Thing #1 I miss about home…….
God bless my Dad! Raising 3 girls in a house all together in
pre-teen, teenage age at the same time. Periods, hormonal teenagers who wanted
to kill each other and him being clearly outnumbered being the only male in the
house. If you ever grow up with a lot of girls in one house you will know that
your periods sink together. That means ALL of us women, chocolate eating,
crying hormone, fighting, moody girls all being CRAZY at the same time. Like I said GOD BLESS MY DAD. In saying that he has to be one of the best
people I have ever met and I’m just the lucky one that got stuck with him. Our relationship
is a unique one but loving one. The best part is I’m his step-daughter. That is
best in fact because he made a choice to love me and he did and dose and will
be the best thing since sliced bread.
Anyway……….Growing up I never had
real interest in wearing a lot of makeup.
My mother didn’t wear much and my older sister had a lot of makeup but
even after reading the instructions I couldn’t figure out where to put what. The most I ever did with myself was get my
hair highlighted and still then I did pretty much the same thing with it almost
every day. I just wasn’t THAT girly in the makeup department. I remember asking
my mom for makeup and her response was always the same. “You don’t need
anything. You won’t be able to see your cute freckles. Less Is more.” Bla…bla….bla…..
I thought she was being cheap. Who wants stupid ass freckles? Permanent pimples
that’s what people should call them. She was being stupid!
Around high school I decided I definitely needed makeup. I
think my arsenal of makeup at that point was Chap Stick. Cherry flavor and
glitter lip gloss I got from a friend. I never got the right color foundation
and it was only after a bunch of failed attempts I found out you couldn’t just
pour it on your face. I looked at the
magazines and wanted to look like them. Once I spent one whole paycheck on
random makeup I thought would look good. After applying everything at once I
looked like I had 2 black eyes and a busted lip. I would look at my friends and
they had bags and bags of makeup. Eye shadow of every color, foundation,
powder, brushes, bronzer, blush and the list would go on and on and on. It felt
like they were girly and womanly. I wanted to be more like them! I on the other hand had Chap Stick. After
spending hours and hours in the bathroom one day wiping off and putting on and
lashes and shadow and lip plumper I emerge to what I feel like looks almost the
same. I poked my eye a few times and messed a two perfectly good white shirts
putting them over my face. I mean I have had my makeup done by others a few
times and they told me what to do but when I did it I looked like a Farrah
Fawcett hooker. Once I had everything that seemed to take hours to put on I
couldn’t do much of anything that would cause me to sweat, cry, or move. I
couldn’t rub my eyes or touch my face.
One afternoon with
just me and my Dad home I decided to experiment with my makeup. After hours of
putting this shit on. Applying and reapplying I worked up a pretty significant
appetite. When my dad called me out and said he made me lunch I couldn’t pass
it up I was starving! So I came out and
sat at the table with him. He hands me sloppy Joes and he eye balls me, shakes
his head and sits down. My dad is not much for words. He’s one of those old
school men. You know, not much for words and a little rough around the
edges. He grew up with all brothers and
knew about makeup as much as I did. And that was nothing! He looks at me for a
moment and looks off into the distance. (Probably trying not to laugh) We are
half way done eating when he said. “So what do you got all the shit on your
face for?” I look at him and roll my
eyes. “Shut up old man. I’m trying to update my look. You don’t know anything.”
He looks at me and almost chokes on his sandwich. He clears his plate and
starts to clear mine. “I don’t know who you’re trying to put on all that crap
for but you should take it off.” I roll my eyes again. I thought I did a pretty
good job. I get up and head to the bathroom to check on the new and improved me. I looked like a hot mess. I must have been
rubbing my eyes because of all the shit I put on them and had eye liner and
mascara was running down my face. I sweat half of the right side of my face and
the lipstick and sloppy Joe mix was half up my face and the other half in my
teeth. Defeated I decided it didn’t feel like me with all of this on my face
and I was better off with the bare minimum. I wash the stuff off and come back
out. My Dad looks and me and smiles and looks away staring off into the distance
again.
( BTW- I never know what he’s looking at. I have tried
several attempts to sit in his chair and look over in that area and came to the
conclusion that this was his thinking look.)
“You look a lot better without all the shit all over your
face.” I look at him and smile. “You can’t do anything with it on. I don’t know
how beautiful people live or even function in everyday life with all of it on.”
He laughed and like most things we talk about we never mentioned it again.
That’s how are relationship always is. Teasing each other
but talking things out. I know I can sit with him at our old kitchen table in
our house. He sits in his seat and I sit in mine. The old light (that they
refuse to get rid of and is nothing short of a fire hazard) is hanging over the
table and we begin to talk about nothing. Him talking about how old he is and
me agreeing with him telling him how old he is. Him complaining about how I
talk too much and me proving his point by not shutting up. It’s this
relationship we have that is something I miss most about moving away. Our talks. I can’t begin to describe how much I
miss them. I always feel better after talking to my dad (step-dad) It’s this therapeutic
taunting. We laugh and joke and cry sometimes. Well I’ll cry and he will tell
me to “buck up and knock it off” but when I need him, and I mean really need
him he’s there. One time I was so upset about life and how shity it was going
at the time I once drove 30 miles to his work ran in and just hugged him. He
hugged me back told me he loved me. It was a moment of weakness that we both
never talk about. It was simple I needed him and he was there. There is no
point in talking about it but just brush it off to “womanly hormones I can’t
understand” he would say. Truth is we spend so much time pretending we are
tough its good to know your not sometimes.
The thing is I sat here trying to write a blog about our relationship
(because mostly its funny and we laugh so hard we almost pee our pants half of
time) but it’s harder to explain then I thought. Us sitting there at that old
table having coffee and bullshiting abut nothing at all. Literally NOTHING…..at
all. Talking about weather or how funny and stupid people are. How the world is
going to shit or how wonderful the world is. Us saying things laughing our ass’s
off to just nothing that normal people would find funny. Any normal person
sitting down hearing us would think were nuts. But is one of the things I miss
most about moving away. That time I have with him. To share anything with him
even if it’s nothing at all. I miss that old stupid table and that stupid fire
hazard of a light. I miss our talks and I miss that time with him that I realize
I NEED.
If you could picture the men from the movie “Grumpy old men”
that is probably pin pointing our relationship. Well….I guess that would make
me a grumpy old man, but you get my point. (side note- we both love that movie)
Anyways……..
So from time to time now I will get a call from him or I will
call him and I picture him sitting at the table looking off into the distance
(thinking) in his chair and I start some coffee. Still bullshitting and
laughing so hard we almost drop our phone. It’s not the same but it will have
to do for now. The only difference is I can tell he worries about me and I him.
It’s like we both kept each other grounded and looked after with our table
talks. We both thought the other one needed the time. Turns out we both did. Now our conversation ends with…”I love you” But I can’t tell you how much I can’t wait to make it home to that stupid
barn/house with the stupid big black dog at that stupid old table and talk
about stupid things. With the best old man I have ever met in my life!
I love you!
My Beautiful Family
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