I used to be very adept at doing so many things for myself. I can brag that I used to change my oil, my own flat tire, build things and on and on. As I have gotten further along in my marriage, my husband enjoys taking care of me and I admit, I let him.
I recently took it upon myself to snowblow our driveway to help my darling husband and I must admit it was not a fine experience. And as he will be leaving to go to camp for a week it occurred to me I may have to go through this harrowing experience again. I have posted this on my facebook but since I seem to enjoy blogging, I have created this site and thought what a wonderful way to start the experience. Please, feel free to read on:
January 28, 2009
Now that I have almost warmed up and defrosted myself from snow blowing, I am drinking a cup of tea and reflecting on my delightful experience. Now don't get me wrong, this is not the first time I have done this daring deed; however, this evenings experience has caused me to ponder a few things that I thought I would share with those of you who would care to read it.First, let me explain why I was snow blowing. By the time I dug my car out of the many inches of snow and slowly drove home from a long day at the office, there was close to 10 inches of snow in my driveway. I thought, "well my husband won't be home from work until 8:30 this evening and his back has been bothering him so why don't I be kind to my hard working man and shovel off the stairs and deck and snow blow for him". Ahhh the saying holds true "the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions."I learned the following:
1. My perfectionist personality is not well matched with any attempt to snow blow - especially if it is still snowing. Seeing the new coating of snow in an area I have already gone over nearly puts me over the edge.
2. That I should wear boots with cleats on them. Me + Ice + Pushing or Pulling the Snow Blower = Me on Butt on Ground.
3. It is not good to snow blow right down to the tar. It exposes all that nice ice. (see points 1 and 2 above.)
4. That although I may be dressed warmly and have my nice hat on, that the snow being blown INTO the wind (and of course to blow it into the opposite direction would blow the snow against the house), a fine mist of very cold snow gets blown back in my face. Coating me, my hat, my face and neck with a nice layer of ice by the time I am done.
5. That even though it sounds funny, snotsicles are not flattering. I can do with out them thank you very much!
6. That I may choose snotsicles over the fluid version, so a scarf might not have been a good idea either. This thought scares me, but I think the alternative nauseates me more than the snotsicles.
7. I learned this evening that I really can be a vindictive woman. I say this because as I was out in the cold with my snotsicles, and my iced over hair scraping my cheeks in the wind, I look over to my warm inviting home and peer through my large bay window and alas, I view my darling 11 year old son sitting on the couch all warm, drinking hot chocolate and watching “how things are made” on the Discovery channel (he is my budding civil engineer). While seeing him all warm and snug, I start to think of all the ways I can make his life miserable. Now mind you, even if he was willing I wouldn’t let him use the snowblower, but yet his warm smile at me through the window brought about a bit of a frustration. Even more so as I envisioned my 16 year old sitting snug in his bedroom talking on line with all of his friends. Now, he could have been out here saving me, his aging mother, from the pain and cold from snow blowing this, what now seems to me a huge driveway. He is capable. Then the thought came unbidden into my perfectionist mind – if you want it done right don’t let him do it. Chasing that thought out was another – how better to learn than by doing? While these thoughts go round and round, I eagerly devise a plan to make them sorry for not being out here helping. Ahhhh the Xbox –Gone! The iPod – Gone! TV – Gone! Ohhh chuckle, chuckle. The computer – GONE! Oh happy day! Shortly thereafter reality crashed down upon my frozen head. If I remove all these gadgets and toys that my spoiled boys have, I am only causing myself more pain. Punishing them by taking their entertainment away punishes me as they then attach themselves to me and I lose any hope of peace!
8. Once I allowed those nasty little thoughts to stop chasing themselves around my twisted and frozen mind I realized that there is some etiquette in snow blowing. For instance, even though the plow guy seems to enjoy plowing the end of my driveway in, I am not supposed to blow the snow back out into the road.
9. Also, that passersby (even those on the snowmobiles screaming up and down the road as I work hard to clear my driveway) don’t care that I cannot see them as the snow is blowing back into my face, that they don’t want it to even appear that snow might be coming at them. And if they think you are blowing snow at them, they lay on the horn. Idiots, I do know better than to blow snow at them – intentionally anyway!
So after returning to the warmth of my home, combing out the chunks of ice embedded into my hair, breaking off the snotsicles and allowing the heat from my pellet stove to thaw me out, I sat myself in front of my computer to share my story with you. While doing so, my darling husband returns home with a smile for me, and after I regale him with my story of snotsicles and butt meeting ground, he chuckles and says something to the effect of, now you know what I go through. I can tell you folks, I am proud of myself for not asking him to squeeze a watermelon out of his male anatomy so that he can see what I went through giving birth to his sons.So friends, I have made the enlightened decision that unless I am ever single again, I won’t be snow blowing again. Smiles to you all!