The Other Side of the Fence

Anyone who knows me knows that I am quite old-fashioned. I have long hair that I usually keep braided, I’ve been known to make things such as baked beans and apple butter from scratch, and my free time is typically spent knitting or crocheting. My old-fashioned behavior doesn’t stop there, however. My goal in life is to be a stay-at-home mom someday, and I’m a firm believer in traditional gender roles.

That said, I’m also a pragmatist. This means that I recognize that it isn’t always possible for women to stay home and make apple butter while the men go out and work. The best way for a person to live life, I’m convinced, is to learn all the skills that make you a useful, self-sufficient person. Women should know how to change tires, and men should be able to cook and do laundry. They don’t have to be good at it, but they should know how to do it.

So, when I got the chance to do some work with my dad building a gazebo in our backyard, I quickly accepted the opportunity. I want to be able to do some DIY stuff when I have my own place, and Dad knows what he’s doing. He’s been working in construction for decades. It’s an honor to learn from him.

I didn’t realize that actually building the gazebo would be the easy part.

Some parts of the construction process were, of course, difficult. Getting the roof panels in place was difficult. I was perched on an eight-foot ladder, clinging to a 14-foot combination of wood and metal that was dangerously perched over the heads of my dad and sister, all while the threat of my own death set my heart hammering. (I didn’t want to bash my brains out by falling on the concrete patio, and I don’t think that anyone would blame me.)

No, the hard part was the heat. We’d get started early, usually 8:30, but the temperatures started rising quickly. By eleven, we were dousing ourselves with the hose in an effort to ward off heatstroke. Dad worked us until 4:00, with a few breaks in between for lunch and to cool off in the AC. By the time we finished, I was soaked in sweat and hose water. I’d hop in the shower and be pretty much incapable of doing anything else that day besides eating dinner, puttering around on my phone, and daydreaming.

But that’s the sort of life my father lived for decades. I can see now why he just wanted to watch TV when he got home from work instead of playing with my child self. He was tired.

I remember asking my mother, back when I was quite young, why we always had to make dinner and clean up afterwards. Mom said that it was because Dad worked hard all day. Back then, I was confused. I think I understand now. There was nothing better than having Mom bring us plastic cups of ice water, or knowing that a dinner I didn’t have to make would be on the table at 6:15.

I think I’ll be able to write my male characters a bit more realistically now. I’ve spent a few days in their shoes, and they’re uncomfortable. I’m glad they fit, but I’ll stick to my house shoes.

Have you ever swapped your typical job (or gender role) for someone else’s? How did it go? Let me know in the comments below! God bless you, dear readers, and don’t forget to review us on Amazon!