"Step-Dad" exit stage right.
Dear Husbands "Step-Dad" got on his plane this afternoon and is gone. I keep putting "Step-Dad", I should just put Dad down. It is his Mothers second husband. She has been married since. So it is not REALLY his "Step-Dad". It is really his Dad, simply put. He has kept in touch, offered guidance, and has been more of a "Dad" than any other man. So I think I will just call him Dear Husbands Dad.
Dear Husbands "Dad", is an interesting guy. He has his a Masters degree in developmental Psychology. He is a Secular Humanist, and oddly enough a Democrat, he is quiet and very mild mannered. So I felt as though I had hired an "existential detective", Like in the movie I Heart Huckabees.
I might add here, I am burned out, on the "housewife" thing right now. The job I have always wanted, and never thought I would be able to have, "housewife". The Mom part is going ok, I LOVE it. However,the cleaning off the floor under Pink Ninja's highchair for the fourth time. It is the laundry that multiplies in the hamper overnight, it is the monotony of the chores. Chores which my own Mother ALWAYS had done, my Mothers home was always SPOTLESS, you could eat out of her toilets. However, I cannot remember my Mom EVER PLAYING with us. Hence I am trying to find the balance between being a good Mom, and keeping the perfect house, and being a gracious hostess, and I am finding it impossible. I think the 18 month deployment did not help matters, being alone well, well it just sucks. I am still recovering, and I was the one at home.
So, Husband's Dad is here, and he is an EASY guest. He is very laid back, does not demand anything. You could not ask for a better guest. The whole time he is here, I am paranoid about my parenting skills, and what irrevocable damage I am causing my children. I feel as though at the end of the day I should sit down and ask for child rearing device, ask what mistakes he has seen me make through the day, and realize I DO NOT want to know. I am sure the list is endless. So I sit here with Pink Ninja with a 5 pound cast on her right arm, and Dash who is not only 3 but a perfectionist, and wonder what he is thinking.
Instead we go to B.B. King, and eat ribs, and we dine on Tandori Chicken, and talk politics, economy, the differences between the South and the Midwest. We catch up on stories of relatives,we watch Season 2 Chapelle Show and we eat popcorn.
I never asked for a meeting with my existential detective. I do NOT want to know.