About that time the basement flooded in my first house

Writer’s note: My favorite part of the creative process is last-minute panic. I often allow myself plenty of time to complete a task, then follow that with the decision to procrastinate until the last possible moment. The world is full of distractions, both wonderful and wasteful. I fall victim to them all. When dusk begins to fall on my timeframe, I somehow manage to complete the job at hand. The following was composed in such a fashion. 

Eleven years ago this week, I became a parent. Without that pivotal moment, I wouldn’t be the person I am now, either professionally or personally. The introduction of a child to a household is quite the disruptive event. Gone are peaceful full nights of rest. Your life becomes consumed by all things child rearing, like you suddenly care about school districts and that stray dog that’s been walking up and down the street for weeks. 

Many people complain about how tired they are having a child, and rightly so. There’s little time for sleep while juggling feeding schedules, diaper changes and simply holding that bundle of joy. But for me, that first week 11 years ago was not the most exhausting time of my life. That came in the weeks prior to the birth of my son. 

I lived in an old house in Atlanta, a good sturdy house, built back in the day when lead and asbestos were the glue binding everything together, the kind of house you don’t want to be in any stage of construction with a baby on the way, you know, because of the lead and asbestos. The house had a basement, and it rained a lot in Atlanta that year. Basements and excessive rain do not mix. One morning the waters breached the homestead, creating a big enough mess that required professional cleaning, you know, because of the lead and asbestos. 

We were left with bare concrete on the ground and more exposed wall studs than I wanted to count. To save money, my wife and I opted to rebuild ourselves. I’ve always considered myself handy around the house, but I learned a lot that summer. I hung sheetrock, laid floor, installed baseboards and spread more tubes of caulk than I can remember. I was desperately trying to finish the job before the baby was born; I did not want to be learning how to refinish a house and care for a baby at the same time. 

At the time I was working as a landscaper. So, after 10-12 hours of laboring in other people’s yards I would come home and work in the basement until I hit exhaustion. My assistant was my spouse, heavy with child as they say, who sat in a folding chair and took down the measurements I shouted out and helped me with math. Fractions and angles have never been my strong suit. 

It was an arduous few weeks to say the least, and we pulled it off. It was a frustrating and expensive, and not to mention stressful event, but looking back it was the happiest and most gratifying time in my life.

Until the baby was born.

You can reach Kyle Dominy at k.l.dominy@gmail.com or write to 115 South Jefferson Street Dublin, Ga. 31021.