Bother's Day
Yesterday afternoon, I ran over to an outrageously expensive grocery store where I used credit to buy foodstuffs for a Father's Day picnic. I was going to cook hots and hamburgs, but I couldn't find the hamburger rolls at the store. I called Dad to ask him to pick some up on his way home (the picnic was not a surprise). I had just started opening the cake mix box to begin preparation of said cake when the phone rang. The following conversation ensued:
Me: Hello?
Dad: Hey, it's Dad.
Me: Hi.
Dad: I'm just leaving the store now. I got hamburger rolls, strawberries, hamburg, sausage, shrimp, vegetables and dip, ice cream, and a peach cake.
Me: (eyeing cake mix box sadly) You got a peach cake?
Dad: Yeah, we can put the strawberries on it. Oh, and I called your grandparents. They're coming over around 5.
!
!
!
Well, hell. I didn't want to make the stupid cake anyway. I really just wanted to eat the frosting.
This type of behavior is typical of my dad, and I really can't resent it -- because I'm the same way. I get excited about small projects and turn them into big ones. I take over for people (who, let's face it, might be totally capable of existing without my help, but aren't they so much better off when I meddle???). And when it comes to parties, I operate under the theory that More Is Better, and buy enough to feed the Mongolian Horde (luckily, Dad didn't invite them -- grandparents are Horde a-plenty).
I decided that the best Father's Day gift I could give Daddy would be to graciously let him take over, but I already got him a gift, so instead I whined and tried to make him feel guilty about all the money I'd spent.
The evening was off to a rockin' start when my Grandma came over, put her arm around my waist, patted me on the hip, and said, "Hello, big girl. Big girl."
Yeah, hello right back to you, short, wrinkled, old person with an attitude from hell.
I should be used to her comments. She really has a problem with my weight; it embarrasses her to no end. She told me once that she loved me a lot, but she'd love me even more if I was thin. My grandmother, people. I mean, isn't she supposed to be giving me t-shirts that say, "Grandma spoils me rotten" and stuff?
But the really interesting thing happened later, and since it's the point of this whole post, I will quit my bitching and cut to the chase. Mom, Gram, and I were sitting on the couch, and we were talking about pregnancy. As it turns out, Gram had the same complications I'm having, and she shared a little of what she experienced. That part was nice.
Maybe it's karma.
Me: Hello?
Dad: Hey, it's Dad.
Me: Hi.
Dad: I'm just leaving the store now. I got hamburger rolls, strawberries, hamburg, sausage, shrimp, vegetables and dip, ice cream, and a peach cake.
Me: (eyeing cake mix box sadly) You got a peach cake?
Dad: Yeah, we can put the strawberries on it. Oh, and I called your grandparents. They're coming over around 5.
!
!
!
Well, hell. I didn't want to make the stupid cake anyway. I really just wanted to eat the frosting.
This type of behavior is typical of my dad, and I really can't resent it -- because I'm the same way. I get excited about small projects and turn them into big ones. I take over for people (who, let's face it, might be totally capable of existing without my help, but aren't they so much better off when I meddle???). And when it comes to parties, I operate under the theory that More Is Better, and buy enough to feed the Mongolian Horde (luckily, Dad didn't invite them -- grandparents are Horde a-plenty).
I decided that the best Father's Day gift I could give Daddy would be to graciously let him take over, but I already got him a gift, so instead I whined and tried to make him feel guilty about all the money I'd spent.
The evening was off to a rockin' start when my Grandma came over, put her arm around my waist, patted me on the hip, and said, "Hello, big girl. Big girl."
Yeah, hello right back to you, short, wrinkled, old person with an attitude from hell.
I should be used to her comments. She really has a problem with my weight; it embarrasses her to no end. She told me once that she loved me a lot, but she'd love me even more if I was thin. My grandmother, people. I mean, isn't she supposed to be giving me t-shirts that say, "Grandma spoils me rotten" and stuff?
But the really interesting thing happened later, and since it's the point of this whole post, I will quit my bitching and cut to the chase. Mom, Gram, and I were sitting on the couch, and we were talking about pregnancy. As it turns out, Gram had the same complications I'm having, and she shared a little of what she experienced. That part was nice.
Maybe it's karma.
posted by Tierant at Monday, June 19, 2006
4 Comments:
Good G.D.,
You miss a few weeks of this blog and when you read to catch up we have everything from Bacterial outbreaks to snooring SCHolars to Fathersday rants....I would almost rather listen to Rider talk about her Horses...Almost....No not really...Well, I better go back to my world now..I am smart enough..good looking enough and gosh darn it people really like me...By the way I am acepting donations for a horse costume so my girl will come play with me.......
If it makes you feel better, call me and ask exactly what happens when you try to fill a splash pool from the hose on Father's day. Did you know water can be brown? Very exciting.
And that, my dear, was the high point.
If it makes you feel better, you can make me a cake. In fact, even if it doesn't make you feel better, you can make me a cake. I like cake.
I have been reprimanded by Rider for my Horse related remarks and various spelling mistakes. I am now only allowed to post on how Intelligent and Graceful she is. And how that reminds me of her older sister (notice I did not say Big Sister, I shall not be talked about like grandma). I would like to offer my sincerest apologies to all the readers of this Blogg and offer up my promise to resign myself to my hobbies of Shark Rearing and Horse flogging..Oops
nice
Look after your dad
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