How long have you been a pig?

For as long as I can remember my dad has called me 'Corinney the Piggy.'  My dad is the sort of person who gives everyone a nickname.  All my friends, my boyfriends, my kids and my siblings were given nicknames by this wonderful man whom I just call "Dad."  Well, sometimes we call him "Parpus."  And his friends in College called him Jode the Toad.  (That's right my poor dad was named Jody.  He used to tell us that Santa thought he was a girl and gave him a doll instead of a ball.)

Me and my daddy

So back to the point.....  in my dad's words, I am his little piggy.  When I was really little my dad used to ask me, "Corinne?  How long have you been a pig?"  That question used to drive me crazy!  I still don't know how to answer that question.

Through the years my friends from school even caught onto this nickname.  Two of my best friends from High School gave me a bride and groom set of stuffed animal pigs for my wedding!  All this because of my dad wanting to know how long have I been a pig!

Last week, my 4 year old son, Harrison, asked me, "Mom, how come you are a pig?"  I laughed at his variation of the question I have been asked at least a hundred times!  I'm pretty sure Harrison has never heard my dad ask me that, as he really doesn't bother me with that anymore.  But he does call me 'piggy.'  And that is why Harrison wanted to know, "Why?" 

I gave him the simplest answer I could think of, "I am a pig because my dad is a pig."  In my mind's eye I thought of this picture taken of my parents at a Halloween picture they threw when I was seven years old.

My response sounded good to Harrison, and the thought gave me great satisfaction!

I had the great honor of being one who made him a dad.



My dad has been very influential in my life.  I've been thinking about this a lot, as today in Father's Day.
I have so many examples I could share to explain the impact he has had on me.  I will share a couple.



Homecoming my Sophomore year of HS was 2 weeks before I turned 16.  I got asked to go, but my parents wouldn't let me because I wasn't 'allowed' to date before I turned 16.  (So funny how different my perspective is now.)  After a lot of fighting and mostly me being a huge brat to my dear mother, my dad came into my room all calm for a talk.  He said, "I can see you really want to go.  You have a bedroom on the ground floor with a nice big window.  It would be very easy for you to sneak out.  Go for it!  But remember there are consequences to all choices, good and bad."  I gotta say, I was furious!  That was some major passive aggression and manipulation going on there. At least that's the way I saw it then.  My dad knew that he and mom had done a good job teaching me how to make good choices.  Here he was letting me do that.  I learned a HUGE lesson.  He changed the way I had been thinking about what I wanted.



Another time I wanted to openly make a bad choice, and he made a buzzer sound and then said, "WRONG!"  He then said, "OK, so since you can't make the right choice I guess you're not ready.  I'll be making this one for you."  I know that might sound controlling, and as a teenager it felt that way, but looking back I couldn't be more grateful for a father who cared SO much about the choices I made. 



Thanks dad for teaching me so well and caring so much.




Dad in Nauvoo, pretending to be a bull.

Happy Father's Day!!!!!