Daddy Dearest

For the first time in years, I actually had lots of warning before Father's Day arrived, and yet I'm still completely unprepared. I've got an idea of something I'm going to make for my dad that should be way cool, I just haven't had the time to make it.

We've been working on finishing up the guest bedroom. To my delight, I went in yesterday to paint some edges and tape for painting the trim, only to find a bucket of bright orange paint had been knocked over onto the carpet three or four days prior and the paint had leaked out through a section of the lid that was open maybe a half an inch. So we made an impromptu decision to tear all the carpet out and replace it with vinyl wood flooring panels. We were going to do new flooring eventually anyway, because all of the beige carpeting matches all of the beige walls and ceilings in the whole house.

On a related note, I've told my father that when he goes through treatment, or gets ready to die if that's the route it goes, he can come stay with us (and Skeletor can come too). So the flooring will be much easier to keep clean as his health declines and we have to keep everything as clean as possible.

So now I have 8 boxes of wood flooring pieces in my living room, a ladder and two tarps in the guest bedroom, a 2 foot square section of carpet that's been cut out, and a cluster of dressers in the middle of it all. On top of that, my kitchen is a disaster and my whole family (sans uncle) will be here for dinner tonight. My living room and toy room need to be vacuumed and oldest two Children won't stop fighting long enough to do it, regardless of the fact that I've yelled at them about 40 times to do it.

This afternoon Husband and I will take my dad, my grandmother and the three kids to a park to have some pictures done so I have something to give to the kids when they get older. We're doing it now, and at a park, so that it's relaxed and it doesn't feel so much like death pictures. Dinner will be after that.

One of the worst things about this whole situation is that every time I (or anyone else, from what I gather) talk to Skeletor (my evil step-mother), she turns it into a "poor me" situation. "I shouldn't be burying my husband", or "He doesn't eat so I don't eat and I'm losing too much weight" and on and on. It's infuriating. Normally, I'd say something callous and unfiltered, but now I'm trying to keep the peace so I bite my tongue and let it go, then cry about it to Husband.

The other thing about Skeletor is that she's had ongoing drug addiction problems for the last 20-something years and no one trusts her to stick around and care for my dad. If by some miracle she DOES stay, she'll likely be back on drugs in no time flat. Part of me (admittedly, a large part) kinda wishes she'd just go now and get it over with so that the drama goes and my dad can deal with it before he gets really bad. Either that, or she needs to wait until he's too far gone to know she's left. I hate her. I always have. Now more than ever.

On a related note, I've invited my brother to dinner tonight. My dad wouldn't come if I hadn't. For the people who know about my relationship with my brother, this is a huge step. When we moved from Denver two years ago, I pointedly told my whole family that my brother was NOT allowed to know where I live and he was NOT going to have my phone number. I told my dad that when he's sick, my brother can come visit whenever he wants. The only stipulation is that brother is not allowed to be alone in my house under ANY circumstances.

So that's what I've got for now. There are a million other things on my mind, but I've had a raging headache for four straight days and thinking about all of this is making it worse. Thanks for reading, and happy father's day, if you're a father.