More of Week 13

This has been such a roller coast ride of a week. Sunday with my family was absolutely perfect. Monday with Micha's family was great, but then Tuesday rolled around and the shit hath hiteth the fan-eth.

Monday, I told my boss that I was expecting. Tuesday he shares with me that he's concerned about the company and doesn't know how much longer we can hold out like this. What?!? Are you fucking serious? For months now, he's been saying that this is the nature of the business. At times we sit around on our hands and then, boom, business picks up and we are all so busy we don't know whether to scratch our watches or wind our asses. Could this guy have possibly picked a worse time to tell me, I am aboard a sinking ship?! Seriously.

Wednesday, despite concerns about how much longer I will be employed, was great. I felt good. I found pants that didn't look ridiculous or hideous. (Why are all maternity clothes covered in huge stupid floral patterns or black?) And then I went home. The kitchen was an absolute mess. Dirty dishes were filling the sink and spilling onto the counter, the dishwasher was full but hadn't been ran. And ants. Don't get me wrong, bugs are fine, some are even interesting- when they are outside. They do not belong in my kitchen crawling on my dishes. I literally went from zero to bitch in seconds. The bright spot was that Wednesday is yoga night. Yoga is how I maintain my sanity. Unfortunately, I was off, really off and I knew why.

When I say we told my family on Easter Sunday, that is only a half truth. My parents divorced when I was 5 so telling my family anything is a two-part ordeal. I knew that my Mom would be thrilled and excited, she loves being a Grandma. Dad is a different story alltogether. Dad and I don't have a typical 'Father/Daughter' relationship. Don't get me wrong, I love him. He's my Dad. We had some really great summers together when I was a kid. Then when I was 12 he just dropped of the face of the planet. He stopped calling or writing. We didn't visit him during the summer. Nothing. To this day, I have no idea why. Seven years went by without any contact between us. But at 18, he came through for me when I really needed someone to. I moved in with him and stayed until after Mumbles was born and I got my own apartment. I chose to forgive him and not to judge him. He'd been battling his demons for a number of years. I hadn't seen it when I was younger but as an adult it became glaringly obvious.
That was 10 years ago and my life is vastly different now. I have toppled mountains. I graduated from college, the first on my Mom's side to do so. I'm raising my daughter and I don't think I've screwed her up too bad. I work, I have a wonderful partner and we've purchased a home together. Through all of this, I don't remember my Dad being happy for me. I can only remember one time when he even had anything positive to say about everything I've been able to accomplish. I don't feel like he's disappointed with me, except for in my choice of living arrangements, but I also don't think he can just be happy for me. I am happy and feel that I have a wonderful life. Isn't that what parents are supposed to want for their children? Maybe I didn't emphasis how excited Micha and I are about having a baby? No, he just launched into a diatribe about good parenting and how he can't speak from a place of authority even though when he signed the liscense he meant it. Then he went on about his childhood buddy's dog. No 'Congratulations!'. Didn't ask when the baby was due. Nothing. Sadly, I knew the conversation would go this way. You can't expect a duck to bark like a dog. Yet, I was still in tears. Why the fuck do I even talk to him? Because if I don't I feel guilty. Because when he dies, I don't want to regret that I didn't. Because I know he is lonely and miserable and I feel sorry for him. I feel better being a bright spot in his day, even though he can be such a dark spot in mine. I'm tougher than him. I can survive him making me feel shitty for a few minutes once a month because I know I have so much more to look forward to. And because despite everything, I love him. I love him for the person I know he was meant to be, but just couldn't.
Micha held me while I had a good cry about it, I ate a bunch of candy and passed out. While I was asleep, Micha cleaned the house...the whole house. Floors, windows (jealous yet?) everything and even made bread. See? So much more to look forward to!