I finally talked Ben into letting me mow the other day.
We have a pretty big yard, so it takes over two hours to get it all mowed. The problem is that Ben usually doesn't allow me to mow because I broke the lawn mower ONE time. Three years ago. The first summer we were married. He still isn't over it. Granted, he did say something along the lines of, "Don't mow over there because there are really big rocks" and I decided to just raise the deck and mow over the really big rocks. It didn't go well. I broke something and he was a little ticked off. If I remember right, it meant a partially mowed yard for a few days, a trip to town and about $50. That did not go over well with my perfectionist, tight-wad husband. I tried to explain to him that riding lawn mowers always break. Its what they do best. They throw belts, they get clogged up, the blades get dull, etc. But somehow he was convinced that this was solely my fault, not the fault of the mower. He's very perceptive. In retrospect, guess it really wasn't the mower's fault that I made the poor decision to just mow over some really big rocks. It was pretty much entirely my fault. But apparently he's decided to forgive me now, three years later.
Also, he's a native of Tucson, AZ, where they don't have grass. He explained to me that when he was growing up they just didn't have that much yard work to do. They had a smaller yard since they lived in a regular neighborhood, and no grass. In fact, I remember the first time I ever went to Tucson with him to meet his family, before we were even officially engaged. Such lovely people! We were helping his mom and dad get ready to have some guests over when I heard Nancy and Phil talking about doing some yard work before everyone came. In confusion and glanced out the window at the dirt yard.
I went to find Ben and whispered, "Your mom and dad are talking about doing yard work. What yard work?" My idea of yard work was pretty intense. You know, raking and burning leaves, hours of mowing and weedeating, etc. Ben looked at me in surprise. "Oh, they'll sprinkle it with water and do some raking." That only added to my confusion. Rake what? And why would you water dirt? I decided to just watch and learn. And I did indeed learn that when you sprinkle a dirt yard with the water hose it keeps the dust down. And dirt looks quite nice when raked.
So you can see why when he first moved to Oklahoma he got the biggest kick out of mowing. It was the cutest thing. He was happy as a lark bouncing around out there on his very first riding lawn mower. When everyone else in the community was complaining about the grass growing he was so excited to mow he was practically watching and wiating for it to get tall enough. He had been sadly deprived of mowing time as a kid. Also, he has an obsession with anything that has an engine, and Oklahoma yard work opened up a whole new world of small engines. Leaf blowers, weed-eaters, tillers, chainsaws...the possibilities were mind boggling. And yes, we now own all of those things, of course. We just don't have a tractor yet. But one day we will. Oh, yes, one day we will.
Back to my story. A couple of days ago Ben was a little stressed because he's got a lot of projects he needs to get done. Put a part on his truck, do the brakes on the four-wheeler, finish the rear-end on the Chevy II, etc. And he wanted to get it all done this week before he gets busy on a new remodel job. And the grass is growing, making our yard look shabby. I know that drives him crazy, so me, being the nice little wife that I am, convinced him that I could mow. I can't work on the Chevy II, I can't do the breaks on the four-wheeler, and I can't go to work for him, but I can mow. Of course he reminded me that maybe I really can't mow because of that one time I broke the lawn mower. Yes, I remember. How could I forget when he reminds every summer when I ask if I can mow? I sweetly reminded him that sometimes the lawn mower breaks when he's using it, but he doesn't ban himself from mowing. he sweetly reminded me that when he mows it doesn't break because of stupid decisions on his part. Its more like natural causes. I suppose its like the difference between getting cancer from smoking and getting cancer just because it happened. But since he was stressed he agreed to let me try this time. Patience was busy filling her red wagon with rocks from the driveway, and Ben was keeping an eye on her while he worked on his truck.
I heaved my pregnant self onto the mower and got started. Very carefully. I did not want to break the mower again. I was so careful that I actually mowed the whole yard with no problems. Well, except that halfway through the project my belly started to feel really wierd. The bouncing my have been a little much. So I tried driving the mower with one hand and wrapping my other arm around my huge belly for support. It was kind of awkward and I probably looked like an idiot, but it helped. Then I started wondering if I was going to send myself into labor early. That would be just great. The longer I mowed and bounced and clutched my belly the more I wondered if I was having contractions or if it was all in my head. There are certain things I obviously won't do while I'm pregnant. Surfing, for example, is probably a bad idea. Luckily there's not a lot of surfing in Oklahoma, so I don't have to worry about that. Also bungee jumping. I would never bungee jump while pregnant. Actually I would never bungee jump while not pregnant because I'm deathly afraid of heights. I'm just saying, pregnant women probably shouldn't bungee jump. But I really didn't think mowing would hurt anything.
I decided to take a break, eat some supper, feed Patience, get a drink, then finish up. I parked the mower and waddled to the carport to collect my child. Ben is a wonderful father, but like most dads, he maybe doesn't watch her quite as carefully as I do. I've never seen her that filthy in her short life. I think she was just sitting in a puddle of grease, rubbing her hands in it, then wiping it on her face and on her clothes. Good thing I put play clothes on her.
Ben was too focused to eat so Patience and I wiped out the leftover hamburgers and I drank about a gallon of water. By that time my belly wasn't feeling quite so wierd anymore, so I cleaned up the kitchen, put Patience back in her puddle of grease, and finished mowing. Very carefully.
That night I showed Ben a big bruise on the inside of my knee from where I was subconciously bracing my leg against the throttle.
"Look. I got an injury while I was mowing for you. Don't you feel loved?"
He grunted. "You shouldn't do that. You might break the throttle off."
I cracked up. Clearly I'm not yet forgiven for breaking the lawn mower three years ago. Now it appears that I'm also not forgiven for successfully mowing the yard. We haven't really talked about it. But I did see him standing in the driveway, hands in pockets, surveying the yard. He came in and said, "Yard looks nice."
Maybe I am forgiven. But we'll see if I'm allowed to mow again!
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