"Nope. That's a big nope on that one dad."
This was my sister's response to my father's request for her to clean her room. My father then went on to demand that she get upstairs and clean her room "this instant" (was the phrase he used to use when I was still living there). But my sister told him to leave her alone because she was busy (talking to her friends on instant messenger). She said she would do it later and told him to iron her work shirt for her. He complied.
Astonished, is the best word I can think of for my reaction to this story that my mother told me yesterday. There was a time when my father would have beaten any one that would dare try to oppose his tyranny. i remember once getting a bloody nose for trying to finish my paper on the computer when he told me to go to bed. I remember being grounded for wearing socks in the house (I was supposed to wear slippers or go barefoot). I remember a time when my father would not only put me to work on whatever needed to be done in the house but would also put my friends to work. Who was going to say no those threatening eyes?
I did once. I had a girlfriend sleep over the house without my parents knowing and then woke up in the morning and tried to sneak off with my father's jeep to take her home. As I was pulling out of the driveway my father was at his window screaming for me to "get my ass back in the house". I took off anyway and when I got back to the house I had my father pulling me out of the vehicle by my ear and into the house. My father had already called the cops on me and said I had stolen his car. My mother called and reported that it had been returned and to dismiss the charges. I was only gone maybe twenty minutes.
Admittedly my situation was a little worse than just saying no to cleaning my room but he reacted this way with everything that I did. To him, me saying no to anything that he said to do was just as bad as me assaulting him with a crow bar. What he did to me after that was just self defense. He was the ruler of that household and what he said was the law in the house. Anyone who dare oppose it will bear the wrath of an alpha male on a rampage.
Now he irons my sisters shirts for her and cleans her room because she's busy talking on instant messenger and he would not want to interrupt her important schedule. My sisters laugh at him and poke fun. He gets emotional when the Yankees lose and will mope around for days. He doesn't argue his points much in the house because he's always outnumbered by the women who have taken over and have fresh smelling things all over the living room and fufu balls in the shower and twenty pairs of shoes at the bottom of the stairs which he organizes at regular intervals during the day after my sisters drop them. He cooks dinner and is offended if someone doesn't like what he's cooked and refuses to ever cook again until my sister gets on his lap and rubs his head and tells him that she loves him
and his cooking and gives him a big kiss and tells him to give her money so that she could get some new shirt or shoes or purse or her nails done or gas and promises to clean her room just after she gets the money and purchases whatever it is that she is trying to purchase at that moment. Where did my father go?
I don't know where he went. But I do know that when I go home now I feel him grabbing for me trying to get me to come back home so that he is not so outnumbered. I feel him begging me to save him. He has become a servant in his "castle". There was a coupe when I left the house for school years ago and he has been trying to regain control ever since. But it's not a democracy and even if it was he'd be outvoted.
He retires next year and has been bragging about it to the rest of the family. No one wants him to because that'll mean he'll be lurking around the house disrupting the power that they have gained, finding the little secrets that they were able to hide from him these past few years. My sisters usually just tell him to shut up and call him annoying when he talks about how many months of work he has left. I just hope I don't come home one day and see him knitting on a rocking chair with Oprah on and a cake in the oven. I don't think I could take that.
This was my sister's response to my father's request for her to clean her room. My father then went on to demand that she get upstairs and clean her room "this instant" (was the phrase he used to use when I was still living there). But my sister told him to leave her alone because she was busy (talking to her friends on instant messenger). She said she would do it later and told him to iron her work shirt for her. He complied.
Astonished, is the best word I can think of for my reaction to this story that my mother told me yesterday. There was a time when my father would have beaten any one that would dare try to oppose his tyranny. i remember once getting a bloody nose for trying to finish my paper on the computer when he told me to go to bed. I remember being grounded for wearing socks in the house (I was supposed to wear slippers or go barefoot). I remember a time when my father would not only put me to work on whatever needed to be done in the house but would also put my friends to work. Who was going to say no those threatening eyes?
I did once. I had a girlfriend sleep over the house without my parents knowing and then woke up in the morning and tried to sneak off with my father's jeep to take her home. As I was pulling out of the driveway my father was at his window screaming for me to "get my ass back in the house". I took off anyway and when I got back to the house I had my father pulling me out of the vehicle by my ear and into the house. My father had already called the cops on me and said I had stolen his car. My mother called and reported that it had been returned and to dismiss the charges. I was only gone maybe twenty minutes.
Admittedly my situation was a little worse than just saying no to cleaning my room but he reacted this way with everything that I did. To him, me saying no to anything that he said to do was just as bad as me assaulting him with a crow bar. What he did to me after that was just self defense. He was the ruler of that household and what he said was the law in the house. Anyone who dare oppose it will bear the wrath of an alpha male on a rampage.
Now he irons my sisters shirts for her and cleans her room because she's busy talking on instant messenger and he would not want to interrupt her important schedule. My sisters laugh at him and poke fun. He gets emotional when the Yankees lose and will mope around for days. He doesn't argue his points much in the house because he's always outnumbered by the women who have taken over and have fresh smelling things all over the living room and fufu balls in the shower and twenty pairs of shoes at the bottom of the stairs which he organizes at regular intervals during the day after my sisters drop them. He cooks dinner and is offended if someone doesn't like what he's cooked and refuses to ever cook again until my sister gets on his lap and rubs his head and tells him that she loves him
and his cooking and gives him a big kiss and tells him to give her money so that she could get some new shirt or shoes or purse or her nails done or gas and promises to clean her room just after she gets the money and purchases whatever it is that she is trying to purchase at that moment. Where did my father go?
I don't know where he went. But I do know that when I go home now I feel him grabbing for me trying to get me to come back home so that he is not so outnumbered. I feel him begging me to save him. He has become a servant in his "castle". There was a coupe when I left the house for school years ago and he has been trying to regain control ever since. But it's not a democracy and even if it was he'd be outvoted.
He retires next year and has been bragging about it to the rest of the family. No one wants him to because that'll mean he'll be lurking around the house disrupting the power that they have gained, finding the little secrets that they were able to hide from him these past few years. My sisters usually just tell him to shut up and call him annoying when he talks about how many months of work he has left. I just hope I don't come home one day and see him knitting on a rocking chair with Oprah on and a cake in the oven. I don't think I could take that.
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