The Kitchen Remodel of 2010

Dear Girls,
Do you have any idea how much your Daddy loves you?  I mean... really?  Do you have any clue the hell he's been going through, and will continue to go through until the remodel on the kitchen/living room is complete?

Let me just say that the last time your Daddy and I got a bee in our bonnets to paint the living room and kitchen, we vowed that we would NEVER do it again.  And that for the rest of our lives, the red living room would remain.  Because, ain't no WAY we were ever doing that again, and even if we got tired of the red (which we did within a few months) well.... TOUGH. TURKEY. 

Flash forward four years, a leaky dishwasher, a flooded kitchen and an insurance claim that is paying for a new floor and a new countertop, and we decided that hey, even though it's going to be a huge pain in the ass and we probably will hate ourselves during the process, let's just go ahead and repaint while we can... you know, before the floor goes in. 

To be fair, the dishwasher leak has turned out to be a happy accident.  Because since Daddy took down the wall in the hallway and removed the fireplace last February, we've been dealing with a couple of holes in the floor and a jacked up ceiling that we knew we needed to fix, but just never had that push to do it, you know?  Well, the push and the dough.  I would imagine that the job is costing insurance close to $8,000, and is costing us about $2,500.  Unless we decide to pull the trigger on a new fridge and stove so that it will match the new dishwasher and microwave.  IT. NEVER. ENDS.  girls.  EVER.  I guess you could call this a forced kitchen remodel.  And one that we were a few years overdue for. 

Anyway, deciding to repaint meant that Hazel and I moved into a condo in Ogden Canyon, and your Daddy spent entire days painting the living room, kitchen and hallways.  All because he loves you and wants you to have the palace you two deserve.  I feel terrible that I can't help him right now, but I can't be exposed to the paint fumes.  So, I get to placate a 13-month-old who CANNOT. BE. CONTAINED.  And who is also teething.  AGAIN.  Seriously... not sure at this point who's got it tougher... you Daddy or me. 

I kid, of course.  Your Daddy is once again proving to me his Supermanliness.  His Ironmanliness.  His best husband and father in the worldliness.  And I'll never be able to express appropriately the level of admiration and love that I carry for this man.  You two are very lucky that you were born under his star.  And I'm lucky that he chose me. 

Love,
Mama

PS:  Pictures to come... if I can find any that don't include him covered in paint and dust, rolling the walls in his boxers.