Blood or Bond

Since Father’s Day was spent with the stomach bug in my house, I didn’t get a break to finish writing about my own daddy. Here’s my post about him.

Aside from seeing my siblings and me side by side, you’d never question the biological makeup of our family. Most people tell me I look just like my mother with my daddy’s dark hair and olive skin.


But, technically, that isn’t possible because we don’t share any DNA.

And that has never mattered.

My dad has never treated me like I was anything less than his daughter.

And when I was a toddler, he made it official when he adopted me and gave me his last name.



He’s taught me a few things over the years:

He taught me that it is possible to love a child that isn’t biologically yours just the same as any that are. Had I not received that kind of love from a nonbiological parent, I might not have believed it to be possible. And being open to giving that kind of love allows me the close bond I have with LD and JD.

Find the funny. My daddy is a man who can find humor in almost anything. He is never in a bad mood. If you’re upset or you need to lighten up a bit, you can count on him to add levity to the situation.

He taught me that you should never give up on truly, genuinely, good people. They will make mistakes, they will fall, they will not be perfect. But if they never give up on being better than they were; never cease to show their love for you, then they are worth it. Give forgiveness. Have faith.

My dad is just the kind of dad a daughter needs.

He’s the dad who:

Plays catch with you–after working 12 hours in the Texas heat.

Tucks you into bed with a song every time you ask. Even when you’re a teenager and don’t get tucked in anymore.

Cries when he sees you on your wedding day. He’s one of the toughest men I know, but he isn’t ashamed if he’s moved to tears.


Shows you how to check your oil, air up your tires, use jumper cables and top off all the fluids in your engine.

Talks to you about boys. And pretends not to want to punch them in the face for looking in the same direction as his baby girl.

Tells you countless times that you are smart, talented, beautiful, kind. That you make him proud and he loves you “so very much.”

He says, “Ah, you’re just like your mother,” and means it as a compliment because she’s the most amazing woman he’s ever known.

Chooses triumph over tragedy. He’s been knocked down a time or two but kept fighting. Proud but never arrogant. Strong and humble.


Of all the things I didn’t get from him biologically, none of it can amount to all I’ve learned from him and how much I know I am loved.

It’s like I tell my kids…

You can be a family by blood or by bond, but love is all that matters.

20120623-215836.jpg(My daddy w/AH & my nephew)

Happy blogging,

Backseat driver

This evening, after I picked AH up from Ms. A’s, we were chatting about all sorts of things on the ride home.

She told me about her day and how much she loved squash.

She said she wanted to go to the donut store and get donuts to share with her friends.

She told me she wanted to play schoolwork and teacher when we got home.

She asked me who have her the Dora backpack she carries and when I tell her daddy did, she says, “My daddy is so nice. I tell him thank you for my Dora backpack.”

Then, she’s quiet for a second.

Her next words were, and I’m not kidding…

“Mama, you don’t drive very well.”


Because, not to sound like Rainman, I am an excellent driver.

The writer in me is giddy inside that she is using proper grammar.

The mother in me thinks she’s adorable, even when insulting my driving.

And the wife in me wants to know how long The Husband has been working on getting her to say that.

So I dig for more info, naturally.

Me: What did you say, baby?
AH: I said you don’t drive very well.
Me: Oh, okay. Why don’t I drive very well?
AH: Only daddies and brudders.
Me: Only daddies and brothers drive very well?
AH: Daddies and brudders and stisters.
Me: Daddy, brother and sister. Not Mommy?
AH: Driving is really, reeaally hard mama.

Oh. That must be it, then.
Glad we cleared that up.

20120618-225443.jpg(Yes. The car is stopped.)

Happy blogging,

Father’s Day Flu

Well, the Father’s Day Fairy visited our house and left such a thoughtful gift for both The Husband AND JD to enjoy today (insert sarcasm).

I’m not sure why JD was included in the gift giving. The only thing I could come up with is its Father’s Day and he might one day be a father so, what the heck, why not?

Anyone care to guess what it is? Never mind, it’s really not that exciting so I’ll spare you the guessing game.

It’s the stomach flu.
At least that’s what I think it is.

How does one diagnose a stomach flu vs. a stomach bug?

Are they one in the same?

I guess it doesn’t really matter because either way I’ve got two puke-tastic guys on my hands.

It’s probably pretty crappy (pun intended) to be them right about now but, really, they’re kinda living the high life. Lying around the house not lifting a finger, as much uninterrupted sleep as they want.

The husband hasn’t stood for longer than it takes to walk from the couch to the bedroom and I’m waiting on each of them, making sure they have Gatorade, saltines and ibuprofen. Did I mention that I have an ear infection?

I don’t remember any of this happening when I had my gallbladder removed (this may be due, in part, to heavy pain meds, but whatev). In fact, I remember being home two days after surgery caring for a sick two year old.

But I digress.

I really do hate to see them sick.

And AH does, too. She has been worried all day about when we are “going to Happy Father’s Day” (she thinks it’s a place). And when I tell her that today is Father’s Day and daddy’s tummy hurts, she says, “No way, Jose. We’re at home not at Happy Father’s Day.” and then, “I get daddy a ban-dan and water for his tummy.” (Note: The Husband now has a band aid clad belly button and a glass of water on the nightstand).

LD wishes them well, too…I think. She’s a teenager so she’s all, “yeah, puking stinks…can we go to Walmart?” as she texts on her phone, which I’m pretty sure translates to, “I’m so sorry y’all feel bad, can I get you anything?”

Hopefully this all passes quickly and they get better soon. Also, I’m really hoping none of us girls get it. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

In the mean time, I’m making a list of what I want for Mother’s Day.

I’m thinking the stomach flu might not be so bad.

Happy blogging,

In through your nose & out your mouth

Yesterday, my family took a trip to Lowe’s. This doesn’t sound like an amazing journey or daring adventure, but with all of us in a car together, it can be quite entertaining.

And because I view most things as a writing opportunity, I usually take pictures of moments when we’re all together.

We look like normal people, don’t we?

Then, this happens…

JD leans over and says,
“Hey LD, did you know that if you put your headphones up your nose and open you mouth, you can hear music?”

LD says, “Whatever, JD. No way…wait. What?! For real?”

He assures her It works but she isn’t satisfied with just taking his word for it.

So LD tries it out…


Which makes her laugh her face off.


Which then makes AH laugh her face off…


We all had a good time laughing at LD and her new-found radio skill.

Just for the record, it really does work. When you put headphones up your nose; you can hear the music coming our of your mouth. You should totally try it sometime.

Happy blogging,

Snow cones come in 2nd

This past week our church hosted Vacation Bible School (VBS) and all five members of The WoMoHolic clan participated. The kids attended classes while The Husband and I volunteered.

And AH is still talking about all the fun she had. (love it❤)

She asks me each day,
“Mama, are we going to B-B-S-Bacation-Bible-School today?!”

She continues to tell me about all the things she did.

“Mama, I play a in-shruh-mint for music at B-B-S-Bacation-Bible-School!”

“At B-B-S-Bacation-Bible-School, I saw my stis-ster and my brudder!”

“I colored a baby Jesus at B-B-S-Bacation-Bible-School!”

“Mama, I can sing ya-ya-ya-yes to ba-ba-ba-B-B-S!”

So, I asked her what her favorite part of VBS was. I was so sure she was going to say, “the playground” or “eating snow cones.”

But I was wrong.

When asked, “What was your most favorite part of Vacation Bible School?”

She gently tapped her index finger on her chin and then said with her toddler lisp, “Um…my friendths!”

Made my heart happy.


Happy blogging,


Summer in full swing

Every year when school is out, LD and JD come stay at our house for about 6 weeks in the summer.

I haven’t been writing as much lately because I want most of my extra time in the evenings to be spent with our big kids and not my iPad. Not to say I don’t want to spend time with AH, who is here on a daily basis all the time, but she goes to bed earlier, which means I usually write after she’s down for the count.

So instead of using that time to catch up on blog reading/writing and chatting with The Hubs, he and I use that time to hang with LD and JD.

Summer’s in full swing here at The WoMoHolic casa. Here’s a peek at what we’ve been doing…







Hope you’re having a great summer so far!

Happy blogging,

Little Bride of Frankenstein

Yesterday afternoon, my little blondie came down with a fever and wasn’t feeling well.

Her poor little eyes are so sad when she’s sick and she kept looking at me and saying, “Mama, my head is hurt.”

The Hubs and I had originally planned to join AH at my parents’ house and spend the evening with them.

Instead, we spent the evening trying to get her to drink fluids and make her more comfortable.

After a long night of temperature taking, medicine giving and cool washcloths on her forehead, AH was finally able to sleep.

And this morning, she had a serious case of bed head.


See? I told you. Fierce bed head.

In related news, I think I’ve figured out who she can be for Halloween.

Little Bride of Frankenstein.


Happy blogging and wild hair,


Workday Wardrobe Malfunction

The last several weeks have been nothing short of crazy.

But this week takes the proverbial cake.

Work has snowballed and it seems there are too many fires to fight.

I had my second flat tire in five days yesterday. I’m talking major, sounds-like-a-gunshot, blowout.

And this morning, AH cried about everything.

She cried about wanting to wake up her “brudder and stister.”

She cried about having to get dressed.

She cried about having leave JD & LD for the day.

She cried about which way her blanket, “night-night” was wrapped on her.

She cried because she wanted to “eat fross-ed flakes for bret-fuss.”

She cried–as we backed out of the driveway–about having to go potty.

After we pulled back into the driveway and I took her to the bathroom, she cried about wanting milk in her cup instead of water.

On the way to Ms. A’s she cried because she wanted to watch Charlotte’s Web on the DVD player.

And, once we got there, cried because she wanted to pick Ms. A five flowers instead of just three.

That? Is A LOT of crying, people.

After I kissed and hugged AH goodbye and walked back to the car, I got in and nearly pulled my hair out. Instead, I buckled my seatbelt, ‘cuz I’m safe like that.

And that’s when I looked down…

…Snorting laughter ensued.

Alone. Laughing. At myself and my morning.

How had I missed this?

At some point during the morning’s cry-fest I failed to notice the dress I was wearing…

was inside out.

I’ve done things before like put mascara on only one eye or forget to put deodorant on in my race to get to work fashionably late on time.

But never something so obvious as putting my clothes on inside out.

Wow. This is what it’s come to, y’all.

Anyone else do crazy things like this?
Never mind. Don’t answer that.

Happy Blogging,