The Functional Dysfunction

A son is a son till he takes him a wife, a daughter is a daughter all of her life.  ~Irish Saying

One of my favorite commercials EVER is the one where the father is standing outside practicing cheerleading routines with his daughter, yall know the one, they only play it every other commercial during Monday Night Football.  It's supes cute and endearing and it almost always triggers emotions about my own father.  Not because he was that father to practice cheerleading routines outside with me or practice anything with me for that matter…that in fact would be a negative.  I mean honestly, never would he give up his Saturday morning Kung Fu practices (in front of the TV) to practice something as “girlie” as a routine with me, hell that’s what mother’s are for lol.  As far as “practicing” anything went, was when he pulled out his nunchucks and put his “lessons” to work.  And trust, you did not want that to happen.  Imagine trying to get your Smurf watch on and ducking nunchucks at the same time, believe me when I say it was a pain.  But despite it all or lack of it all, I was and am still a total Daddy’s girl as much as I'd probably mumble that under my breath.   **As a side note, I am also a Mommy’s girl  (when we get along…we’re both Leo’s and that can a tricky thing to maneuver) I am the youngest.  But this post isn’t about her, I’ll chat about Beverly on another post,  you know when we’ve established a closer relationship...Ms. Bev ain’t for the weak lol.**

You all have all heard my tales of The Fath, if you follow me on twitter, I’m sure.  We have an odd relationship my father and me.  A relationship that’s really book worthy, but I’ll try to detail it briefly for you here.    As a kid, he was around, but not around if that makes any kind of sense.  My parents were young, and my mom did most of our rearing, and my father usually showed up at the end of the night, you know with a pack of now & laters and a knee tickle.  (if he knew I wrote that he’d argue otherwise, but its true) But I worshiped him nonetheless.  For some crazy reason he could do no wrong, even when he was, in fact, wrong.  THAT drove my mom crazy, but what’s a girl to do?  Honestly most girls are born Daddy’s girls I believe.  

I remember once my mom was out of town and we were playing dress up, and my father asked us who we were pretending to be.  Now, had he been really present he would have known that my sister, the one with the flare of the dramatic, already knew who she was dressing up as, but I, the one who flew by the seat of her pants , had not a clue and a question like that would throw me under the bus.  But how would he know that? This was way before the now & later on your dresser hour of the day and he was trying to engage us.  So, it went something like this,

Daddy: “Maia, who are you today?

Maia: “ A model”

Daddy: “That’s nice. Nene, who are you?”

Me: “ummm…a hooker”

Daddy: *in full blackout*  “A WHAT???”

So yeah, that dialog right there almost gives a classic explanation of my relationship with my father to a T and perhaps even foreshadowed our relationship to come when I became a teenager.  And noooo, I didn’t want to really be a hooker.  In my defense, T.J. Hooker was one of our favorite shows, which often times showcased a lot of ummmm… hookers, duh….and hell the pressure was on, that was all I could come up with, sue me!  I mean, who knew that a little hooker situation would send him on the deep end lol.

So with that said, it came to a shock to all when many years, a divorce, and several custody battles later, I ended up opting to live with my father at the age of 14, in the thick of his bachelorhood mind you.  Yep, I  threw the monkey wrench in his single days such that when I moved in,  we had only one sofa, and a black and white TV, and two mattresses and box springs ON THE FLOOR! Yes, I said on the floor, a situation my grandmother quickly put the kibosh on lol.   But, in his defense he had just moved back into our childhood home, and this set up was A-Ok for him….such a typical dude.  But anyway, at first it was my sister and I, and then my sister decided to move back with my mother mid way through our first year.  So I stayed with my father and it ended up being kind of like “his and her” kids.   It was probably the biggest shake up of my father’s life, and mine for that matter. He went from being a bachelor, to having a headstrong, attitudinal, know it all, 14 year old in his life.  And THIS is when I would say I, as well as my sister, established a closer relationship with my father.  We really had no choice right? 

And as you can imagine living with your father as a young girl is no cake walk.  Okay lies some was, like when I told him I didn’t eat leftovers or do dishes AND IT WORKED! Hahahaha! But outside of that it was hard. There were things he just didn’t get or made completely difficult.  My father and I are complete opposites and my sister and my father are the same person, so you can imagine the battle clashes we used to have, much like our very own War of the Roses. And the stories…they leave their mark just like a battle zone. 

Like….

The Battle of the Never-ending Basketball game:

Okay so, when you’re younger and you’ve just started your cycle, you don’t necessarily know your body well, so sometimes it would be a surprise to you right? Often times you would go to the bathroom and Helllooooo Monthly.  Now, living with my mother, no problem usually we had plenty a house with 3 women, just call out the bathroom and someone will toss you supplies.  Oh but nooooo, not in the Roberts house of 2.  Call out of the bathroom and the response that would come back would be something like “Can’t you wait until the game is over?”  Ummm sir, I’m sitting on the toilet…do you really expect me to sit her for another hour??? Word?

Or like…

Battle of REVCO:

The time he went to Revco and made the lady behind the counter call me at home to ask me what type of sanitary napkins I used, even though I explicitly told him BEFORE he left the house? << Sooo embarrassing!

Or like….

The War of the Mistaken Aliment:

The time when I had a stomachache and mistakenly told my father instead of calling to Tennessee to tell my mother?  Why I would do that, I have no idea.  My lovely father, unbeknownst to me, asked his girlfriend to take to me to the doctor.  So, yeah not a problem, that is until we get to the doctor and I realized she took me to the GYNECOLOGIST!!!!  Can you imagine my dismay, my fear, and my shock when she pulls out the clamp?!? No prep, no conversation with my mother, no clue what was going on AT ALL.  Never had I felt so….caught off guard. (thought I was going to say violated right? Nah, it was professional but shit you need to be prepped for something like that) I’ll never forget when I got home, I marched in and yell “I said I had a tummy ache damn it, not that I was pregnant!!!” lolol

Or like…

The Battle of the Jutted Out House:

The time when I just got my license and he made me drive my grandmother around all day, including dropping her off at home, 30 minutes away…And as I was backing up the driveway, something I did daily, I wasn’t quite paying attention (yeah you know where this is going) and cut the wheel before clearing the house and not only took off the front of the car but several planks of the house…yeah I think we still joke about that one. …

Or like…

The Battle of the Evening Affair:

The time I asked him how I looked and he told me, “only street walkers where red lipstick”?  Leaving me to assume that I…perhaps… looked like an umm…. street walker? Like who even says street walker…EVER *side eye*

Or like….

The Battle for Healthy Living:

When I moved in and we ate fast food EVERY day for a year, not 4 times a week, not 3 but EVERY day..NOT ONE COOKED MEAL NOT ONE DAY…FOR.AN.ENTIRE.YEAR

Or….

The Dating Showdown:

The time he made me and my sister go out and get the license AND license plate number of the car of the guys we were going to hang out with?  The same guys from our neighborhood???

Or…

World War Roberts:

The many rules of thumb to dating the Roberts girls?

*no mispronouncing our names even if it was one of my many nicknames

*no blowing the horn in the driveway

*no pulling up with loud music

*must come and introduce yourself and shake his hand

*You must introduce yourself with your government name, no Pookies allowed

*valid license and registration

You know I can tell these stories for days, and hell so could my cousins, friends, neighbors,  and guys I dated in high school.  It was the craziest, juxtaposed relationship ever!  And the tee hee hee is no matter how awkward that time was with my father, no matter how much I missed my mom and my sister, or how many times I threatened to move back to Tennessee (like that would hurt him lol) I wouldn’t change those 4 years ever. I’d go back and do it all the same, fast food dinners and all.   There is just something special about a daughter and her relationship with her father and my father and I have a unique one that no one will ever get but us.  And yes, we fought and still fight a lot, we clashed and bumped heads like no other, he often drove me mad with his crazy ways, nor was he the man to practice cheerleading routines with me as a kid, but hey who cares….

At least I can block a mean roundhouse kick! Pow!