can i drink you a buy?

"... listen to me ... what mean is can i buy you a drink? anything you please ..."

name that song and i'll give you all of our money. google = cheating.

the weirdest thing happens to me in january. i get bored.

starting with brooklyn's birthday and through cayden's birthday is a crazy time of year for us. once it's all over, i sit with all this free time and start to plan how i can put it to good use. i find more time to think about things and today i thought about this song and how hearing it last night at my parents house flooded me with memories. {i apologize in advance for what will surely be total randomness}.

"... excuse me but i think you've got my chair ..."

my dad listened to this tape over and over again when i was little. we would jump around in the family room and he would ask us if we could hear the beat. he wanted to see. remember? tap your foot. show me.

we would watch hee-haw and make forts with the pillow cushions. when i think about it now, i wonder if that was just one day or did we do this often? memories of my dad from when i was young are the strangest thing to me. mostly because he was gone a lot but i can't remember ever sitting down at the dinner table without him.

by gone a lot, i mean nearly always. he would travel for two weeks and then come home for a weekend and then back out for two weeks. this lasted until i was in the fourth grade. then he came home and my specific memories of him after are less vivid. they're there, just fewer. isn't that weird?

later when i would tell him this he would say it is because quality is more important than quantity. i certainly don't disagree but now, as a parent myself, i think high quality parenting is easier to accomplish in smaller spaces of time. i guess you could say he got to be the fun one. mom never had us sit on her back and crawl on her hands and knees to put us to bed at night and i know why. i would never do this either. by bed time, i'm counting the seconds. my kid-patience-meter is at zero.

my kids clocks tick by the number of days left until daddy gets to stay home from work.

he pays attention to them for like ten minutes and they're in heaven. golden dad. the dadster.

i don't even know where i'm going with this. not really. i just can't get that song out of my head and it reminds me of my dad.

"... oh i like you too and to tell you the truth, that wasn't my chair after all ..."