On Father's Day

Hey there, Ragers and Ragettes!!!  It’s been a manic Monday indeed!!!  I didn’t get much sleep last night down to the fact that it is very warm in our bedroom at night and Mother Nature has decided to make her monthly visit so no matter how I sleep I will not ever be comfortable.  Ever.  Plus I have changed my contraception so my body is getting used to it.  I will have to go through this for 3 more months and so it should settle down then.

This past weekend was nice and quiet.  On Friday we got a pizza and just stayed in, Saturday we did our food shopping, and had a quiet night in and yesterday was Father’s Day which was a bit emotional for me.

As you all know, I am quite a distance from Daddy Rage and well, I miss him.  I never was a daddy’s girl growing up and I used to be quite envious of friends who were close to their dad’s.  Dad was a strict disciplinarian.  If we were naughty growing up, we didn’t get this time out and naughty step shit.  No, my sister and I got our asses beat.  Simple.  I was a naughty child so I got my ass beat more often than my sister which, at the time, I hated my dad for it.  I associated punishment with dad.  Now dad didn’t beat us to a pulp, it was most a slap on the bum with his hand, a ruler or a slipper.  I didn’t make the same mistake twice but I found other mistakes to make.  I pushed my dad to his limit.  

Growing up, I saw my old man as an irritating presence.  My parents were busy lavishing their time on my sister, the child prodigy.  My sister, the apple of my dad’s eye.  She was a daddy’s girl.  Again, I was totally envious.

So in order to get attention, I rebelled.  Good and proper.  I was constantly grounded for talking back, staying out late, and every bit of rebellion I could throw at my dad.  Then I made the decision to leave my native land because I wanted to do what I wanted to do and not have to respond to anyone.

When I left home, I indulged in everything that a repressed Catholic girl could possibly do:  sex, drink, drugs, and every single type of vice that you can think of.  Plus my choice in men wasn’t the best.  I dated an abuser (physical and emotional), a druggie, a lazy man and other unsavoury types.

The whole time I kept thinking, Daddy please save me...

So I started to make amends with my old man.  I started to email and call and talk to him more often.  We started building bridges and building the relationship that I craved for so long.

Then 3 years ago, my father lost his job.  I felt for him because my dad worked so hard his whole life.  He once did 3 jobs just to keep us afloat.  He instilled in me the work ethic that I will work, even if it is scrubbing toilets with my toothbrush.  And I have kept that with me always.

So then when I went home for Christmas my dad and I started talking more. One night my dad opened a bottle of Jameson’s and we had the most honest conversation that we have ever had.  He opened up and told me about his childhood.  It wasn’t a happy childhood.  He apologised saying that he did the best he could.  With tears in my eyes, I hugged him and told him I loved him.  And since then my dad has been my hero.

I am now appreciating my dad.   He immigrated to my home back in 1978 with just my Mama and my older sister who was 3 months old at the time.  He worked hard for 6 years to keep the family afloat.  My dad is super intelligent and he took menial jobs, jobs that were definitely beneath him just to make sure that my Mama could stay home and take care of us.  

He never complained.  He always laughed and made us waffles on Saturday mornings when we watched Bugs Bunny on TV.  He’d read me the same bedtime story every night, did the funny voices just because that exact story was the only story that would make me sleep.

He was strict because he wanted me to be more successful and happier than he was.  

He taught me that men should treat us women like princesses, like the way he treats my Mama.  She has never pumped a tank of petrol; he deworms the garden so Mama doesn’t get grossed out by creepy crawlies.  He checked and made sure our cars were running tip top and if he noticed that our cars were low on petrol, he’d go out and fill it up for us.

My dad was and is my hero.

So Ragers and Ragettes, this Father’s Day I spent it with Simon’s parents.  Simon’s dad is a good man but he isn’t my dad.

When I called them in the evening, I had to choke back the tears.  I didn’t want to pussy out and cry.  I wanted to be strong like he was.

It’s taken me ages to understand him, he’s made me cry, laugh and I have learned so much from him.  I am so blessed to have had an amazing father.  

So Ragers and Ragettes, if your Father is close to you, please always tell him that you love him.  You only get one dad.

I will leave you with the last thing my dad said to me when I got on the plane to start me new life in England.

He hugged me and said, no crying now.  Betty, never forget who you are or where you came from.  He then smiled and said, also remember that you can tune a piano but you can’t tuna fish...

Oh dad, your jokes are the worst.....

Until next time, Ragers and Ragettes stay fabulous!!!

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxxxxxxxxxx