Handyman?

I laugh sometimes at my determination to take on household projects that are typically left to male counterparts. I grew up with one half of my family, on my Father's side, who were all creative types. They are and were artists of every medium, architects, painters, sculptors, builders, you name it and it could be imagined, designed, and created. Food of course was the one common element that united us all no matter what other medium someone specialized in. My Father chose to go against the grain of his family, while still working with his hands, he became an airplane mechanic.

I grew up in a house that was well never really finished. It was a beautiful rambler that when I was about 5 or 6 my parents decided to COMPLETELY remodel including adding an enormous addition. At that time interest rates to buy a new home were something between 17.5% and 22%! It was much more economical to take out a loan than to buy a new home. Over the years I watched my Father pour literal blood, sweat, and tears into our family home. When I hear a table saw running it instantly draws me back to my childhood, hearing the scream of the blades running and the smell of fresh cut lumber in the air. The smell of the old blue Dawn dish soap does that for me too. My Dad would first wash his hands at the kitchen sink to scrub away the oil and debris of the day when he got home.

Being 6 when the projects started I was naturally curious and looking for any way to help. I remember being given jobs such as picking up nails around the outside of the house that had fallen into the bushes and grass after the house had been reroofed. My friend across the street and I got a penny a nail. Other odd jobs included handing sheets of tile to my Dad when he tiled the sunroom or taking the old hardwood flooring outside from the then den after it was pulled up. I remember it was Bruce hardwood and we thought that was so funny because that was my Dad's name too.

Other jobs I was given around the house as a kid which I LOVED were to carry bags of shot down to the basement at I think 25lbs a piece. My Dad was a trap shooter when I was between 9 and 12 years old and he taught me how to reload shotgun shells. We'd spend hours sitting at the reloading station at his workbench in the basement and he'd always tell me to be sure to put the primer in the right way or the shell could backfire. The bags of shot he'd never forget to tell me each time to not drop them or b-b's would be everywhere. Of course I never dropped one but he did!

I certainly didn't grow up a girly girl. I was expected to pull my weight as my Mom coming from a rural farming family no doubt wasn't allowed to just sit around and cause trouble either. Mowing the lawn when I was barely big enough to use my own weight to push the thing was fun back then and a challenge and I always felt like I accomplished something for the good when I was done.

Being the oldest with only one sister 6 years younger than me I received the brunt of the household tasks. Laundry, dishes, picking up sticks in the yard after a storm were all just part of regular expectations. Though we weren't "rewarded" monetarily my parents certainly made sure we were taken care of and had fun.

The point being because I wasn't treated as a girly girl I learned to wheeled a hammer and drill and fix things that needed fixing with confidence as an adult. So much of this transpires into cooking too. I'm not afraid to try a new gadget or ingredient or cooking method and I'm eager to learn new skills.

Last night I decided to tackle a small project that has been eating away at me for the better part of 2 years waiting for my other half to do something about it. Our 2 year old Golden Retriever/Yellow Lab mix is a chewer. She managed to get her teeth into a small dent in the basement door and chew a 2 foot by 8 inch hole in it. The door handle had stopped working properly some months ago and would lock anyone who visited the basement and closed the door behind them down there. So yesterday with my kids by my side and my son amazed at my ability to use a drill and jig saw helped me fix the door and solve a long standing problem.

To me life is about teaching my kids that it doesn't matter if you're a boy or a girl. If there's something that needs fixing fix it, if someone has a problem help them, and if you are told you can't do something because of what's in your pants then try harder and prove them wrong!

Handyman, no, capable person yes!