To Be Fair (I'm Trying)

To be fair to my parents, my husband and I have lived with them three times! On the other hand, I have to say to myself, why didn't we learn the first time or at least the second time? I think the first time was kind of fun because we had been living in Ohio and suddenly my husband had a job in Wisconsin. We were having trouble selling our house and had found another, but the owner actually didn't want to move out until the following spring and it was only August. My parents were thrilled that we were going to be closer and were more than happy to have us stay with them while we got the housing thing sorted out. And, frankly, it was a fun time for all of us. My dad was still working, so Mom and I would get up with the guys in the morning to fix breakfast and see them off to work. My mom loved getting out so we spent a lot of time exploring the countryside. Dad was just in the process of retiring and having a good time celebrating regularly with all his customers. He was a traveling salesman for as long as I could remember and growing up, he was gone most of the time during the week and home on weekends. Frankly, I didn't know him that well. My mom pretty much raised my two brothers and me, and although she was a Southern lady, she was also definitely in charge of everything, including my dad. I didn't appreciate that until dementia started in and suddenly Dad had all the "power."  When I was growing up, I think we were all happy when he got home at the end of the week. However, except for a couple of family vacations, he usually ended up keeping himself busy the entire weekend so what did we really know about him? I recall my mom saying to me in later years that she missed him when he was gone, but was happy to see him leave again on Monday. Knowing what I know now, all I can say is, "I'll bet!" The second time we lived with my parents my husband had found another job, we sold our house and were in the process of building a new one. My husband's company actually paid to have him stay in an apartment in the city during this time, but he would come to stay with me at my parents' home on weekends. By this time, my dad had retired and what a rude awakening! I discovered that my dad was obnoxious and seemed to be totally unaware of how he affected other people, especially immediate family. It's difficult to describe, but I kept journals and just let me say, that living with my dad felt like a constant irritation. For some reason, he felt totally comfortable burping loudly as he would sit in the living room reading a book. Okay, doesn't sound bad until you've listened to it for an hour. And when I finally made a comment, he responded with something about being in his own home and "it's better than coming out the other end!" He also has a single false tooth that would cause him to make these loud sucking noises when he apparently had food caught in it. And if we were sitting together watching TV, he often felt the need to remove it and have a good look! Also, Dad loves to run around without a shirt. He's not a heavy guy, but he sure has man boobs! And let's face it, older and old men do not look good without a shirt anyway. One day he met me at the door with a t-shirt on and complained that my mom had told him he had to wear a shirt! Thank you, Mom. Now, of course, my mom isn't quite so insistent, but recently we were in the car together when we spotted Dad coming out of his workshop, shirtless. My mom looked at my dad and then turned to me and said "your father needs a bra."  The point is, my dad doesn't seem to have many boundaries when it comes to his family. Thank God, the same apparently doesn't apply to others. He is generous, kind, and thoughtful, but he also doesn't listen worth a damn and often cuts me off mid sentence because he's more interested in what he has to say. He's a horrible gossip and I know things about family and friends that would surprise them. Of course, they could probably say the same thing. I can love my dad one moment and be wishing one of us lived on another continent the next. So, even though this Blog is dedicated to complaining about him, I also need to make it clear that he's not a jerk on purpose all of the time. Somehow, he managed to attract and keep my mom all these years, but I do find it interesting that a good part of the marriage he wasn't around and now, in her own little way, Mom seems to be on her own trip!

Good Vodka NOT Ham!

I may have mentioned that my dad is the parent who really makes me crazy. My mom has some dementia and I've gotten used to her forgetting things, as well as not wearing her hearing aid and misinterpreting just about everything anyone says to her. But, she'll also be 92 in December and is doing amazingly well. She still has a good sense of humor and always seems to be happy. Dad also has a good sense of humor and is usually happy, but I often feel like it's at my expense! Since there is so much to remember (and I have it all in a journal), I guess I'll start with something recent. Dad loves to party. It doesn't matter if it's family or friends or both. If you show up anytime after noon, there's a good chance he'll offer you a drink. My husband and I try to have my parents over for dinner about once a month (we get together with them once or twice a week) and it's expected that we'll have "cocktails." What I've noticed about Dad as he's grown older is his choice in alcohol has definitely headed towards the cheaper end of the scale, especially if it's the stuff he's not drinking. I happen to like vodka and it doesn't have to be top shelf, but if you drink vodka, you know there is a difference in flavor between brands. Dad apparently goes by price because he found Fleishman's on sale one time (it's already inexpensive) and for whatever reason cannot remember that I don't like it. I've asked him to bring Gordon's over and over again. It's only a dollar or two more, but I prefer it and I don't like the taste of Fleishman's at all. At first I tried being nice about it. I started by not saying anything and saving it to serve to him (suddenly he was drinking brandy instead of vodka). Then when he asked what kind of alcohol he could bring for a couple of holiday dinners I specifically asked him to bring Gordon's vodka. Of course, I got Fleishman's. I reached a point where I finally just told him that I didn't like that brand and that he continued to bring it anyway. At one point he dropped off the Fleishman's and then arrived later for dinner with a small bottle of Gordon's! The last time my parents came for dinner Dad did not bring any vodka. Nope, that time we got a ham steak! WTF?! Apparently they were on sale and he kept apologizing because he hadn't been able to get the thicker cut (thank God). Ham is okay, but why on earth would anyone bring a slab of it to a dinner at someone else's place? Also, this ham turned out to be horrible. We never buy ham and the only time we have ever served it was when Dad brought over this ham he gets from a former customer's boys at Christmas time. That's another story. So we thanked Dad for the ham steak and put it in the refrigerator. Fortunately, I had vodka and there were still several bottles of unopened Fleishman's. My husband decided we should have the ham for breakfast later that week and so I cut off a couple of pieces and heated it in a pan. The first bite was horrible! Not only was it really salty, but it had also been cured in brown sugar and it was swimming in it. In fact when I tried to wipe out the pan before washing it, the paper towel got stuck! My parents' anniversary is coming up in October and then my dad's birthday. We'll have them over for dinner and I can't wait to see what we get. He might trick me and actually bring Gordon's, but we are just as likely to get the "thick" cut of brown sugar cured ham!

I saw my therapist again today and, as usual, we got on the subject of my dad. In fact, he's the main reason I'm in therapy. I spent most of my session complaining about him and I know it sounds funny when he's not YOUR dad, but he often makes me feel like I want to scream. Anyway, today she told me I should create a blog. She mentioned the guy who has the Twitter account called "Shit My Dad Says." So I thought I would read it first to get an idea about what to write. It was hilarious and disgusting, just like my dad. The only difference I could see is his dad doesn't care, he says exactly what he thinks and there's no sugar coating at all. My dad is trickier.

I'm not sure how I'm going to approach this because there is so much that I could almost write a book. I guess this is my quick introduction and I'll just see how it goes. But I'm thinking this could be a good outlet for a lot of frustration.