If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you will know how much I just luuuuurves my Hubby.
He’s a hands-on dad, sharing the heavy burden of parenting without complaint or a grudge. He juggles all of this with full-time work and if that isn’t enough on his plate…he makes sure that I’m happy and content.
However, in this family, we have all come to a general consensus on one matter:
A handy man, he ain’t.
Goodness knows he tries. Bless him. He really does.
As a gentle nudge of encouragement, one year, for a birthday present, Hubby’s brother gave him a complete tool box. All the screwdrivers – different sizes and colours. Then, for Christmas, he got a super duper electrical drill set.
Yup. There is no doubt. There are no excuses.
My Hubby is… well-equipped.
Yet, for some unbeknown reason, like a gardener unknowing of his black thumb, or an oblivious tone deaf karaoke singer (no such thing !!!), Hubby’s little home improvement projects just don’t seem to quite materialise as initially conceptualised.
This has created some concern in our household.
Of course with Hubby’s permission, I thought I’d share with you some of his “undertakings”.
Saving Mr. Turtle:
A beloved toy of Little N&K’s, Mr. Turtle’s shell lights up in different colours, blue, amber and green to depict the star constellations on the wall. There are very few toys that get the boys as excited as Mr. Turtle:
Alas, like with many a cool toy, Mr. Turtle is battery-operated and desperately needed resuscitation of late.
Hubby efficiently whipped out the trusty tool box to find a suitable screwdriver.
Yet it’s been over a month now that Mr. Turtle has been sitting on the kitchen table, waiting to be revived.
I hate to say it, for now, Mr. Turtle is still…kinda…dead:
The trials and tribulations (?) of building an Ikea bookshelf:
Ikea equals guaranteed non-failure. Yes ? No.
Years ago, when we were still just courting and I needed to furnish my single gal apartment, Hubby offered to build a bookshelf for me. I swooned. No man had ever built anything for me before. It was more exciting than getting roses.
It didn’t take long for the romantic connotation to evaporate into an Ikea disaster and doom.
For the first time, I witnessed my then boyfriend fret and fuss in the sun room – with all the shelves, panels, screws, nuts and bolts – sprawled all over the floor.
Like he was studying a rocket science manual, there was my future husband – in full concentration – trying to make sense of the worldless, pictures-only instructions, whilst holding intently onto the crucial Allen key.
“Poor bloke. I don’t think he’s done this before…” I thought to myself.
Indeed, he hadn’t.
I was his guinea pig.
So, hours later, in what was as almost as dramatic as the barn-raising scene on “Witness”, we slowly lifted the bookshelf up.
Hubby was completely chuffed.
Then, there it was. To me, it was blaringly obvious.
On the final shelf at the very top of the bookcase, he hadn’t switched the plank of wood around before screwing it in to the back panel. Thus, showing the ply-wood, instead of the painted surface.
I was devastated.
Hubby didn’t think it was THAT big a deal. To this day, that’s how it’s remained.
No. Big. Deal.
Instead, this very bookshelf is now legacy. A constant reminder of our early innocent courtship days… and Hubby’s first tackle with Scandinavian industrial engineering.
Ask for a spice rack; Get a shoe rack:
One evening, as I was busily cooking, storing and freezing the 5 kilos of pureed food for our hungry boys, I started getting frustrated to how seemingly smaller our kitchen had become.
“Lovey, how can I make the kitchen more functional for you ? Tell me, what do you need ?” asked my ever loving, thoughtful husband.
“I would soooo love a spice rack ! So I can just get to everything easily, rather than go on my tip toes…” I replied with relief and delight.
So, after deliberation and discussion as to where this magical spice rack was going to be built and installed, off Hubby went to K-mart. And he came back with this.
A shoe rack…
The joys of baby-proofing:
Phew. Okay, where do I begin ? This is where photos will tell stories far better than I can.
When we began baby-proofing our home, our first priority was to ensure that all cables and wires were out of sight and reach from the little toddler twinlets.
But for us, the task wasn’t so easy. It took a couple of attempts.
Before we were able to get to this stage:
What has left me completely baffled is not how he managed to take a huge chunk of our wall from one little adhesive taped hook. That wasn’t the big surprise. Instead, I was intrigued with how Hubby was able to hide the massive gash on our wall by strategically placing it behind our television. For months, I was clueless.
The Irrepairable Door Handle:
To no avail, Hubby has tried to fix the broken door handle to the boys’ bedroom on many, many, many an occasion. No matter what the anecdote, the door handle always seems to fall off. As such, we have seemed to taken a “short recess” from this project:
So, there is an interim solution. Naturally, a door handle replacement has to be an ugg boot. Right ? Right.
Who needs a working door handle when you can simply tug on…an ugg boot, instead.
Yes, our rickety rack home may have ripped walls and ugg boots instead of door handles.
We know that this is the sum of it:
Inconveniences ? Imperfections? Life is full of them.
The tricky part is how we ride through it all.
To come out the other end.