Shortly after I launched my blog, I asked my Dad if he had read it.  Nervously, he said he hadn’t because he wasn’t sure if I wanted him to read it.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to read it?” I asked.

He shrugged and said, “I just figured there would be stuff you wouldn’t want me to see.”

Slightly taken aback, I laughed.  Did he think I was broadcasting some deep, dark family secrets for the world to read…whatever those may be?

I shook my head.  “There’s nothing on that site I don’t want you to see.”  I then paused for a moment and said, “Except for the blog I wrote entitled, Why I Blame my Dad for Everything.”

Of course, I was joking.  But in honor of Father’s Day, I thought it would be funny to actually write that entry as a dedication to my Dad, and use it as a blatant attempt to get him to finally read my blog.  Yet, knowing my Dad as well as I do, the title will scare him away forever.  He scares easily…as do I.

One of the many things I blame him for.

However, before I officially start playing the blame game, I should recognize my Dad for all the words of wisdom he has bestowed upon me over the last forty-plus years.  There are actually three little nuggets that I carry with me daily to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Never fart before entering a room.

You can kind of guess what prompted that conversation…I was very young.

Never mix grape and grain.

Learned this one the hard way.  Now, I find this to be ironic since my trainer is always encouraging me to fill up on grains and fruit…such mixed messages!

When in trouble, lock your doors and pray.

Actually, this advice was given when I called him late one night, terrified and lost in a very shady part of Oakland.  His exact words to me were, “Jesus!  Lock your doors and pray!”  (Clearly, my Dad is also a religious man.)  Luckily, the prayers helped because I found a police officer who directed me to the freeway.  Navigation was not yet a thing, and my cell phone was the size of a brick, and as useful as one as well.

Okay, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I can really get into all the things I blame my Dad for.  Rather than dwelling on each thing – because there are oh so many – I’m just going to list the worst offences all at once…it will be like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Top 10 Things I Blame My Dad For…

#10:  My stunning good looks and auburn colored hair.  What can I say, my hair is my thing!  And it used to be my Dad’s too…when he had hair!  (Sorry Dad – it was just too easy.  The joke was hanging right there.)

#9:  My generosity.  My Dad is an extremely generous man and has given me more than I ever needed throughout the years – shelter, clothing, food, an education, pretty dresses and, more baseball merchandise and memorabilia than anyone deserves.  Speaking of which…

#8:  My love of baseball.  Our one true connection. Sure my admiration of the sport mainly came when I realized how hot the ballplayers were, but it stuck with me and now that I’m older than most (or all) active players, I can truly enjoy the game for what it is.  (Even when my beloved Giants are playing like crap.  And boy have they been playing like crap lately.)

#7:  My snort/hyena-like laugh.  Annoying but catchy.

#6:  My creativity.  His love of music definitely parallels my love of writing.

#5:  My passion and reactiveness.  Sometimes it comes on too quickly and is completely unnecessary, but at least it shows we care.

#4:  My ability to be there for the people I love.  Regardless of the situation or mood, my Dad is always there for me, no questions asked.  Okay, maybe some questions asked and I will definitely think twice about calling him if I ever get stuck in Oakland again.  Regardless, I will continue to pay it forward.

#3:  My kind and caring nature.  When you’ve got it, flaunt it, and the Dietlein Family surely does! (Shout out to Mom too!)

#2:  My massive dorkiness.  I do embarrassing things.  My Dad does embarrassing things, yet people seem to really like us.  You like us, you really do!

And, the #1 Thing I Blame My Dad For…

My awesome sense of humor.  The greatest gift he ever gave me.

Oh, the humanity!  How could you, Dad?  I might as well just forward this post to my shrink!

Feels good to get all that off my chest.  And, it helps me recognize that there’s just no way around it…my Dad is simply an all-around good guy.  Sure we have our issues – doesn’t every family?  Sometimes my Dad and I do butt heads, (high school math always brought us to blows), but I realized a long time ago, this is merely because we are so much alike.  And boy are we ever alike.  I’m his mini-me, only not so mini anymore.

I admit, there are things I inherited from my Dad that at times, I wish I didn’t have to deal with, such as my anxiety and that darn hyena-like laugh.  Yet, it’s a part of who I am.  And it’s a part of who he is.  And quite honestly, although it may have taken a long time to come to this realization, I like being just like my Dad.  In fact, I love it.  It makes me an all-around good girl, and there’s no shame in that.

I often feel bad for my Dad because he never had a son, and I know he really wanted one.  And, thanks to all the issues I have with men, (I blame him for that too, but that will be the subject of another blog at another time), I have yet to provide him with a suitable and substitute son (in-law).  Therefore, I’ve tried really hard over the years to become the son he never had.  My love of sports, my ability to swear like a sailor, my fondness for grape and grain…I feel like I’ve overcompensated in all of these areas.  (It’s the overachiever in me.)  But, as hard as I try, my Dad often has to deal with the over-emotional side of me as well, (thanks Mom).  Luckily, rather than dealing with this other female-focused side, my Dad will instead end up buying me another Giant’s sweatshirt or hat as his way of dealing with it, and I’ve really got no problem with that.

The older I get, the more I appreciate and enjoy my Dad.  In fact, I feel like we’re actual friends now too.  My Dad and I are not the touchy feely types, we don’t really say “I love you”, and the hugs and kisses are far and few in-between.  But, I hope my Dad knows that I love him more than anything, and all the things I blame him for, are all the reasons I love him the most.

So Dad, on this Father’s Day, I promise to continue following your amazing advice: I will avoid farting before entering a room, only mix grape and grain when I’m dieting, (or too drunk to realize), and when in trouble or in doubt, I will always, always, lock my doors and pray.

I hope that wasn’t too hard for you to read, Dad.  Going forward, I promise to keep the skeletons in the closest where they belong, and not to write another post exposing our relationship…until your birthday, when I will pen the blog entitled, How My Dad Ruined My Life!  😉

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!  I love you.  (You can go vomit now.  I just did.)