Sunday, August 28, 2011

I am my mother's daughter.

It's not like there ever was a question, but today I confirmed that I am, in fact, my mother's daughter.

I'm embarrassed to say that until a few hours before this blog post, I had never used a riding mower. Let me clarify: I have ridden a riding mower, like when I was a little girl and would hop on with my grandpa or when I was in college and one was decorated like a Mardi Gras float and I had a Hurricane (capital H) in my hand and it was a dare. Don't worry, Mom--no blades were involved! The actual usage of a mower never seemed like a good time, and I have been confused for decades about why my mom not only relishes this chore but treats it with the respect of training for a competitive sport. BG always handles the yard maintenance around here. And by this I mean he does the weekly mowing, edging, and weed-eating.

I've posted before about how I can tear up poison ivy, pressure-wash the hell out of a front stoop, and hedge an azalea bush until it begs for reprieve. But as for the normal grass-growing, weeds being obnoxious, lawn sprawling over into the sidewalk cracks? Meh. Where's the thrill?

BFF-J (J of the fabulous pillows) mentioned a while back that she and her hubby divide the work so that it doesn't take an entire day and doesn't seem like such a burden to either of them. "Genius!" I said. And then I felt dumb that this job-sharing idea had never occurred to me. And then I remembered how sweaty and stinky BG is when he comes in from handling the yard. And then I remembered why I had conveniently never thought of this before.

Today after Lil C went down for her nap, I got over my ew--hot! dirty! hang-ups, and BG and I divided and conquered. I was one with that lawnmower. I didn't even feel the sun beating down on me or mind the sweat dripping into my eyes. I learned not to fear the quick jolt of the mower as it goes from park to drive. I dodged little rocks and sticks while imagining I was Neo in those super-CGI fight scenes in "The Matrix" where he looks sort of like air and liquid at the same time... SUPER STEALTHY air and liquid. That was me!

Then I parallel-parked our mower under the carport like it was my job.

I felt like I could do anything. I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR, YOU OVERGROWN LAWN! And then, as if an idea bubble from a comic strip popped up over my head, I saw my mom kicking butt and taking names on her yard machine, and everything in the world suddenly made sense, if only for a moment.


  1. I love a riding lawnmower! We had one in the redneck ghetto, but don't need one here. I miss it. Congrats on your new super power!

  2. I tell ya...there's something incredibly sexy about a wife on a riding lawn mower!