"Mom the builder, can she fix it? Mom the builder!" my husband chants with condescension to the tune of Bob the Builder.
Family household projects are the best at instigating fights between us. (Second only to cleaning which is one of the issues that has left us on the verge of divorce the last couple of months.) Five minutes prior, my husband had cut a piece of poplar trim 1/4" too short. He wanted to use it anyway, I didn't. I will walk by and stare at it every day. It will bug me.
"If you think you can do a better job then do it yourself!" My husband snarls.
Thanks to my father, this is one of the reasons why I love myself: I grab a piece of wood trim, measure and mark it, take the two flights of stairs down to the garage (husband and babe in tow). I approach the miter saw and.....grasping the handle on the swing arm without hesitation, I pull the switch, the steel blade kicks on and lets out a high pitch whine. I lower the arm down, blade ripping and saw dust flying. I proudly cut a 45 degree angle on one end of the trim then barely shave the corner off the other end- just to make it look pretty. (More condescending chanting)
I march back upstairs. Check the trim piece for fit...PERFECTION!!!!! I shoot my husband a darting and haughty look, grab the nail gun, pull the trigger and nail the trim into place.
This scene isn't unusual between us. In the past he has also chanted "Herculese, Herculese" while I performed manual labor. It used to make me feel belittled and embarassed. At some point I decided that I was going to feel proud and empowered instead.
I am so glad that I was raised by a loving and supportive father that taught me girls can use power tools, ride motorcycles, etc. I also got my passion for cooking and music from him.
Later that night, laying in bed in the dark, my little co-sleeper pops up and grasps my face in her tiny hands. She chants, "Mom the builder, can we fix it?" Her nose is pressed to mine and I get a whiff of her sweet breath.... followed by a puff of A&D ointment from billowing blankets. "Yes we can!" I exclaim.
Family household projects are the best at instigating fights between us. (Second only to cleaning which is one of the issues that has left us on the verge of divorce the last couple of months.) Five minutes prior, my husband had cut a piece of poplar trim 1/4" too short. He wanted to use it anyway, I didn't. I will walk by and stare at it every day. It will bug me.
"If you think you can do a better job then do it yourself!" My husband snarls.
Thanks to my father, this is one of the reasons why I love myself: I grab a piece of wood trim, measure and mark it, take the two flights of stairs down to the garage (husband and babe in tow). I approach the miter saw and.....grasping the handle on the swing arm without hesitation, I pull the switch, the steel blade kicks on and lets out a high pitch whine. I lower the arm down, blade ripping and saw dust flying. I proudly cut a 45 degree angle on one end of the trim then barely shave the corner off the other end- just to make it look pretty. (More condescending chanting)
I march back upstairs. Check the trim piece for fit...PERFECTION!!!!! I shoot my husband a darting and haughty look, grab the nail gun, pull the trigger and nail the trim into place.
This scene isn't unusual between us. In the past he has also chanted "Herculese, Herculese" while I performed manual labor. It used to make me feel belittled and embarassed. At some point I decided that I was going to feel proud and empowered instead.
I am so glad that I was raised by a loving and supportive father that taught me girls can use power tools, ride motorcycles, etc. I also got my passion for cooking and music from him.
Later that night, laying in bed in the dark, my little co-sleeper pops up and grasps my face in her tiny hands. She chants, "Mom the builder, can we fix it?" Her nose is pressed to mine and I get a whiff of her sweet breath.... followed by a puff of A&D ointment from billowing blankets. "Yes we can!" I exclaim.
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