I don't know why I bother getting sick

So I was having a perfectly lovely conversation with my step mother about advanced stages of STDs when my father came home. He's been in Utah all day watching the University of wyomings football team get absolutely slaughtered in weather that could charitably be described as "frigid"

This was not the right time to have a conversation with him. I knew that, but so did Nicko. 

And so, after the required ten minutes it took to calm down my parents hound dogs who were convinced that my father had gone off into the unknown never to be seen again (they're not very bright), I allowed my step mother to hand the phone off to dad. And then came the problem.

You see my boss is an actor. This in and of itself is bad on a lot of levels, but this week it was an issue because he finished a play and immediately fell deathly ill with whatever strain of Ebola the little outbreak monkeys at the church theater company were passing around. And then Isaac came back to the movie theater and promptly infected me and another manager. The other manager is on codeine to soothe her cough, so I thought I was doing really well. And then I coughed while my dad was giving his yearly "well, we are all just hoping for a better season next year, and the basketball team is doing really well" speech. Coughing was a mistake. 

"You're sick." Came the voice of pure judgement. It was not a question. My father is a doctor and has spent his life carefully explaining to his daughters how to be healthy, making every illness into a personal affront. I launched into a detailed account of the play and the actors and my fellow managers death like status and about the time I was wondering allowed if I would have been Rene Russo or Kevin Spacey in the movie, my father cut into my ramble. 

"So you let yourself get sick," he said in the same tone that certain members of PETA use when addressing people found guilty of drowning kittens in burlap sacks. I felt instantly guilty for not drinking a gallon of Lysol as soon as I found out Isaac had succumbed to the plague. 

"Well..." I started. It was no use. What followed was ten minutes of the perfect mixture of condescending medical advice (he reminded me to shower more than once. Thanks daddy) and reassurances that if i had been trying at all I would not have fallen ill. At least I wasn't throwing up. That is when the conversations turn to what my diet is like. I spend at least 40 hours a week at a movie theater. My diet is shit, dad. Sorry that I'm such a disappointment. I know I'm not the daughter who runs half marathons OR the daughter that gave you grandbabies. Trying to lighten the mood I mentioned that at least I wasn't engaged when I was 19. Dad responded that when he was 19 he was premed in college. That shut me right up. 

So now I'm taking my inhaler every four hours and going to urgent care on Monday if I'm not feeling "like a six or better on my health scale" whatever that means and hopefully I can avoid hacking like a dying raccoon in earshot of my father for a few weeks. Wish me luck 

But I changed his diapers

My 19 year old nephew is engaged. His girlfriend is in the navy and just graduated boot camp and is about to head off to a station in Italy. They both plan to move onto the base there. The announcement has caused an uprising in my family, and I have spent the day playing a very careful game of dodge the social trap (like dodgeball if the balls were on fire and you were ostracized for three years for losing) and I am exhausted. I'm also of several minds on the whole issue. 

On one hand, this is a kid who has never payed rent, has never held a job for more than a few months and has never had any real responsibilities in life. And now he wants to get married. To a girl. And then assumedly they will want to have children. And once I go down this rabbit hole I end up in a deep dark cave of "oh god, I used to change his diapers and I'm not ready to get married so why the hell can he get married and what if he makes me a great aunt before I'm thirty" it's ugly. 

Another part of me is hoping that this is T growing up. The trip he took to see his now fiancé graduate from the naval academy is the longest he's been away from his parents ever. He proposed knowing that it would cause his trouble back in Colorado and he is clearly very happy with his decision. So fair play to him for finding someone who makes him that happy in this bonkers world. 

My third thought is that if this is the mistake that everyone in my family seems to think, the odds are it will work itself out. Making these big grand life errors are what shapes us, and if he is ever gonna be considered an adult, than he has to go through this without us jumping in to interfere. 

Basic conclusion? I love that kid fiercely, I always have. And I'll be here no matter what so I'm just going to sit back and watch him try to fly. Congrats little T. I'm always here for you