In the vibrant world of home renovation, where every wire and beam tells a story, we’re thrilled to announce a significant milestone in our kitchen’s transformation journey. All the chaotic, yet essential, electrical work has been successfully completed! What initially seemed like a daunting task was accomplished with impressive efficiency, wrapping up in just five hours. This isn’t just about wires and circuits; it’s a leap forward, bringing us closer to realizing the kitchen of our dreams. The hum of progress is truly a beautiful sound.
With the electrical phase behind us, our focus now shifts to the exciting next steps: tidying up the space, capturing progress photos, and embarking on a quest for the perfect pendant lights to illuminate our new culinary hub. We’re meticulously preparing a comprehensive post to share all the details of this thrilling advancement with you all next Monday. However, the unexpected has a delightful way of interjecting into our plans. Following Sherry’s candid reveal, “The Real $herdog,” there was an overwhelming demand for a “John version” – a deep dive into my own quirks and confessions. Frankly, I was genuinely surprised; I half-expected our beloved pets, Burger and Clara, to warrant a dedicated post before me! And since I don’t possess a naturally cool or catchy street name like Sherry’s, she generously bestowed upon me the moniker “J-Boom.” While it does admittedly flirt a little too closely with the name of a certain famously busty Jersey Shore personality for my comfort, I’ve decided to embrace it for now, as the chances of actual confusion are thankfully slim. It certainly boasts more flair than my childhood nicknames, “JP” or “Petersik.” Given that Sherry already laid claim to several shared facts about our marriage and our daughter in her post, my list might indeed lean towards the wonderfully random. So, without further ado, let’s get into the less-than-perfect, yet perfectly me, revelations.
#1: The Unfiltered Reality of Shopping and Decorating
If our blog has painted a picture of me as the perpetually eager husband, gleefully skipping alongside Sherry on every shopping excursion for our latest decorating endeavor, I must confess, that portrayal isn’t entirely accurate. While I do genuinely enjoy and participate in a fair share of household errands – perhaps more than the average husband – there are certainly moments when my enthusiasm wanes. The phrase “we need to go out for pillows” is often met with an internal, and sometimes external, groan. It’s a sentiment many can likely relate to; the sheer volume of choices, the endless comparisons, and the pressure to find that one perfect item can be exhausting. I appreciate the aesthetic outcome, but the process itself can be a marathon, not a sprint.
This extends to tasks around the house as well. I don’t exactly leap off the couch with unbridled joy every time I hear we’re tackling a new project, especially if it involves navigating the dusty confines of our attic or undertaking a task that specifically “requires two people, one of whom must be the strong and helpful husband.” There’s a particular brand of strategic maneuvering involved in such requests, and I’ve learned to recognize it. Yet, when faced with the inevitable, I strive to find the humor in my role as the dedicated, if sometimes reluctant, tagalong husband. It’s often in these moments of playful exasperation that we create some of our funniest memories and solidify our unique partnership in the grand adventure of homeownership.
#2: The Uncrowned King of Typos: A Blogger’s Cross to Bear
It’s a truth I’ve long accepted about myself: I am, unequivocally, the king of typos. Case in point, my fingers originally typed the heading for this very section as “I’m the kind of typos.” My brain and my fingers often operate on different wavelengths, and my eyes, bless their cotton socks, rarely catch the discrepancies. It’s a frustrating dance between thought and execution, leading to linguistic acrobatics that only Sherry, my tireless proofreader, can truly decipher. Sherry, bless her heart, has remarkably little tolerance for these linguistic gaffes, especially when I inadvertently drop an entire word or even three from a sentence, leaving behind a trail of grammatical mystery. Imagine reading a sentence like “then I spread the grout with a trowel” only for it to appear as “then I with a trowel.” Sherry is often left scratching her head, trying to piece together the intended meaning from the fragments of my keyboard escapades.
This chronic typo problem is precisely why Sherry meticulously proofreads every single post before it goes live. It’s also one of the key reasons I’m not as active in the comments section; trying to type out coherent responses without constant self-correction is a mental minefield, not to mention the fact that I often have absolutely no idea where each of our ten million pillows hails from. The absurdity of my typo affliction was perfectly encapsulated in a local interview two years ago. Sherry and I were asked to submit secret responses about each other. I wrote that I loved Sherry because “she fixes my tyops.” Sherry found it sweet and clever, until I sheepishly confessed that the typo was, in fact, unintentional. It was, quite possibly, the most perfectly timed typo of my entire life, a testament to my inherent nature.
#3: Navigating Insecurities as a Stay-at-Home/Work-at-Home Dad
For those who caught my BabyCenter post a few months back, much of this might already be familiar territory. Despite technically qualifying more as a “work-at-home” dad, thanks to my involvement with the blog, there are still frequent moments when I feel a subtle, unsettling awkwardness about not conforming to the traditional image of fatherhood. I don’t get up, put on a suit, and trot off to a conventional office job like many “normal” dads do. Intellectually, I can perfectly rationalize that being home with Clara is an incredibly positive arrangement, offering invaluable bonding time and flexibility that many parents crave. Yet, an irrational part of me sometimes feels “off.” This feeling is particularly amplified when Clara and I are at the grocery store in the middle of a workday. The subtle glance, the unspoken assumption from the cashier – that “oh, he must be unemployed” look – can sting, even if it’s entirely imagined or misconstrued. It’s a quiet internal battle against societal expectations and ingrained stereotypes.
However, I am actively working to embrace this unique path and redefine what it means to be a modern dad. It’s about finding strength in vulnerability, confidence in non-conformity, and profound joy in the daily moments spent with my daughter. My goal is not just to be present, but to be as engaged, supportive, and effective as I possibly can be in this role. It’s a journey of self-acceptance and a testament to the evolving dynamics of family life and gender roles in contemporary society, proving that there are many valid and fulfilling ways to contribute to a household and raise a family.
#4: The Irresistible Pull of the “New”: A Shameless Consumer’s Confession
Perhaps it’s the lingering influence of my former life as an advertising executive, or perhaps it was the very reason I gravitated towards advertising in the first place, but I am an absolute, unapologetic sucker for new products. The allure of novelty is almost irresistible to me. These don’t even have to be revolutionary inventions; sometimes, it’s just a new seasonal flavor of Hershey Kisses, or a limited-edition snack that catches my eye. The moment I spot something new, a primal urge takes over: I. Must. Try. Them. All. It’s an insatiable curiosity, a desire to experience the latest innovation, no matter how minor. I vividly recall buying a box of Life cereal just the other day, solely because its packaging had undergone a redesign. The visual refresh, the promise of something slightly different, was enough to secure its place in my shopping cart.
Sherry has come to understand this intrinsic part of my nature. She knows that whenever I venture out for food shopping solo, she should mentally brace herself for whatever weird, wonderful, or utterly bizarre new flavor or product I’ll inevitably bring home. Dulce De Leche Cheerios? Check. A strange new artisanal hot sauce? Double-check. My grocery runs are less about replenishing staples and more about a treasure hunt for the next big (or small) thing in consumer goods. It’s a playful dynamic in our relationship, one that often results in hilarious taste tests and sometimes, surprisingly delightful discoveries. It’s an ongoing testament to the power of marketing and my own inherent weakness for anything shiny and new.
#5: The Unofficial Soundtrack of Our Home: Singing, Loudly, and Imperfectly
In our household, spontaneous bursts of song are as common as morning coffee. Both Sherry and I are equally guilty of breaking into tune at the drop of a hat, whether it’s belting out lyrics to the radio, or, more frequently, crooning an original, often improvised, ditty that narrates our current activity. “A grouting we will go, a grouting we will go, high ho the tile-e-oh, a grouting we will go” is a common refrain during our DIY projects. This perhaps aligns perfectly with Sherry’s own admission of being “painfully cheerful.” Our home often feels like a slightly off-key, subtly sarcastic Disney movie, complete with a perpetually evolving soundtrack. It’s a joyful, if sometimes tonally adventurous, atmosphere.
It’s probably why our daughter, Clara, has grown up to be equally uninhibited about belting out her own little medleys. We’re certainly not “real” singers – no American Idol auditions in our future – but we can both (and the key word here is “sort of”) carry a tune. And occasionally, miraculously, we even manage to harmonize. Sometimes, it’s even on purpose! We exist in that unique vocal limbo, not quite good enough for a golden ticket, but not bad enough to be an immediate comedic rejection montage. For a glimpse into my vocal prowess, you can fast forward to about the 12:10 mark of a mockumentary my college improv group created about a squash tournament. Naturally, it culminated in a mediocre musical number, and I had a brief verse. If you’re feeling adventurous, you can watch the entire thing from part one, but be warned: I can’t guarantee its entertainment value for anyone beyond those of us who were actually in it. It’s a nostalgic, if slightly embarrassing, testament to our lifelong love of spontaneous, imperfect musical expression.
#6: The Author Who Doesn’t Read His Own Blog: A Time Management Tale
Here’s a confession that might surprise many: I don’t actually read Young House Love. Given that Sherry meticulously proofreads every single post (revisit point #2 if you need a refresher on why this is crucial) and diligently responds to the vast majority of comments – questions like “where did you get that mirror?” are akin to asking me what color earrings Sherry wore three days ago – she effectively reads just about every single word that ever gets published on this site, often multiple times. With the sheer volume of tasks and responsibilities we juggle each day, it simply isn’t the most efficient use of our collective time for me to also read every word. I barely find the time to keep up with other blogs, let alone the one where I’m already intimately familiar with the content and, more importantly, how everything ends.
So, if we ever cross paths in person and you reference something witty or insightful that Sherry has written, please forgive my inevitable smile and nod. It’s not disinterest; it’s a pragmatic approach to managing our creative output and our demanding schedules. Does it sometimes make me feel a little guilty, like a bad person for not engaging with our own work? Occasionally, yes. But honestly, as our long-time readers know, brevity has never been a particular virtue of ours, and our posts can be quite extensive. It’s a trade-off, allowing Sherry to maintain her deep connection with the content and our community, while I focus on other aspects of our shared creative endeavors and family life.
#7: The DIY Temper: When Perfection Crumbles
This revelation might come as a genuine surprise to some, especially given the often cheerful and optimistic tone of our blog. But let me assure you, I can get just as incredibly peeved and frustrated as anyone when a project takes an unexpected, and decidedly negative, turn. There are moments in the midst of a particularly stubborn or baffling DIY task when my composure completely evaporates. I have, on occasion, been known to throw a screwdriver – though “lob it at the ground in exasperation” might be a more accurate, and less dramatic, description – while grappling with an incredibly frustrating problem, such as a recalcitrant mailbox installation that refused to cooperate. I am, admittedly, working on this aspect of my personality, striving for more Zen-like patience in the face of adversity.
So, please know that I am not always Mr. “It’s All Going To Be Hunky Dory” throughout every project. There are definitely times when I’m gritting my teeth, muttering under my breath, and contemplating the nearest exit strategy. However, the true magic of DIY lies in the eventual triumph. When it’s all said and done, when the challenge has been overcome, and we’ve lived to tell the tale, the sense of accomplishment is immeasurable. It is, without a doubt, 100% worth every ounce of frustration and every muttered curse word. This profound satisfaction is precisely what keeps drawing me back into the ever-challenging, yet incredibly rewarding, DIY arena. I often liken myself to Russell Crowe in Gladiator – fiercely battling against the odds, driven by a powerful purpose – except, of course, significantly less ripped.
Perhaps my list of personal confessions didn’t contain as many “surprise, I’m not perfect” moments as Sherry’s, largely because I operate under the assumption that most of you already knew I was no Matt Damon, Edward Cullen, Justin Bieber, or whoever else embodies the pinnacle of male perfection these days. I’m a regular guy with regular quirks, and I find a certain comfort in that authenticity. Just don’t let Clara in on this secret. She, bless her innocent heart, is pretty convinced that I’m all that and a box of raisins – the epitome of a perfect dad. And frankly, I’d very much like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Her adoration is one of life’s greatest treasures.
Pssst: On a slightly different note, we have some exciting, if slightly nerve-wracking, news! We aren’t exactly famous, but somehow, we’ve been invited to be part of the Richmond Comedy Coalition’s captivating series called “Richmond Famous.” This unique event is happening next Friday night, January 27th. We’re not entirely sure what we’re getting ourselves into, but the premise is that we’ll share some true stories from our lives, and the incredibly talented improv actors will then spontaneously create scenes based on our anecdotes. And yes, Sherry is beyond nervous about the prospect of having “to actually talk” in front of an audience, so we would absolutely love to see you guys there for moral support (at least I would – Sherry might prefer to hide in the car). You can find more information about this intriguing evening here.
Psssst again: In other news, we’ve announced this week’s giveaway winner! If you’re curious to see if luck was on your side, click here to check out the results. Good luck to all who entered!