Daddy's Little Girl

Whether a daughter is seventy-three or three, they never quit being Daddy’s Little Girl. I am seeing this scene played out in front of my very own eyes.
=
I recently wrote “When Grown Children Come Home”. I got flack from the family on this one. They said I didn’t tell the whole truth. I told the truth as I saw it. They are finally speaking to me again, but maybe not for long. I decided to go for it again.

The Grown Children article caused even a stir among our friend’s children. Why is it? Is it because a family doesn’t want to change, they like it the way things are, or they don’t feel it is necessary? I don’t see any change in the near future in our family either.

I have observed Al’s relationship with our youngest single daughter who is over thirty and has come home. When she moved back to Pagosa, she reminded us she could take care of herself and has for twenty years, but she came home to be with family.

I think my sweet Al is the problem. Al caters to our daughter. They argue a lot about nothing. He teases her, she gets into a huff. They go garage sale shopping together, fishing, and they love their dogs. She programs her dad’s shows for him, explains to him how to answer his phone and is a very good daughter. She tells him what to do and he does it. It’s a great relationship in their minds and everyone is happy.

I am staying out of this match made in heaven; it would be like separating two mad dogs, they would turn and bite me for sure. But it’s too good not to write about, so I am pouring me a cup of coffee and watching this thing go on between a dad and a grown daughter. This is one of those family things. I remind him she is grown up and she should be doing things on her own. Al maintains she is alone and he needs to take care of her.

Our son-in-law says, “She doesn’t need a husband because she has DADDY.”

It’s true. Al keeps oil in her car and washes it, takes care of her puppy, makes sure she gets up early for work, even takes breakfast over to her house and visits with her before she goes off to work. The list goes on and on and on.

I’m with our son-in-law I’m not hearing wedding bells any time soon either.

Al is the best ironer in town. So our daughter says, “Daddy, will you iron my blouse?”
“Yes honey,” He says.

Am I jealous? Absolutely not, he does and will do the same for me.

But this is one where I sit back and say, “Al, she doesn’t need you doting over her.”

And he responds, “But someone needs to, so I do it.”

A few weeks ago, our grownup daughter went out to a party. Al woke up at two in the morning, didn’t see her car, she wasn’t home. He started worrying about her, so he called her and told her she needed to come home.

Mind you, she’s been on her own for 20 years and has had the freedom to come and go as she likes. Al is being a concerned dad.

“This isn’t really happening?” She said. “I can’t believe you called me at a party and told me to come home. I am old enough to know when to come home. Don’t ever do that again, you embarrassed me.”

Her friends got a good laugh out of it and thought Al was cute in doing so. She didn’t. They argued in a lighthearted way and continued doing what they do, being Daddy and Daddy’s Little Girl.

So when do you cut the ties? And can you cut the ties, let them grow up and still love them?

I say, “Yes!” But no one is listening, they like things the way they are.

Al says she is stubborn. She won’t do what he tells her to do. He knows what is best for her. I look at Al and think, “And where does she get this from?”

Is anyone going to change? Why change and mess up a great thing.

We have three daughters and if you ask Al, each one is his favorite. In his old age, he won’t have to worry; his girls will take care of him. I’m not sure about me.

I’m praying, “Oh Lord, don’t let me fall into the hands of my children.”

I tease with my daughters, “You won’t put me in an old folk’s home, will you?”

Not teasing, my daughters answer, “If you’re not difficult Mother, or it IS Shady Farms.”

Final Brushstroke! It’s all in the family. A girl will always be her Daddy’s Little Girl. Some things will never change.

Big Boy's Toys - Just a Bigger Price!

As soon as “The truck is too big” article came out, I received several replies. It hit a nerve with several people. I thought I was the grownup here; apparently I am the old one here. This is from Sam. Betty, Betty, Betty, TOO OLD? TOO OLD? TOO OLD? Our boy toys are NEVER too big; and we are never too old for new and bigger toys. If I could afford it, I’d have me another plane and just fly the wings off of it. I have a neighbor who is leaving next month to travel to Alaska on his monster motorcycle, he is 75 and I don’t think I’ll tell him his motorcycle is too BIG, or he is too old.  Hang in there Al!! Love your column!!!!!

A neighbor said, “Ease up Betty, don’t be so hard on Al.”

A co-worker at Ace asked our daughter if her Dad drove a big silver grey truck.

Our daughter said, “Yes.”

She said, “I thought so, I watched him go back and forth, up and back in the parking lot for ten minutes trying to park. Tell your mother, I agree, the truck is TOO big for your Dad.”

Everyone has an opinion. So here goes, to all the grownup boys with their big toys and big price tags.

Al’s brother calls the same day, leaves a message on the machine. “Al, lay off the butter. And it would do well for Betty to lay off the butter too.”

“It will do well for Betty to lay off the butter too?” These were fighting words. I’ve know Al’s brother, David, fifty-one years. We decided a long time ago we needed to love each other for Al’s sake, so we do. We live in different worlds, sweet Al is our only common ground.

When Al’s brother called back later, I told him I wrote about him and his 30 year old girlfriends, and called them his big boy toys. I also reminded him he turned seventy-eight this month.

He said he just got back from the gym.

I said, “I guess with those thirty year olds, if they see you without clothes, you would do well to go to the gym.”

“It’s not that. It’s rigorous, dating these young girls. I’ve got to stay in shape; they take a lot of energy.” Then he laughed. “I had a date with Caroline the other night. She is twenty-two. Her boyfriend got mad and I was going to have to beat him up.”

“Realllly! And he was scared of you? Oh my, the price of big boy toys!”

Al’s brother said “I’ll send a picture of Caroline; she is a knock-out, except Al doesn’t know how to retrieve pictures from his phone. Maybe your daughter can retrieve it for him.”

“I know,” I said, “His phone is too big for him too. Back to this girl, do you realize you are dating someone the same age as our granddaughter? She could be YOUR granddaughter.”

So what in the world is a twenty-two dating a seventy-eight year old man?” I asked him.

“It’s because I know how to treat these girls. These young bucks don’t treat them right.”

My son-in-law says, “It’s his money!”

My daughter says “It’s his charisma!”

I say, “What in the world do they talk about? It’s ridiculous.”

David says, “I don’t do anything, they just start flirting with me.”

Al says, “It’s true. He walks in the door, women’s heads turn. He doesn’t encourage them. They fall all over him.”

David tells me, “I’m bringing a girlfriend this weekend to Pagosa. Betty, don’t get religious with her.”

I cock my eye, lift my eyebrow and think, “Oh me. I’m too old for all this nonsense.”

So you see. Everyone is in his own world and apparently doesn’t mind paying for his toys. Al likes his big truck and his brother likes his young girlfriends. Everyone has their toys and I have my stories and I love writing them. I know you think I’m making this stuff up, I’m not! If I’m lying, I’m dying!

Final Brushstroke! Everyone has their toys. But oh the price we pay for those toys.