I was excited for this family play session. I hoped to make it a learning opportunity too. My daughter and I discussed my sculpture. “What sound does the snake make? What color is it? Can you pick out the orange triangles on the snake? What about the pink dots?” All that was fine and she seemed to learn something.

But, she thought Daddy’s art was way cooler. The glasses were great, very creative. Of course they didn’t come until after he made the Play-Doh “poop” out of his hands, complete with sound effects.

Every fall we park in the same dusty parking lot outside the same football stadium.  My hand finds his as we weave through the crowd before going through the same gate.  I breathe the cool air laced with the smell of bubbling oil in deep fat fryers.  It’s always mixed with the scent of ribboned livestock and smoked meat that used to be livestock.

October, 2003 at the fountain at the NC State Fairgrounds.  This picture is framed in our house.

I took Greyson for the first time in 2003.  We had just started dating and I told him as a new resident of our state it was a must-see.  Greyson had the day off so I played hooky from my part-time job as a receptionist at a local specialty pharmacy.  The day before,  I invented a wicked fake sore throat.  The pharmacist, my boss,  whipped up a mouth and throat numbing lollipop for my “affliction” and made me eat it in the office.  I wiped drool and smelled like cherries the rest of the day.  Greyson laughed and said no woman had ever gone to those lengths to go on a date with him.  

My handsome Guest Blogger returns!  My husband Greyson is writing for his mother’s birthday today.  I’m very blessed to have a mother-in-law like Dottie.  She is a doll who makes life more fun with her sharp wit and generous hospitality.  Oh, and Greyson acts just. like. his. mama.  Seriously. All the funny things I love about him, he got from her.  Happy Birthday Dottie!  

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a tribute to my dad for his 65^th birthday.

Today, it is time to honor my mom.  Yep, my parents were born 10 days apart.

In the post about my father, I described our relationship and the closeness we’ve always shared.

However, to be honest, I am more like my mother than my father.  First off, I look more like my mom’s side of the family.  My sisters look like my dad’s side of the family.  But more than anything, I share many of my mom’s mannerisms.

I didn’t really realize this until I married Amy.  She points it out often.  Especially, since we’ve hadCharlotte.

There is one similarity I’m especially proud of.  My mom has a terrific way of listening to you and making you feel like what you are saying is valuable.  And she does this just as well with kids as she does with adults.

I admired how she is able to have very thoughtful conversations with my 6 year old niece Hollin.  Hollin often wants to go to DeeDee (that is what all of the grandchildren call my mom), to have a “serious” talk.

Sometimes this includes showing Deedee a picture or some other achievement.  DeeDee goes beyond the usual praise and finds a particular detail….perhaps the use of a certain color in a picture, to highlight and discuss.

It is never condescending, and always sincere.  It makes you feel special and it makes you want to share more.

I find that I do this with Charlotte.  Certainly, she is my little girl, and there is time for snuggling, and being silly.  ButCharlottehas a real intensity to her.  She has tremendous focus.  And she wants to be taken seriously.  To her, putting her dolls or stuffedSesame Streetcharacters to bed is very real.

I talk to her about it like she is a person, not my baby girl.  As her speech and vocabulary continues to grow, I’m noticing that it is at these times, she doesn’t want to share a simple pharse like “My baby”, but rather string together many words….some of which are new and hard to understand, but she is comfortable and engaged.

She wants to share more, and it makes me glad to be like my mom.

Thanks DeeDee, and Happy Birthday.

DeeDee with our niece, Hollin in 2010 showing us how fun life can be.

I’m not writing today as I continue to recover from this God-awful illness I’ve been battling this week.  Tomorrow is my Father-In-Law Woody’s birthday.  Greyson asked for the platform of Somebody’s Parents to give him a present.  I welcome a guest blogger!  Here is the writing of my husband.  Enjoy, and Happy Birthday, Woody!  

What do you get the man who has everything for his birthday?

You hijack your wife’s blog and pay homage to the man.  Actually I don’t know anyone who does that, but I’m doing it today.

Without question, one of the things I cherish most is my relationship with my father.  We’ve always had a great relationship, full of humor, advice, deep conversations, and a copious amount of sports.

My father was the best man at my wedding.  When I asked him to be my best man, it caught him off guard….and brought him to tears.  For me, there was never a doubt who I wanted standing next to me as my bride walked down the aisle.  I pictured that moment well before I ever met Amy.

Like I said, we’ve always been close and enjoy a great friendship.  But having little Charlotte has uncovered a new aspect to my relationship with my dad….understanding.

My dad, by any measure, was a wildly successful lawyer.  While he was blessed with immense talent and intellect, his success is really attributed to his drive and passion for hard work.

Most nights did include my dad, briefcase open in front of him, focused on his work.

Don’t get me wrong, my sisters and I were never neglected.  Dad coached my hockey teams, spent hours upon hours helping me with my homework, and was a master of imparting wisdom at just the right times.

But, there was also a lot of work to be done.  Occasionally small talk, or watching the big game, might capture only half of his attention while he plowed through paperwork.

At times it was hard to fully understand why the work was important.  Of course, I knew the money he earned made our lives possible.  But did he really care more about work than spending every possible minute with his kids?

With Charlotte in my life….now, I understand.  As primal as it might sound, I am finding that the desire to provide for my family is the most powerful motivator of all.

I have attacked work with a renewed sense of passion.  It’s easy, when all I have to do is look at the framed pictures on my desk of my wife and child.  I want to make sure that sweet little girl has all of the things I was lucky to have growing up….great family vacations, summer camp, and most of all, a fully paid education.

I work extra hours without any resentment, but rather with a heightened purpose.  We’re looking at new houses, in neighborhoods with great schools, and while it has been an exhausting process, I already feel so fulfilled knowing my hard work is making that possible.  My hard work will allow us to grow our family.  My hard work will allow my kids to follow their dreams, knowing there is a safety I’ve placed underneath them.  My hard work will afford Charlotte the chance to fulfill her potential, and develop into a strong, wise, and sensitive young woman.

My hard work is making me a lot like my dad.

This is Charlotte’s pumpkin. She is quite proud of it. She should be considering the epic toddler tantrum we endured to get it home. She says “My punkin!” whenever she sees it and “Bye-bye punkin!” while waving at our front stoop each morning. You can count on her announcing, “My punkin!” once more when we get home. She even showed it to Grandma via Facetime by using it as a chair. I figure if I were 22 lbs. I would think a pumpkin would be a great chair too.

As parents we are thrilled that she loved this gourd so much and we were hopeful this would mean she would be interested in some different fall foods this year. Every autumn I make Rachael Ray’s Pumpkin Sausage Pasta. Ya’ll, this stuff is amazeballs! It is perfect for nights when the weather starts getting cooler. Greyson always wanders up to the stove to smell the pot. I can always count on extra kitchen kisses and complements on my cooking. We couldn’t wait to share this recipe with our girl.

That’s when we said it.

“It’s pumpkin pasta! It’s made with pumpkin! Yummy!”

We might as well have stabbed Elmo right in front of her. Her lip trembled, and she screamed “No! My punkin!”

Oops.

We assured her that her pumpkin was still in tact. Greyson went outside to the front step and brought it in to show her. We may not make jack-o-lanterns this Halloween. I’ll leave the pumpkin out through Thanksgiving, but when Christmas decorations go up it has to go.

Who am I kidding? Any bets on if I’ll have garland around that “punkin?”