Kudos to my father. He finished putting up the last of my kitchen cabinets tonight, and I promised him he would never have to put in another kitchen for me. He gave me a funny look, as if to say that if I ever asked him to he would suddenly have urgent business in Dublin.

And rightly so, because this is the third, yes, the third kitchen he's done for us. Count them. 1 in Oregon, 1 in Florida, and 1 in Georgia. That makes three. And we've done not much to help him.

He's installed two dishwashers for us, getting sprayed with very hot water in the process.

And he's put in my laminate flooring.

And retiled 2 of my baths.

And done countless plumbing and electrical work.

Oh, and put in a ceiling after it was damaged by the hurricane.

And rebuilt my fence.

And painted the entire inside of my house.

And planted some flowers in very hard clay.

You get the picture, I'm sure. Now let's see what I've done for him.

I've mowed his grass.

I know that mowing the grass three days before giving birth to twins counts for a lot, but it is hardly what he deserves. He's put a lot of sweat into our houses, and we've gotten all the equity. Well, dad, if you're reading this, thank you. Thank you for making it possible for a one-income family on a school teacher's salary to live in such beautiful places. If I could, I'd send you to Dublin myself, but you could only stay until I need you to build my deck.