Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Pin It Now! Today is a very, very special day!  It is my hero's birthday.  On November 9, 19**, Steven Albert Chaparro was born.  Thirty years later, a spoiled brat named Nicholle came along and has idolized him ever since. 

How does one put into words the love they have for their parents?  It's impossible.  Being Daddy's Little Girl encompasses so much more than can be expressed in a card, a letter or even a novel.  There simply aren't the words to thank my Daddy for all the times he has rescued me - whether it was saving me from the bullies at school, jump starting my car in the pouring rain when I left my lights on all day, talking me down from countless panic attacks, and a plethora of other sticky situations I've gotten myself into - my Daddy was the one I turned to.  When I was 18 months old and had surgery, the only thing I wanted when I woke up was to be in the safe, strong arms of my Daddy.  I was a nervous wreck the day of my wedding, but the moment my Daddy took my hand and got ready to walk me down the aisle, all that nervous energy was calmed. 

Being a parent to me wasn't/isn't always easy.  I was definitely a royal pain the butt (and still can be.  But now it's my hubby's problem ;)  )  Despite all of the annoying, hurtful, stupid, thoughtless things I could come up with, my parents loved me anyway.  Despite my tantrum throwing over ridiculous things (what do you mean I don't need a cash register?!  Every 8-year-old needs a cash register!), my Daddy sent me flowers at school for no reason when I was in third grade.  He also sent me a huge bouquet of the most beautiful baby pink roses you've ever seen on the first day of my new job.  He drove all the way across town just to bring me my bike when I spent the night at my girl friend's house.  He took time out of work to bring a special lunch to me and all my classmates when a mean girl stomped on my lunch.  He held my hand and walked me into school every morning when I was afraid the other kids would eat me alive.  He took me to Graumann's Chinese Theatre to see Marilyn Monroe's handprints and bought me a collection of her movies because he knew I loved her.  He taught me how to drive stick-shift and change a flat so that I'd be prepared.  He was the strong one and comforted me when I cried my eyes out at his cancer diagnosis.  These are only a fraction of the many, many reasons why my Daddy is, and always will be, my Hero.

When does a girl need her Daddy?  Always.

And I am proud to say that I will be Daddy's Little Girl forever and ever.

Happy Birthday to my Hero!!