My Feet…

I am having my very own pity party. I am on day #4 of feeling horrible. I actually feel like I am getting it (the flu) all over again. Fever and headache and 4 sick kids.

Moms can’t really be sick even when they are sick… right. Besides, I am tired of needing to be in bed.
Whine Whine… I know I just need some cheese.
This morning, we went to go and bring Bo and Bella home. Zachary and Josh love them so much. Of course all the boys all them but these two have an extra special attachment.
As I was walking into the vet, half of us looking like hobos ( and me so not caring), I couldn’t help notice my feet. Yes, I am still wearing my flip flops. I have my dad’s feet. Weird that this is my thought as I am walking up the path.
Feet… my dad had/has very bad feet. I am not sure what his issues were but I could always remember that his feet burned. He always shook his feet, even in bed. The funny thing is so do I. My feet are constantly shaking… it is what I do. Hyperness, more than likely for me.
My feet are copy cats of my father. So often you hear a person trying to fill someone’s shoes… or you hear “they have big feet to fill.” I guess I spent so much of my life trying to be anything like my dad.
Yet, here is a characteristic that I can’t get away from… I have his feet.
It isn’t a bad thing. I wonder what else I have of his? I am sure if I looked past all my walls, I would see a few more good things.
I know that he loves God. It is twisted… but the core of him really loves his God. I give my dad credit for instilling that in me… well he can have some of that credit.
He is creative. I get that from him. I wish he had really been able to tap into his creativity. He would have been so successful. He was great at play (when he played), he was great at homework projects, he was creative even in his crookedness.
He had a generous heart. Both my parents did. They would help others even when they really needed the help themselves.
My dad has a loving side to him. As I am typing, I closed my eyes to see what I could capture… I loved laying in my parents bed on a weekend, beside my dad. If I was lucky, he would hold me.
I loved that. I loved holding his hand. I loved when he smiled at me. I wish that thing that locked it all away, could have released him of his demons so he was able to love us as he could have.
We both love to shop/hang out at Office Depot. Seriously… if I have Sanj’s business card and need to pick up supplies for his office… it’s like Christmas. I love getting new pens, notebooks, highlighters, all sorts of do dads! I have always loved and begged Sanj to get a color photocopier for the office. Needless to say, he has seen the ridiculousness that my dad does on a copier with a photo… and I think is scared!
His temper… well I don’t have to tell about that… lol but I get that from him too. I can get really ugly. I can be really mean. I mean, really mean. Ugh. It isn’t a nice side and one that I do try to keep under control …
I have my dad’s feet. I have a lot of my dad in me. What a thought.
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