After supper I decided to let the house stay in its state of collapse and work in the back yard for some therapy. Gabe left for work at six, so I had a long evening to trim dead flowers and do some mowing. When Alex saw my intentions to bag the leaves as I mowed, he begged! to rake them! Sure, knock yourself out, buddy. If I had suggested that they do that, I am reasonably certain there would have been some groans of protest about such A Huge Job. They had a ball, flapping rakes around with abandon, making interminable trips with loads on their toboggans to form a central pile. I pulled out the spent beans in the garden and watched in amusement as they raked the entire back yard before they gleefully leaped into their pile, burying each other and erupting out again with yells loud enough to make the neighbors wonder what those youngsters were up to now. It kept them busy all the way to bedtime.
Suddenly I had a flashback to years ago when I had just two little boys and Gabe had to work late for some reason or other. Like 10 o’clock late. It was a similar night, gorgeous, but I was mad at the circumstances that were keeping him so long. It got dark and I decided to go out and fling some leaves around. The little boys were oblivious to the steam coming out of their mama’s ears and just had fun, staying up late, running circles around the furiously leaf raking automaton that was me.
I raked the entire backyard in the dark, with occasional squalls of tears that nobody but God saw. I felt better, too, after I was done. I had unloaded my frustration and come to a saner view about the pressure that my husband was under to finish a job that took longer than he had thought when he gave his word to a customer.
I still don’t like solo parenting evenings so much… never will. But the last thing my man needs is a mad wife when he comes home, so I suppose I am writing this for other ladies out there who can relate to this scenario. Go out and rake some leaves before he gets back, then greet him happily!