My father Rudy, the grandfather or Papa of my children, died one year ago. As I said it then, and I write today, my father's passing was sudden, but by all means, no surprise.  Similarly, the first anniversary of his passing has come suddenly, but by no means comes as a surprise.  I also said back then, and I write today, that my father was by no means perfect, but he was my Dad and worthy of all the love, support, and respect that any child can given one's parents.  To that end, my prayer today is that my father knows that I still love, support, and respect him.

This blog is about my relationship with my children. I am certain that there are many parents, moms and dads, who could easily write a blog about their children for children are so integral to our lives. I cannot make blanket statements about parents in the 60s because I do not know every parent who lived in  the 60s, and the ones I do know, like my in-laws, are nothing like the parents I had. I always grew up knowing my parents loved and care for me. Yet, they did not go overboard expressing those thoughts. Although my mother would occasionally play with me and my siblings, my father made it very clear that he was our parent, not our playmate. I have a different relationship with my children. I have to work to set boundaries between my children and me. In some ways, my children may have a more difficult time showing me love and respect because of the blurred lines between friend and father. I have reconciled myself to the fact that the lines should be difficult to distinguish, yet it is still important to distinguish.  The point I am trying to make is my father saw his primary role as a parent was to provide his children with the basic needs of life and then some. My siblings and I always had enough food to eat, clothes to wear, and a shelter over our heads. We always had adequate medical care. I also got braces and part of my higher education paid. To that end, my dad did what he was supposed to do. Although I operate under a different set of rules with my children, my father was the parent he was suppose to be under the rules he believed applied to parents of his generation.

That being said, take care Dad. I miss you..

BTW, are you happy with your democrats now that they control Congress? Who are you rooting for President in 2008? Obama or Hillary?  Just wondering.  Let me know when convenient.   Your grandchildren miss you. Blair is often heard to say he misses his Papa. Paige too. 

My wife Alice and I had a very pleasant tenth anniversary yesterday (2/15/2006).  No we did not go on the cruise we contemplated last year or renew our vows.  Rather we ate sushi and salmon teriyaki at Miyoshi in the Town and Country Shopping Center.  Paige and Blair wanted to join us. Blair did not understand why he was not invited. After all, he is part of the family.He has a point. The beauty of our ten year anniversary is that my wife and I have been truly blessed with two wonderful, healthy children.  Although they occasionally disappoint us, every day they bring joy and smiles to the faces of their parents and all around them

The treat of the day was Blair getting a new mattress courtesy of a dear friend. Being a man, I can't describe the mattress well. I can only say the mattress is very "puffy" with a mattress top that makes the height of Blair's bed rise about a foot. The mattress style is similar to the mattress Alice and I have in our room. Upon seeing Blair's new mattress, Paige commented to Alice that she needed (wanted) the same type of mattress. Her best argument for getting a new mattress was her belief that as a result of getting a new mattress, "Blair was looking jealous at me."  "I think you have it the wrong way Paige," Alice responded to Paige.

The logic of children will always amaze me.

I came home early today (7:15pm; that's early for me) to find Paige and Mom working on a Science project in the kitchen; Bruno, the dog, behind the dog gate; and Blair reflecting on life while taking a seat in the back bathroom (you know what I mean).  Mom is trying to take a picture of Paige and the science project from an elevated angle. It would help if Mom were three inches taller. Paige inquires whether Dad would be better suited to take the picture. Mom disagrees. After all, Dad is only a few inches taller.

Blair finally finishes his business, takes a shower, and goes to bed. Before turning lights out, he calls for Dad to come by to see the picture of a Boston Terrier (the breed we have and adore) in his kids magazine.

I do the honors of putting Ms. Paige to bed. She inquires whether she had same bed when she was 3.  I don't know ("Mom, is this the same bed Paige had when she was 3?" "Yes, "  Mom snaps back from Blair's room. Paige, confused by the answer (after all, she thought she had a different bed), tucks herself underneath her covers before falling asleep.

As I exit Paige's room, I hear Mom's voice in Blair's room next door. Is Blair in trouble, I wonder to myself. I knock.  "Don't enter," Mom responds.  "Hmmh, " I mumble to myself. What could they be doing. Oh yes, my Valentine's present.

As I walk away, I am feeling good about myself. I did stop by Vons to pick up some Valentine's flowers for Mom and candy for the kids, along with a Winnie the Pool and Tweety Bird balloon.