Some Things Will Never Change
by Molly Flinkman
A thing I need you to understand about my husband, Jake, is that he can do anything.
In the twenty years I have known him and the sixteen years I have spent married to him, I have yet to find something—a project, a task, a hobby—he cannot do or is not willing to learn. The guy is a bit of a modern marvel in this regard—a jack-of-all-trades in the truest sense of the phrase.
For instance, years ago I told Jake it would be nice if the kids had a swingset to play on in the back yard. In those days, we didn’t really have an expendable income, so Jake drove to the edge of a forest, found some fallen trees, strapped the logs to the top of the minivan, and drove them home as if that was a regular thing people did all the time. He spent the next few days erecting a giant swingset, and then the next summer he added a kid-sized water slide to the side of it which delighted our kids. When it came time to tear the whole thing down (untreated forest logs begin to rot after some time), he turned one of the wooden swing seats into a picture frame for me which sits on a shelf in our home to this day.
The guy can bake pumpkin pies from scratch with babies strapped to his chest. He can trim hair. Replace toilets and sinks. Build bookshelves. Hang beds from ceilings. Upholster furniture. Weld. (Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how much welding happens over here.)
Now, please don’t misunderstand me here: I am not trying to say that Jake is some kind of perfect person. He has his flaws. It’s just that in the face of any home project or hobby or idea, Jake’s mentality 100% of the time is, “I bet I could do that.” And then he does it—100% of the time, even if he has to watch hours of YouTube tutorials in order to figure it out.
I do not share this trait. I love to outsource and delegate. I am very good at asking for help if I don’t want to do something. (Like, I could have gotten rid of the sticky trap with the dead mouse on it last winter while Jake was working, but I called his brother instead because that option was available to me.) Additionally, though, I’m just not as good at things as Jake is. I don’t know how to find studs in the wall before you hang a picture frame. I don’t know how to change the oil in the minivan. I don’t know how to patch drywall or snake a drain.
I bet you could learn, I can hear you saying. You could do it if you wanted to, and let me tell you: I don’t want to. I don’t care enough. I am happy to let someone else do that work. (Also, though, I’ll just truly never understand how studs work. Ask Jake; he’s tried to explain walls to me plenty of times.)
Therein lies a constant source of tension in our marriage: Jake wants to do everything himself. I am always asking, “But wouldn’t it be easier and faster to hire someone else to replace the boat motor?”
Listen, I can still hear you. I know Jake has saved us tens of thousands of dollars with his do-it-yourself abilities. I know how wonderful it is to have a husband who can install shiplap from the old barn that sits in your backyard and what a fun party trick it is to tell people that your boat motor used to run a 1973 Camaro, but where you see fiscal sense, I see time. I see all the hours added up because I have learned well by now that every one of Jake’s projects takes at least double the time he thinks it will, if not more. (It’s always more.)
I’ve spent so much time in our marriage stewing about this—adding up the time Jake spends in his shop, how many trips he’s taken to the hardware store, and how many hours I’ve spent with the kids waiting for him to be done. For someone who’s never been great at math, I excel at relational score keeping. (Jake’s not the only one with flaws.)
It can feel a bit like a never-ending conflict—like we’ll be disagreeing about how to spend Jake’s free time for the rest of our lives.
The thing is, maybe we will. And what’s more, maybe that’s okay.
There will always be flaws and conflicts to work out and resolve—personal shortcomings that need to be improved upon (my scorekeeping, for instance, though I’m often loath to admit it).
I just don’t think this is one of those issues. It’s just the way things are—a standard push-pull of personality differences where instead of changing, maybe the best we can do for each other is communicate through the differences and make small sacrifices when we can.
A few weeks ago, Jake knocked down a load-bearing wall in our basement as a part of a larger renovation project we’ve been talking about for a few years. It took him a full week to do it because, of course, you can’t just knock down a wall that holds up your house without a few other pretty crucial steps. The project required temporary support beams, a 600-lb. steel I beam, and a bunch of bags of cement. At one point, I went downstairs and found Jake digging a hole through the cement floor and into the ground to give the weight of our house a sturdier foundation.
He did it all by himself. I asked if there was anyone who could come help him. The whole thing took longer than anticipated (but we all saw that coming, yes?). And also, throughout the week, Jake found ways to take breaks, so he could spend time with the kids and me while I tried to give him space when he couldn’t afford to be interrupted. We met in the middle in small but substantive ways. We considered each other’s perspectives and quietly adjusted as best we could.
After this basement project, there will be something new to tackle which will infringe upon Jake’s spare time. (The boat motor needs to be replaced again, if you can believe it.) Some things will never change. For my part, I’m getting better at identifying the things that should.
molly flinkman is a freelance writer from central Iowa where she lives with her husband, Jake, and their four kids. A lover of houseplants, good books, and (in a surprising turn of events) bright colors, she loves to write about how her faith intersects the very ordinary aspects of her life and hopes her words will encourage and support other women along the way. You can connect with Molly on Instagram, through her monthly newsletter, Twenty Somethings, or on her Substack, Common Stories.
Photo by Jennifer Floyd.
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I love this! Can Jake come to my house?? Signed, Wife of a decidedly NOT handy husband. :)
Loved this Molly! Hard relate. To both the jack-of-all trades husband (with the lengthy projects) and the relational score keeping 😅