They came on Saturday morning, and I was in the unfortunate predicament of being tied up on the phone with Verizon for over an hour, trying to resolve my internet issue, that I couldn't do much more than wave to them when they arrived. Not to worry, though; Brian took over for me. Soon I untangled myself from the attempt to fix my internet and finally got off the phone with these people, only to have them call me back a few minutes later. After getting off the phone once again, we took my parents out to a few of the local shops, because my mom had been wanting to purchase some apple butter.
On Sunday, my parents were determined to help us paint the baby's room. By "help" I mean they did most of it. In our defense, Brian and I did paint one wall the weekend prior. For us it was a big deal. We had never painted before on our own. I had always assisted my parents, but had never done any of it alone. I'm not sure if Brian ever helped his parents. So doing the one wall was quite an accomplishment for us.
While Brian and I were at church, my parents were painting the trim in the room. We came back, ready to help out, only to find we were very low on paint, and so Brian was sent out to get more. When he returned, the four of us finished the room rather quickly. We had thought we were done.
Then on Monday morning, my parents began ripping up the tape and getting rid of newspapers, when I took a step back and looked at the walls. There were noticeable spots that we missed! We couldn't quite figure it out, because we knew we had painted those spots, yet there they were, glaring at us. In all fairness, the paint that we chose was rather light, making it difficult to see missed spots, but I think we finally determined that two coats were needed. Since we had already cleaned up, my dad offered to paint with the brush instead of bringing out the rollers. I felt bad, because my dad insisted on getting the job done after I said I'd do the touch ups during the week. I guess the thought of me doing it by my pregnant self bothered him, and he wouldn't hear of it. So my mom and I scrutinized the entire room and pointed out to my dad where to paint. It was a rather significant amount that he painted with the brush. He's a real trooper.
All in all, we did get it done, and if there are any more missed spots, I'm just not looking. Easy solution, right? In any case, it looks much better than it did before.
Here's my dad in action. It turns out he worked as a teen one summer as a painter. I tried to pick up a few tips from him, as well as book him for our next painting venture.
My poor mom. She's definitely worn out a bit here. I missed a shot of her in action, but in action she was. Not only did she help out with painting, but she insisted on helping me around the house. She even did the things I don't think about, like dust the ceiling fans. I am looking forward to her visit after the baby arrives, when she'll be staying for a week.
My family also gave this to us, one of the larger items from our baby registry:
My mom also brought me a few baby outfits, including this one which stole my heart:
When my parents left on Monday, Brian was at work because his school took back President's Day due to all the used snow days. When I said goodbye to them, I entered my house, which suddenly seemed empty, and cried. It broke my heart, all the hard work they did, especially the painting, simply because they love me. It is always a heartache to me to have to come and go, come and go with them. I most likely will never live close to them again, and like I said above, even though I am used to it, part of me will always be saddened by it.
I will see them again next month, when Brian and I head home during his spring break, where my family is graciously hosting my baby shower. (It is also payback time, since I did this for my sister.) It was a great visit with my parents, and I know they are looking forward to the arrival of their sixth grandchild!
