Just Make Yourself At Home

That’s exactly what J-Fed recently did -- made himself right at home. It was about 6 p.m. when my phone rang. The Fedster apparently had a hankering to see his girls. While our 6-year-old was hanging out with grandma, the baby was around. I asked her if she wanted to see him. At first she was hesitant, but after a couple of shots and a tall glass of Merlot she permitted him to stop by. Oh wait… that was me.

Anyhoo, I agreed to let him visit the baby. You see, the last few months J-Fed and I had maintained as little contact as possible. As it should be. However, he did get a hair up his ass every now and then to see the kids on his off nights. While I’m inclined to be a bitch and tell him no, I put the shoe on the other foot and think about how I would feel if I knew somebody stood between my kids and I. So I simply grant him his wish and make myself scarce.

That would have been the case the other night, but I had just started watching a movie in the family room and I didn’t much feel like turning it off. I was all for not being in the same room with him. However, I wasn’t about to cease what I was doing to make him feel more at home, which is exactly what he did.

When he first arrived, he greeted the baby with hugs and kisses. I must preface this by saying that the baby ONLY lets her father hold her for longer than 60 seconds, and she only kisses him. Nobody else. Not me. Not my mother. Not my other daughter. Not my brother. But if the big tall dork walks through the door, she’s all about showering him with love and affection. It’s bothersome to say the least.

I feel like looking at her and asking her if she knows who wipes her butt, gets her milk at 3 a.m. and sucks the boogers out of her nose when she’s sick. How about giving that person a kiss every now and then? Talk about being her father’s daughter. I know a lil ingrate when I see one. Maybe I’m expecting too much from somebody who thinks it’s funny to sit in poop, but I’m not so sure. I’m talking about the baby… not J-Fed.