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.”

Ew. Ewwww.

There wasn’t actually a contract in place, but I’ll probably look pretty spoiled if I don’t have a kid now, huh?

Kami Collins lives in Delta with her daughter and her infinitely patient husband. Although she consistently causes her mother and grandmother embarrassment over her writing, her main focus each day is to not offend people too often. She can be contacted at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address), unless you are offended, and then you can contact your mom. Or contact her mother, and you can bond over your displeasure.


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