My World Cup Runeth Over: Take Aways from World Cup 2014

Soccer is not good for your health

Right before the USA/Germany match the other day, I posted this to Facebook but what I want you to pay special close attention to is the first comment I received after my post.

"You guys ready for the 90 minute anxiety attack?? USA!!"

He had hit the nail right on the head. For the next, 90 minutes I would be in a full panic, on the edge of my seat and in desperate need of a horse tranquiler. Tomorrow, when the US plays Belgium, I will be prepared at 4:00 with extra-strength downers.

Women who have had babies should be VERY careful when watching el fútbol 

I say this not because watching hot soccer players for an hour and a half will make you want to procreate more babies because if you are caring for babies right now, you know there is nothing in the world that could get you that hot and bothered. No, I say this because as I was celebrating the first goal that the USA team scored last Sunday during our game against Portugal - which made me caraaazy - I almost peed my pants. Ok, truth be told, I peed my pants a little. My who-has muscles just aren't what they used to be after I had two babies. Apparently, this is a real equation we babymakers have to consider:

I wish I could say I learned my lesson for our second goal that day but I totally forgot to work my Kegel exercises for that one too and let a little pee slide. Oh well. Joys of motherhood. Am I right?!

"We are the World" is not just a song performed by USA for Africa

It is awesomefying seeing so many people around the GLOBE get so passioned about something that has zero to do with guns, wars, or money - even if one idiot thinks it is all a scam to take away attention from Benghazi, a thought so stupid I can't even understand the logic behind it. Can we just make this a month where we all forget that we want to kill each other and enjoy a game where we just bite each other?

Pretty boys aren't just pretty faces

Damn it, Ronaldo. I've heard your name thrown around for the last few years and will be honest. I set out to not like you. You're so cute. And so talented. And so rich. Damn you. And then I started to take notice of some of the stories I heard about you. Nice stories. Good deed stories. You are not just another pretty face that plays soccer like a Greek God with a Maverick-ish gorgeous smile and chiseled arms. You are much more. I judged you too soon, hot #7. I apologize. So what if you take your shirt off and throw it into a crowd... I'll let that slide. Actually, I'm totally fine with that.

Fútbolistas have great(!) names

If I have a third child and he's a boy I have a few names already in the running thanks to soccer players:
1. Alexi (Alexi Lalas) - The name is SO bad ass that even while it sounds feminine it's BAD ASS. Word, Alexi.
2. Leo (Leonel Messi) - I know his name is LIOnel but I like it spelled better with the E. My hypothetical bay, my choice.
3. Teeth (Luis Suarez) - just kidding
4. Santiago (so I could scream SantiaGOOOOOOAL) - Oh wait. I have a son named Santiago already and I've penned this as his soccer nickname so don't be stealing it, bitches.

New Jersey is awesome. 

Tim Howard.
Michael Bradley
Josmer "Jozy" Altidore
Alejandro Bedoya
That's all.

Why Messi is better than Ronaldo, Ronaldo is better than Messi, and no one is better than... 

Let's face it. If you think Messi is the better player you will find clear cut reasons to pinpoint Messi as the better soccer player. If you think Ronaldo reigns, you too can find solid reasons to pinpoint why Ronaldo is the better player. But why do we find it necessary to pit athletes against each other? Especially when we all know that neither is better than Pele.

Finish him

Sensei John Kreese from the Cobra Kai dojo commands these iconic words of Johnny in Karate Kid. I do believe that no greater truth has ever been uttered. You must finish it. Yep, US and Mexico I am specifically talking to you. Mexico you more so. Didn't you learn anything from the US's game versus Portugal that if you let up for even 5 SECONDS the other team can - and probably WILL score. And instead of heeding this message you played the Netherlands like you were on siesta. Everyone thought so. You played on your heels instead of your toes and they scored on you... twice... in the last 2 minutes of the game. Play til the end, people. Finish it.


(Disclaimer: While I delight in using the phrase "finish him" I do not condone Sensei's implementation of dirty tricks aka "sweep the leg")

speaking of dirty tricks...

The real take away I took from "The Suarez Attack"(Suarez's version of "sweep the leg")

Ok, so the actual biting didn't actually teach me anything but we've got to talk about it, right? Because biting... really? From a grown man? My son (who is one) was biting his sister when he was angry that she took his ball from him... did I mention he's ONE. After giving him my own yellow cards a few times, now he's taken a different approach. When he is angry, he still flexes his chompers but chooses to pretend-bite his hand or the couch or another ball and not other people because biting other people to get your way is representative of mental behavior... or vampires. Neither of which is good. If my one year old soon has learned this... you know where I'm going with this, yes?

BUT here's HOW Fifa's handling of "The Suarez Attack" did teach me something. It taught me that we have to give REAL consequences. If I allowed my ONE-YEAR-OLD to continue biting his sister, guess what, he would still be feasting on her daily. If this animal player could bite a chunk out of someone's shoulder on international screens across the world with millions of people watching and walk away holding buckteeth like nothing happened and then in fact, nothing does happen, then I have a feeling this is not the last we've seen as Teethy McGee. Nice job, Fifa.

Moves like Müller

When we were watching Germany play USA the other day, Husband commented on how Germany was on the attack and we were, well to say it nicely, a little relaxed. I said, "See... that's why I like the Germans. Did Ivan Drago want to just box Rocky Balboa? No. He wanted to crush Rockey Balboa, to 'break' him. And that's how the Germans play." And then I realized Ivan Drago was Russian not German. Oops. Forget that analogy. But I still had a point. The Germans have been kicking ass and taking names and they play like every game like their lives are on the line. You gotta respect that. 

U.S. spells "us"

Has anyone else noticed this? That U.S. without the periods, in fact, spells "us." So I can walk around saying that I want "us" to win and it is the same as saying I want the U.S. to win. I know. I'm brilliant. You're welcome.

I Believe that We Will Win

I love believing. Ask Santa Claus... and Jesus. I am a believer. Give me something to believe in and, wholeheartedly, I will. You won't find a more loyal believer anywhere. So thank you, World Cup 2014 for giving me something to believe in.

Now, let's go US! 

Photo Credits:
World Cup Take aways - Gabriel Smith
Finish Him - Meme Generator
Ronaldo

Does Coming Home Change?

Quick Link: Can You Ever Come Home Again?

Last week, I wrote for Expat Village on visiting home as an expat.

Our plane touched down on American soil a little over a week ago. When you haven't been in your native country for 6 months, touching actual land can feel a lot like running into your mother's arms after being chased by a drooling, sharp-toothed monster. We've now lived in Dominican Republic for 3 years and in all measures we can call this place home. We have an apartment there. We have friends there. Our children are friends with our friends' kids. Husband has a job there. And yet... coming home to New Jersey doesn't change.

On the car ride home from the airport my mother asked me if it felt strange to be home. It didn't take me long to answer. This was my response.

Lip Sync Drive By: Burn

Can't think of a better way to wish you a Happy Friday!!!

This started out as an extended joke.

About a month ago, all of our DR-buddies got together for a Lip Sync Battle Party at the infamous (amongst us) Kury Rooftop and since our friends are AWESOME(!) we had a great turn out with over 20 performances. That night, decided on by equal parts judge votes and audience votes, our friend Mike, in his black miniskirt and gray tank top that read "Some Pretty Girl" ran sang lip sang away with the First Ever Lip Sync Battle Party Trophy to Ellie Goulding's Burn. It was amazing on its own but with his addition of enlisting the help of our talented, flame blowing friend, the performance blew us away (pun intended).

Yesterday, on our way home from the USA/Germany game we were pumped! Having secured a place in the next round of the World Cup (even if it was a losing game) and after having had myself a couple of morning libations for the game (thank you Betheny and your Skinnygirl drinks) we heard Ellie's song on the radio. We realized we'd never hear this song the same way ever again thanks to Mike's interpretation, so as an homage to his win, we recorded this (click here to watch directly on Vimeo).

From this, an idea was born: Armed with seat belts (safety first), music, an Eau de Toilette of Not-Taking-Ourselves-Too-Seriously(since we obviously don't know all the words), and Husband's mad safe driving skillz we are ready (and really excited) to bring you:

Got a request? Let's hear 'em.

Disclaimer: No driving laws were broken in the making of this video. Safety precautions such as seat belts, eyes on road at all times, volume moderation, and no right on red were followed. 

Road to an Imperfect Life: Week 12 - A Micro Moment of Normal #itsarevolutionbitches

When I first started this series, I set out to show a more imperfect me, one that hardly shows up in the virtual world. I mean, be real, how many of us take bad photos and say That's my new profile pic! I tried to explain how our Facebook virtual lives often create a representative for our true selves. Those representatives then choose our best picture as our Facebook profile pic which becomes the face that our Facebook friends know. Our status becomes the life story we are telling to our Facebook world and the pictures we post are the proof that that Facebook life exists.

I don't want to come across as being a Facebook hater, in fact, I do really like Facebook. And I should clear up it isn't just Facebook that creates these representatives, it's all social media, Facebook is just the Queen Bee whose hive I'm poking at at the moment.

When I set out on this journey, it was because I saw things that social media does to our society that I didn't like it. Then today, I came across this, the exact idea I was trying to convey when I began down my Road to an Imperfect Life... or so I thought.

(Watch. And then we'll discuss)



I watched this video and thought sarcastically, "Jeez... anyone can make their life awesome."
And then I changed the tone and the emphasized word and said optimistically, "Jeez... anyone can make their life awesome."

On Facebook, to make your life sound awesome all you need is a few changes in word choice and punctuation. Type. Proofread. Edit. Revise. Insert sarcasm. Rethink word choice. Reread. Hmm. does that sound good? Ok, I'm gonna click post. Post. Oops, wait. Spelled that word wrong. It should be their not they're. Edit Post. Fix. Re-post. Done. Bingo. Awesome. I'm awesome.

And while you can construct the perfect update, it takes more than key jabbing to construct an awesome life that transcends virtual reality.

See there's another side that I overlooked when I set out on this road. While words and punctuation and filtered pictures help make your Lifestory seem awesome, those are not the things that actually make it awesome. It isn't so much what you do as it is how you look at what you do.

If we look at our everyday moments and find them to be in major need of a filter than what we get are dull images. So this week, instead of showing you my imperfections, I want to show you my normal, a small moment in my day where nothing exceptionally out of the norm happens. A micro-moment that maybe wouldn't otherwise make it t o our Facebook pages because they're not glamorous enough or fancy enough or bad ass enough (or so we think). And what a mistake that is; thinking that these little scenes aren't "enough" when, in fact, it is the small scenes that create the whole act that when linked together tell the whole story. They become the glue that holds it all together and we all know that without glue, there can't possibly be the sparkle of glitter. It is the glue that remains, the glue that binds and those are the moments that will remain when my Facebook account is virtual ash.

If we choose to see awe in all of the small moments, the big moments have no choice but to be the sum of that awe. (awesome, get it?)

Enjoy my 30 normal seconds today. 30 seconds of balls, laughter, water, and possibly poop on my daughter's foot.

Picture Credits:
Captain Jack Sparrow - Sandra Scherer (adapted by DTWB)

How We Could Learn Friendship from The Cow and the Egret

Quick Link: The Unlikeliest of Friends

When talking to our kids about making friends it is important that we talk to them not just about how to make friends but also about what kinds of friends to make. If we take a page from the cow and the egret we could teach ourselves and our children that sometimes the best friendships come from the unlikeliest of places and that fitting in isn't as important as finding friends that will have our back.

Click to continue reading The Unlikeliest of Friends


Picture Credit:
Cow and Egret - Calvin Smith

Snapshots: Dominican Republic Year 3

I am a lucky girl. I live in a beautiful world full of beautiful, fun people and get to make beautiful memories with my beautiful, healthy family.

What else could anyone ask for? 

With this school year coming to a close, all of our friends are wrapping up, packing up, and some are shipping out. It is the only ugly that comes with this life - saying goodbye to those you have come to call family... and really mean it. 

Here is a snapshot of what our YEAR 3 looked like:

(and if you're Jimmy Fallon - scroll down to the bottom to see 3 of our 20+ lip sync battles... and then invite us on your show! we'll be in NY allllll summer)

We live on an island. Of course there will be beautiful beach pictures!

The Bluffs - Praxe's Bluffs to be exact - is one of my favorite places here. Drive up the sidewalk and park the car on a beautiful bluff overlooking the ocean and beautiful sunsets. This year we stepped it up by bringing the kiddos. This is Santiago sleeping at the bluffs. Other times they have a great time bouncing around and playing in our travel pack and play - the car.

We spend almost as much time at the playground as we do home. Correction: we spend more time at the playground than at home. The kids love it but so do we.

This picture of Santiago reminds me how fast time moves.

    

This is one of my favorite pictures of this year. It is so spot on of what our life is and how our kids are growing up, on an island where they find coconuts in the backyard.

There's two things in this picture. Like the picture above one is that my kids live in a place where mangoes grow on trees and mangoes are yum! But the second and more important detail for me is the note: "Mango de la beba." These mangoes are from Ayalibi, one of the maintenance workers of our school, and one of about 5 people that bring us mangoes for our kids. Apparently, everyone knows that our kiddos (especially Rafa) love mangoes so we have co-workers, maintenance staff, nannies, and parents that scout trees, pick, and deliver mangoes to us for Rafa and Santiago. It's in these moments that I think "this is the only place for me."  

Everyday isn't a walk at the playground though. This day was the first day we understood the difficulties of being the parents of two kids... that are sick. Poor Rafa fell asleep on the couch this afternoon - which she never does - but she was so exhausted from throwing up all morning that she couldn't help it. 

Husband and I are lucky that our nanny allows for our love story to breathe and grow and flourish. Our family is our major priority but we like to remind ourselves that we are the first priority. You can't have a happy family without a happy marriage.

Just a typical Wednesday afternoon with the family.

Milestone moments! Our youngest's 1st birthday. And even more special was that his grandparents were able to celebrate here with us - a major bonus considering most birthdays abroad are grandparentless :(

BESTIE! This chick has been my friend for life. Seriously. We've been best friends since the 5th grade. We went to college together. Got pregnant the same year and had our kids 6 weeks apart and this was the first time she was able to come and visit. What a treat to show her around town at the life we live here. And what a reminder that no matter where in the world we are this kind of friendship travels well.

 We party like rockstars here for sure. This is one of many awesome parties we throw here on the fablous Kury Rooftop... a Lip Sync Battle Party, Jimmy Fallon style!

There were over 20 acts but to not break their privacy I can only share my lip syncs. Here's a taste:

 Yes. We are grown adults playing Tug O' War at the beach. One of my favorite events added to this year's agenda was Thanksgiving Olympics. Over 40 grown adults running, jumping, relaying, battling for the glory of winning! Our team did not win the whole Olympics but we raged in battle at Beach Tug O' War and came out victorious. We weren't expected to win which made the victory that much sweeter. 

My Surprise 80's Party!! Holy Mother of Tear Down the House! This was a rager! People came to party like it was 1999 and didn't go home until all 99 Luftballoons exploded and were left on the dance floor. Husband worked incredibly hard to pull this off and I was totally surprised. Thanks to everyone for really showing up.

And now if you don't mind, I'm off to join husband for a cold one at the colmado... the best place on Earth. 

Listening to:
Home - Phillip Phillips
Burn - Ellie Goulding
Don't You Forget About Me (cover) - The Wind and the Wave
The Only Place - Best Coast

Expat Village: When Abundance and Slenderness Collide

Quick Link: Lowering Your Expat Expectations

I have a friend who lived in Venezuela and then moved to Dominican Republic and loves the "easy availability of goods" here. I moved from the States, where there is never even a discussion of "availability of goods" unless there is a pending hurricane on its way so I find living here at times frustrating because of its unavailability of goods. It's all relative isn't it?

The waitress came with our cappuccinos but informed me that there was no mozzarella cheese for my Caprese Sandwich. Since i had already studied the menu for far too long before choosing that sandwich, I knew that my back-up choice would be the Lox Sandwich. She hesitated for a moment before informing me again that they didn't have that either. I laughed awkwardly and asked to see the menu again... 

Click here to read the rest of Lowering Your Expat Expectations: When the Land of Plenty Meets the Land of Hard To Come By.

Women Who Live on Rocks: The Loudness

Quick Link: The Loudness: To Curse It or Not To Curse It, That is the Question

Today, my first post for Women Who Live on Rocks was published. It's a Happy Dance kind of day for me. Coming off of an excellent weekend, going into Husband's last week of school, and being published as a contributor for a new website... things are on the up and up. I want to scream it loudly! And considering we live on the Loudest Place on Earth I'm not sure anyone would mind.

Within the first week of our arrival to Santo Domingo, a neighbor downstairs had a party and all I could think was:

For the love of God, I’m 8 months uncomfortably pregnant and I just want to sleep and they want to have a party… now?! On a Friday? At night? Are they serious? A Friday night party? Don’t they know that I’m about to give birth and push a large-sized tropical papaya out of my hoo-ha and that these are the last few nights of precious sleep I will ever again have in my life?

( In full disclosure: they probably did not know that a preggo was hovering in their midst or that I tend to lean on the side of dramatic from time to time.)

Click here to read the rest of The Loudness: To Curse or Not To Curse - That is the Question at Women Who Live on Rocks

Photo Credits:

Just Some Regular Party Speakers - Dubdem Sound System

Road to an Imperfect Life: Week 11 - Because Yesterday I Was a Shit Parent and I Need to Own That

The truth is I don't want to own it because it would be easier for my soul if I could just sweep it under the rug or put a spin on it and make it not about me but rather about "extenuating circumstances." That isn't right. It would be easier for my ego if I didn't have to own it - if I could blame the heat or not feeling well or being overwhelmed with end of the year-edness. But it wouldn't be the truth to blame those things so this time I won't sweep it under the rug and instead face one of my fatal flaws: impatience.

I know what you might be saying. You are the mother of two toddlers. Patience is hard to come by. I agree. I would say the same thing to another mother. Forgive yourself. Be kind to yourself. You're doing the best you can. But I'm not talking to another mother. I'm talking to myself. And we all know we can't ease up on ourselves the way we can on others, especially because we know ourselves too well. I know the real deal about me and I know that though I want an out, I shouldn't give myself one for yesterday because, the truth is, sometimes I'm just an impatient bitch.

I've had a major head-cold-sinus-throat-thingy this whole week. I've gone to bed earlier this week than probably any other this year. By Tuesday, I had already wished the week away especially since at the end of the year, there are so many events and commitments floating around on our calendar that I almost can't wait to fly home to NJ just so that I'll have a little less to do. Don't get me wrong - they are all fun, fun, fun events but there are soooo many. Even party people get tired of parties sometimes.

We had one of these fun, little gatherings on Tuesday evening that was supposed to be an "adults ONLY evening" for Husband and I but when we got home and saw our nanny on the couch miserable with a migraine our plans changed. We took the kiddos with us to the party. This is not the first time we've taken them to a bar because we live in a country that allows you to take your kids everywhere you go without so much as a stank eye,  but this was probably the first place in my three years here that I didn't enjoy taking them. It wasn't the restaurant's fault by any means, it just isn't the kind of place set up for sprightly, screaming toddlers. Let's just say it was as good a time as it could have been with Hoodlum and Hellion running around waiters with full drinks on full drink trays.

The next morning, I peeled myself out of bed, straightened my busted ass hair, got dressed, and put my make up on and then got the phone call from our nanny that she wouldn't be making it in. Already behind (well, my version of behind which is really not at all behind) on my writing, I had received great news this past weekend about another writing opportunity to be a contributor to a fabulously funny blog called Women Who Live on Rocks which to me meant I had more writing to get to and less time to get to it with our nanny out.

Husband Fantastic offered up his assistance by taking a half sick day. I would stay with the kids in the morning, he would relieve me in the afternoon. All I had to do was get through the morning. A mother should be able to do that, right? Get through a morning?

Maybe it was because it was the first morning that I was home again in the morning since May had started so they seemed to be bouncing off the walls like the Disney Gummi Bears on Gummi Beary Juice but I don't want to slink off on this one and "blame" their toddler craziness because let's be real - toddlers are nuts - midget, crazy, nutty asses. Toddlers don't veer too far from that. They don't change but you know what does... my mood.

OK, so no slinking. I was probably the one in the bad mood and had zero patience for anything. When my in-the-process-of-toilet-training toddler daughter, who I had asked 62½ times if she had to go pee-pee, and who had answered NO then went pee-pee... on our carpet I wished that I had been patient enough to pause and ask myself how she felt about that. How she felt about having to come to me and say, "Mami, mojada (wet)." But I didn't. I snarled. "You have to tell Mami when you have to go pee-pee!" Right, because that awesome, nurturing mother reaction is going to make her want to come to me next time. Good job, mom.

And I wish I could say that I learned that lesson then and there but I didn't. Because later, when I asked her 56¾ times if she had to go pee-pee and again she said NO until she went pee-pee again, again I snarled. And this time she said, "Sorry, Mami." as if that poor little angel owed me, the devil, an apology. At that moment I wanted to punch myself in the mouth and kick myself in the gut. So I did the only thing I could should have done. I said, "No, Rafa. Mami's sorry. You are learning to do pee-pee and Mami needs to learn to chill out. What does that carpet or that dress matter anyway? You matter." And because she is gracious and awesome and patient - and also because she has a very small toddler window of attention - she forgot about it.

But that doesn't release me from my guilt. Nor should it. What it should do though is make it something I have to learn from which is why I need to share it here. So I can't hide or pretend it didn't happen. So I can own my moments of being a sh*t parent because there are times when we are all sh*t parents (right?), less than the great parents we could be, less than the great parents we always hoped we would be.

Yesterday, I was a sh*t parent. Today... I'm still working on today.


Picture Credits:
Bitchy Mom - WikiThreads
Kid at Bar - Mo Riza
Gummy Bears - Hans (pixabay)

The Advice My Dad Never Gave

My father is a man of little words.

He says only what needs to be said. No more. Sometimes less. Sometimes he just nods or shakes his head. Other times - and certainly the most frustrating - he gives you a one-word response that doesn't really answer your question at all.

"Dad. Where is the coffee?" 

"Yes."

On rare days, I call home and he has lots to tell me and I think IS HE ON SOMETHING? Caffeine? Uppers? ...crack, perhaps? And then I wonder if this is the day of the apocalypse. Are animals running for the hills? Are worms pouring out of the ground to avoid flooding? Because dad has a lot to say today and this is out of form.

I think it is safe to say at this point that you understand, right? He isn't much of a talker.

So for Father's Day when ManCrates, sent out their #DadBrags campaign to brag about some of the best advice Dad has ever given, I wasn't sure how to respond. He has never been much in the "You'll get 'em next time" advice realm. That was more my mom. And just as quickly as I knew that my dad never gave me words of advice, I understood that you don't always have to speak advice to give it.

Release the stress. You were never in control anyway. 

- Steve Maraboli

First I should point out that my dad is not Steve Maraboli. Steve is a writer. Maybe a good one. My dad is Rafael and that was just a quote I liked but I digress. My mom has often said, "Your father will never die of a heart attack." She's right. If you can't see from that picture on the left where he is carrying his small baby in a fucking tree let me spell it out: That man doesn't stress about a thing. He wanders around in this day and age with no cell phone. When we go to the mall, I will follow him around otherwise he'll wander off and get lost and it will take ME hours to find him and when I do find him I'll ask worriedly, "Umm... where were you? I looked everywhere for you." And he'll shrug. No answer.  Shoulder shrug. That. Is. It. I'll realize he was never looking for me, never even realized I was gone in the first place and if he had, it wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest. 

"Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer." 

- Unknown

In fact, the only thing he might ever stress about is what cruise he and my mom will be taking next year or what new place they will visit. He loves to travel. He loves to pack his bags and go. He loves airplanes. Without ever saying it, traveling is my dad's purest form of education. Hmmm.... I wonder where I get my travel bug from?

Take pride in what you have and what you do.

My dad has clothes from the 70's in perfect condition. Not a wrinkle. Not a tear. Mint condition. He takes care of everything he owns. As kids we knew not to touch his things without total care. If you borrowed something bring it back as you found it. If you play with something take care of it. He bought us too many toys as kids so we were the house that all of our friends came to to play. Sure plenty was demolished but we also knew that not every child was as privileged as we were to have what we had. The same goes for his work. After Eastern airlines was liquidated due to bad leadership, my father took up work stocking shelves at our neighborhood market for years. He was never late. He hardly ever called out sick. And his aisles were always perfect. Now with kids of my own, I try to instill the same ideas. Take care of the things you have and have pride in what you do. 

"Eighty percent of success is showing up." - Woody Allen

He may not have been Rah-Rah-Rahing louder than any parent but he was at every dance competition my sister and I were in running after us with his video camera. He taped every single mother-effing performance we were involved in which in some years was about 20+ performances. He didn't miss one. At my very first competitive dance performance he was there waiting for me to come on with camera in hand and when my performance started the camera shut off. Battery dead. He stayed to watch but went to the room right after. My mom said he was so upset he didn't get it on video. We both knew. He may not have the words but sometimes words aren't needed. He felt like he let me down even though he was there. For my dad that was always how he showed up. I dare you to find another father who took more pictures and videos of his girls than my father did. He was behind the camera. Behind the lens. Capturing us in a way that didn't need talking. See, he was always there  - just not with advice in the form of words. Words didn't come easily to him but action did.

Life is not meant to be all that serious.

My dad is a silly guy. He played practical jokes on co-workers filling their coat pockets with sugar or leaving silly pictures of animals named after them in their locker.  In the summers, God help us if we wandered to the backyard in the evening after we were showered and in our PJs and he was out there. He would spray us with the hose soaking us completely. We'd run and try to hide behind the pool or in our clubhouse but it was no use. Sometimes I'd fall asleep on the couch watching television with him and he would stick a cigar in my mouth and take a picture of it hanging out of my open snoring hole. Other times he would write on my forehead I LOVE PAPI with a Sharpie marker. The next morning I would wake up and have to go to school with a faded black marker declaration of love for my father on my forehead. I danced on the ceiling thanks to Dad and Lionel Richie.* I learned to take silly pictures but more importantly not to care much for what others thought through his silliness. I remember a time when he still drove and he would put my sister and I in the car to visit my mom at work. She was working as a toll collector and he would drive us all the way there just to drive through her toll and say hi and then keep going. He was the kind of dad that would run from one end of the backyard and take a flying leap over the pool railing into our above ground 4ft. pool, F-L-O-A-T-I-N-G in the air before diving in the pool and bursting out of the water a moment later. He was magical. 

The Advice My Dad Never Gave

There are dads with deep, strong voices that hand out wisdomatic knowledge like brightly-colored gum balls. They say things like, "Be true to yourself" or "be whatever you want to be." That wasn't my dad's way. I'm not at all angry that he wasn't an advice dispenser, in fact, I think I myself could learn to be the kind of parent who practices what they preach without so much of the preaching. My dad never stood on a soapbox and claimed to know it all, never pretended to have all the answers; he just did the best he could - like we all do. 

We don't all have to be dispensers of wisdom nuggets to be good parents. Sometimes carrying your daughter upside down on your shoulders so she could dance on the ceiling is enough. 

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"Post your dad at his best to Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram with the tag #DadBrags and win him something awesome." Visit ManCrates for more details. 

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The views and opinions expressed on DTWB are 100% my own. I might be occasionally compensated to provide opinions on products, services, websites, etc.  at which time I will inform my readers of such compensation. However, compensated or not, I always give my honest opinion on those topics or products. 

With that being said, my mention of Man Crates is not a compensated post nor is it a product review, it is simply an opportunity to win a cool prize right in time for Father's Day. 


*Refers to Lionel Richie's 1984 hit "Dancing on the Ceiling"