Happy Birthday, Dad!
Today is my Dad's birthday and I had planned to write a blog post to tell you about all the great things he's done for me over the years, but that would take 5 blog posts. So instead, I'm just going to hit a few highlights (warning: your eyes are about to be assaulted with really bad 80's clothes and decor.)
1. He always brought us back the best gifts when he would go to the grocery store owners convention:
I decide to take a more casual approach to styling my I'm a Pepper Shirt, but as you can see, my brother decided this was an occasion special enough to warrant putting on a belt.
2. He always let us help with projects.
And wow, look at how helpful we were. I'm starting to think I should be chipping in on my Dad's medical bills since it appears that I might be 33% of the reason why he currently has back problems.
3. He coached every one of our Little League games:
Even when we spent most of the time doing stupid things like fixing our hair when we could have been using that time more wisely (perhaps on running to second base.)
4. He kept playing a carnival game until he won all 3 of his kids giant stuffed California Raisins:
And graciously refrained from pointing out that they actually looked like giant turds with arms and legs and not California Raisins.
5. He came on every school field trip and planned extra weekend day trips to Chicago and Indianapolis to go to the museums there.
We don't look like we're having fun in this picture, but we were. We were just annoyed because we were tired of posing for pictures. Or we were all mortified by each other's outfits. I don't know. One of the two.
I'm sure all of your eyes need a nice, soothing rest after what I've just subjected them to. I encourage you to go look at something that's actually attractive and then rejoin me back here in a minute. . .
I don't have words to describe how lucky I feel to have a Dad who always put his family first, who showed up for every field trip and school program and baseball game, who is still so in love with my Mom, who treated every stupid childhood question I had like it was a matter of utmost importance, and who paid for all of the fluorescent hair scrunchies that I carefully coordinated to all of my bad 80's outfits!
Happy Birthday, Dad. Thank you for everything you've done for me! (So sorry for that span of time after I got my driver's license when you had to field constant phone calls that started like this, "Um, I'm in the wrong state, and I don't know how it happened," that lasted for 5 years. . . okay 12 years. Thank goodness someone finally invented a reliable GPS and put us all out of our misery.)