Dear Hercules,

I missed you yesterday, but then again I miss you every day. You were supposed to be in my arms yesterday and I couldn't help but imagine how beautiful you would have been and how beautiful you are. I couldn't help but picture you with my hair or your daddy's eyes. I bet you would have topped the scales, because you've got your momma's genes and, to be frank,  I was kind of a heifer.

Either way, you would have been perfect. I would have been the happiest girl in the world today, holding you in my arms. It would have been hard to let you go into someone else's arms, but at least I know I would have gotten you back. The first night we spent at home together, I wouldn't have put you in your crib. I would have stayed up all night admiring you in my arms. I wouldn't even need the background noise of a television or radio, just the sound of your coos and sighs. It would have been the most beautiful melody.

Your room would have been the perfect shade of yellow and I probably would have stocked it full of lots of dinosaurs (your brothers would have insisted). I'd have a big comfy chair in there for the both of us and I would have loved reading to you in it. Any time I got to spend with you would have been the favorite part of my day.

You'd have so many ridiculous pictures already, and someday they would have probably embarrassed you terribly. But secretly you'd have loved knowing how much your parents loved you. And it would have captured beautiful memories from a beautiful day. And I'm certain you would have forgiven us for that.

I just felt like I needed to talk to you, right now and today. I've gone awhile writing to you, but not thinking about you. Above anything else, I wanted you to know that I love you. And I'm happy now, but not as happy as I would have been with you. I'd give anything to have you in my arms right now.

My new buddy!

I'm getting a dog. His name is Conrad, sometimes Gump. I might call him Charlie or King Charles if I feel fancy. I haven't met him yet, but I love him. I can already tell he's going to be good for me. The other day I was feeling kind of down and I watched this video of him: http://vimeo.com/30169991 . Just seeing him brightened my day and made me laugh.

I can't wait to come home to this:

And see this cute mug:

How can you have a bad day after seeing this little guy? On Saturday they are going to do a home visit and make sure I don't have a dog fighting ring in my basement. Should go well!

Happy Birthday Dad!

"I am so sorry Jacki," my dad told me once, replacing the light heartedness of our previous conversation with a somber tone. My mind raced into a small panic. Sorry for what? What happened and how is he involved in it? “Sorry for what?” I cautiously asked him. “I’m sorry for giving you and Darcie such a high standard for your future husbands,” he said.

Truer words have never been spoken. I grew up in a home where I knew my dad loved his children and cherished his wife. I knew his family, above anything else in the world, came first. I remember him sending my mom flowers just because, leaving cards for her in unexpected places and doing things that only my father would do. In our garage in the cities, is a wall covered with graffiti. The perpetrator was my father. It says, “Dave and Sue, 1987” with a big sappy heart around it.

I watched my father live an honest, beautiful life. He is the kind of man that makes breakfast for his children after church on Sunday morning. The radio will almost always be on and he will be dancing. If you are within reach, he’ll grab your hand and force you to join in to. You won’t protest, because you love him so much.

He is the kind of man that works late hours to provide for his family. That kind of work ethic doesn’t come without sacrifice. I watched him drive 120 miles to and from work. I watched him sacrifice weekends and some family events because he’s the kind of man that will do what has to be done to take care of his family.

My dad has always been a source of comfort to me. Although, I think my siblings will agree, that when we call we usually ask for Mom. I feel very comfortable talking to either of my parents, but I’ve always had this feeling that Mom will listen and Dad will get things done (although they both cover the spectrum). If I have any kind of problem that needs a solution, my Dad will find it or create it.

We grow up hoping, when we are blessed with a father like mine, that we will find a man like our father. My sister and I will be lucky if we find a man half as good as my father.

http://youtu.be/ltRwmgYEUr8