We're all alright, We're all alright, We're all alright- from Surrender by Cheap Trick

Amanda's baby came home today. There was something going on in the lungs and they wanted to keep an eye on him. Hopefully it's in the past.

I went along with Teri to meet the newest member of the family and the baby's aunt and grandmother, very nice people. I was the only male there until Kenny, the father, not the son came home. I guess, if I felt like it I could make a joke about Kenny, the father, Kenny, the son and Kenny the holy ghost, or talk about how confusing it is when both Kenny jr and Kenny sr come home on the same day at almost the same time, but I don't feel very happy. Just before Teri and I left I noticed several bottles of 43 on the dining room table. I got a little angry at Elena. Two of the bottles were the vegan variety of 43 and I know Elena bought them.The bottle of regular 43 Sean and Nastia purchased I didn’t give two thoughts about. We leave. When we return, I walk in the back door (only guest come to the front door, at least that’s the way it used to be.) and I walk into the dinning room. I get a big friendly hello and hug from Nastia. I wasn’t happy, but she is 21+ so what can you do. I then notice about a third of the bottle of regular 43 is gone. I'm concerned, but I’m sure Nastia shared it with Sean and Elena. Except Elena went over to Matt’s and Sean had some vodka and soda near him. Nastia and Sean are going to order pizza. I say, I’ll go get it. Nastia wants to visit her friend at the pizza parlor. Teri and I say no. If you want to keep her as a friend don’t go. I think we convinced Sean to let me get the pizza. Nastia is asked to go up stairs and lay down for a little while. She insists she’s fine and she insists she is not tired. I force her upstairs and the last twenty feet I fireman carry her. You know, an arm around the thigh and the other holding onto her arm with your carry, I mean daughter (I still not feeling happy, so that joke, yes a small joke, just kind of slipped out.) across your back and into the bedroom and gently placed on her bed. The next time won’t be so nice. Sean is up with her. I go to oversee dinner, Teri and I are having leftover pork chop she made earlier in the week. I think after a little while I hear that she has left the house and is walking down to the pizza parlor. She has no phone and no money. So no pizza. I wasn’t going to let her go. I go out the door and from the porch I use mean daddy voice on her (yes I have one and the only person who hears it is Teri when we get into a fight. I’d call it mean Joe voice,but that doesn’t sound as, you know…cool.) I tell her she has no phone, no money and better get back here.Sean runs after her and is talking to her. I again yell in a normal voice she needs to come back or I’ll carry her back. She argues with him saying she wants to go visit her friend at the pizza parlor. I see he’s getting nowhere so right in front of our neighbors Mike’s house I grab her leg, pull her arm over my back and lift her up and start walking home. I’m 65, I quit doing this stuff long time ago, but I’m angry. So like I’m only 63 I carry her across my back, up the street, up the front stairs, UP THE STAIRS TO THE SECOND FLOOR, down the hallway, during the whole trip I’d like to check my pulse or at least stop to see if I’m having a heart attack. I’m puffing the whole way like an old steam locomotive. In her room I throw her on the bed. Told you it wouldn't be so nice. I take her shoes off and throw them down the stairs. I know that won’t stop her, but it will slow her down a little. She stays and Teri and Sean comes in and I believe I’m asked to go tend to dinner or maybe to just leave, I don’t remember. I do remember I’m in the kitchen cooking dinner when I hear her throwing up. It is not a time of triumph or I told you so. It just makes me sad. I never want either of them to feel pain, even necessary pain like a hangover or the dry heaves. She drank quickly and often. Teri and I were not gone long. With driving Nancy home,maybe an hour or a little over that. She, with maybe some help finished off a good third of the bottle. There was a time earlier in the evening when I told her she was acting like what I thought her Russian mother acted like. This got her angry. She yelled she is not like her, she doesn’t have a problem. It doesn’t matter. She needs to take her family genetics into account and to take it seriously just like I have for all of these years. And I will worry, just like my mom did for all of the years I seemed not to listen to her about it. I cooked an extra pork chop and we invite Sean to eat with us. He spends some time upstairs, relieving Teri of holding her hair back as she prays at the porcelain god. Sean finally gets her back to bed.At dinner Sean and I agree that if she’d gone to the pizza parlor, she’d have thrown up there and neither of them would have ever stepped foot in there again due to extreme embarrassment. Sean also say that Nastia has been off lately. When they went to Jessie’s, the one with the son, she was quiet. Jessie even commented. I, on the other hand, never seem to notice these things. Nastia, Elena and I played Super Mario Brothers all rainy afternoon and she seemed fine. She also drank on an empty stomach. She had an English muffin and some strawberries all day, bad idea. I go up to hold her hair back when she returns to the bathroom. At this point she is having the fun of the dry heaves. Your body wants to expel some more of the poisons in your body, but they are all in your bloodstream and your stomach is empty. So nothing comes up. There is the involuntary spasm, your throat is prepared for vomit. The mouth is open, the salivary glands are working causing your open mouth to drip and make you want to spit, which you do after it’s over. With all that preparation, nothing comes up. I guess it’s your body’s way of telling you to never do it again.And at that moment you're swearing you’ll never do it again. After I while of this I help her back to bed.During this whole time she is hyperventilating. I’m concerned. As she falls asleep her breathing returns to normal and I get scared because I can’t hear if she is breathing. I lean in close and she is breathing normally. Sean comes up and as I leave I ask him to check on her to make sure she is breathing. I wasn’t kidding. She scared me tonight. More than I ever want to be scared by her again. The two of them came to America for a reason. I may not ever know the reason, but it is not so one of them dies in a most useless manner as drinking too much. Monday comment- Here's the big kicker from Saturday night. Came Sunday morning when I went in to see how she is doing. I expect to see someone lying on their stomach with drool leaking from their open mouth groaning quietly, eyes vacent, wishing the hangover was done, suffering from a massive headache. I find her on her back, glasses on looking at her phone like nothing has happened the previous night. I on the other hand should not have carried her across my back. I’ve known for years I have two disks in my neck that are touching and when I use my shoulders for much of anything, like let's say carrying your drunk daughter back in the house, upstairs and throwing her on her bed that the next morning I’ll have a headache. So when I asked God not to make her suffer too much from being an overindulgent child, he interpreted that to mean I get the hangover. Fair play God! *Why do Irish people say fair play? This is a common Irish phrase that has transcended borders. It's the Irish way of saying “Well done.” If anyone has done even a remotely good job or achieved something, then the Irish praise comes in the form of “Fair play.” - Yes I'm being a little sarcastic.