Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I'm a spoiled daughter

I admit it.

I am so spoiled. I am 42, have four boys of my own, married for almost 17 years... and am not above letting my parents be my parents and spoil me.

I'm home sick today with strep throat. My throat is on fire, I can't possibly have enough blankets to stay warm, my skin hurts and our cleaning lady is coming in about an hour. I don't want to be there when she is there.

So I called my dad.

Me: Daaaaadddd? (I say this as pitifully as possible).

Dad: Yes Chino! (He is always so upbeat when I call).

Me: Daaaaaaddd? I don't feel good and the cleaning lady is coming and I don't want to be here when she gets here.

Dad: Oh! Okay! Do you want to come?

Me: Yeah.

Dad: Well you need to hurry, we are leaving shortly to the dentist.

Me: Daaaaad?

Dad: What?

Me: Will you come and get me?

How incredibly pitiful is that?

Dad: Oh! Okay. Yeah. I can be there at 9:35ish, 9:40.

9:35 or 9:40?... I'm not going to ask why not 9:30. I'm just not going to do it. 

Me: Okay - I'll just wait by the window. Whenever. 9:35 or 9:40 is fine.

Dad: Or do you want me to come now?

Me: No. You don't have to come now.

Dad: Because I am not dressed.

Then how is he going to come now?

Me: No dad. That's okay. 9:35 or 9:40 is fine.

Dad: Are you sure you don't want me to come now.

Me: No. I'm fine. I need to get some stuff together anyway.

Dad: I am not dressed but I can come and get you.

Me: Dad. No. It's okay.

Dad: Okay Chino. 9:35, 9:40. We'll see you.

So I get my things together. Pillow - check. Tea - check. Splenda - check. Cell phone - check. Computer - check.

He picks me up at exactly 9:35.

I make sure to put my hat on... if he sees me without a hat he'll scold me for not wearing one when I don't feel good.

I climb into the front seat.

Dad: What is that?

He is looking at my pillow.

Me: It's my pillow.

Dad: You're what?

Me: (louder) My pillow.

He laughs.

Dad: We have pillows.

Me: I know. But I need my pillow.

He pulls out of my driveway.

Dad: You look pale. I'll take you to the clinic if you want after we come back from the dentist.

Me: (pitifully) Thanks Dad.

I really want to say - "Thanks Daaaaddddyyyy!"

We get to the house.

Dad: Do you want me to get you anything?


Hmmm... in my head I am thinking McDonald's.... fries and a hamburger....

Dad: Do you want McDonald's?

Me: Okay! That sounds good.

When I was a kid, when my brother, sister or I got sick and felt like eating... Dad would go and get us McDonald's. A hamburger and fries. Something about those fries was very comforting.

I walk into the house and mom is waiting to leave.

Mom: Do you want us to get you anything?

Me: Yeah. Dad already asked. McDonald's.

Mom: Oh my Gaaad! (She laughs at me. She knows I'm being spoiled) Okay. McDonald's.

The house is mine now. My parent's house is the best. They have everything. Yummy food (probably because they don't have kids eating their way through everything)... cozy blankets... comfy furniture...

I make myself some tea, find one of my mother's crocheted blankets, and create a nest for myself on my favorite couch in a sunny room.

It is perfect. I feel better already...

...and guilty.

But not guilty enough to change a single thing.

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