for dessert, apparently identifying ourselves as Americans the minute Todd ordered a malt. We came back to the hotel and cuddled some more. This morning included a trip to Chapters, Canada's version of Borders, with some coffee for mom & dad and drinkable strawberry yogurt for Savannah. Then Todd loaded the car, took Savannah by the hand, and headed back to Michigan.

And I've been a basketcase ever since. I'm a career-woman. A hard-worker. It's not at all unusual for me to spend an hour or two working at home at night, and that's after spending a full 8 hours working at the office. This weekend, I think my priorities were set straight. This weekend I realized, above all else, that I am a Mommy. Savannah's not going to be a toddler forever. She's not always going to want to sit next to me at lunch or hold my hand in the parking lot or rub my back at bedtime. When I say "I love you", she's not always going to put a huge grin on her face and say "I love you too". These are the moments to treasure. Work will be work. There's a time and a place. And it will all get done... eventually. Savannah, however, I can't control. She's going to grow up. She's going to become her own person. She's going to go to college and get married and have her own little babies. And I know that's so far down the road... years and years and years from now. But I also know that those moments will come in what seems like the blink of an eye. I generally get 48 hours a week with my little princess; 48 hours where I'm often pre-occupied with other thoughts. No longer. This is the new me. This is the me that's meant to be a Mommy. This is the me that is going to love and adore and cuddle my little princess.

Memories

"Momma, it's not Kristen and Gilbert's wedding anymore."

Really? I hadn't realized. :) Those are the words that very sincerely came out of Savannah's mouth tonight as we were watching yet another episode of So You Think You Can Dance. She's right, it's not Kristen and Gilbert's wedding anymore. Their wedding was a month ago, but it must've made quite an impact. After all, it's got to be difficult to erase from a toddler's mind the shrill and screams that echoed through the sanctuary at a perfeclty quiet moment in time when all eyes were on an adorable little flower girl that was supposed to steal the show. Steal the show she did, just not in the manner her adoring fans had imagined. I'm also fairly certain that Todd wasn't planning on acting as the honorary ring bearer.

In honor of the sweet little princess's memories, here are a few of our favorite pictures from that way-too-short of a weekend spent at home back in November. And for those of you that are wondering: yes, Georgia will always be "home". Always.

It's been a minute!

I will again start this blog by apologizing for going so long without posting. The summer kept us busy, with lots of travelling and lots of visitors, so I haven't always felt like we had the time to update the blog. That being said, there are some big changes coming for the Valentine family in the very near future, so we'll try to do a better job!

Let's recap the summer...
(1) My dad came to visit the first week in June for a few days. Savannah loved spending some quality time with her Grampa - they went to the park, the petting zoo, and (of course!) McDonald's. Saturday morning even found dad and I gardening. I have the world's blackest thumb, but I now have a yard I need to maintain. We gardened all day Saturday and Sunday, pulling out old bushes, planting flowers, and filling the vegetable gardens. It's now been nearly four months and most of the things we planted are still alive. Amazing, I know!
(2) The week after my dad was in town, my mom came for a 10-day visit. Her trip was cut short due to a death in the family, but it was good to have Gramma around for a few days. I was out of town one of the nights mom was here, so I know Todd was happy to have an extra set of hands.
(3) Our little princess turned THREE on June 20th... three already!! We decided to forego the big birthday party because we'd had so many houseguests, but Savannah did have three of her friends over for dinner and fun after school on her birthday. I have a picture somewhere... I'll have to find it.
(4) The week after my mom was in town, I spent four days in Toronto.
(5) The week of July 4th, Todd's mom arrived for a two-week visit. Todd was off the week of the 4th... I was not nearly so lucky. Savannah definitely got some quality time with Grandmere and daddy while mommy was busy working.

After six weeks of constant houseguests or travelling, life was finally back to normal! August was a fairly quiet month for us. Though I spent four nights at a local hotel because of a conference I was hosting, I managed to escape the month without any work-related travel. As a birthday present to myself, we traded in the mommy van for a fiesty little red Mazda 3... it's so much fun! I also threw a joint birthday party for myself and Todd, as I was out of town for Todd's actual birthday. He's 30... old man! Labor Day weekend marked a visit from Aleesha's cousin, Kristen, and a much-needed Girls Weekend in Chicago. Kristen, Christie, and I headed to Chicago for a fun-filled weekend. And travel season has once again started. Poor Savannah was passed around between a few people last week as I was in Korea and Todd was in North Carolina. Korea was amazing... busy and tiring, but such an interesting culture. I left on Sept 9th and returned on the 14th... just to leave again on the 16th for a conference in Texas. As I type this post, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Plano, TX, anxiously awaiting my 9:00am flight tomorrow morning... just to sit in the airport for three hours, meet up with Todd and some friends, and fly down to Georgia for the weekend for a wedding. When I return home on Sunday, I'm fairly confident I will have never been so excited to be in my own house and my own bed.

Like I said, big changes are on the way for the Valentine family... Stay tuned!

"My boys"

I've been reading lots of mommy blogs recently and realized what a fabulous tool blogs can be. Time seems to escape us, but it's important that Savannah's milestones don't go unmarked and that friends and family across the country can take a peek into Savannah's daily life. We want to share the joy Savannah brings to us with all of you. That being said, here's the inaugural blog:

Todd's dad is in town this weekend to help finish the bathroom in the basement of the condo. His flight arrived very late Friday night, but we'd been prepping Savannah all week for his arrival. When we put Savannah to bed Friday night, we finally convinced her to go to sleep by reminding her that Grandpa would be here to play when she woke up in the morning. Saturday morning rolls around and, lo and behold, she remembers that Grandpa is here! As she's heading downstairs to give Grandpa a hug, Todd meets her halfway and tries to get her to come back up. Not happening! She has a book in her hand and she's on a mission - she wants Grandpa to read to her! Savannah makes a few trips up and down the stairs, gathering the pieces to her book, before Todd breaks the bad news to her... she has to stay home with mommy while Daddy and Grandpa go to Home Depot. Let the tantrum begin! Savannah cried and cried, desperate to tag along. I can usually calm her, but it was a difficult task yesterday morning... after all, Grandpa just got here and Home Depot is one of her favorite stores. She's sitting on our bed, crying her little eyes out, and begins to repeat "I want my boys". Her "boys"? That's a term I'd never heard before. Just for clarification, I asked exactly who her boys are. She responded, so cute and so sincere, with "Daddy and Grandpa are my boys. I want them to come home". But she wouldn't stop crying. I finally calmed her by calling Todd and making plans to meet them at McDonald's for lunch. We got dressed, drove to McDonald's, and waited patiently in the car for Daddy and Grandpa to finish at Home Depot. When Todd pulled up, Savannah cheered "My boys! My boys!" Oh, how she loves her Daddy and Grandpa!