February 25th was my dad's birthday. On February 25th (and several days following) I was sick. Really sick. Hence the severely belated happy birthday dad post.
My dad was away for his birthday. In his happy place in Central Oregon in his "cabin". And as miserable as I was on his birthday, it was somehow appropriate for me to be sick on his birthday. As I knelt over the toilet, slightly amused at watching D try to figure out how to take care of me, I thought about my dad. He always took care of me when I was sick. He should seriously get an award for being the best throw-up cleaner-upper ever. He certainly has done his share of it.
Kelly and I's bedroom was the furthest bedroom away from mom and dad's. And Dad must have some sonar hearing, because at the slightest sound of someone being sick, He was always there. And fast. He would sit in the bathroom with us while we were sick, and then bring us a glass of water or 7-up to rinse our mouths. He would clean us up when needed, clean up the floor when needed, the sheets, pajamas....etc. When more throwing up action was expected, he would make us a bed on the floor, closer to the door. He would make sure we were comfortable and that we had our blankets, and that there was a "receptacle' close-by.
Doesn't this make fatherhood sounds so glamorous? I'm sure he thought so. But in those moments, he never let us see how truly disgusting that job was. He just made us feel like there was no where else he would rather be, than there taking care of us and telling us stories of the "4 space girls" to help us fall back to sleep.
Sorry for the graphic post, but dad and I spent a lot of time like this together when I was little. :) Seems like I was always throwing up.
I love you Dad, for all the glamorous fatherly things you did for me, and for the not-so-glamorous.
I hope you had a wonderful and relaxing birthday!
My dad was away for his birthday. In his happy place in Central Oregon in his "cabin". And as miserable as I was on his birthday, it was somehow appropriate for me to be sick on his birthday. As I knelt over the toilet, slightly amused at watching D try to figure out how to take care of me, I thought about my dad. He always took care of me when I was sick. He should seriously get an award for being the best throw-up cleaner-upper ever. He certainly has done his share of it.
Kelly and I's bedroom was the furthest bedroom away from mom and dad's. And Dad must have some sonar hearing, because at the slightest sound of someone being sick, He was always there. And fast. He would sit in the bathroom with us while we were sick, and then bring us a glass of water or 7-up to rinse our mouths. He would clean us up when needed, clean up the floor when needed, the sheets, pajamas....etc. When more throwing up action was expected, he would make us a bed on the floor, closer to the door. He would make sure we were comfortable and that we had our blankets, and that there was a "receptacle' close-by.
Doesn't this make fatherhood sounds so glamorous? I'm sure he thought so. But in those moments, he never let us see how truly disgusting that job was. He just made us feel like there was no where else he would rather be, than there taking care of us and telling us stories of the "4 space girls" to help us fall back to sleep.
Sorry for the graphic post, but dad and I spent a lot of time like this together when I was little. :) Seems like I was always throwing up.
I love you Dad, for all the glamorous fatherly things you did for me, and for the not-so-glamorous.
I hope you had a wonderful and relaxing birthday!
2 comments:
Awwww...tell your dad happy Birthday for us. He's got a special giving heart and I can totally see him doing as you described in your blog for you when you were sick.
I'm glad to hear you are feeling better. And your dad sounds awesome. That's what my dad used to do too. The relationship a girl has with her dad is a gift from God!!!
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