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This day one year ago, I was up in my hometown of Flint, Mich., visiting my dad on his birthday eating at Ponderosa Steakhouse. Little did I know, in three short weeks, he would be gone and sorrowfully missed. I had no idea I would be spending his last birthday with him.

However, I don’t want to focus on that. I would like to honor him on his birthday. He would’ve been 62 years young. He was the single father of five crazy girls who adored him. He claimed we were the reason he went bald. I can see that now.

Not only did he raise five girls by himself, he worked at AC Delco for seven days a week, 12 hours a day and swing shifts. However, he always managed to be everywhere at once!

Now that Christmas is coming up, which is sadly the first one without him, he never ceases to amaze me! I sat up all night wrapping gifts hidden in my room. I don’t know how he pulled this whole Santa thing off up until the day he died! I’m going crazy just trying to wrap the gifts for my children, and I’m trying to be very secretive, so they don’t find out what I’m doing. Well, I’m failing. My older three already know.

My dad would somehow hide the gifts so good that there weren't any clues! As we got older, we would even watch to see the kind of wrapping paper he would buy. By the time Christmas came, there wasn’t any of the wrapping paper we saw that was used. My sisters and I would even stay up all night, and he would go to bed! I can’t help but to laugh at this while wrapping my kids’ presents.

The funny thing was when he was younger, people would tell him he resembled Elvis. As he got older, he looked more like Santa! My immediate family would receive a box every year from him and all the gifts would be signed from Santa. He took that very serious in a fun way.

Anyway, on his birthday, I would like to honor him by keeping his memory alive and letting everyone know how awesome he was. He was born in Frizon, France, and he came over to the U.S. when he was a child. He was drafted into the French Army and the U.S. Army during Vietnam. However, he was proud to become a U.S. Citizen and faithfully served his duty in the U.S. Army. However, he was told never to come back to France, but he was content being here even after losing his baby brother in Vietnam. He was an auto shop worker and a very proud member of the UAW. I remember going to UAW picnics and everyone yelling, “Made in America!” Even though, I consider all of the above great attributes about him, he loved being known for the father and grandfather he was.

To know more about him, I added some of what I read at his funeral:

Denis Bouchard, my Dad, my best friend and my mentor.

My Dad was the most special person that will always be in my heart and my mind.

He has taught me a lot of things in life he will never realize until I see him again.

Dad was the true definition of a real man. He loved his family, he was very unselfish, he was very compassionate, he always kept his word, he knew the true meaning of unconditional love and he always thought of his kids first.

Through his own life and actions, he has taught me to always put my family first and love them no matter what.

He loved all of his family, his girls, and was the best grandpa ever.

He was very proud of his children and grandchildren. He was "tickled" to see them any chance possible.

He loved picking out specific gifts, cards, and stickers for his grandchildren for their birthdays.

Some of the memories that I will always cherish are:

Every Christmas with him. When I was around 10, I always wanted a camera. He had everyone open their gifts, and after he said, “What’s that in the tree?" It was the camera I wanted and still have.

Dad always loved surprising us. Most of the time when we would go to Huckleberry Junction (pizza place), he parked by other stores to make us think we weren't going.

I remember he would pick one of us girls to run errands with him and spoiled us rotten with candy and pop as long as we promised not to tell the other girls. He had a way of making each of us feel like his favorite when we were all his favorite.

I remember him picking one of us up on his third shift lunch break at 2 a.m. to eat at Starlite Coney Island with him. I was always so tired, but the excitement kept me awake. He loved spending all his time with us.

I remember calling 257-2948 and hearing his gruff voice say, “1706 Kiln Room."

I remember going fishing at Mott Lake until he finished his last cigar only to take us to get donuts and hot chocolate.

I remember one time at Mott Lake he was on the dock and I was on what we called the island, and I got a bite and started yelling for him. We joked around so much; he didn't believe me until he saw me in the water. He came running faster than I ever thought he could. I caught a two foot catfish or so he claimed.

I remember him always laying on the floor with his shirt off and a VHS tape under his head watching wrestling. Those were the days we had to sneak around him or he would reach out his hand, grab us, and tickle us until we couldn't take it anymore.

I remember he had us always take his socks and shoes off when he got home from work until the day he proved he could kick over mom's head.

I also remember the day when I told him I was pregnant for my first and child, and he was so worried about me. A few weeks later I woke up to find maternity outfits strung from one end of the living to the next.

He was always the first one there when his grandbabies were born and he always tried to buy the best gifts for them because he felt they deserved it.

I also remember laying on the loveseat when I was pregnant sleeping only to wake up to him sitting next to me rubbing my face. He knew his baby was going to have rough times ahead. He never did know that I was awake.

I have so many wonderful memories with him; it would take eternity to tell them all.

I am going to miss him more than any words can express.

Dad would try to call me almost every night even when we would run out of things to talk about. I would ask him to talk, and he would say, "I'm just listening." Even though there was nothing more to talk about, I always enjoyed hearing his voice.

I miss hearing, "Dayna, It's 9:17. Just called to talk. We'll see ya."

I miss hearing his voice, his laugh, and they way he said my name when I said something funny.

I miss him calling me and everyone "Babe," which is still a word I use with my children.

Dad was and will always be my hero, and I am very proud to say I'm Denis Bouchard's daughter as well as the rest of my sisters.

I love you Dad and my heart aches because I miss you so much. I will never be able to thank you enough for all the things you've done and instilled in me.

My heart breaks for those who will never have a father like you.

The Lord has truly blessed us girls. You are so wonderful

You are the reason for who I am today as well as the rest of your girls.

I'm going to strive to be just like you as a mother to my children.

I love you so much, Dad, and I know I will see you again.

You will always be in my heart as the man full of very special love only God can give.

I will love you forever Dad.

I miss him more than any word can describe. However, one thing that I am grateful for is that I have no regrets. I could be very open with him, and he knew how much I loved him. I also knew how much he loved my sisters and me. He made that very clear all the time not only in his words, but his actions.

One of the things I’ve learned from losing my dad is never to let anything get in between loved ones. I think Christmas time is perfect for new beginnings for broken relationships. Cherish the ones you love and still have. You never know how long you will have them around. Don’t miss your chance to let them know how you feel.

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas Dad! No regrets! I can’t wait to see you again!

Thank you for letting me share.

Normally, I like to blog about life using a lot of lighthearted sarcastic humor. However, today, I am quite upset and have decided to vent using this wonderful tool.

I have five wonderful children. The older three usually get all As and Bs in school. This last period, my oldest got all As, and my second oldest got all As except for only lonely B on their report cards.  To me, this is a huge accomplishment especially the fact that they are in junior high. I can only wait to see what high school has to bring.

Closer to the point of this blog…

My second oldest is a great kid! He loves skateboarding, animals, computers and drawing. He is a wonderful big brother to his 3 younger siblings. I even caught him holding his sister on his lap while they watched television.  However, he is a normal kid and can get into a typical boy trouble with his other younger brother who is close in age. He’s an eleven-year-old boy.

Anyway, I get a call from him today while he’s at school.  He told me that his teacher is giving him detention! As the cool and collective mother I strive to be, I squeeze the phone and say, “excuse me?” He told me that he received a 100% on a test. Yes! 100% on a test, and I repeat, 100% on a test and didn’t get it signed in time. So, the teacher gave him detention. WHAT?! (Sorry Tim. I have to use both punctuation marks) That is the most absurd thing I’ve hear in a long time. I will not type what I thought at that moment.

I thought maybe I’m not hearing him right, so I told him to put the teacher on the phone. He was right. She told me to have him there at 7:30 a.m. for detention. I knew it wasn’t a good idea for me to stay on the phone, so I called my husband.

I let him know our son received detention. However, I didn’t tell him why because I wanted him to guess. He guessed the typical scenarios: fighting, drugs, alcohol, weapons, etc. I loved it! I told him the real reason after. He was beside himself just like I was. He called the school and talked with the principal. The principal said he or she would talk with the teacher and call me back. I’m still waiting.

Anyway, I know some may say, “Good! The spoiled punk deserves it for not getting his 100% test paper signed!” Some may say, “I can’t believe that ignorant school. Go after the real thugs!” I just know that in today’s society, it’s hard to raise a child that happens like school and strive to get good grades. Regardless of what anyone says, I do not believe he should be punished with detention.

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On Monday night, we decided to go ahead with our pumpkin carving. Our children did one, and it was too cute with a lopsided eye larger than its other.  It also had the most beautiful crooked smile with one dangling tooth.

However, my husband took a lot of time on his. He loved the wart-covered pumpkin he picked out. He believed that the more ugly it was, the better it was (I hope that isn’t the reason he married me). Anyway, he got his done, and it was a cute funky smiling pumpkin. He called us all to the door after he lit them. As the twins were clawing in sheer terror to get back in the house, the rest of us just stared in awe.

The morning after, my two older sons got up and ran downstairs to see their works of art. I heard, “Mom! Get out here!” I looked and someone apparently did not like them. Our horse, Baby Girl, has never came up to our porch. Besides, we thought she would never fit in between the brick pillars. She proved us wrong and left the evidence behind!  She did a nice job of chewing their innocent faces off, but she was nice enough to leave the tops and candles.

I was asked to take pictures of what she left behind, but I was confused on what exactly I was supposed to take a picture of (I promise I did not take a picture of what you think).  So, I decided to take pictures of the pumpkin pieces she left behind.

So, it’s a coworker’s birthday! Happy (uh 25^th) birthday Emma!

I decided a few days ago that I was going to bring a slow cooked cobbler. I went to the store and bought what I needed. I remember specifically picking up a yellow cake mix. However, at 5 a.m. this morning, I couldn’t find it anywhere! I remember picking up a French vanilla mix and thought it wouldn’t work. So, I picked up a yellow cake mix and remember looking at the price of 88 cents.

I only know of a few things more frustrating than buying something and not finding it later. For example: peanut butter in the fridge (I need blood pressure pills for this one), toothpaste on a shirt, stubbles on the bathroom sink, etc.

Anyway, I’ll get back to the story. Well, I turn into Mommy Dearest (without the wire hangers of course) while the kids were sleeping. I could not find it anywhere! I don’t recall anyone making cakes in the last couple days. Then again, I don’t know of my husband ever making a cake.

So before we left for our daily dash to the bus, the kids and I stripped search the van and frisked it from top to bottom. Nada! In my craziness, I take the kids to the bus and then realize I still have my house shoes on! I asked my oldest daughter if it was okay if I drove her to school, so I could have an assistant with me to watch the babies while I run to the store and by more cake mix.

I grabbed the cake mix, looked around, pinched myself, and then told myself that I’m not dreaming. Then I drop the twins off at the daycare, my oldest daughter off at school, and drive myself to work.

While in the parking lot, I break open the cake mix, grab a bowl that I brought with me, and find an old spork under the seat from Taco Bell (HA! I’m only kidding!). I actually used a fork I brought from home. I managed to get the kids on the bus, the twins to daycare, run to the store, run my oldest daughter to school, and make a whole dessert in a van (Down by the river! Just kidding.) in the parking lot all before 8 a.m.

My crazy morning turned out to be a good day after all. The dessert was awesome, I’m not as old as Emma, and it’s almost time to go home.

And because I’m in a really good mood (probably a sugar high from all the cake and desserts), I am typing the recipe of the “Van a la Dessert.”

• 4 cans of fruit pie filling (if apples, just add cinnamon on top of apples)
• 1 box yellow cake mix
• 1 stick softened butter
• Ice cream

Add fruit

Mix stick of butter with cake mix until crumbly

Put crumbly cake mix and butter on top of fruit

Slow cook on high for 4 hours

Serve with ice cream...

YUM!

On mornings when I wake up on time, everything just seems to go right. I will go to work and my hair is in place, my make up is great, and clothes are nice and neat and fit great. My attitude is just “swell.”

Well, that is me about once a month. I try to get up earlier each day, but it seems that I find more things to do with that time and still end up rushing. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not late for work. I just have to rush to get there early.

On these days, I find that my hair, for some odd reason, is “greasier” than normal, my pants (that I went out on a limb and bought) are flooding, my shirt is tighter than normal thus showing my hidden roll that needs support and straps, and it’s sleeveless showing off my flying squirrel syndrome. Finally, I end up looking down at my shoes thinking, “What the heck is that?”

I’m sure there are some people reading this and think, “Well, this has never happened to me. I’m always looking hot!” Please refer back to my “Ah, The Mornings” blog about the morning person with his or her pendulum sticking to one side.

On a day that everything is running smoothly, I never notice these things. Sure, everyone around me does, but I’m in my glory enjoying the day.

Therefore, I think it’s all in one’s attitude. If a person was to wake up in the morning and take a moment out of his or her day to look in the mirror, point, while lifting his or her eyebrow, and in a smooth voice say, “Hey Hottie.” That would set the day! However, before this is done, one must look out the door both ways and make sure there are no witnesses.

I want to dedicate this blog post to my wonderful close friend who has come to love me and show me much affection…the beloved fire ant.

If you have read my little bio, you will find that I’m from the beautiful and nonpoisonous state of Michigan. I grew up relaxing on rolling hills of green grass and friendly bugs, which love just to roam freely and prancing about. This is excluding the praying mantis of course. But we’ve all had days when we would like to bite our spouse’s head off.

When my husband and I decided to move to Texas, we only heard of these devil like creatures. I just figured they were like little sugar ants or pharaoh ants. You might see them here or there and so forth. Boy was I wrong! They are everywhere!

My first experience was in Yoakum. I was standing in the middle of the street about two years ago on Thanksgiving talking with a friend of mine in a car. I feel this freak needle burning sensation in my pants on my knee! It started to spread around my leg and then up. I thought bees (I have no idea why) flew up my pant leg. As I looked down, I found millions maybe even zillions of fire ants all over my tennis shoes. Of course me being the cool and collective person that I am, I panic and start dancing in the street. (Great! Now I have that song stuck in my head!) I guess it would have been easier to just take my shoes off, but no. In my mass hysteria, I ran into the house screaming into my kitchen and strip down not realizing all of the windows were open! I have come to realize that my actions were not ideal because Yoakum builds houses about three inches from each other. But don’t worry. I do feel after a couple years of counseling, my neighbor’s children will be able to live normal lives.

After all this took place, I found out that I was allergic to them. The swelling, hives, nausea and fever gave that away. However, nothing a few bottles of Benadryl and a week of sleep can’t cure.

From then on, I see fire ants everywhere! When Texas had all the rain a couple months ago our house was infested. My son has swallowed them. I had one in my shirt at work. However, it didn’t decide to bite me until the end of the day. I ran around looking for Benadryl like an addict. Then there is the time, when I went home with heartburn only to find millions of them on my bed snuggled under my covers. They looked so precious and cute…

In all of this, I found there is no relief of them. I must learn to live peacefully with them. I am willing. They are just so sensitive and cliquish. I just don’t know what else to do.

First I would like to mention that I am not a morning person. Regardless of what time I go to bed, I am never Mary (or is it Merry) Ray of Sunshine in the morning. I try very hard to control myself for my children’s sake.

I also try to joke around with my children to keep the mood light. For we all know when one is set off, the rest will follow. For example, this morning I asked my beautiful and always delightful teenage daughter not to fall asleep in the van on the way to school so she can finish doing what she needed to. Her usual response was, “Mom-uh, I know-uh!” with the usual eye roll. I don’t get upset because I know she has inherited my nonmorning person syndrome.

So on the way when she does fall asleep, my foot always has this tendency to hit our very touchy brakes a few times. This makes her look like a Metallica fan as she head bangs with no music. I know I shouldn’t do that to her! But you know what, even Donna Reed wouldn’t be able to resist that temptation! Besides, it gets a good laugh out of me, which is very contagious to her.

Once I retire for the day of being the bus driver to all 5 kids, I get to work. I know I have to behave and be nice.

While being there, I notice the different types of people: The over compensating happy people who may have their pendulum stuck to one side; the quiet people who just have this paranoia, trying to stay awake, look; the grouchy barker who always comments on how he/she wishes he/she could stay home; the complainer whose life is coming to an end because they have too much work, everything is going wrong, and wishes Jesus would come back today; finally the sickly person who is milking it for the call in tomorrow.

I am always amused at different people because they are quite predictable.

Me, however, I am all the above. My pendulum does tend to spin out of control, and I could be all of these people within a matter of a minute!

I drive this street everyday to work starting from the Fordtran area. It’s nice and peaceful until you pass Wal-Mart.

Is it just me, or does anyone else fall into this other dimension when driving on this street? Once I begin my journey into Victoria, I feel this sudden urge of uncontrollable anger. At this same moment, I can feel horns emerging from my head and fangs slowly growing from my eyeteeth. Oh, and not to mention the heavy breathing. The facial hair is already there from having the kids. Yes, I will blame them for that.

I notice myself cursing the people who have placed those wonderful dividers, so that the innocent cannot make it to their destination without driving a mile up the road and doing a U-turn JUST to make it to McDonalds for their wonderful soothing coffee! (That’s just hypothetical and I typed it all in one breath.) 

I also notice there are a lot of “butt” riders. Do these drivers not realize there is a posted speed limit and if they were to rear-end me, the damage would only blend in to my beastly van. Yet, it would do a lot of damage to their nice shiny car.

Don’t get me wrong. I think there are still some wonderful drivers left on Navarro. However, they must not know about the beautiful blessed back roads. We must let them know!

So far, I’ve never been in an accident…on Navarro. Although, I was at a building on Navarro, and I was hit by a car! I knew it was because I was close to this demonic street. It had to be! It knows I don’t like it.

The man who backed into me said that he didn’t see me. That poor man…I know it’s hard to see a giant Astro van. I know it’s hard to see a horn headed, fang mouthed, wild haired woman flaying her arms trying to find the horn that is inconveniently placed on the sides of the steering wheel!  However, we both were okay. Well, he wasn’t when he saw my “condition.” I can only blame this on Navarro St.

So at the end of the day, if you or anyone sees a hunched back wild woman driving while hearing the witch theme song off the Wizard of Oz, don’t ride on her butt!