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Every night when I lay down to sleep, I pray for my mom and my dad. Mama is 71 and Daddy will be 70 in September. They are both in decent health and I am lucky to have them around. Mama has a weight problem that compounds her diabetes and high blood pressure. She has also had problems with her clogged arteries and such like. Daddy also has a weight problem, has polyps (like Reagan did), is legally blind in one eye and can't see out of the other, continuously in pain because of deterioration of cartilage between his vertebrae, been diagnosed with severe depression, and is an alcoholic. Have you ever heard the joke about the dog with 3 legs, one ear gone, blind in one eye and can't see out of the other? Just call him lucky. Well, that is Daddy. If I ran down the list of all his aches and pains -- we'd be here quite a while. Here's what I wrote about Mama/Daddy in the "Kicking Myself Hard" post:
My parents -- yes, I fuss about mama pushing me to do things, and yes, my father is an alcoholic. But, they have always been supportive of me, have always praised me, fed, clothed, and sustained me through my younger life, they made certain that I was raised in the church and had a sense of God in my life. They watch and dearly love my children. There are adult children out there who have lost their parents, or were raised by abusive, non-god fearing adults. What do I have to complain about?Daddy was raised a "farm boy", loved to till the soil and raise cattle. He became ill and developed a disease where he became allergic to the sun. Daddy had to stop farming and went to work in a factory. Daddy is a perfectionist. A factory is a very imperfect place to work and you lack control of the outcome of the product in such a setting. But, Daddy put aside his desires for farming/carpentry/mechanics to work in this factory and support his family. He was miserable at work - he hated his job. He drank.
Today --
Daddy still drinks, but not near like he did before, he sneaks out to the garage and drinks a couple of beers, comes into the house and takes a nap. Daddy is always worrying. He worries about Sister, about Brother, and the Baby (me). He worries about Mama, about his six grandchildren, about his dog. Daddy worries about everything. Everytime he sees us -- "Do you need anything?" "Are you okay?" "Are my grand-babies okay?" Oh -- they are his babies not mine - to hear him tell it.
Daddy is proud of all his children. He won't tell us to our faces, but he lets the world know. He's always nit-picking at us. "When you gonna do this...when you gonna do that...why the hell did you do that...what the hell were you thinking...you know what your problem is....?" That is his way. I take it to heart more than sister, and brother he takes it hardest - he can't stand it. But, I'm coming to terms with it, sister is helping me to understand Daddy.
When Daddy says to me you know what your problem is...you take in every damn stray off the street...your heart is too big. Well, I just turn it back around and say, "Hmmmm, wonder who I got that from?" This usually silences him and makes him smile that wry little smile of his.
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Mama was a farmer's daughter in a small town and was swept off her feet by the goodlooking guy from the other side of the county and he was on their football team to boot. Mama stayed home with the first two until they went to school, and worked part-time when I was younger. Mama is a retired cartographer. I mean a real cartographer - no computer generated maps - this is drawing it by hand cartography. She looks at maps today and just frowns because of the lack of workmanship and attention to detail. The World Book Atlas -- that was her baby.
Today --
Mama is retired and repaying Granny for the years of babysitting by watching my children during the day. I hope to repay my Mama one day by watching my grandchildren. What a wonderful family tradition that would be. She is a very good Granny and I don't know what I would do without her.
Mama is an interrogator. If she or Daddy is wondering about it -- by golly, she's going to ask. What did you do today...what did that J**** do today...have you talked to your sister...what is she doing...what is that (insert sister's child) doing...is J****behaving...where have you been...and so on. Now these sound like nice little questions, but they have a snippy tone to them with the emphasis on the word THAT. THAT J****, THAT so and so. It's kind of like there should be an expletive after the word THAT...THAT eff'n J*****. And it isn't just one of these questions at a time, it is like the interrogator firing questions at you one after another until you forget what you answered, if you answered, where was I on the night of the 15th, did I kill the butler? She calls every couple of hours with the barrage of questions. I can handle her better than Sister and brother -- he lives far, far away.
Mama is a pusher. She pushes you to do this, to do that, to make a decision, to do what she thinks is best. And she can give you this look (the bulldog face). We are all scared of the look. This look is enhanced by the fact that mama has a slight underbite. She specifically pushes me when she wants me to better myself or my situation. She is pushing me to go on with the divorce.
These are things about Mama/Daddy that I have got to learn to handle. I have told them both and they are set in their ways and aren't going to change. I have to accept them for who they are. Mainly who they are-- are loving, worrying, parents who just happen to deal with their worries in these ways. They are there to help in anyway possible. There are things about each of us that probably annoy someone else. "You've got to take the good along with the bad." The "complaints" that I have about my Mama/Daddy are trivial. And, if you think about the nature of those complaints - they are pretty wonderful.
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