Despite convincing myself that I would hate it (spurred on purely by my jealousy of Zooey Deschanel’s adorableness), I started watching “New Girl”, and am sort of in love. Jess’s dorkiness and impulses to bust into song resonate deeply with me. She is currently holding on to a tight second place behind the lovely Liz Lemon as favourite female TV characters. Funny girls=me likey very much.

Anyway, Jess has the hair of like 4 people. It’s incredible. I have never seen such thick lustrous hair in my life (not that I saw it in life…she is on TV). As someone who will freely admit that she has the hair of a 3-year old, I admire those who seem to have somehow been able to continue growing hair past toddler-dom.

This is a long-winded lead-up to how any of this relates to the title of this post. Speed it up here, Slow Moving Van.

Okay, so Jess has bangs. I have sported a bang or two in my life, and I enjoy it very much. I had to de-bang for the lead up to my wedding (that’s a little dramatic–I didn’t HAVE to de-bang, I chose to, but anyway…I’m digressing again). I decided it was time for a bang once more!

My hair lady is in the town I grew up in, so making an appointment is kind of a process. I’m terrified of driving, so making the hour and a half commute back home is involved. Usually, I have to book a weekend appointment, but this week I’m on MARCH BREAK, BABY! So mid-week appointment it was!

My mum’s been away, which sort of threw my plans for a loop. She’s the glue that holds everything together in my family, so I considered just going up for the day, maybe grabbing a coffee with my sister, and then heading back home. In conversation with her, we decided it would be nice to take my dad out for dinner, since he’s on his own with my mum away.

So I make the commute back to my birthplace, get an ADORABLE hair cut (which, coincidentally, is the same haircut I had when I was 3–full circle!), and couldn’t get a hold of my dad.

After hours of this, I decided I would see my sister and go back home without seeing my dad, because he seemed to be unreachable. My sister and I planned to have a quiet meal in with my 3-year old nephew, but when he started having meltdowns, that idea was nipped in the bud quickly.

I heard back from my dad finally (he was at the pub watching a soccer game with my brother), so my sister dropped me off to see them on her way home with a sobbing 3-year old pleading, “Please can we eat dinner at the rest-ro-not?”. Adorable, but boys who don’t listen don’t get to eat at rest-ro-nots.

I was feeling kind of sad about how shitty this visit had been, but then my dad talked me out of going home that night, so we went back to my parents house and watched a movie.

After it was done, he sat on a chair next to me and asked, “So, how are you doing with your plans?”

“Plans?”, I asked. I haven’t talked to my dad about what’s going on, but I figured my mum told him.

“Your plans with your…family…”.

*Insert massive cringe right about here.*

I love my dad. He is an awesome dad. I am very much like my dad. We prefer to spend time in silence, solving Sudoku puzzles or crosswords, or discussing current events. We avoid social situations if at all possible, and have a general distrust of people. Our affections are earned by a select few who prove to be truly exceptional people.

Also, we don’t like talking about periods, sex, or anything connected to those things. This was a little awkward.

What do I tell him? He made a huge move by even bringing it up, so I spilled the beans about everything. I explained PCOS, I explained the IUIs (which was really hard to do without using the word “sperm”), I told him everything. He listened to everything (awesome dad, like I already said), and when I was done, he rubbed my arm and gave me a face that said, “Life has given you a shitty hand, and you don’t deserve to go through this, but you’re going to get through this because you’re strong” (he has a very expressive face).

It’s been weird with my dad. I never knew what he knew about our TTC escapades, so I always felt like I was sort of editing myself. It wasn’t that I was trying to keep anything from him, I just didn’t really know how much he’d want to know. I didn’t give him enough credit–of course he wanted to know everything–HE IS AN AWESOME DAD! Also, he did more than 1 late-night run to the store to get me “feminine papers” during high school when my mum wasn’t home, and dealt with those with such tact. “Just write down what you need”, he’d say, without making eye contact (or maybe it was just me who couldn’t look at him). He always came back with the right ones, too.

I’m so glad I came to see him, and that we had a chance to talk, just the two of us.

Oh, dads.

-Dad-lovin’ Regular Van.