House hunting, babies and my dad is a Republican pimp
My stepdad blames President Barack Obama for everything, including but not limited to gas prices, property values, the cost of anti- anxiety prescriptions and his dwindling retirement earnings.
I’m not really sure all that is Obama’s fault. I mean, my dad has complained about his retirement since Clinton was in office.
His new plan is to buy a rental property. Because when Obama sinks the entire country, at least my dad will still have $700 a month in rental income to live off of.
My dad also complains that my husband and I have only given him one grandchild. That’s Obama’s fault too, because Obama set the low price on Mirena, making it affordable to go on long-term birth control.
And in another universe not fixated on Obama, my husband and I have been house-hunting for the last year or so. We need more space. I told my dad that there will be no more babies until we have a three-bedroom house with 1.5 storage closets per person.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I found this gorgeous house. The price was right. The number of bedrooms was right. The number of closets was right. But there was the little problem of trying to off-load our fixer-upper in this economy.
Enter Dad. This is what dads are for.
Read carefully: This is just one more instance when I open my big mouth and make promises I don’t really want to keep.
“So,” I said to my dad. “We found a house. If you help us get into this house, not only will I pop out another grandchild for you, but I swear I’ll vote Republican in the next presidential election.”
He was quiet for a few minutes. I was quiet, too. Did I actually just say that? Eh. He knows I’m joking.
“Hmmm. Let me ponder this,” he said, and hung up the phone.
I thought nothing of it. What a good laugh I gave the old man! I thought.
The very next day at work, I got a phone call from him. “So, your mother and I have been approved for an equity line of credit,” he said.
“That’s great! Are you guys going on a trip or something?”
“No. We are buying your house for a rental property. Go call the bank and see if you can buy that other house. And remember: Vote Republican and reproduce.”
Yes. My stepfather was so swayed by the promise of a respectable, Republican-voting daughter and more grandbabies that he took out a second mortgage to buy our house so we could buy a roomier, Republican baby-making house. He managed to get approval for that second mortgage in one day.
Before y’all launch into how spoiled I am, please keep in mind that being pregnant is awful. Stretchy pants/constant heartburn/gassy/backache-y/bloated fingers awful.
And God only knows who the GOP will push forward in three years. Unless it’s Condi Rice. I think I can get behind Condi.
And what’s truly, truly awful, is having your parents involved in the procreation issue.
The other day, my dad stopped by “his” new house, which I still occupy. “You’re squatting,” he growled, as he dropped off a stack of moving boxes and a roll of packing tape. “And read this,” he said, and thrust a copy of “Arguing with Idiots” by Glenn Beck at me.
My mom stopped by a day or so later. She thrust a bottle of wine at my husband. “For the baby-making,” she said. “I can go buy more if you need it.”
There wasn’t actually a contract in place, but I’ll probably look pretty spoiled if I don’t have a kid now, huh?