Oil Life, Happy Wife

Father's Day means different things to different people. For some it elicits feelings of joy and elation, and for others it brings sadness. My heart has all of those feelings and more on Father's Day. First and foremost it's a time to celebrate my husband for all of the things that make him an amazing father. There are really way too many reasons to list, but I'll cover a few. He is loving and compassionate. He's fun and driven. He picks them up when they are low. He teaches them life skills and makes them laugh. They know that no matter what life throws at them he will be their rock and their guide. My husband is the type of father I wish I had grown up with. The kids are his world, and I am so proud of the way he is killing it. I could be given five lifetimes to search and never find a man who could do the job of fatherhood better. Of all of his attributes, this is the one I admire most. Father's Day also reminds me of a relationship I once had that

I remember when I was little and my mom would tell me stories about where she was and what she was doing during different events in history. I remember her saying she was at school the day the JFK was shot. She described what she was wearing and whose class she was in. My mom said she could close her eyes and go back in time like it had happened yesterday. I naively thought that would never be me. I would never tell those stories to my kids. I was wrong. On September 11, 2001 I woke up to the TV already on. I had gotten home from work in the early hours of the morning and I must have fallen asleep with the TV on. A news broadcast was on with a live feed of the World Trade Center. It appeared that a plane had crashed into the side of one of the buildings. I called my mom to see if she watching and ask what was going on. We sat there for a minute listening to the anchors try to figure out what was happening when the second plane hit. At that point it was obvious that the buildings h