Another reason to love my Dad

In the basement post I mentioned how my Dad can fix anything. I think that it comes from years of living in and fixing up an old house....the house that I grew up in was a great house out in the country, I loved living there. But it always needed something done, because it wasn't new. I truly feel that making a home a comfortable place that he and his family can be proud of is one of the ways that my Dad shows love. And I'm really grateful that he's that way.

When he was helping us get the new sump pump installed, he had Ben come down to help him for the dis-assembly of the old pump. Once that was done, Ben and I traded places. I went down and he explained what he'd done, then had me help him do what needed done to hook up the new one (I learned that PVC pipe is amazingly simple to install and seal). Before we plugged it in he had Ben come down again so he could explain what Ben missed.

My Dad is an equal-opportunity teacher when it comes to fixing things. He wanted Ben to have the know-how to fix it because it's "man stuff," but he taught me to do it, too. This makes me think of all the things that are typically assigned as "man's work" that my Dad taught me to do - drive a riding mower, fix a weedeater, patch siding and replace shingles, change a tire and oil, drive a tractor and bush-hog (though he only let me do it long enough to learn! He's so paranoid), drive a stick shift, drive the maneuverability courses that the Troopers have to learn (though he didn't make me take them at 55, thank goodness....I was only sixteen after all), how to shoot a gun (I'm still trying to get him to teach me to dis-assemble it....maybe this will be the year), how to fix a leaky faucet, how to re-finish furniture (though T taught me about the upholstery, I guess that one's a joint project), how to patch broken pipe, how to build raised flower-beds....the list goes on and on.

I'm glad that he didn't just wait for some other man to become responsible for me, he helped me know how to handle life so that I could be a worthwhile companion for Ben. I like pulling my own weight.

And when it comes down to it, I think Ben would rather have a wife who's down in the basement squeegie-ing the floor with him, than one who says "Hey, hubby*, how's the water mess coming?"

I'm glad my Dad helped teach me to be that wife.

* I hate this word in all its cutesy variations....if it works for other people, that's fine, but it just seems infantilizing to me for some reason.