I've Also Taken a Greater Interest in These So-Called "Power" Tools

A recent Huffington Post post called "10 Things They Don't Tell You About Raising Children" breaks no new ground (your free time will become scarce, your definition of "clean" will likely broaden, potty training sucks) and doesn't seem to be drawing many hits: it's generated a mere three comments, one from a single dad who complains that the article doesn't mention any of his single-dad problems, as if a mother who's not single would know to include that information (the guy should write his own "10 Things They Don't Tell You About Being a Single Dad That Married Moms Ought to Blog About").

The article did jar an observation I made soon after my kids started to appear, however. Before kids, if Jenn suggested we get up early on a Saturday morning, run to Home Depot, search for some paints and moulding, and spend most of the day painting a room — rather than sleeping late, getting a leisurely late breakfast/lunch, catching a movie and then idling at the mall &mdash I'd give her one of those "That's a great idea" responses that's as convincing as a Kanye West apology.

(Is that event too old for an analogy?)

And off we'd go to Home Depot, and I'd hate it, and Jenn would know that I hated it, and I would silently (and not so silently) bitch about losing two-thirds of the first half of my weekend.

But these days, as I look at once-white walls that look as if they were used as a backdrop for a re-enactment of the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, I think about how awesome it would be for my kids to spend a whole weekend at Grandma's so I can take my time and repaint my ghetto walls.

(I hope I didn't just offend anyone living in the ghetto. Do they get the Internet in the ghetto?)

There are other projects around the house that I wish I could do: install shelves, organize some closets, file some stuff — and I'm sure Jenn's list is even longer than mine, and includes "Get Anthony to pick up his crap" — and I found it thrilling, a mini-vacation even, when Jenn kept an eye on the kids while I blew leaves off my lawn and sucked them up using my spectacular blower/vac. Before kids, I never raked my leaves and looked forward to a nice snow blanket to hide them.

They say women start to get the nesting sensation while pregnant. I never thought I'd get it (or whatever you want to call the guy equivalent) after the kids arrived.
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