It all started in June of 1979 when I was just a fetus in my mother's womb. I knew that place was pretty sweet, but wasn't a place for a mover and shaker like me, so in March of 1980 I broke out. I was born in a military hospital in Sicily, the first child, and went home, screaming, with my parents. Right from the beginning, I'm told that my head had to be held up so I could look around. I was destined for greatness.
I grew up in a single parent home. My mom raised me and my sister alone stating shortly after my sister was born. Our mom was and still is a tough lady. When I think back on my childhood, I inevitably picture my mom looking at a product, thinking about fixing something, etc. and can hear her saying "I can do that!" There was never a question about it. She worked full time, took care of us, made Barbie clothes, made us poodle skirts, mowed the lawn, fixed the car...you name it, she did it. She did it out of necessity but she also did it because she could. I loved watching her start and complete projects. My inner feminist was awakened-and I still always hear that voice "Hey-I can do that!" when something needs to be done.
Over the years I've dabbled in fixin'. I mostly have left things to my husband but his schedule is prohibitive and I actually want him to spend time with our daughters when he's home. Some of it was out of financial need (like re-attaching my van's exhaust to the frame with a kit I bought at NAPA and a coat hanger) and some, like the tale I'm leading up to, were out of stubbornness, a will to DIY, and the availability of YouTube "how to" videos. Sorry for so much Clarkson-it was the first comparison my husband drew between how amazing I am at fixing things.
The first fix I attempted was our dishwasher. This was a few months ago and, when I'd try to start it the thing would make a weird sound then not turn on. I searched online and found that it was probably the disposer in the bottom of the dishwasher. I decided to find directions, take that sucker a apart, and fix it. And, you know what? I did it! It took me an hour or two, but I took the whole thing apart, found the offending bits, removed the pieces of bone from the disposer, and put it back together. The dishwasher worked. The dishwasher worked!!!! I was ELATED!
Clearly, this incident is indicative of the fact that I am freaking amazing. But, not just me, all of us are! I don't have any special skills, but I do have YouTube, a give 'em Hell attitude, and that little voice in my head that says "Hey, I can do that!" Thanks, Mom!