Last week my dad drove down from Erie to help us with tying up some loose ends in the home renovation department. For lack of a better term, he was pretty much our bitch for five straight days, doing things like painting the front fence, putting up an arbor outside, installing door trim, fixing the porch screens, and basically every project we could think of that we don’t have the time or energy to do.
Not only was it nice to have the help on the house, but it was also great to spend some time with my dad. Ollie enjoyed seeing “Butt-Butt” (apparently how he pronounces, “Gramps”) and I had fun too (especially with a live-in babysitter for the week).
The only snag in my dad’s trip was when we accidentally “glutenated” him (he’s a Celiac, so can’t have anything with wheat) by giving him a bag of regular pretzels. But after researching how to stave off a gluten attack (apparently a shot of tequila and some Benadryl — who knew?!) he didn’t end up getting sick — which was a good thing.
The other crazy part was when my dad and I dropped Ollie off at his preschool. When we said goodbye, we heard the teacher say, “OK, Ollie, say byebye to Mommy and Daddy.” HA! They thought he was my husband. Which is gross — AND distrurbing, at least for me — because that means the teachers either think I’m a goldigger who married an old guy or else they actually think I look old enough to be married to a 63-year-old!!