The Best Daddy

Richie took Kinley on her first fishing trip over the weekend.  It was such a cute moment!  And while I wanted to be there for this "first" for her, I knew that it was something that he needed to have on his own.  She was so excited while I packed up her bag with sunscreen, snacks and a sippy cup.  He bought her a new, pink fishing pole and her own bobber.  

Such a girly fisher-chick.

He said that fifteen fish came off her pole and she was loving every second of it.  She didn't want to touch them at first, but by the end, she did touch one.  He said that there was one fish that she was particularly attached to and she insisted that it sit next to her for quite some time.  Sorry fish.

Happy Daddy's Day!

My husband is probably my most faithful reader.  He loves to see me sitting down to blog and waits for that moment when I click "publish" so that he can read what has been on my mind.  I guess I may be more open in a blog than I sometimes am in person?  I don't know.  Maybe it just sounds different when I blog it because I can think things out more?  Anyway, I know that he's going to see this probably around his lunch break today.  And although I said it yesterday, and we celebrated yesterday, I want to tell him Happy Father's Day.

My husband is the best daddy, ever.  He loves our little girl more than anything or anyone.  I don't think that there is anything that he wouldn't do for her.  And I'm pretty certain that she knows it.

His dedication and love for his family runs deep.  I know, without a doubt, that we are his first priority.  If we need him, he's here.  She is so lucky to have a daddy like him, and I couldn't have chosen a better partner to to share this life with.

I love you, Richie and she wuves you mowe!

His first two (and a half) years as a daddy:

First time he touched his little girl.

First time to hold her.

He knew from the start that she was his angel.

His first Father's Day-2010.  We almost forgot to take a picture!

His second Father's Day-2011.  She runs him ragged!

Third Father's Day-2012.  Never more proud or in love with his baby girl.

I hope that you had a wonderful day, babe.  I look forward to sharing many, many, many more Father's Days celebrating your love for our baby girl!

Wrapped Around My Finger

I have a jewelry box on my dresser.  It's a pretty nice one.  My mom ordered it for me from QVC.  But it's actually relatively full, considering I don't own a lot of jewelry.  But I do have a few family pieces that I keep, not expensive or fancy things, but family pieces, nonetheless.

One of the rings that I have belonged to my dad.  It's his birthstone ring.  I guess it was the "thing" back then to have a birthstone ring?  I'm not sure.  But he was born in October and his birthstone is Tourmaline.  I had no idea what it was called, I had to google it.  But it's the pinkish/purple stone. 

I've had this ring in my jewelry box for years and never thought much about it.  It was tarnished beyond recognition and until recently, I had no idea how to "fix" it.

I have a few pieces from Tiffany that I love, love, love but always hated the polishing that is required weekly.  Hello, Joy!  Meet silver cleaner!  Call me stupid, but I had never seen such a thing!  One quick dunk in this nasty-smelling stuff and ta-da!  Beautiful.

Today, I was going through my jewelry to get rid of the stuff that I know I won't wear anymore and looked at dad's ring again.  Then it dawned on me that I could try the miracle silver cleaner to see if it would come clean.  And, it did.

It took a little bit of elbow grease and Q-tips but the tarnish came off.  And then I polished it with my Tiffany polishing cloth and it's restored shine!

Unfortunately, I never did see it in it's "like new" condition, but I can imagine that it looks pretty similar to the way it does today.  I'm pretty proud of myself!  I brought it back to life!

I called mom to see if there was some super cool story behind this ring, but she couldn't remember.  She does know that it was a gift to him pre-high school years and that he never would wear it because it was "girly" with the pink-ish stone.  Understandably so.  Good call, dad.

But I'm so very thrilled that I have it now and have restored the silver back to wearable condition.

I may not wear it everyday, but wearing it today makes me so proud.  I'm so proud to be wearing something of his.  Wish he was here to see it!

Ugh.  I hate my fat fingers.

Why a baby needs a daddy

There are just some things that are a daddy's job.  In our house, it is jammie time, clipping her fingernails and playing with her non-girl toys.

When she was a baby (well, a younger infant), all of her toys were pink and girlie and pretty simple.  Shake the rattle, crinkle the book, listen to the song and watch the lights.  The toys that have recently invaded our home from her birthday and Christmas, are a little more involved.  You actually have to *play* with them.  The car that she rides in and we push, the dinosaur that she pushes around and we turn, the farm that she puts the animals into the silo so that they fall to the bottom and she can pull them out and put them back into the top again...the stacking cups, the see and say....the list goes on and on.

One of her favorite toys from Christmas are her new bristle blocks.  I remember my little brother playing with these things when he was little.  Which only makes sense, because he is the one that got them for her.  She loves them.  They have become her teether, her phone (the big rectangle block she uses as her phone) and her throwing stars.  They are pretty much all purpose.  But the thing is, that aside from using them as a phone, mommy has no clue what to do with the silly things.  I sit with her and try to build something and nothing works.  I guess I need the bristles for dummies book or something because I am like so stupid when it comes to these things.

Daddy, on the other hand, whipped up this thing the other night.  No joke, he was sitting there for about five minutes playing blocks with her when I saw this roll across the coffee table. 

I was like, "hey!  how did you do that!?"  and the plane lived just long enough for me to say that before Kinley Monster came and crushed the plane.  Not really crushed it, more like disassembled it rapidly.

He claims that it's not a very good plane, but it was a quick job. 

Had I attempted that contraption of bristles, I would have needed A)  Directions *with* pictures B)  An hour  C)  A Kinley-free environment.  And then I would have been so proud of myself that I would not have let it roll aimlessly across the coffee table into the hands of the Kinley Monster.

That's why kids have daddies.