Dinner, dishes, and Dads

Tonight we had a very uncomfortable family dinner. My host mom had had a busy evening driving the boys to and from karate class, and they were being very troublesome about taking a bath. So she didn't have dinner ready until pretty late in the evening. My host Dad, who as far as I had seen had not lifted a finger to help, was not happy about this.
"Geez, it's already 8:30!" He whined. "It's so late, what have you been doing? Kelley, you must be starving, aren't you?"
Woah, mister. Don't bring me into this.
"She must be very busy," I tried to say tactfully.
"It's 8:30 already!" He continued.
"Shut up." My host mom said quietly.
"You said it would be ready by-"
"Shut up."
At dinner no one made any conversation. Just to be mean, the older host brother stole some food from the younger one, who started to cry, and I could see my host mom seething in her chair. When my host dad finished he left without a "gochisosama," ("thank you for the food") which is quite rude in Japanese culture. My host mom started snapping at her sons who were making a mess with their food. And of course, everyone left their dishes for her to clean up afterwards. As usual I offered to help with the washing, and as usual she insisted that it was not necessary. Tonight I felt really bad for her so I tried a little harder though.
"In America, the person who cooks and the person who washes the dishes are never the same person." I said.
"Really?" said my host mom. "Japanese men never do the washing. Since long, long ago, they have never done it."

I miss my daddy, who brings my mom flowers just because, cooks nice dinners when she's not feeling well, and never lets her do the dishes.