Victo

I am loving listening to my "Daddy Songs." Are you?

Growing up, we all called my dad "Daddy." But as I got older, and sillier, I started calling him Poppy and Daddy-O. Seriously, I think the "Poppy" thing started because my sister and I were in Spanish classes... but hello? That is spelled PAPI. LOL! Oh well... It stuck.

Daddy's sisters called him "Bebo." That kind of stuck with my mom... and she has all of us calling him Bebo on various occassions. My cousin called my dad "Victo" because his name is Victor... and... well... you get it. (I'm pretty sure it was my cousin... right, Dad?) So we call him anything. The man of many nick-names, I guess.

So let me tell you something about my dad...

My dad pretty much raised us... and he did a fine job. (I mean, I'm here, aren't I!?!) My dad was a hard worker... and never complained about the long days and heavy work loads. And he was selfless... spending Saturday nights ironing four little church dresses... taking days off of work to finish our school dioramas... re-teaching me everything I had learned at school that day, because I didn't understand it in class... running to Walgreens on Sunday morning to get tights, but SOMEBODY didn't check the night before to make sure she had a pair of tights without holes... spending hours and days at our houses now, as grown women, helping us with household maintenance... running me to Chicago for doctor's appointments... taking me to the ER on occasion, even though I'm a big girl and could probably have done it alone...

I hated fighting with Daddy... and I still do... I can't stay mad at him for long- I just have too much respect for him. But needless to say... we do not always agree on everything. But he never gives up on me.

Oh! And get this... it's kind of cliche, but have you ever heard the words of wisdom that your parents (or somebody significant) have told you (maybe even several times) playing over and over in your brain as you get older? It's like a mini-Daddy following me around! Two things that he has been trying to teach me (and I keep hearing him say to me) are:

* Life is not just about what happens to you, it's about how you deal with what happens to you.
* You can make a choice about how you feel/react to things- you don't have to be sad or angry... you can choose to not let it bother you and to move on.

Although sometimes those are easier said than done... and although I got SO MAD when he'd say them to me (because you know, it seems so bad at the moment, that you don't want to go there!), I was able to use those words of wisdom at different moments. His words stuck with me in different moments of trial, and they still do!

Yes, my dad is wonderful. But I didn't tell you one more thing, which is also very important...
Daddy took us to church every week. He taught us about loving God. And I wouldn't be here today if I didn't have the saving grace that Daddy shared with us.

One quick funny story about a lesson learned from my dad. (Daddy, I'm not sure you even know this one!)

Daddy didn't like us to dress in any type of revealing way. He would make us return clothes we had bought if he thought they were improper. He would make us run back upstairs to change if he could see our belly buttons. Well, in college, I sort of rebelled. I liked to wear crazy, funky clothes. Skin tight pants and shirts, short skirts, see through shirts... you get the picture... Daddy would make comments. But I didn't live with him at that time, and I think he felt he didn't have control over it. I knew he hated it, so I wouldn't wear it around him. Anyway; one day I was walking across campus to get to my next class. I was wearing funky pants, my chunky shoes, and a lacy shirt. Then a random guy jumped up and said "Hey! Are you nice? You're hot... and I could really use a nice girl." He chased me a few feet, repeating himself. Finally, I had to turn around and say "No! I'm not nice." He backed off and walked away. And I think I got rid of my crazy, attention-grabbing clothes as soon as I got home.

Love you, Daddy!