Archive for June 18th, 2011

18 Jun 2011

Flawless Saturday Question

16 Comments Flawless Saturday Question

Tomorrow is Father’s Day. Tell me about a dad in your life. He can be a friend, your husband, your father, an uncle… You get the idea. Help me celebrate fathers and tell me,

Who is a dad you admire, and why? Great stories are strongly encouraged!

Let me first say, I married a man who turned out to be not only a stellar husband, but a miraculous father. He is already creating memories with our son, which will stick with him always. He is beyond silly, immensely patient, always optimistic, and incredibly warm, kind, cuddly and loving. Garrett is so fortunate to have a father like Russ, and I am so lucky to get to watch their special relationship unfold. I know how lucky G is, because I was that lucky with my own father. Happy Father’s Day, Russ.

This will be my first Father’s Day without my dad. Those of you who are regular readers know how much he means to me, and what an incredible dad he was. Here’s one of my favorite and funniest memories:

We had just gotten a new dog from the pound. His name was Max and he was a mutt, mostly shepherd with some golden retriever thrown in, I think. Great dog. We knew he was for us the second we saw him. My dad tended to love the Family Dog almost as much as he loved the Family. It was one of those awesome things about him.

Now let me back track for a second. About two months before we got Max, my mom furnished her living room for the first time since my parents bought the house 14 years earlier. See, my folks kept the living room completely open for that ENTIRE time so that my brother and I could have a rehearsal space in the house. They loved having kids come over to rehearse for school festivals, drama camp scenes, and our sketch-comedy shows. Now that Bob and I were both out of school, my parents finally furnished that space.

The biggest purchase was an off-white, half-circle, silk couch that was my mom’s prize possession. When we got Max, (who she also loved dearly), she insisted that we keep him away from that couch. Her only request: “I waited 14 years to get this couch. Please don’t let that dog ruin it.”

So, it was about a week after getting Max and I had just come home from work and he clearly had to pee. I ran him to the back door, through the living room, past the couch…

He peed on the couch.

He lifted his leg and peed, right there on the side of my mom’s new, off-white, silk couch.

I stared at him, my mouth agape, my head reeling. “MAX! NOOOOOOOOO!”

Now what do I do?

I ran to the kitchen to call my dad, who worked about three miles from home at the time.

“DAD! MAX PEED ON THE COUCH! HE PEED ON THE COUCH!”

“WHAT? (deep breath) Oh my god. Okay. Is it bad?”

“It’s really bad. Right on the side coming in from the family room. It’s bad.”

“Okay. Don’t do anything. I’ll call an upholstery cleaner and I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, my dad walked in and looked at the stain.

“Oh, shit”, he said.

“I know”, I said.

And then we laughed our asses off. I think we were both so nervous about what my mom was going to do, we couldn’t help but laugh.

“You can’t ever, ever tell your mom about this. If she sees the stain, we lie. We have no idea what happened. It’s probably just an irregularity in the silk that we never noticed, okay?”

“Okay!”

Just then the doorbell rang and the cleaner came in. He spent about an hour doing his best and when he left it was still pretty bad.

And there we were, standing next to the stain, petting Max and praying for all of our souls.

My mom noticed the stain within a month. My dad and I acted like we had always seen it, and that the couch just came that way. My mom thought something had happened, but we convinced her it was fine.

It was about 12 years later that we finally admitted what happened. Max had already passed away, so he was free. My mom couldn’t help but see the humor, because she has a great sense of it. But I know she was a little pissed. I was happy to have had that secret with my dad. Another example of how he made every crappy situation a whole lot better.

Just writing that made me laugh my ass off. God, I’m lucky to have had him as a dad.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.

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