Wednesday, 5/6 is Day #34 at Daddy’s Academy of Gratitude. MUTHAFUGGA: It’s my daughter’s 18th B-day!

journal entry of Wednesday, 5/6 is Day #34 at Daddy's Academy of Gratitude. MUTHAFUGGA: It's my daughter's Bday!
THE Mrs. R. provided this pic AND the guacamole!

*scene opens with my #sickAF on stage alone, holding a mic.* I expected the gravity of today to hit me hard and vicious. I expected to awaken with visions and memories of her childhood, maybe even shed that famous single-tear-down-the-cheek, *shrugs* like in the movies. I didn’t get either. I didn’t wake up with any extra aches and pain as I realized I was getting old(er). NOPE. Da lil handicapped homie woke up feeling proud like a MUG! How can I not? I am graduating a 18-year old girl! Look hea y’all, I did NOT grow up thinking up marriage, children, picket fence, none of that. When I think too long, I remember those days being an 18-year and swearing off kids. Now, I have four. FOUR! 3 girls and 1 boy in this order, girl, boy, girl, girl. My daughter finds it ridiculous that she grew up hearing, “IF MY DAUGHTERS DON’T HIT THE POLE AND HAVE AN EDUCATION, I HAVE SUCCEEDED AS A DADDY.”

My wife had planned everything out and went into action on Monday. By today, Wednesday, baaaaaaaaaby… She was ready to kick birthday booty. She and select family members worked together to blow up balloons and set up decorations on Tuesday night aka Cinco de Mayo. With all the excitement, she was distracted and didn’t realize our Cinco de Mayo celebration was the cover-up for her birthday shindig. If she only knew how much she missed!! We had each other looking out for her, following her talking and all the while; the rest of us were setting up.

The balloons took forever and yup, we used an electric pump.

Balloons, balloons and more balloons. *straight face* She loves balloons, it’s her birthday so balloons, she will get. Once she came down the stairs, she hit the entryway and saw the “Wall of Growing Up”. Along the wall, my wife laid pictures of my daughter’s childhood, school pictures, funny pictures, embarrassing pictures, cute pictures. Shoooooot, throughout the day, everybody would stop and gawk at those pictures. We kept a full-blown-trip-down-memory lane going the entirety of the day.

About that schoolwork…

After the balloons, BAM! Random pictures of growing up.

The rule was simple. Start at 9AM, like usual, and “git er done.” Naw, lunch was not served at 11am, “git er done.” No P.E., “git er done”. We were going to do SOOOOOMEthing for the 18th birthday but school comes first. By lunch, it was go time. Everyone took baths/showers, did hair, got dressed and sat OUT-side in their “club” gear. #Ballin

We caught one of those “sign companies” and rented it for 24hrs. πŸ˜›

The sign broke her up! Our neighborhood does all kinds of awesome stuff, cutting each other yards, leaving painted rocks of love, watch each other kids, they are some good people. Well, once this sign was dropped, neighbors popped up and did neighborly thangs to enhance the experience. She was surprised with cake, letters, bread and even our family favorite, Mrs. R’s GUACAMOLE! (Yoooo. Real talk, our neighbor makes the BEST dishes but swears it was nothing. I know that ANYTHING tasting that good requires love and patience. *wink*)

I saved this show myself specifically for today because I have a ‘House of Pretty’ (3 daughters, 1 FINE AF, FLY ass wife). Quarantine has all four baking & making treats, cooking dinner sooo…

Ya boi is handicapped. (You did KNOW that right?) Handicapped, unemployed, NO unemployment and #sickAF. I can’t do much, with money, but I can knock the shit OUT da park with emotions, thought and effort. For HER birthday, I made SHO muthafuggas were comfortable with visiting her. Its a freaking quarantine and we take it serious so we surprised her with a few family members showing up physically.

*doorbell* Hold up… Are they here already? I sent them mugs the official Daddy’s Academy of Gratitude check out register…

Next Related Post: Day #35

+Previous Related Post: Day #33



Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

On Key

Related Posts

%d bloggers like this: