To make a long story short, because I'm very tired, and in need of my bed, I spent the day at my parent's house. Had some errands to run in the Franconia area, so we made a day of it. And because I was already in the area, and our Excursion needed some work done, I asked my dad if he wouldn't mind working on it when he got home from work. And of course, he didn't mind. He never says no. So, my dad got home around 4, and immediately started working on our vehicle, and wasn't finished until 9:30. He didn't eat dinner first. He didn't come home and relax first. He left one job, and started another. When I mentioned to my mom how bad I felt that he had worked hard all day, and then come home and worked hard until 9:30 at night with no dinner, she replied with, "I know. He's a good man." That he is. No question there.
And while my dad was working on our vehicle, my mom was helping me with my very fussy kids. Tobin has his 7th tooth coming in already. He's not too thrilled about it. And he sure lets us know. So, we took turns holding him. In the midst of all the fussiness, my mom also managed to make us lunch and dinner. And although I didn't say it to her, she's a good woman. I hope she knows so. When I got home, and sat down to write this blog post, I realized how blessed and lucky I am to have parents that still take care of me. And my family.
Thankful that my dad is a good man. Thankful that my mom is a good woman. Thankful that I have them in my life. There would be a huge, gaping hole without them. I'm blessed to have parents who still, after all these many years, put us first. They put the needs of their children and grandchildren before their own. Needs like eating dinner. I'm so thankful to have parents that care so deeply. That kind of love and dedication fosters and cultivates the feeling of home.
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