So, for the past 3 years I have been living with my father. It was a little scary at first, I can barely remember living with him when I was younger. But I figured "what the hell" lets wing it.
But as of recently my father has changed his career (for the better) and has decided to fly the coop and move into a big boy home...with out me. So, this post is dedicated to our adventures.
It took us a little while to get used to living with each other, figuring out each others habits, cleanliness and my coming to terms with the fact that my Dad is a big stinky, eating, mess makin', tee shirt wearing, Jersey Shore watching',funny,loving, kinda dude.
I remember right after I moved in I was cranky about something and snapping at my Dad about whatever he was trying to tell me and you know what he said to me?
" Um, do you need me to go to the store and get you some of those tubey things??"
"NO DAD, I DON'T NEED YOU TO GO GET ME TAMPONS"
That was the last time he ever asked me that question.
Eventually Christmas rolled around he gave me his credit card and said "Go get us a tree, Toughie"
(Thats his nickname for me)
So. I did. I went and got the biggest tree I could find, asked a kid to help me strap it on the top of my little Kia and boogied home. When I pulled into the drive way his jaw dropped and asked me if I was crazy. We got it down off the top of my car and lugged it over to the front porch, we then noticed the stump of course was WAY to big for a teeny Wal-Mart tree stand and we'd have to saw a big portion off. 2 hours later we had a jagged excuse for a tree stump,me covered in pine needles and my Dad sweating and staring. When we propped it up in the stand, it of course didn't fit, was crooked and got stuck. So what does my frustrated,un-athletic Father do? Back up 10 feet and run as fast as he can and tackle the tree to the ground. We finally got the sad excuse for our used-to-be fluffy tree in the house and enjoyed our first Christmas as room mates.
After New Years our tree was as dead and as flammable as a douglas fir could get and since we live in such a strict housing community we could't just prop it up against or garbage cans. After a mini 3 minute brain storming session we decided we'd dress in black, wait for the sun to go down and sneak down to the rivers edge and leave the tree on the banks and have the landscapers take care of it. Obviously no one was around to tell us
1. This is probably illegal
2. This is really, really stupid
I am 4'11 and 83 pounds and my Dad is 6'1 and a little on the husky side so we are not the dream team for any physical task. When we finally got the tree down the steep, weed covered bank we count to 3 and throw it with all our might. I start to scramble back up the bank when I hear a subtle splash and my Dad start swearing I turn around to see him reaching for my ankles while calf deep in the icy water. I start giggling and keep climbing and he's jumping like a dog for a treat to try to toss his chunky body up on to the shore. We got in the house we were covered in mud and weeds and I almost pissed my pants from laughing.
One time my Dad and I were standing around chinese to go containers in the kitchen when I poked him probably to hard in the belly with a fork and he swung his arm back in self defense.
BOOM, I hit the floor with a thud. As I was dramatically whimpering he stood above me and said
"Holy shit, oh my gosh, are you ok? Did I hurt you? Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to be so light. I'm sorry, Amanda! Are you mad at me?"
I of course was fine and was being dramatic but 'til this day I act as if I hold it against him and he's never flinched like that again.
Later that spring I was on my way home from school when I got a phone call from my sullen sounding Dad. I repeatedly asked him whats wrong until he finally caved and confessed
"I got stuck"
He then preceded to tell me he went to leave the house that day through the garage and realized he forgot his phone inside he put his foot under the closing garage door to get it to stop and start raising. Welp. That did't quite work. It closed on his ankle and he was forced to sit down on the concrete and of course; panicked. He was flopping like a fish on land when my sweet neighbor Ms, McClearly noticed him and what does she do? Calls the fire dept.
My father was a sprawled across the driveway waiting on the asphalt when the fire dept. arrived. Needless to say he never tried to do that again.
Shortly after that on a nice summer evening I came home to my father destroying my bathroom looking for a first aid kit. Right when I was going to ask what was wrong I noticed him bleeding from both hands, one leg, an elbow and also a cut on his head. I started yelling at him to stop moving and sit down. He then told me this story
"Well, I was sitting in the living room watching all those fisherman out in the river catching these huge salmon! So I wanted to join in. I went and grabbed one of those fishing poles in the garage and a bucket for my catches and walked out there. I caught one really quick! But then when I tried to put him in my bucket it started filling with water and he was going to swim away! So I wrestled with him and the bucket 'til I got it above water...and then I fell...and lost the fish...and my bucket...and the pole."
I hid the rest of the fishing poles that day.
I love my father. But he's not the cleanest creature on the earth, so bless his heart the day he tried to start the dishwasher. I heard him start screaming while he was in the kitchen so I ran down the hall and skidded to a halt in the entryway. He was soaking wet on his hands and knees on trying to shove soaps suds back into the machine all while screaming
" I made a mistake! I made a mistake!"
Ya think?! You put dish SOAP in the thing not dish DETERGENT.
"HHHHHHELP! HHHHHELP"
Right when I step into the kitchen to help start mopping up I flew up in the air and landed flat on my back.
Apparently linoleum and dish soap is quite slippery
About an hour later we got the mess cleaned up and the dish washer empty and running with vinegar to dilute the dish soap.
That was the last time Ben EVER did the dishes.
There are many more adventures of my Father and I. Maybe one day I'll share some more of them.
All in all, I love my father very much and am thankful for everything he has done for.
<3 'Til next time
Amanda
P.S If any of my readers know my father...do NOT tell him I wrote this :)
Shortly after that on a nice summer evening I came home to my father destroying my bathroom looking for a first aid kit. Right when I was going to ask what was wrong I noticed him bleeding from both hands, one leg, an elbow and also a cut on his head. I started yelling at him to stop moving and sit down. He then told me this story
"Well, I was sitting in the living room watching all those fisherman out in the river catching these huge salmon! So I wanted to join in. I went and grabbed one of those fishing poles in the garage and a bucket for my catches and walked out there. I caught one really quick! But then when I tried to put him in my bucket it started filling with water and he was going to swim away! So I wrestled with him and the bucket 'til I got it above water...and then I fell...and lost the fish...and my bucket...and the pole."
I hid the rest of the fishing poles that day.
I love my father. But he's not the cleanest creature on the earth, so bless his heart the day he tried to start the dishwasher. I heard him start screaming while he was in the kitchen so I ran down the hall and skidded to a halt in the entryway. He was soaking wet on his hands and knees on trying to shove soaps suds back into the machine all while screaming
" I made a mistake! I made a mistake!"
Ya think?! You put dish SOAP in the thing not dish DETERGENT.
"HHHHHHELP! HHHHHELP"
Right when I step into the kitchen to help start mopping up I flew up in the air and landed flat on my back.
Apparently linoleum and dish soap is quite slippery
About an hour later we got the mess cleaned up and the dish washer empty and running with vinegar to dilute the dish soap.
That was the last time Ben EVER did the dishes.
There are many more adventures of my Father and I. Maybe one day I'll share some more of them.
All in all, I love my father very much and am thankful for everything he has done for.
<3 'Til next time
Amanda
P.S If any of my readers know my father...do NOT tell him I wrote this :)
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