Daddy’s Girl

There is a song that came out I don’t even know when by I honestly can’t remember. The name of it is “Daddy’s Girl”. The first time i listened to it was on cassette tape. (Yes those were still around when I was little, I’m not that young. Geez…) The chorus goes “Daddy’s girl, Daddy’s girl./I’m the center/of Daddy’s world.” It goes on but that’s the only part I can remember. I haven’t heard the song in about 8 years, but that song sticks out in my mind because that’s what I am. A Daddy’s girl.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my mom. It’s a hard to describe, always changing love. But between my dad and I? The adoration and love never stops. I mean, it did once or twice, but every teenager goes through that stage of hating their parents right?

I was 13 and my parents were divorcing. My dad thought it would be better for me to stay with my mom. Especially since our house had just burned down and he was living in a small apartment in a friend’s barn. I didn’t think it was a great idea. Especially after my mom remarried. I tried everything to get my dad to let me move in with him. Nothing worked. Then we moved to little rock. Three hours away from my friends, my home town, my daddy. He didn’t stop it. Que resentment, hurt, and abandonment.

I finally convince my dad to let me come home after missing a semester of school. I was grounded pretty much my entire junior year of high school. Then senior year I was pregnant. Then came the time for me to move out. It was like moving three hours away all over again. I hardly saw my dad, we fought almost non stop, and eventually we stopped talking. Recently, my step mom told me that my dad had still been there for me. Waiting for me to come to my sense, all the while making sure me and my little boy had a place to live.

Not me and my daddy. The only picture I have of us is my junior prom picture…

Through everything, all the stupid stuff I did do, the fits I throw threw, my daddy and I are still best friends. He is the person I call if my car does something funny (he’s a mechanic), I accomplish something no matter how big or small, or I just have a random question (which happens a lot). Even when we do fight and he “stops talking to me”, he calls everyday to check on my boys and my husband, but I’m sure its just to hear my voice and know I’m okay. I’m 21 years old, a wife, and a mommy. But I’m still, and will always be, a Daddy’s Girl. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!

The Story I Promised

Now, I promised the other day that I would tell you how I lost the pictures of the great hair catastrophe. And so here it is. Everyone gather ’round!

Once upon a time, in a far away land…. No, I’m just kidding, that beginning really won’t work. First I have to give you guys a little back story so that it all makes sense.

My mom hit 40 and kind of lost her mind. No. Actually, she lost it when I was in 4th grade and she got a tramp stamp. By 40, she was probably clinically insane. She decided that cheating on my dad with someone literally half her age, and who could have been her son, was a good idea. I figured it out and the Great Fight of Thanksgiving Day ensued. It lasted until just after Christmas when we moved out.

Not my house.

Back to present-ish day. (The day of the fire.)
When the house burned down, a year to the day that we moved into the house, no one was home. My mother, that dude, and I were living in a hotel. My dad, thankfully, and kind of un-thankfully, was at a friends house. It was New Years Eve and he didn’t want to by himself. Totally understandable.

In the house there was a wood stove. In the attic next to the flu there was insulation that had newspaper in it. Newspaper + super hot temperatures = what?  Class? Anyone know? That’s right! Fire! Eventually. See, when a flu (the chimney) is that close to paper it doesn’t immediately burst into flames. Instead it smolders until it comes to a large ball of paper or something more substantial than a sliver of paper. Then you get a roaring inferno.

Thankfully my dad wasn’t home because he is a super sound sleeper and the roof collapsed into my parents bedroom/bathroom and the living room. My room was virtually untouched. (Because of where the roof collapsed, my mother thought that my dad had purposely burnt the house down.)  We ended up having three different fire departments from three different cities at our house because we lived so far out. (Not that it helped, I just though it was cool.)

The pictures of the Great Hair Catastrophe along with a lot of other great pictures were water damaged beyond recovery. What was left untouched by the fire was quickly ransacked and ruined by the druggies that lived down the road.

This is kind of what what of the photo albums looked like. It wasn’t this bad but you get the point.

My dad did rebuild the house almost exactly the way it was, except he got rid of some wasted space and added about 2 feet to one side and expanded all three bedrooms. As of yesterday, the house, that I absolutely adore with all my heart and soul, is up for sale.