My Dad.

Beer in hand, and peace sign up (learned from his Japanese “daughter”) — dad in his element!

My dad is awesome.  (you might remember me talking about him in here.) I love my dad. I have no qualms about him, no “daddy issues”.  None of that.  I am lucky, happy and grateful I have my dad.  He rocks.  I have always been my dad’s buddy.  I was the youngest of three girls (no boys) and I’m not sure if I naturally took on the tom-boy role or if I was the last-ditch effort by my parents.  I played sports.  I watched sports. I liked cars. I went fishing. 

My dad taught me to drive a manual, dribble a basketball, whistle, shoot an arrow, and throw a punch. Of the great traits my dad has,  I got my congeniality, great sense of direction and navigation, taste for adventure, and cooking skills from him.

I do know that no one is perfect and as much as I love my dad, I know he is no exception.  In addition to the great traits my dad has, I also received his bluntness, temper, occasional moodiness and the ability to make everyone feel tense when I’m angry (without me having to say a word).  There have been plenty of times in my life where I thought my dad was out-of-line, mean, rude, embarrassing or unfair.  But as everyone always says – now that I’m older I can now understand why he did what he did. Or just laugh.  Here’s a few examples:

It was spring break and my mom, dad, and I were vacationing on the Washington coast. I ended up being insanely sick during that trip but towards the end we were able to make it out for a small hike.  As we stood at the first clearing on a bluff above the ocean, we heard rustling in the bushes.  We turned to see if we could spot what it was, when I saw it.  My face sunken in and eyes wide, I couldn’t remember the name of what I was seeing.  So all I could spit out was “It’s a….It’s a…It’s a…”.  My mom was getting anxious yelling “It’s a WHAT?!” while my dad jumps up and starts running back towards the trail.  I finally gathered myself.  “It’s a quail.” My parents had a look of relief on their faces as my mom started laughing at my dad turning back around.  “I’m glad that if it WAS something, you were ready to just run away and leave me and your sick daughter behind!” Thanks, Dad.

However,
He gets a pass though for the time we were hiking in Mt. Baker and I fell down the side of a path towards a scary little plunge.  Dad grabbed my ankle — mom grabbed her camera.  (wtf mom?!).  And for the time we hiked to go steelhead fishing and he grabbed me when I fell into a river (that was about to flow down a waterfall) while trying to cross.

In my pre-teen years, I was a little too excited to start wearing makeup.  At about that time, blue eyeshadow was the thing.  I powdered some onto my lids and went about my day.  That night, it was just dad and I for dinner eating some soup.  My dad looks at me and asks “What the hell are you wearing? On your eyes.”
“Eyeshadow.”
“Blue? You look like a whore.”
My mouth dropped and I scoffed. “OH MY GOD, DAD.”
He tried putting another spoonful of soup in his mouth but busted out a laugh mid sip.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” (still laughing).

However, he made it up when he told me how great I looked getting ready for my senior prom.

I was 15 and learning how to drive.  My dad instructed me to go on a few back roads near our house.  While driving, I noticed a friend of mine skateboarding on the side of the street.  “Hey! It’s Billy!” I exclaimed and proceeded to start driving on the wrong side of the road.  “Get your eyes on the damn road! You’re on the wrong side! Who the hell is Billy?!”.  A week later at a parent school function, my dad saw Billy.  He walked up to him with his “I’m Tough” voice and look.  “So YOU’RE the guy who’s making my daughter drive on the wrong side of the road!” he exclaimed before completely grilling him.  Poor guy. He was just a friend, too!

However, he made it up by spending an entire day with my loser-boyfriend (without me there) a few years later without killing him (did I mention he was a loser??)

It was my very first soccer game (first ever sports game, period).  I was only 5 so all I basically did was run back and forth.  So did my dad.  Coaching me from the sidelines, goal to goal.  At the end of the game my dad asks, “Were you listening to your coach?!” and all I could say was “ALL I could hear was you, dad! I couldn’t hear my coach over you!” 

Can you tell he likes Carhartt and baseball caps?

He made that up by cheering from one place during every soccer and basketball game thereafter, and cheering only between points at every tennis match when I was older.

My dad can be a little dorky (but it’s adorable), and be a little grumpy (but I forgive him) but he has been the very best dad for me, 100% of the time.

Happy Fathers Day to all the great fathers out there — and if you have a great father, don’t forget to let him know how great he is!

xoxo,

B.

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