Classes to teach dads

Amused, Spence lifted his own glass. "She wants her hair curled."

Natasha's puzzled look became a smile; she lifted a hand to her own. "Oh. That's sweet."

"Easy for you to say. I've just gotten the hang of pigtails."

To her surprise, Natasha could easily picture him patiently braiding the soft, flaxen tresses.

Taming Natasha

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By Brian Uhreen from Calgary, Canada - Camping with friends, CC BY 2.0, 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=74784202

Salon holds classes to teach dads how to style their daughters' hair

In a Facebook comment, the salon recommends bringing girls aged 10 and under for the class. Kayla White, manager and stylist at the salon, pointed out how men are sometimes just clueless when it comes to dealing with girls’ hair.

YAHOO!

Halloween standing Mummy

"Well, it is Halloween."

Charmed

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Public Domain, 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4346137

So this Mummy idea is all over Pinterest so I had to give it a try.

INSTRUCTABLES

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It took them two hours to transform Spence's elegantly decorated living room into a spooky dungeon, fit for rats and screams of torture.

Black and orange crepe paper hung on the walls and ceiling. Angel-hair cobwebs draped the corners. A mummy, arms folded across its chest leaned in a corner.

Taming Natasha

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

"She's upstairs, watching the Macy's parade with Yuri."
"He never misses it. Nothing disappointed him more than when we grew too old to want to sit in his lap and watch the floats."


Taming Natasha

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By Sandra Lemaire / VOA - VOA, 

http://www.voanews.com/content/cheers-greet-giant-balloons-at-macys-thanksgiving-parade/1799824.html, 

Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=29910714

These celebrities get just as jazzed about the time-honored tradition as the rest of us.

YAHOO!



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"I'm watching the parade with Papa. He can talk just like Donald Duck, and he lets me sit on his lap."
"I see." Leaning closer, Natasha took a sniff. There was the telltale fragrance of gumdrops lingering on Freddie's breath. "Does he still hog all the yellow ones?"
Freddie giggled, casting a quick, cautious look at her father. Spence had a much different view of gumdrops than Yuri. "It's okay. I like the red ones best."
"How many red ones?" Spence asked her.
Freddie lifted her shoulders and let them fall. It was, Spence noted with some amusement, almost a mirror image of Natasha's habitual gesture. "Not too many. Will you come up and watch with us?" She tugged at Natasha's hand. "It's almost time for Santa Claus."


Taming Natasha

Things Dads Are Hardly Told To Do For Their Daughters, But Should

"You know what I'm built on. You can't think I'm good enough for her."

"Of course you're not," Boyd said simply, and noticed those clear green eyes didn't so much as flicker.

"She's my little girl, Jonah. No one's good enough for her. But knowing what you're built on, I'd say you're pretty close. I wonder why that surprises you. The one area I don't recall you ever being low in is esteem."

"I'm over my head here," Jonah murmured. "It's been a long time since I've been over my head in

anything."

"Women do that to you. The right woman, you never really surface again. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes. She blinds me."

"She's also smart, and she's strong, and she knows how to deal with what's dished out."

Absently, Jonah rubbed his thumb over his sore lip. "No argument."

"Then my advice to you is to play it straight with her, too. She won't let you get away with less, not for long."

"She isn't looking for anything else from me."

"You keep thinking that, son." At ease again, Boyd crossed to Jonah, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"There's just one thing," he said as they started toward the door. "If you hurt her, I'll take you out. They'll never find your body."

"Well, I feel better now."

Night Shield

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By Srichakra Pranav (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], 

via Wikimedia Commons

Inspired by writer Roxane Gay's response to a nervous father of a daughter, I've compiled a list of the things I believe all dads of daughters should know to make sure his influence is the best possible kind, from my personal experiences and through the many experiences of other daughters.

A PLUS

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With a quick, throaty laugh, Natasha led the way into the bedroom.

"Don't mention looking sexy around your father. He isn't quite ready for it."

"But he's all right, isn't he? About the move?"

"He misses you, and sometimes he looks in your room as if he still expects to see you there--in pigtails. So do I," Natasha admitted, and sat on the edge of the bed. "But yes, he's all right with it. More than. He--both of us are so proud of you. Not just because of the music, but because of who you are."

No one was more surprised than Natasha when Freddie dropped on the bed beside her and burst into tears.

"Oh, my love, my baby, what is it?" Drawing Freddie close, Natasha stroked and soothed. "There, sweetheart, tell Mama."

"I'm sorry." Giving up, Freddie pressed her face into Natasha's soft, welcoming shoulder and wept. "I guess this has been building up all day--all week. All my life. Maybe I am spoiled and indulged."

Instantly insulted, Natasha leaned back to look at Freddie. "Spoiled? You're not spoiled, and not indulged! What would put such nonsense in your head?"

"Not what, who." Disgusted with herself, Freddie dug around in her pocket for a tissue. "Oh, Mama, I had such an awful fight with Nick today."

Of course, Natasha thought with a little inward sigh. She should have suspected it. "We often fight with those we care about, Freddie. You shouldn't take it so hard."

"It wasn't just a spat, not like we've had before. We said awful things to each other. He doesn't have any respect for who I am, or what I'm trying to do. As far as he's concerned, I'm just here to kick up my heels, knowing if I trip, you and Dad will be there to catch me."

"And so we would, if you needed us. That's what family is for. It doesn't mean you're not strong and self-reliant, just because you have someone who would reach out if you needed help."

"I know. I know that." But it helped enormously to hear it, all the same.

Waiting for Nick

Laugh Can Reveal Your True Personality

And to Cybil's amazement, the man could laugh. 

Really laugh, with a wonderful baritone rumble that melted all the ice 

and made her sigh in delight.

The Perfect Neighbor

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By Trailer distributed by 20th Century Fox. - Digital trailer from SabuCat Productions. 
Capture by uploader., Public Domain,
 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1059297

You might not believe it, but an individual’s laughter greatly mirrors their own personality. By just hearing someone’s laughter, one can assume the individual’s general attitude towards life. Find out what your laugh says about you today!

AVENUE86

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She laughed, a rich smoky sound that seemed impossibly erotic in a room full of clowns and stuffed bears.

Taming Natasha

What It's Like to Be a Single Dad

Their eyes met in the mirror again; he rested his chin on her shoulder. She smelled of the pale green soap she loved because it was shaped like a dinosaur. Her face was so much like his own, yet softer, finer, and to him infinitely beautiful.

"You could, but then tomorrow would be your first day of school. You'd still have butterflies."

"Butterflies?"

"Right here." He patted her tummy. "Doesn't it feel like butterflies dancing in there?''

That made her giggle. "Kind of."

"I've got them, too."

"Really?" Her eyes opened wide.

Taming Natasha

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By nerissa's ring (Flickr: girl, lost) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Parents are constantly shamed for their choices. From how we feed our children to how we educate them, everyone has an opinion. The result? Moms and dads feel endlessly judged for the choices they make — even if they have no other options. This week, families around the country are sharing their inspiring, funny, honest, and heartbreaking stories with Yahoo Parenting in an effort to spark conversations, a little compassion, and change in the way we think about parenting forever. Share your story with us — #NoShameParenting.

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Full-custody single dads are a growing group, with 24 percent of single-parent homes headed up by fathers — a ninefold increase since 1960,according to the Pew Research Center. But living that reality can still feel pretty lonely for the man managing everything for his family solo.

To find out what it’s like to be a single father, Yahoo Parenting sat down with 42-year-old Ian. 

YAHOO! Parenting

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"Dad." She giggled, as she always had, when he scooped her off her feet for a hug. "Oh, it's so good to see you. I've missed you." She blinked back tears she hadn't expected as she reached out for Natasha. "I've

missed you both so much."

"The house isn't the same without you." Natasha rocked in the tight embrace, then eased back. "But look at you! So sleek and polished. Spence, where's our little girl?"

"She's still in there." He bent to kiss Freddie again.

...

"You've accomplished a lot in less than a month," Spence pointed out. There was a little ache, just under his heart. He expected it would always be there when he thought of his baby living away from him. 

But there was pride, as well, and that was what showed in his eyes as he draped an arm around her shoulders.

Waiting for Nick

A fry-up DOES cure a hangover

Some swear by hair of the dog, others by a strong black coffee. 

But the best way to cure a hangover is to tuck into a fried breakfast, a leading researcher has claimed.  

DAILYMAIL

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Spence made his bleary-eyed way downstairs. He and the gray dog exchanged glances of sympathy.
Yuri had been generous with the vodka the night before, to guests and pets. At the moment, Spence felt as though a chain gang were chipping rock in his head. Operating on automatic, he found the kitchen, following the scents of baking, and blissfully, coffee.
Nadia took one look, laughed broadly and gestured to the table. "Sit." She poured a cup of coffee, strong and black. "Drink. I fix you breakfast."
Like a dying man, Spence clutched the cup in both hands. "Thanks. I don't want to put you out."
Nadia merely waved a hand as she reached for a cast-iron skillet. "I know a man with a hangover. Yuri poured you too much vodka."
"No. I took care of that all on my own." He opened the aspirin bottle she set on the table. "Bless you, Mrs. Stanislaski."
"Nadia. You call me Nadia when you get drunk in my house."
"I don't remember feeling like this since college." So saying he downed three aspirins. "I can't imagine why I thought it was fun at the time." He managed a weak smile. "Something smells wonderful."
"You will like my pies." She pushed fat sausages around in the skillet. "You met Alex last night."
"Yes." Spence didn't object when she filled his cup a second time. "That was cause enough for one more drink. You have a beautiful family, Nadia."
"They make me proud." She laughed as the sausage sizzled. "They make me worry. You know, you have daughter."
"Yes." He smiled at her, picturing what Natasha would look like in a quarter of a century.
"Natasha is the only one who moves far away. I worry most for her."
"She's very strong."
Nadia only nodded as she added eggs to the pan. "Are you patient, Spence?"
"I think so."
Nadia glanced over her shoulder. "Don't be too patient."
"Funny. Natasha once told me the same thing."
Pleased, Nadia popped bread into the toaster. "Smart girl."

The kitchen door swung open. Alex, dark, rumpled and heavy-eyed, grinned. "I smelled breakfast."


Taming Natasha

Happy Thanksgiving

"So what's to eat?" 

Too much, Spence decided as the family gathered around the table late that afternoon.

The huge turkey in the center of the hand-crocheted tablecloth was only the beginning. Faithful to her adopted country's holiday, Nadia had prepared a meal that was an American tradition from the chestnut dressing to the pumpkin pies. 

Wide-eyed, Freddie gawked, staring at platter after platter. The room was full of noise as everyone talked over and around everyone else. The china was mismatched. Old Sasha lay sprawled under the table near her feet, hoping for a few unobtrusive handouts.

She was sitting on a wobbly chair and the New York Yellow Pages.

As far as she was concerned, it was the best day of her life.

Nadia, her cheeks rosy with the pleasure of having her family together, slipped a hand into Yuri's as he lifted his glass. 

"Enough," he said, and effectively silenced the table.

"You can argue later about who let white mice loose in science lab. Now we toast. We are thankful for this food that Nadia and my girls have fixed for us. And more thankful for the friends and family who are here together to enjoy it. We give thanks, as we did on our first Thanksgiving in our country, that we are free."

"To freedom," Mikhail said as he lifted his glass.

"To freedom," Yuri agreed. His eyes misted and he looked around the table. 

"And to family."

Taming Natasha