Month: June 2021

The last few weeks I’ve been thinking about my dad’s socks.

Not just any socks.

I have been thinking about his ugly, itchy, gray “I <3 Dad” socks. When my brother and I were little, Mom let us pick out a gift for him, so we got him these horrible socks for Father’s Day and he was still wearing them in my late teens or possibly even into my 20s. I folded laundry, so I know they weren’t comfortable socks, either. He wore them just because we gave them to him, and he loved us.

Dad has been gone almost 9 years now and today is his birthday. He would have been 69. Most days I just live life; I think about Dad, but my thoughts don’t interfere with daily life. Some days though, I really miss him. At times, things can be pretty lonely without him. Bugs ‘n Plugs said that I am an “Island of Stability in the Sea of Chaos that surrounds” me. I’m honored and touched that he views me that way and it’s become something of a joke in our house when my ADHD Army does something to ruffle my feathers. But sometimes… it’s lonely. Dad was another Island of Stability in the family dynamic and now it’s just me. At least, it feels that way sometimes.

Growing up, it was very clear that I was Dad’s kid, and my brother was Mom’s kid, even down to the blood types! Dad and I were quiet, driven, fastidious, and responsible. Mom and my brother were more free-spirited, flexible, spontaneous, and gregarious. When Dad needed help with a project around the house, I liked to be around to be his helper. When we would get something from the drive thru or get take-out, Dad and I would go pick it up. I ran a lot of errands with Dad.

So, now I’m thinking about his socks. He wore those itchy gray socks year after year just because he loved us. He passed up an opportunity to apply to the astronaut training program because he loved us. He retired earlier than he had to so we wouldn’t have to move after we started high school. He drove us to music lessons. He helped us with homework. He helped us research colleges. He pointed out things that we would think were interesting in the newspaper. He saved the comics page for us. He went without so we wouldn’t have to. And, he wore his “I <3 Dad” socks. All just because he loved us.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about how the Armed Forces Medley can be difficult for me sometimes because the Air Force song makes me think of Dad. But, it’s not a bad difficult. I’m glad I had a dad who loved me so much that that song makes me a little sad. I’m grateful that he was such an excellent example of love and sacrifice that thinking of him makes me a little melancholy sometimes. So, on Dad’s birthday, I’m going to think about his socks and about the love and pride with which he wore them, just because he loved us.

My MBTI personality type is ISFJ and one of the great things about being an ISFJ is that my memory is strongly connected to my senses. Certain sensations can take me back to memories that I can recall with vivid detail. Gentle summer breezes rustling through trees, lightning bugs dancing their illuminated dances, a warm wind blowing on my face, freshly cut grass, and verdant vistas bring back friends, silly situations, and fond memories.

Last night, I was at an outdoor church event and decades of summer memories came flooding back to my mind as I watched the clouds chase each other across the sky and listened to wind whisper through the leaves of the trees.

I remembered leaving my best friend’s rehearsal dinner the night before her wedding and looking over a field filled with thousands of lightning bugs sparkling in one of the most stunning displays of God’s creation I’ve ever witnessed. I remembered a night during college when my high school friends and I were all home and we stood in one friend’s driveway until 2:00 AM talking and catching up, none of us having any clue what time it was because we were enjoying each other’s company. I remembered the sense of freedom I felt with a hot wind blowing on my face from the open windows in the back of my friend’s car as we went to the movies on a weeknight, knowing we didn’t have to get up in the morning. I remembered games of Ghost in the Graveyard and Flashlight Tag with neighborhood kids. I remembered running up and down my grandparents’ street with a jar, trying to catch lightning bugs. I remembered the excitement of going to a church dance with a friend, wondering if we might meet someone special there. I remembered coming home to Mom and Dad with the sounds of baseball on TV and crickets chirping outside. I remembered walking with a friend to buy Slurpees at 7-11. I remembered getting ice cream with friends and walking and talking together as we ate it.

There was something special about those summer nights. Maybe it was the freedom of knowing I didn’t have to get up for school the next day. Maybe it was the potential for adventures. Maybe it was the increased time outside connecting with God’s creation.

As adults, I don’t think we take the time to appreciate these things. I guess for one thing, summers don’t mean the freedom from responsibility they did when we were younger. I think we also seem to have either a self-imposed or society-imposed expectation to be always doing something or to be always engaged in some work… or, maybe that’s just me. But next time you get a chance to be out on a summer’s night, take a minute to listen to the wind, watch the lightning bugs, feel the cooling of the air, and smell the grass and see if it doesn’t take you back to those summer nights when you were younger. Then, even for just a minute, you can be that kid or teen enjoying freedom, anticipating adventure, and enjoying God’s creation.

Some women are born to be Pinterest moms. Their perfectly cleaned and organized homes, organic meals, and well-behaved children provide inspiration (even if it is only 30% real). Then there are the Failblog moms. Their disasters, good intentions gone wrong, and Pinterest fails provide laughter. I am in this second category of mom. It might seem, based on what I pin on my neatly-organized Pinterest boards, like I have it all together and I would be one of those first kind of women, but what I pin and what I do are two vastly different things. This was evident a few weeks ago when my plan to surprise The Progeny with a visit from her dogs turned into a disaster of epic proportions.

I got my first opportunity to be a car rider mom several weeks ago when The Progeny’s school went to four days of in-person instruction. That morning, I got her in the car and dropped her off with a kiss and a smile and drove off like I’d been doing it her whole life! Score one for me!

Then, I got a little too bold!

I decided The Progeny would love to be surprised with the dogs when I picked her up that afternoon. In my mind, I could envision her cherubic face alight with the elation of seeing her beloved canines wagging their tails so fast their whole bodies wiggled, and I could hear the happy whines from the dogs as she jumped in the car greeting them. What a beautiful picture I painted for myself. Bugs ‘n Plugs advised against this plan. He was afraid that our younger dog, who is a bit of a wild man, would run away as soon as the car door was opened. Not to worry! I had a plan! I tied him to the seat with his leash! Patting myself on the back for thinking a way around the greatest catastrophe we could imagine, I headed to the school to wait in the car rider line with the dogs, confident that my Pinterest Mom trophy was in the bag!

After our 45 minute long wait in the car rider line (because that’s how early you have to get there if you want to see your child before suppertime), The Progeny jumped in the car and was buckled without incident! Score two for me! Now we were all happily heading home.

And then it happened. A malodorous cloud began to permeate the minivan. At first, we figured our younger dog had gassed us as it’s something he’s wont to do. But the smell lingered in the air even with the windows wide open. This was not a simple gassing. I looked back at a red light and there on the floor in the back was a pile of dog excrement. That is bad enough, but this pile had paw prints in it. That’s right, prints, as in the plural form of the noun print. Both dogs had stepped in it. Now, we live in a small town, so everything is about five minutes away and we were already halfway home. But the remaining two or three minutes to the house felt like an eternity. The mile or two seemed like a trek across the galaxy. And the dogs would not sit still. They were walking all over the van. I don’t like to think they were trying to do it on purpose, but they spread that mess over the car with an efficiency rivaling even the most disciplined military units.

We arrived at home. The Progeny bolted into the house, so I was left alone with two dogs with poop paws and a van full of pungent poop. I put the poopy pups in the backyard to deal with them later. Then, I gathered the appropriate accoutrements to begin the cleaning and I sat in the driveway. I just sat for a while, looking at the car and contemplating the ways I might be able to destroy it and still collect the insurance money for it. What stories could I weave that the insurance company might believe? I just sat in the driveway laughing for a while, the neighbors probably think I’m crazy. Finally, I decided I had to be an adult and actually clean the car… and the dogs. Fortunately, the mess was pretty much contained to the floor and hard surfaces and it wasn’t too hard to clean, and the dogs just required a little foot bath.

In life, poop happens. And when it does, you just have to be an adult and clean it up. Of course, if you’re not trying to be a Pinterest Mom, it doesn’t necessarily have to happen in your car!