Father's Day 2011

It's that time of year again- gift giving (and Hallmark) never takes a rest, and so I'm racking my brain for a "Wow! I can't believe it" kind of gift for the man who gives GREAT gifts. I know it's hard to believe, but the man who dreams in play-by-play and delivers kick a** halftime speeches ALWAYS comes up with the most thoughtful, relevant, surprising gifts for me. The man who believes all aches and pains can be fixed with athletic tape and a 5 gallon bucket of ice buys monogrammed totes and sterling silver charm bracelets with our children's names and birth dates engraved. I know, I know, I should just sit back and bask in the holidays that center around me, but after 12 years of this, the pressure is ENORMOUS!!! It's time to hit hard or go home!

Two years ago I gave him a child and somehow that didn't go over too well, so I'm playing some serious catch up in 2011. No more offspring who look just like him, no more "coupons" for solo fishing or golfing trips that never end up solo. No more expensive Craftsman tools that end up in the sand pits in the woods.

So what do you give a man who has the job of his dreams, three (yes, three) adorable boys, and a wife who knows he likes his tea sweet and his breakfast eggs runny? Like this author who wishes for marathon entries at Christmas (don't I ever take a break?), Coach not surprisingly has been wishing for some fancy schmancy high-powered, high-falutin' lawnmower that will cut his game field with the same precision as a surgeon performing a face-lift(doesn't he ever take a break?). That's about the only wish he has ever vocalized, but unfortunately,I haven't the funds of a Hollywood plastic surgeon, so that Mower from Heaven will have to wait.

Let's see, Coach loves Waffle House (like all good Atlantans), so maybe a huge handmade coupon for anytime AYCE would be good. Of course, the boys will want to go too, so that means a high chair, spilled drinks, and a sticky toddler. Hmmm, maybe not. Oooh, Coach also LOVES golf, maybe a little too much, but a weekend at an exclusive PGA course would be a great pre-season getaway before the papers (and some of the fans) start taking jabs. Of course, the boys would be disappointed to watch Daddy load up the Explorer with all things golf and NOT add a car seat to that mix. I can see (and hear) the tears now.

Good grief, why must it be so hard to show a man that he's the best Daddy in the world? That watching his 250 pound body cradle Tanner's 2 pound body in the NICU made me weep with joy? That every football toss in the backyard makes me feel like I'm in a Norman Rockwell painting? That every hard-earned paycheck he hands over to me makes me feel like a million bucks? Every phone call in the afternoon to "Just see what y'all are doing" warms my heart.Seeing Daddy circle the game field on his mower with a baby in his lap or speeding from football practice to catch Tucker's first big hit just hint at the kind of Daddy my boys have; and watching our kids in their Panther black on Friday nights cheer on their Dad is like a big Jumbo Tron message from God that says, "Son, you're doing it right."

Happy Father's Day, Coach! You're doing it right!