I don’t remember if I posted anything on Father’s Day, but if I did, I know that it had nothing whatsoever to do with Father’s Day. I guess maybe I was scared to dredge up shit that I don’t deal with on a day to day basis.
MY Father’s day was pretty cool, aside from the part where I had to work, but that is nothing unusual. I have worked MOST every holiday for 18 years and learned to live with it, if not get used to it. For some stupid fucking reason, Stephanie and I got married on Memorial Day weekend. That’s right, May 28th. So I get to spend our anniversary weekend fucking working. Anyone that works in the service industry can tell you that Memorial Day is the kickoff for the busiest time of the year, summer. Kids out of school, travelers, etc… My store actually slows down due to the fact that 30% of my business comes from a University, but none of the upper management pays any attention to shit like that, so I get to work just as hard as the rest of them, all through the slowest damn time of the year. Then, when my business starts picking up in September, they start screaming about cutting payroll, and other operating costs, just when I need to be spending the money. Fuck ‘em.
Any way, now that I am through with that wild tangent, back to Father’s Day. I was told that when I arrived home, I would have to follow directions. When I arrived home, my daughters gave me a bath, then made me go to bed. Cool, I though, I get a nap. Mo such luck, but it was OK anyhow. After lying there for awhile, they came to get me, and took me to the kitchen, where Father’s Day breakfast was on the table, for dinner. They would have brought me breakfast in bed, but we had a slight accident on Mother’s Day (I actually had that off). I thoroughly enjoyed the attention. The kids all made me cards, and Anna bought a card, but made a picture frame from twigs and twine, and put her picture in it. It remains next to my monitor right now. I am sure it will end up in the box where I keep all of that stuff eventually, but I want to look at it for awhile.
I did manage to call my Dad, and wish him a happy Father’s Day. Had to wait until I was on the way home from work due to the fact that I get there about three hours before anyone wakes up, and by then I am extremely busy.
My Mom and Dad moved back to Georgia last year, which was very nice. I still haven’t seen much of them, as I very rarely go to Atlanta now that I am not commuting there, and they don’t go anywhere very often. They may be coming out to see us Friday, or possibly Saturday for the barbecue. That would be cool. I love my parents very much, but a lot of times feel like we are not very close. Neither of them are very much what you would call kid friendly people. They loved my brother and I, and love their grandchildren just the same, but there are just some people who are made to have kids, and some that are not. In addition to which, I was pretty much a shit head until I moved out for the second or third time. I was an asshole to my brother, too interested in partying to do anything else. Serious fucking mental problems. Once I hit puberty it was all she wrote. Ended up being locked away for six months, dropped out of high school, and pretty much just disappeared, moving in with a friend of mine and his family. I was diagnosed with manic-depression (before it became chic to have it and be called bipolar). All of that before I ever hit sixteen. Fuck bipolar. It means you are crazy you stupid mother fucker. One of the things that I have discovered as I get older is that since I know what my problem is, it makes it easier to deal with. I had serious anger management issues as well. Those are also getting better. Sometimes I just have to keep my fucking mouth shut for awhile. Of course my son knows how to set me off. He and I butt heads constantly. I am trying to learn to deal with his sullen 16 year old attitude. Some days are easier than others, but I realize that he is light years ahead of me when I was that age.
Almost wasn’t going to post this, but what the fuck.