Monday, June 20, 2011
Vodka = Frenemy
We eventually moved up the hill to our place, because I at least had sense enough to know that it was past Andrew's bedtime (James was completely sober, before anyone thinks I'm a bad mom), and probably I had some hope that if I said it was time to move, the evening would end. But it didn't, and Dad and the girlfriend came up the hill with us. I had also had sense enough to take car keys away from all involved (and throw them under our bed, for some reason), so at some point, we had to call the girlfriend's son to come get her. Great way to meet my possibly-future stepbrother, huh? I'm sure I made a great impression. Whoa!
After the girlfriend left, Dad and I got into some deep discussion...and how it started, I have no idea. I guess I'll have to ask Dad at some point exactly what kind of gibberish spewed forth. James was there at the beginning of the talk, but went to bed at some point. I remember the conversation started with how weird it was for me that she was working in Edna's kitchen, and I remember crying at that point, already. But I don't know what the trigger was, other than cheap vodka. Blecch. The conversation ended, though, with a long talk (more like a rant) about Dad's smoking, and I do remember sobbing and yelling at him about not wanting Andrew to lose another grandparent, and how Andrew asks me why he smokes if he knows it's bad for him, and just becoming altogether hysterical. Now, I'm not condoning my behavior, but Dad at least took me seriously and didn't become angry or feel like I was scolding him, which happens when the topic comes up under normal circumstances. And Dad promised he would try to quit...promised to fill Chantix prescriptions, and although he was probably worried that I was slipping off the deep end, he listened.
Needless to say, I felt like complete and utter hell on Saturday. I honestly think I was still kind of drunk that morning. All I wanted to do was stay in bed in the dark and not move. By the afternoon, however, I was human enough to go swimming and on a boat ride with Dad (who was NOT smoking) and the girlfriend, and by nighttime, I was actually convinced I might live, although we had a very low-key evening of ordering pizza and watching a movie while my dad and his friend hung out, separate from us, for the most part. (I don't want to go from zero to sixty in five seconds, if that's clear enough. All things in moderation...gee, I should have learned that Friday night.) We did gather together later that evening, along with our other friends, to put off some fireworks and enjoy some of the evening. Andrew and I then proceeded to stay up together and watch The Bride of Frankenstein (I'm really getting Mother of the Year awards here, huh?), which he enjoyed. We did some character analysis on the creature and the people he comes into contact with, then finally made it to bed at about midnight. (Dad had only three cigarettes the whole day!)
Sunday involved breakfast with Dad, more swimming, fishing, and a boat ride with our friends. My dad didn't smoke, the ashtrays have vanished from the house, and he appears to be giving it a good shot. His Father's Day gift to me, I suppose. He seems happy, and excited about the prospects of this relationship, which I hope he doesn't take too fast, because I don't want him to get hurt. My brother texted him good wishes for the day, and we followed up the pleasantries of the weekend with a call from my cruisin' sister, who gave us the good news that she had become engaged on the trip. (I wrote the bit about the cart before the horse before she called me today, and I'm just leaving it in anyway.)