Walking in my footsteps

I installed a couple of light fixtures this week. Which really isn't a big deal, in spite of my fear of electricity. (Let's just say I'm the poster child for outlet covers.) But it inspires awe in some.

It reminds me of the reaction I received when I first traveled to Europe alone. Wasn't I scared? How would I manage? (No, and quite well, thank you.) In both cases, I stepped out of a presumed comfort zone — defined by many things, but perhaps most of all by gender. Women aren't thought of as "handy." Traveling solo is seen as dangerous for females.

Perhaps more telling, women think these things.

I don't want my daughters to think that way.

My daughters see a woman who builds, repairs, installs. Their mom, not their dad, is in charge of talking to contractors and mechanics at home and waiters and ticket takers in foreign lands.

Don't get me wrong; their father is smart and capable and confident. They know this. But they know their mother is too. In turn, I hope they seem themselves that way as well.