When I told my parents we were expecting our first baby, my mother offered me her crib and dresser. These pieces had been used by my mother, her two siblings, and all five of my mother’s children (and even some of her grandchildren). I was very excited to get them–I hadn’t thought about them at all. The dresser was especially cute–it was white and had those fuzzy decals in the shapes of bunnies on it.

We went to my parents’ for Christmas, and after dinner, we all climbed into my parents’ attic to check out the loot. Their attic is immaculate, so it was easy to notice a highchair, too! My mother had forgotten she had it, and offered it as well. So the men lugged down the highchair and dresser. We reluctantly passed on the crib–apparently it is instant death to put a baby in one that old these days. The highchair is wooden and stained and is in pretty good shape. The dresser had last been in the hands of my brother. He’d stripped off the paint (and adorable decals) to redo it. Once he started to paint it, it wasn’t going well, and he decided to scratch the idea and buy new stuff. So looking at the dresser was a bit of a let down–but its good bones were still apparent.

We took the highchair home with us that day. My parents were coming to our house the following week for a crab boil, and they offered to (1) ask my grandfather, a retired carpenter, if he’d redo the dresser for us, and (2) bring it to his house if he agreed. We all agreed that if he wasn’t up for it, that’d be okay–we’d arrange for it to be done professionally.

The following week, my parents showed up for the boil, and my father immediately singled me out and said, “We have a problem and need to talk.” Gulp. Oh, boy. “What’d I do now?” I thought. We’d been getting along so well! “Okay,” I said. He called to my mother and we three walked into my bedroom. The first thing out of my father’s mouth was, “I’m out.” My mother proceeded to explain that she’d talked to her father who had agreed to redo the dresser. When they dropped it off, however, he had been a bit cranky about it. “I just don’t know when I’ll have time to get to it–I’m so busy these days. And she doesn’t need it for at least a year.” My father wanted to make it perfectly clear to me that he was the middleman and he was not doing anything more with this dresser–that he’d have happily arranged to have it professionally redone, but that under no circumstances did he want my grandfather to think his redoing it was a favor to my father. I understood and agreed. I was ready right then and there to have the thing picked up and brought to our house so we could handle it ourselves. My mother told me that she explained to my grandfather that the baby was due in July and we’d need the dresser sooner than that. She was inclined to let it be. This did not bode well for me.

An hour later, my aunt showed up. As soon as I sat down to talk with her, she said, “Your grandfather is complaining about your dresser.” MY dresser? ohmygod. I looked at my father. He crossed his hands in the air the way a craps dealer does when no more bets are allowed at the table. “I’m out,” he mouthed as he walked out of the room. I turned to my mother and pleaded, “please call him and confirm things are okay with the timeline. If not, we can get it today and put it behind us.” My mother stepped outside and called him. She remained resolved that he would do it and it would be done timely. I felt a higher degree of trepidation.

For the next 6 weeks, every time I’d talk to my grandfather, he’d tell me what trouble the dresser was and how he wasn’t sure it’d look good when it was done or that it’d be done in time. Now this is starting to be a joke. My grandfather is a perfectionist when it comes to woodworking and the like. So I had NO fear the thing would look professionally done. And he had told me that he put the dresser in his garage where his car goes. So the dang thing was in his way! There was NO WAY he’d let this thing sit IN HIS WAY for the next year! Especially when every time we talked, some level of progress was being made. But I let him complain and thanked him over and over for doing it for us. I was truly appreciative. It has much more meaning that he was redoing it (with the help of my uncle) than some hired hack.

Then I forgot about it. Very little was said to me about it, and when it was brought up, it was always the same and I’d dismiss it soon thereafter. So imagine my surprise and delight when my grandfather called this week to tell me he was finished! I repeat, finished. He lives just off of the route of the Metairie St. Patrick’s Day parade and has folks over every year to catch the parade. He was hoping that someone would come that day in a car big enough to take it to our house.

Even more to my surprise, my uncle called first thing Friday to tell me he and his daughter would be bringing the dresser to my house the next day! I was tickled. It arrived yesterday and is a beauty–the job done is even better than I expected. We are thoroughly delighted. My uncle told me that my grandfather was also going to replace the rod that goes inside the dresser that is used for hanging clothes (it still has the cute little original pink hangers)–that piece pulls out so you can easily access the hanging clothes–until it was discovered that I had that piece at my house. Nonetheless, the gesture was a nice surprise, especially considering how much my grandfather claimed he was too busy to do what he’s already done on this job. That’s the thing about my grandfather: he’ll gripe, but he’ll get you a top quality job done at the end of the day. And you know what I think, I think he’s happy to do it–happy to feel needed–and takes great pride in his work even when he tells me “it’s not perfect, but it’ll do.” Yes, Paw Paw, it’ll do just fine.

A very special thanks goes out to my parents, grandfather, uncle, and cousin for all assisting a pregnant woman who didn’t lift a finger to make this dresser work for us. We are truly appreciative.