December 5: Once as a Gift, Daughter's Birthday, Small Celebration

I received once as a gift a small, illustrated layman's guide to insect pests . . .

Dillard gets a book about bugs as a gift.  It's not a present that I would necessarily get excited about, but she has a thing for all things creepy and crawly.  She gets pretty geeked about cockroaches and screw-worms and weevils.  Those things make me want to reach for a can of Raid or a flyswatter.  But everybody has their own obsessions, although I can't imagine what is under Dillard's tree on Christmas morning.

Speaking of gifts, today is my daughter sixteenth birthday.  She reminded of that fact last night as she was going to bed.  "Just think, daddy," she said.  "Tomorrow, I'm going to be sixteen."  She smiled and walked off to her bedroom.  I sat on the couch for the rest of the night, feeling fairly old.

We aren't having a big party today for her.  That comes this weekend with our extended families.  Tonight, we will have cupcakes, sing to her, and let her open a present.  Small and simple.  Frankly, I can't believe that my daughter is over half-way to 30 years of age, in high school, and on her way to graduation in two years.  Like I said, I'm feeling fairly old tonight.

We did not get my daughter a small, illustrated layman's guide to insect pests.  She's not into bugs that much.  However, because she is the daughter of two English majors, she will be receiving a book tonight.  A book that she's been wanting for a while.

I know I spend a whole lot of time on this blog talking about how moody, sensitive, angry, and hormonal she is.  I want to take a moment to say that she's also beautiful, smart, funny, independent, creative, and full of love.  My daughter doesn't hate anybody, with the exception of Donald Trump.

Saint Marty is a blessed father.

This is not my daughter's birthday present

December 4: Grading, Daughter's Birthday, Classic Saint Marty

I am in the midst of a massive amount of grading, but I wanted to take a time-out.  It is the day before my daughter's sixteenth birthday.  When I asked her last Thursday what she wanted to do for her birthday weekend, she said she wanted to go away from us.  Well, she didn't quite phrase it like that.  She said that she wanted to visit her friends this weekend in a town about 100 miles away. 

So, my daughter left on Friday night, and now my wife is picking her up.  It's snowing and dark, so the drive is not going to be fun.  I stayed home with our son.  Too much work to get done.

Four years ago, my daughter was celebrating her twelfth birthday.  It was a lot simpler to make her happy then.  And cheaper.

December 5, 2012:  Hugged His Daughter, Heart's Content, Daughter's Birthday

"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.

Bob Cratchit is a family man.  His whole life revolves around his wife and children.  It's why he works for Scrooge.  Bob doesn't like being abused by his employer, but he has to endure the abuse to keep his family housed and clothed and fed.  In the passage above, Bob is welcoming his daughter home on Christmas Day.

Today is my daughter's twelfth birthday.  I called her this morning and sang "Happy Birthday" to her.  She is a great girl, despite the normal pubescent tantrums and crying fits.  Last night, I attended her Christmas choral concert.  As I watched her with her classmates, singing, smiling, laughing, dancing, I kind of felt like Bob Cratchit does:  I wanted to hug her to my heart's content.  As we were leaving the auditorium, the mother of one of my daughter's friends said, "I can't believe how old they are.  I was watching your daughter.  She looks so grown up.  I couldn't believe it was her."

Sometimes, I feel the same way.  I don't know what I did to deserve such a good kid.  She goes to church twice every weekend, serves as an acolyte, plays the piano and flute, and attends dance classes almost every day.  She's smart and gorgeous.  After all the rocky times we've had in our family with mental illness and whatnot, I can't believe I have such a wonderful little girl as a daughter.

I know I'm supposed to write about my worries on Wednesdays.  However, I'm taking this Wednesday off.  I don't want to focus on what's wrong with my life right now.  I want to focus on one very big right in my life:  my daughter.

She is one Saint Marty's greatest joys.

Can you see the love in her eyes?