My dad and I have an awesome relationship. He and my mom divorced when I was 18 months old, so I didn’t grow up in the same house as him. Yet since college, we’ve talked on the phone nearly every Sunday. It’s become a tradition.

He has got to be the most brilliant man I know.  Who goes to medical school then right after he begins practicing, he goes to law school? My dad. He was a surgeon by day and an attorney on the side as an expert on medical malpractice cases. At this point he has retired and enjoying a sweet life with a beautiful wife in Texas.

He has helped me through difficult transitions in my life…college, career changes, divorce, etc. Both with his never-ending support and his financial backing. I value his advice and words of wisdom. Always have. Yesterday was no different.

Here’s an excerpt from our standard Sunday chat yesterday:

Dad: Dear, I was reading your blog.

Me: Dad, I told you not to read my blog.

Dad: You really need to stop using that f word. There is nothing more unfeminine than hearing a woman talk like that.

Me: Maybe so, but dad, please don’t read my blog. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.

Dad: Really Susan. You shouldn’t use that word.

Me: Okay, fine. It will be my New Year’s resolution. I’ll stop using the f word. For one month.

Dad: Okay dear. Love you. Talk to you next Sunday.

I made a promise. To stop with the f-bombs here. Consider this your warning for a more PG rated blog now. At least for one month.

Dad, you can read my blog now. Love you. Always and forever.

Tags: cursing, dad, phone call

I hate to cook. I avoid it at all costs. I’ve been like this my entire life.

Last night I was surprised when Elle decided to pull out her journal from a few years back. She’s 10 now, so she would have been 8 years old when she wrote it.

She decided to read something out loud to me.

Elle’s journal entry:

It states:

Last night my mom made the best dinner and she is not a chef at all. She made chicken, carrots, and potatoes. It was like my dad made it and he’s a chef. YUM!

I DON’T BELIEVE IT!

If I *must* cook, it’s rarely good enough for a journal entry. This makes me think Elle exaggerated. By exaggerated, I mean lied.

But I really think this story is a lie because I HATE COOKED CARROTS. I’d never make them as part of a meal.

Tags: cooking, journal, kid

My commute to work this morning was atrocious. What normally takes 20-25 minutes took one hour and 20 minutes. Here is a shot where traffic was only moving at 5 mph.

But this post isn’t meant to be a snowy post.

So rather than share my woes of traveling to work, I wanted to share the cuteness that I left behind.

I swear my 10 year old daughter, Elle, is more maternal with me than my own mother. As I drove her to school she said, “Mom the trick with driving in this weather is to GO SLOW.” She also mentioned, “Stay off your phone when you drive to work in this weather mom.”

I reassured her that I was fine. I wasn’t scared. My car is awesome in the snow. But I will drive slow and stay off my phone.

Her parting words as we kissed goodbye. “I love you. Be safe.”

I love her with more heart than I have. I may the luckiest mom in the world. At least, that’s how I feel.

Tags: commute, kid, safe, snow