So after a big pile of stress and anxiety and worry on Wednesday, I brewed and stewed and obsessed and anxietied all afternoon and evening. I rediscovered the hidden advantage to working with a bunch of therapists... free therapy! So I bounced my situation off my coworker, got some new and valuable perspectives, stewed some more, and then had a ten-minute talk with my dad in the evening, just letting him know why Willem's strung out and what my dad could do to help, and asking for his take on the situation. Which he delivered, without getting angry or overly defensive. And then we both moved on, and since then I've noticed him making more of an effort to chill out and not swear around the kids - hooray! So THAT's how adults do things. Huh.

I know, I know, in a perfect world Willem would have approached my dad directly and I wouldn't have gotten involved, but since when does family operate in a perfect world? Willem grew up in a family where stating your preference is right up there with vomiting in the Japanese prime minister's lap as far as social faux pas is concerned. He's gotten much better about telling me when he wants things changed, but he hasn't gotten to the point where he trusts my dad not to bite his head off and then play basketball with the skull if he tells him what he wants changed.

Sigh. It is so much WORK being a grown-up.

Today's my dad's birthday, and he insists and insists and insists that he doesn't want a big deal made out of it, birthdays aren't a big deal after you're 13, blah blah blah. I think it's really more his excuse for not meeting my mother's (often unrealistic, I grant that) standards for her own birthday wishes, but he keeps saying it and I'm kind of going to take his word for it. Not 100%... I'm still going to cook a nice dinner and bake a cake today... but I'm not going to obsess about getting him a nice gift or whatever. I'm not, really, honest. I swear.