A man’s work is never done!

Published in the WOW! supplement of the Evening Echo 28/03/2007

Peace and quiet is a commodity conspicuous by its absence with children around. Lazy weekend mornings with a pot of coffee and the newspaper become a thing of the past: a vaguely recalled pleasure in a fog of perpetual commotion.

Every now and then though peace descends on our house, and it’s blissful. Take this weekend for instance. The girls had a few days off school at the end of the week, and Nana and Granddad invited them to their house “on their holidays”. I got up this morning and took a leisurely shower, for once without belligerent demands for breakfast ringing in my ears. I got dressed, made an unhurried cup of coffee for myself and sat down to enjoy it as I listened to the birds singing outside. It was wonderful!

Then I made some scrambled eggs for both of us, and instead of the usual mad dash to make school lunches and get the girls ready for the bus we sat down and enjoyed a civilised adult conversation over breakfast. It served as a poignant reminder that there is an alternative to the mayhem that surrounds young children, and that occasionally taking things a bit easier is a good thing.

I savoured the moment, knowing that it couldn’t last.

When the children are away I see it as a time to make the most of the peace, to enjoy the simple little things we don’t get to do with them around. My wife, ever the pragmatist, views it as a golden opportunity to tackle all those jobs that are difficult to get done with the kids underfoot.

We live in an old house, so believe me, there are plenty of those jobs to be found. I’d been on notice for most of the week that, at least for part of the time that the girls were away, DIY Dad was going to have to make an appearance.

I suppose there must be something on this earth that I despise more than DIY, but for the life of me I can’t think what it is. I hate everything about it: measuring, marking, drilling, cutting, painting, buying materials… there’s nothing good about it. Except, perhaps, buying new power tools. Not using the tools, you understand, just buying them. Shopping for anything with a plug, batteries or a petrol motor is always good. Don’t ask me why… it’s a male thing.

After breakfast I dragged my reluctant carcass away from the table and dutifully fixed a few ill-fitting shelves to various bits of old furniture. Once I’ve finished writing this column I’ll tackle whatever jobs the Project Manager has lined up for this afternoon.

I’ll also try not to grumble too much, but it’s difficult. There’s something about DIY that gets under my skin. It doesn’t matter what the project is, or how good a mood I’m in before I start, as soon I pick up the tape measure or grab a paintbrush a black cloud descends over me. I become a grumpy, obnoxious, lumbering thing that scowls at everything and curses its way through the chore at hand. I’m really trying to snap out of it, but it seems to be hard-coded into my DNA.

That said, I think my wife’s perseverance is finally paying off. Now when I eventually get around to doing things around the house the results are starting to border on the acceptable. While I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy DIY, I’ve started to at least take some satisfaction from a job well done. For me that represents real progress!

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