TitsnToolz – Creating and Rebuilding A Life

For as long as I can remember, which is a very long time, I’ve loved to build things. Whether it was hijacking my brother’s Lego sets or my own wooden blocks or Tinker Toys, I loved the idea of creating something out of nothing. Just using my imagination to take those inanimate objects and create something – anything. It didn’t really matter what I was creating, it was just important for me to create.

The basement in my childhood home was magic. Unfinished and huge, it was one of my favorite places to spend a Saturday. I’d get up early and decide that today I was going to build stuff. My parents were absolutely fantastic in that they just let me be me and do what I needed to do. Besides, if I was down in the basement, then I wasn’t upstairs badgering them with questions about how things worked or why chipmunks had a strip down their back. Along with our full set of “Book of Knowledge” encyclopedia’s, which I’ll admit I probably read cover to cover, my parents were my Google, so anytime I decided to go off and play on my own, they were more than happy to let me be.

Sometimes, I didn’t even tell them where I was going. I’d just disappear into the basement. My happy place. They’d know soon enough when they heard the hammering. I was only ever allowed to use the scraps of lumber we had and I never used any power tools, so many tables and things were made out of odd pieces of panelling and old cement nails, and if you’ve ever tried to nail two pieces of panelling together at a 90 degree angle with a cement nail, well, then you understand there are clearly some challenges to overcome.

Nevertheless, I persisted and made it work to the best of my ability, and really, that’s all that mattered. Starting something and sticking to it. I wasn’t one to give up easily, and to be honest, overcoming the challenges was the most fun.

As I’ve gotten older, my love of building has only grown and intensified. I was always doing projects with my Dad at the house or at the restaurant we owned. When money is tight, you tend to “MacGyver” a lot of things and do your best to rebuild and fix them. In my opinion, this is where ingenuity and creativity live – in the ability to problem solve and do things in a way that are just a little different than the norm. That old scrap of lumber might look like an old scrap of lumber to some, but with a little creativity it can become a shelf, or a support for a countertop or whatever you need it to be.

Anyways, as time went on and I became more experienced, I began to use more power tools and attempt increasingly difficult jobs. Not everyone was always onboard with my endeavours though. My family and friends were fine, but it was the random people, mostly men, that I would encounter in the hardware store while I was picking up supplies or loading them into my car. I’d get a “look” of “honey, are you sure you can lift those?” or sometimes people would just come right out and tell the thoughts that should have stayed inside their head.

“Are you sure you have the right wood? I once sent my wife to the hardware store to get wood and she got the wrong stuff, so just be sure!”

“That’s going to be a big job. Are you sure you can do it? I hope your husband is helping.”

“You’re going to use a chainsaw? You really should let a professional do it. Or your husband.”

“Sweetie, I’m not sure you should be lifting all that heavy wood into the car by yourself.”

“Why do you even WANT to do this? This is stuff a man should do. I can’t for the life of me figure out why a good-looking woman like you would want to do any of this on her own.”

These aren’t just statements I made up to prove a point. Every single one of them is true and has been so kindly offered as “manly advice”. And this is just a sampling. It happens almost every time I go to the hardware store, and I go to the hardware store a lot! The first few times I thought it was sweet in a very condescending, mansplaining kind of way, but as they continued, I just got angry.

I mean, fuck off. Seriously. Fuck the fuck off.

“Oh that’s just how guys are. Let it go. It makes them feel good. Let it go.”

No. Just no. I will not just let it go and if they want to feel good, well there are several other ways for them to achieve that. It is not our business as women to be allowed to feel less or talked down to because it’s “just how men are”. If they have a fragile ego, then that’s their problem, not mine. I’m not buying wood to please them; I’m buying it so I can build a bench to sit on to take off my shoes. MY shoes, not theirs.

It used to drive my father nuts when I would come home and tell him what happened. He loved the fact that his two daughters were physically strong, athletic and determined women. He took pride in the fact that I could wield a chainsaw or whack a hammer or carry five bags or mulch at a time. He’d just shake his head and smile.

“Your Mom and I certainly didn’t raise any wussies!”

My three older brothers were no different in their attitudes about their sisters. We could do what we could do because we could. There was no questioning, there was never any condescending words or explanations of what a girl couldn’t do. I have so much love and respect for them as brothers and men for not putting any of those sorts of conditions on our relationship. They had a strong, athletic and determined woman as a mother, so that’s all they knew.

But my Dad, man, he was my champion. He’d say, “Don’t listen to any of them. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” I can’t even begin to explain how that made me feel as a daughter and as a woman. To know that I could come to him to ask him questions about how to build something or fix something and not be shot down or have him just take over the project, was invaluable and gave me the confidence to keep challenging myself and doing more, not just in building but in life. I can never thank him enough. I wish all girls had someone like him as a male role model.

I haven’t written about this yet because it’s really difficult but when my dad died in September of 2018, he passed away at home and I found him on the bathroom floor when I got home from work. The details aren’t important to this story, but let’s just say it was severely traumatic for me. I had to walk past that bathroom every single day and it was incredibly hard. Incredibly hard. I had nightmares and just wasn’t coping very well seeing the images and dealing with the memories.

One Friday night, about three months after he died, I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything physical about the situation bothered me. I couldn’t stand the colour of the walls anymore. Or the floors. Nothing. I either had to make some changes or put the house up for sale. I needed a clean slate to even begin to heal.

So, I went out to the garage, picked up the sledgehammer, brought it back downstairs and began whacking at the closet in his old bathroom. I didn’t think about what the end result would be. I didn’t care. I just needed to get that closet out of there and then the old shitty vanity and sink. Then all the tiles came down, and the floor came up. I would rather live with it demo’ed than the way it was and the memories it held.

Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I stripped the rec room, the room he watched television in, down to the studs. Everything was gone. That floor came up too. I ripped up the floor in his bedroom without even removing the furniture. I just tugged and shifted and tugged some more until it was all gone.

Long story short, by the time I was done, every room except one in the basement was stripped to the core, a wall was partially removed, all the doors and doorframes were gone, the old drop down ceiling destroyed. I had never felt better. All of it I did by myself. Just me. A strong, determined woman.

The Rec Room down to the studs.

I remember posting a picture of the rec room as I was taking it apart and my friend commenting that she didn’t know how I was surviving in that chaos. I explained that creating this chaos was the only way I was surviving. Amid all of this, I came up with a name for my “pretend” reno company that I used as a joke and as a hashtag. I called it “TitsnToolz”.

Now some of you might find that name a little offensive and that’s okay, my mother probably would have too, but it just came out of my mouth one day and it stuck. I just liked the juxtaposition of the female anatomy against the mostly male idea of having tools. I thought it was symbolic in the sense that yes, you could have “tits” AND you could also have tools. They were not mutually exclusive.

Over the next year, I proceeded to rebuild my basement and rebuild my life. I had a great buddy Dave help me with some construction, electrical and plumbing work in the laundry area and he was awesome to work with and so respectful of me as a woman even attempting to take on a project of this magnitude. He offered precious advice and instruction and taught me so much, and he did it in a way that didn’t make me feel inadequate or someone that was way out of her league. More men need to be like Dave. He saw and treated me like an equal and a woman in a man’s world of reno’s, that meant the world to me, and I will always be grateful.

The finished rec room all decorated for Christmas 2019.

Guys, it’s not that hard to see us as equals. It’s really not. No, we may not be as physically strong as some of you, but we too can like tools and building things, AND it turns out we can also be pretty good at it too! And with the strength thing, I don’t want to be too hard on your ego’s but there were a few of you making comments to me that I could have easily outmuscled. Just saying…

Well, the renovation turned out amazing. I didn’t stop at the downstairs either, I somehow crept up the stairs and making changes as I went, and then decided to redo all the hardwood floors. By myself. By hand.

The new laundry room.

The best part of it was the learning and the creating. The satisfaction of seeing my design ideas come to life. I made mirror frames, and shelves, side tables, and a bench. I even made a Laura Ingalls queen sized bed! There wasn’t anything I wasn’t willing to try, and that for me is the way I want to live my life. My reno isn’t perfect, not by a longshot, but if you’re always expecting perfection, then you’re never going to even pick up the hammer – or the pen or the paintbrush or use your voice to throw out a new idea in the workplace. It just won’t happen because that perfectionism will halt you in its tracks.

For me, TitsnToolz isn’t just a name, it’s a mind set. It tells me that I can do this, and I can’t be afraid to try. It’s amazing how many women have told me they admire what I’m doing and that they are going to try to do a few things around their house that they never would have tried before. Halleluiah! That’s what it’s all about. TitsnToolz is about inspiring other women with a can-do attitude. It’s about breaking down barriers and showing the world that women CAN do these sorts of things.

So often as women, we’re just afraid to try. Why is that? Why is taking that first step so difficult? And I don’t just mean when it comes to construction, I mean anything in our lives. We are so afraid of failure that we never push ourselves to see what we can really achieve. But we can achieve great things. We can do hard things and we can achieve great things.

The road may not always be easy and there are definitely going to be people who shut you down and try to block your path – other women included. Don’t let them. Don’t. Go out the garage, grab the sledgehammer and whack that way clear. We birth life from our bodies, so yes, we can do the impossible.

Take my word for it, it will be women that save the world. We have all the tools and we have the tits to make it happen. So, come with me and let’s use the “TitsnToolz” mindset to change the world. I’ve got my hammer. Do you have yours? It’s time to get started.

The TitsnToolz toolbelt!