Friday, December 24, 2010

Home For the Holidays!!!!

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Except for my dad turning my heat back down to 65 degrees.

We’ve been going back and forth since yesterday. I realize I’m in Los Angeles but my house gets chilly so if I’m going to turn on the heat – I’m going to turn on the heat; a reasonable 78 degrees.  65 degrees is not heat.

Air conditioning and heat were always a hot commodity in our house. Spring was about the only time of year I didn’t hear my dad yelling, “Shut the door!” morning, noon, and night. Summer was especially stressful with all of us running in and out of the house with all the neighbor kids. Not only did his “Shut the door”s increase ten-fold, he had to keep up with the “Take off your shoes!”, “Slow down ya little rugrats” and“Is that water in my house?!” It’s no wonder my dad always walks around with a look on his face like something is about to break.

So when I woke up this morning freezing and saw that he had snuck out in the middle of the night and turned it down yet again, I calmly explained to him that I’d rather have the heat off entirely than down that low. He didn’t seem to be listening as he was too busy inspecting the locks on my windows and responded by giving me a lecture about how many candles I had around my house and what a danger it was.

My mother used to read us a children’s book when we were younger called, “I Love You Forever”. The mother would say to her son at various stages in his life (birth, being sent to school, graduation, wedding day):

I love you forever
I like you for always
As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

This book culminates with the son rephrasing this to his mother on her deathbed but instead of saying 'baby' says 'mommy'. Touching, though a little creepy when you’re 4. But I think this a good bedtime story for grown adults who aren’t used to having their parents visit them during the holidays. Because no matter how old we get, we are always our parents’ children.

As he put on his shoes to go check the oil in my car which I had told him was fine no less than 20 times, I asked:

“Am I old enough yet to say ‘my house, my rules?”
Without hesitation or even looking my direction he replied, “Nope” and walked out the door.

Ahhhh, Merry Christmas Daddy. I hope I’m never too old to call you Daddy.

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