Father's Day

I'm usually pretty crap at thinking of gifts. But this year, thanks to the interwebs, I found this idea where you do things that help tell the story of how Dad became Dad (or Pop in our family, or DH in this blog).

So first I asked the girls what they thought of when they thought of Pop, and thankfully they didn't say anything like 'farting', so I was able to come up with appropriate gifts (coffee = Tim's Tassimo discs, trains = gift certificate to hobby store, Duck Dynasty = beardo t-shirt).

My contribution included some Strongbow (shades of our courtship days at The Brass Door) and Red Stripe (from our Jamaican honeymoon). I also decided that we should play pool (also from our mis-spent youth) and go out for wings (can you believe I'd never had wings before I went out with him??).

I must say, the day was going pretty freakin' awesomely.

We wrapped up the celebrations with dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings, and I was feeling pretty good about finally pulling off a half-decent Father's Day.

For those of you unfamiliar with it, as I was, BWW is one of those places where they assume that people love sports so much that they don't want to take a break from watching sports while they eat their meals, so they have many, MANY TVs throughout the restaurant showing various sporting events.

As we waited for dessert (seriously, we were so close to making it out of there without incident), a well-meaning employee changed one of the feeds to the Weather Network to track a thunderstorm that was approaching. Oh, and the accompanying tornado warning.

Did I mention that K has some pretty big anxiety issues about storms, and tornadoes in particular?

She was in mid-sentence with me, and she suddenly trailed off, and I knew she was reading the dreaded 'red screen.' There was no way I could distract her, since it was on every other TV surrounding us.

And things took a turn.

First the tears.

Then the questions.

"Is there going to be a tornado?"

"Will it be a big tornado?"

"How bad will the tornado be?"

And finally:

"I don't want to die!!"

So we excused ourselves to the bathroom, where a complete stranger took pity on her and said that she had been through a tornado before. Well-meaning, but not helpful.

Then we came out of the bathroom, to find that her sisters were now looking at me with tears in their eyes, and DH was desperately trying to get us out of the restaurant as quickly as possible.

Then the rain started coming down sideways, and the power went out.

And I thought, "I really don't want to meet my maker in Buffalo Wild Wings."

It was at this point that K threw up.

To their credit, everyone at BWW was lovely and helpful, and by this time the power was back on and they tried to distract everyone with the promise of video games (because there was now no way we could leave, due to the insane weather).

When the weather finally broke, we all gratefully (and still slightly hysterically) headed out to the van. Only to realize that DH and I had each left our windows open a few inches.

So we commenced our very soggy, weepy ride home.

K suggested we pray, we all made plans to sleep in the basement (even though the storm was long gone) and we agreed to never, EVER go back to Buffalo Wild Wings (as if it were somehow to blame).

Oh, and when we got home, S threw up from residual stress (and perhaps the wings).

In retrospect, though, I think it's fitting that Father's Day be celebrated with an evening of tears and honking.

Those have pretty much been the hallmarks of the fatherhood experience so far.

It's good to keep 'em guessing

After a lovely family walk tonight (I only swore once!), I was hugging DH and told him he smelled nice.

He said:

"I'm really enjoying this nicer, kinder version of you. How long is she going to stay?"

(True, I have been in a very nice mood lately.)

I broke the news:

"Sorry...like Cadbury Easter Creme Eggs or Shamrock Shakes, this is a limited-time offer."

More randomness!

S: Oh, that's weird, I don't remember that at all.

K: I do. That's because I have a nice brain.



(Announced to a Mario Kart competitor in a way that was meant to be intimidating, I guess)

K: FYI Mario, I'm one quarter Italian and I know karate!



You know what's great about Canadians? We're not dumb.