Today I was reminded of my progress as a single woman learning to take care of my house. When I went through divorce back in 2020, I moved from the house we’d owned to an apartment. That was a good transition place since I didn’t have to maintain the property or continue with the yard work. If I had a problem, the apartment management sent someone from maintenance. I got to know one of the guys, Santos pretty well and it was nice not having to figure out what repair service to call.

In November of 2022, I moved into my townhouse and everything but the landscaping was my responsibility. There was no conferring with a husband over how to handle a problem. I was proud of independently buying my home but a bit overwhelmed by all the “What ifs?”

I faced my new world of home ownership with fear. I’d never had that responsibility by myself. But then I remembered how differently children experience their new world. In the post No Limits: “I Did It!”from September 2019, I wrote about what I was learning from my grandson, Baker who was just 16 months at the time:

“For him, the world is a wide-open classroom of exploration. He’s as interested in how to use a screwdriver to put batteries in his toy as he is in the smell of a flower. Everything fascinates him.”

How much better it would be if I could look at these tasks I may have to do as opportunities to learn and grow. If I could accept being a beginner at acquiring the new skill then I could be more patient with myself.

“He hasn’t lived long enough to put limits on himself as a certain type of person, with statements like “I’m not mechanical” “I’m not good at math” “I can’t . . .” Baker doesn’t know yet what he can’t do; He just tries.

He’s such an example to me, his ‘Grammy’ who has avoided things by putting limits on what I believe I can do. Over the years, I’ve formed an identity from these beliefs. At times, I’ve assumed I couldn’t do something because it didn’t come easily. Like most folks, I’ve learned to navigate around what I didn’t think I could do or knew I didn’t want to do.”

Gradually I learned to do things in my townhouse. One project was to reupholster my kitchen chair bottoms. I was more interested because it involved decorating, making my place look nice versus doing something functional. It did involve using my son, Brooks’s staple gun which was giving me some problems. He demonstrated how to load it and then after a few tries, I was able to do the same and attach the fabric.

“See, you can do it,” Brooks encouraged. “You’re smarter than you think, Mom.”

I kept his words in mind as I tried new things like fixing a paper jam on my printer and connecting my Alexa–voice assistant speaker to Wi Fi. Many times I used Youtube videos just like some of the repairmen that came for larger problems.

Like other married couples, my husband and I had a division of labor from the beginning. It was based on skill and availability — whoever had the time to do the task. Managing the house and finances are areas that many married women have deferred to their husbands. But since women usually outlive men, a lot of women have been forced to accept these responsibilities when they were left behind. Soon they have to learn the same skills as females who’ve lived alone.

Today I saw how far I’ve come when I didn’t hesitate to open the box with my new vacuum. I’d never purchased one before. Unlike Mama who always bought hers from Edna who sold Electrolux products, I had to search online for one that would meet my needs at my “price point.” I’ve had to let go of perfectionism when it comes to being sure I’ve made the right decision. Now, I tell myself I’ll make the best choice I can and if it doesn’t work out, I’m entitled to make mistakes. Rather than waiting for my boyfriend to put it together, I wanted to do it myself. How satisfying it was to hear the whir of that new Kenmore vacuum as I pushed it across the floor.

Recently Baker celebrated his 8th birthday. How much he’s learned since he was 16 months old and proudly said, “I did it!” Especially as he’s grown so proficient at baseball, learning all those skills of batting, stealing bases, making infield plays, and beginning to judge the distance of hits making it to the outfield; I’m so proud of him.

And I’m proud of myself for learning new things, for trying what I used to avoid. Yes, I’m “smarter than I think” and I’m sure you are, too.

May we all just give it a try, as if we’re a child and haven’t locked ourselves into labels.

Best to you,

Connie