I Love My Dad, Bavaria, and Fantastic Mr. Fox...

As I wrote at the end of yesterday’s post, my dad had surgery yesterday. According to my mom he is doing well and everything went as planned. He is already home and recovering.

I’ve decided that today I’m going to write about my dad.

Some people call my dad quiet. Some people say he is serious and stern. I think he is all of those things, but not in a bad way. I’m a quiet person and I understand needing quiet “me” time. In my relationship, I would say that I’m the serious one. Now I think that because I’m the youngest child I’m pretty laid back (although I know this was not always the case) and I sorta just go with the flow a lot of the times. My dad and Boyfriend play golf together, and it amazes me that Boyfriend really enjoys it. Again, not because my dad is a horrible person or because Boyfriend can’t get along with anyone, but because they are so different. I ask Boyfriend after every game, “What did you guys talk about?” And after every game he gives me the same answer, “I don’t know, stuff.” Thanks Boyfriend.

My dad is extremely kind and likes to do nice things for my mom, my sister, and me. One thing really sticks out in my mind. I will never forget the trip to Bavaria he planned for the four of us when we first moved to Germany.

So, we moved to Germany in between my freshmen and softmore years of high school. My sister was in between those same years but college. My dad moved over to Germany before my mom and I because he had to start working. This left my mother to pretty much move on her own. When I say “move” I mean be there with the packers, clean the house after it’s empty, tie up all ends with her job, get the car to Dallas (because for some reason cars are shipped overseas starting in Dallas???), and get me and her to Germany. To say it mildly, this is stressful. On top of the stress of moving across the ocean and to a whole new country, I was madly in love with my boyfriend at the time and thought my parents were the most wicked, most horrible people in the whole wide world for making me leave him. On top of leaving this boy who I had planned to spend my whole life with (yeah, we named our unborn children) I was leaving all my friends I had become very close with during the past three years. Yeah, three years… the longest I had ever lived anywhere. As much as I regret it now, I know I was a huge pain in the ass and should have helped my mom more.

So my dad has been in Germany for a while and is really excited that we are coming, so because he is the nice husband and father he decides to plan a trip for all of us. Isn’t that nice? He plans for us all to go to Bavaria!... the day after we get to Germany.

Imagine this scene… My dad is all super excited because his family is with him in Germany and we are going on a trip to the Alps. My mom is exhausted, but trying to put on a happy face for my dad. I hate my mom, hate my dad, hate Germany, hate the car, hate the trees, hate the mountains… I hate the whole damn continent I’m living on and my stupid parents for making me move there. Then there is my sister. Sister should be living the good life. She’s in college so she gets to go back home to land of the red, white, and blue, and restaurants where you can order iced tea. Pretty much she knows she will get two European vacations every year for the two years we are in Germany. She should totally be living the good life. That is except the one night we had in between flying and our road trip to the Alps, she has a huge allergic reaction to the bedding in our temporary little house. So my sister becomes crazy, huge, mega bitch. And we are all taking a road trip together in a small BMW. That’s right, no van or SUV to space us out… small midsized BMW only.

Honestly I don’t really even remember what we did or saw on this trip. I think we went to Neuschwanstein. I think this was the trip we went to Oberammergau and saw the Passion Play, but I’m not sure.(Learn about the Oberammergua Passion Play here. It's way cool we got to see this.)

What I do remember…

My sister sleeping a lot because of the Benadryl she was taking for her itchy rash.
My sister and my dad bickering at each other (because that’s what they do when one of them is annoyed, or when my sister is hungry).
Me, like the super emo teen I was, listening to the saddest CDs I could find and trying not to cry.
Me, not being able to sleep at night because we had been in Germany one F-ing day and I was so jet lagged!
My mom pretending her jet lag didn’t exist.
My dad yelling at all of us the “have a good time, damn it!”

Then on like day three or four my sister and I snapped. We couldn’t take it anymore. We were driving through Austria, looking at the beautiful mountains and streams and scenery in general and we snapped. We resorted into acting like eight year old and it felt good. You have to understand that my sister and I are almost four years apart. At that time in our life we weren't very close. I had just started high school and she was in college. That’s a big age gap for two girls. We had nothing in common. Now we loved each other and were sisters and what not, but close good friends… no. So we had to resort to acting like eight year olds because that was the time when we were close and had funny inside jokes.

I’m pretty sure it all started with Fantastic Mr. Fox. When we were younger and lived in England my sister and I both loved to read Roald Dahl books. My parents soon caught on and started buying us his books on tape. We had matching black tape players and would play the books over and over while we played in our rooms. I would always take the tape player into the bathroom with me when I took baths and listen to the funny stories. Just like when you watch a movie over and over again, my sister and I could quote the books. Actually, not only could we quote the books, but we could quote the books in the funny English accents that the narrators on the tapes used.

“Bogus and Bunce and Bean… One fat one short on lean…”
“It’s fabulous! It’s beautiful! It’s my turn!”
“Oh, Foxy… it’s like drinking sunbeams and rainbows…”

Fantastic Mr. Fox quickly gave way to Danny the Champion of the World.

“Pheasants are crazy about raisins.”
“Is that it? Is that the big secret?”
“Arr... Your car. I see what you mean sir. Beastly dirty birds pheasants are.”

This then opened to door to say any inside joke, any funny movie line, any stupid quote we could remember from our whole lives…

“Hammystars?”
“Llama face…”
“Hey James Bond in America we drive on the right hand side of the road.”

This was all said at the top of our lungs while we were trying hard not to pee our pants from laughing so much. We hadn’t even used up all of our Fantastic Mr. Fox quotes before my dad was telling us to “quiet down back there”. His voice and threats got louder and louder as our laughing became more and more uncontrolled. My mom was biting her tongue as to not laugh along with us, but quickly gave in. My dad tried to threaten us with “I’m going to pull this car over”, but that just caused more laughter from Sister and me in the back seat and my mom to laugh harder up front. Eventually my sister and I were too red in the face to keep up the jokes and my dad gave in and started smiling and chuckling along with us. This is why I love my father. The poor guy is totally out numbered all the time. He was an only child growing up and didn’t have a sibling to argue with, and he had all girls. Sometimes I really think he has no idea what to do with us, but is just along for the ride. He tries to be serious and grown up but deep down I know he thinks we are just ridiculous. He married my mother, who defiantly has a goofy side, and had too girls who have a pretty nerdy since of humor. He tries to keep up, and for that I love him.