Last year at this time I was on maternity leave.
I was enjoying long walks on the trail, pushing my double stroller, introducing the newest Hawklet to my favorite coffee shop, figuring out how to maneuver the grocery store with two babies, looking at new houses, and formulating ideas. Oh yeah, Hubby Hawks hates that part.
Those dang ideas. They haunt my mind. They keep my eyes darting around rooms. They send me on discovery trips to places like JoAnn’s fabric store. Those places I thought were meant for small-town quilting grandmas. Yes, I admit – I’ve shopped at JoAnn’s fabric store.
Yes, spending time in my home is sort of a danger to my wallet. Nearly every husbandly eye roll inevitably starts with my saying something like, “I have an idea…”
But I can’t help it. I absolutely love home projects. I love the problem solving, the creative outlet, the sense of accomplishment. I love reporting to myself as my own boss. I love living in the outcome. The feeling of fruition.
In our last house, we painted our bedroom three times in four years. The other bedrooms each were painted twice. I walked around my home and for better or worse, I could look everywhere and see our efforts, our sweat equity, our ideas. Not even a year in our new home and we’ve already done something in every room.
All I need is a quick trip to Home Depot right before the boys’ afternoon nap time and a little manly power drill intervention every now and then from loving Hubby. I will be the next generation’s Candice Olson. I can surely carve out some time between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m. to replace my kitchen countertop…I mean, after all, I have the greatest idea…