The House of WTH

I'd venture to say that many bloggers come from interesting parents. It would make sense. But I always thought my parents were normal. Until I left home.

Take the day my father blew a flat on the turnpike while driving with a friend. They had no choice but to change the tire themselves, traffic flying by. Daddy, wearing his ubiquitous Phillies baseball cap, swiftly set to work. His buddy watched traffic.

"Terrifying," they assure me after filling me in on the ordeal.

My mom, however, is beaming a bizarrely delighted smile. "Tell her about the hat," she implores. Her voice is breathy, like a Belieber meeting Justin.

It seems Daddy's cap stayed on his head during the tire change, despite the high velocity traffic. But as soon as the boys headed back in the car, the hat blew into the 65 mph + traffic. The fellas elected to count their blessings that the hat was all they lost, and hopped back in the car.

As they pulled down the shoulder, the hat blew back towards their car. They were able to scoop it up just as they pulled back into traffic.

"Just like Indiana Jones!" Mom beams. Yep, Ma. Just like.

Another day, I call to inquire about Daddy's birthday. What should we do to celebrate? Mom answers, puzzled that I'm asking her. It's his birthday. I should be asking him.

I dutifully ask. "Nothing," Daddy says.

Daddy has children and grandchildren that want to celebrate with him. Dinner, maybe. Or breakfast?

"Nothing," he says again. Daddy has never said a lot. Asking for an explanation is pointless.

I offer to bring breakfast to him. That works. Until Daddy's birthday when Mom calls in the morning. She's not calling about Daddy's birthday breakfast delivery. Probably because she knows nothing about Daddy's BBD (birthday breakfast delivery). Why would she? He and I only planned it two weeks ago. She was sitting right next to him while we planned BBD during the phone call that she answered. No reason for him to mention it. Or for her to ask.

My BBD is overruled. Ma's friend is bringing breakfast. Not for Daddy's birthday. That would be crazy. She's coming to catch up with Mom. How to celebrate now?

"Bring your father coffee," Ma suggests. "Breakfast won't be til later in the morning, but call him and tell him you're bringing coffee." It seems Mom should be able tell him I'm coming with coffee. It's 6:30 in the morning. Surely they're together?

"Ummm....no. I haven't talked to him today." Of course she hasn't.

When I call Daddy, he has no interest in a visit from me, with or without coffee. "Daddy, are you saying I can't come see you? On your birthday?"

It turns out that yes, yes I can come see him. But I've been dealing with my failed BBD for two hours now. I need Starbucks first.

"Oh, can you get me a coffee when you're there?" says the man who had no interest five minutes ago.

After my BCD (birthday coffee delivery), my cousin, Sister Beta, calls to tell me she's taking my dad to breakfast in the morning.

"I'll call you right back," I hiss.

"Don't call him," Husband sighs.

"I'm calling."

"You'll get no satisfaction," he shrugs. I'm not deterred.

Here's the part where my dad is his most helpful in the birthday planning. He answers the phone. That's it.

"Really?" he says when I ask about Sister Beta's birthday plans. "I don't know anything about it. Talk to your mother." I'll wait a minute while you go back and read the beginning of the birthday planning again.

"Told you," Husband shrugs again. "I could have told you how that conversation was going to go."

"And you didn't because...?"

"I thought it would be nice to not communicate. Like your parents. It seems to work for them. Look how happy they are."