Todd slept in the living room, on his little black recliner, with the TV going in the background—usually with the news or an Ultimate Fighting Championship match on—wearing clothes he wore that same day.(Since I used to sleep on the couch until Bristol got pregnant, I know he doesn’t snore, so that’s not why he wasn’t in bed.) At four a.m., he was gone, off doing something.
Those two definitely didn’t get along much, especially after the campaign, when the cameras wouldn’t leave Bristol alone and her family wasn’t there for her.
Sarah was always in a bad mood and she was stressed out a lot.
He also offers some eye-opening scenes from the campaign trail and the birth of his and Bristol’s baby.
Slightly more than one year ago—just before the utter collapse of the economy—John Mc Cain stood on a podium at Wright State University, in Dayton, Ohio, to announce that his vice-presidential running mate would be Sarah Palin.
If she wanted a movie, Bristol and I would go to the video store; if she wanted food, we’d get her something to eat, like a Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell.
She’d try to bribe everyone to clean the house, or give us guilt trips.
Throughout the years I spent with them, when Sarah got home from her office—almost never later than five and sometimes as early as noon—she usually walked in the door, said hello, and then disappeared into her bedroom, where she would hang out. Other times she sat on the living-room couch in her two-piece pajama set from Walmart—she had all the colors—with her hair down, watching house shows and wedding shows on TV.
She always wanted things and she wanted other people to get them for her.
And at the time she was going to be my mother-in-law. I thought, Was this woman—who, at home, would literally say things that did not make sense—The Palin house was much different from what many people expect of a normal family, even before she was nominated for vice president. Sarah doesn’t cook, Todd doesn’t cook—the kids would do it all themselves: cook, clean, do the laundry, and get ready for school.
She wouldn’t give up, and I headed back to Wasilla. The Sarah I knew could carry her own and she was a hardworking lady. Most of the time Bristol, now 18, would help her youngest sister, Piper, 8, with her homework, and I’d barbecue chicken or steak on the grill.
I went four weeks on, three days off, which is how you make money.