I guess I'm *that* kind.

I know I've talked about this before, but seriously, sometimes I hate that I'm that kind of girl. You know, the kind that needs a guy to do the stereotypical "guy" jobs...

Today I bought spackle. And a spackle applying tool. (Can you tell I have no idea what I'm talking about here?) But, I did. And I used them.

A few days months ago we took out a set of cabinets in our kitchen to open up the space into the dining room. It was great but the walls (where the cabinets were) were white, and all the walls in our house are a cream color (I know, how boring are we?) and there were big holes where the cabinets were nailed to the walls... and something had to be done about it. Today (my opinion). But Jeff has been busy (hence the 7 month waiting period to get a project done) and I just didn't want him to have to think about it anymore. I wanted to help ("help" - obviously it's gotta be in quotes, right?).

So I went to the store and bought the stuff I thought I'd seen used on HGTV I needed and I went to town on it. I spackled (is that even what filling in the holes is called?) and let it dry. Then in the garage I found all the spackling materials I needed that I had just bought at the store old paint from the previous owner of the house and painted the whole thing the same color as the rest of the room. I felt accomplished. I had been adventurous and took the initiative and did it. And best of all, because I did it, Jeff didn't have to. WIN!

Only, it looks weird. I don't think I did it right. The colors aren't matching (can paint in a gallon "bucket" fade a little over time?) and I don't want Jeff to come home and act all proud of me for doing "such a great job" while secretly wanting to re-do the whole thing the right way. I did it so he wouldn't have to. But I think I did it wrong and I'm not really sure how to fix it.

Anyway, like I said, I hate being "that kind of girl" - especially when I really (really) wanted it to work out.

But at the same time, the fact that it didn't work out means that my husband can (clearly) see that I need him. For spackling... and other stuff. Plus, I'm not just that kind of girl I'm other kinds, too. Other kinds that are WAY more important.

Like the kind that tries. The kind that wants to help her husband out, not so that he feels guilty that he didn't get it done earlier, but so that he can just take a deep breath and know that it's one less thing on his plate. I'm the kind of girl who loves her husband so much I went WAY out of my comfort zone and into a hardware store...

I'm that kind of girl. And if nothing else, that is something I can be proud of.