It’s been six months since my father passed away unexpectedly. I have had enough “look on the bright side” shit to last a lifetime.
- He’s no longer struggling with his PTSD
- He loved you guys more than anything
- He’s up in heaven fighting the good fight for God
- He’s always going to be with you, looking after you, putting a hand on your shoulder when you cry to help ease the pain
……..wait…..WHAT? Like ALL the time he’s going to be watching me? Does he just close his eyes when I pee or does he leave the room? Do I need to hold in pee farts (you know what they are, you forfeit all fancy-ness when you click on my blog)? While he’s with me, does he maintain his earthly morals and thought process or is it like a whole different mindset once you’re on the flip side?
Now because of these unknowns, I’ve decided to set some Her et al./Papa in Heaven et al. ground rules. I’m positive he’s subscribed to the heaven translation of Her et al. which is my blog without all the shits and far! Hi mom.
And away, we, go: (Love me some Billy in the Streets)
- Please leave the room when I’m naked. You haven’t seen me naked since like, oh my last diaper change with you. I know there was that one time when you almost accidentally walked in on me delivering Sissy et al. and we ALL lucked out when that nurse stopped you. Soooo…lets keep all this yummy between me, my hubby, and the lady parts doctor!
- Goes without saying (I hope), but no watching sexy time with Hubby et al. Maybe we should try the whole tie on the doorknob thing from colle…..er I mean….from TV.
- Baby et al. is the only company I need during potty time and I only let her in because I don’t trust her to not try to swallow 50 hair ties the moment she gets 2 minutes alone. Plus she laughs during those awkward pee fart’s….lets be honest, we all do. It really should become a “thing”.
- If you don’t want to hear me cussing about your precious granddaughters, steer clear of the house around nap time and 8pm if the baby is protesting sleep, and anytime I’m awake before like 7am. Although pre-7am cussing sessions can have multiple causes (the sun, hubby breathing, waffles that don’t toast themselves).
- If, by any chance you see me in the garage freezer grabbing a box of Girl Scout cookies…do NOT under ANY circumstances, follow me into our bedroom. You don’t need to see me like that. The random chocolate spots on my robe and my carb-overloaded facial edema in the morning tell more than I’d care them to.
- Please do not appear to me in my dreams. Those are sacred spots for the hot celebrities I’ll never meet and there is no bigger sexy time killer, than your dad.
- I reserve this right to add to this list via speaking outloud anytime I stumble upon a situation I’d rather my father not witness.
I’ve come to the part in my grieving process where I’ve accepted but not forgotten. I find that humor keeps his goofy-ness fresh in my mind and I cherish those memories of my dad.
Turning, turning, constantly turning.