big boy's toys

Initiating marital diplomacy, I struck out on a war path with determination. I was looking for a lawnmower. If I heard, "I need a lawnmower," one more time...

Instead of listening to the lament and unfulfilled intention of weeding through garage sales on a precious Saturday morning; instead of feeling the burn of frustration; instead of letting that frustration escalate; instead of letting this plight linger, I took it into my own hands.

No ad posted in the newspapers or on-line went unread for most of three weeks until I found the lawnmower with a mostly honest seller.

It runs fantastic, she said, when it runs. She failed to mention that it was bright green, that a few loose screws make it rattle like mad, and the spark plug was stuck.

When I showed up at our house with the lawnmower in back we didn't have much time except to eat dinner and drive to Home Depot. We had a loan to apply for and nearly one ton of materials to load into the truck for our new roof. Before we could get into the truck, Mark had removed at least one piece of the mower and was working hard at taking apart another. I hovered, with purse on my shoulder until he could finally drag himself away from his new project.

We returned about an hour later with sweat still dripping off him from loading nineteen sixty pound bags of shingles, twice. Then he fixated on the mower. He wanted to tinker. Even when he started to realize that it was ridiculous to continue, he wanted to tinker. Finally, something to do in his garage! It must have been fresh air to the man.

As I quietly left the garage after saying good-night, I smiled. It was not a $20 mower I had purchased, it was a $20 toy. In that case it was a much better purchase than I had imagined.

daisy maisy

All afternoon my head hammered with disputes over this and that indication of selfishness on his part. I did not want to feel this way. Every fifth sentence or so, I would turn to the Lord and tell Him He had to deal with me before I got home. I believe the Bible: that I must respect my husband in deed even when my feelings are out of line. But I wear my heart on my sleeve and he usually knows that I am struggling with something.

Spirits down, I drove quietly into the garage. He was hunched over his workbench. Opening my car door for me he said, "I have a present for you."

"You do? What is it?" I peered over his shoulder to see if this was some kind of a joke or something he had created. The echoes of my disputes laughed at me.

"I got you a BB gun."

And he had. He had picked up enough brass on the range to buy me my toy. So happy was I that I immediately helped him find a target and site in the gun. Purse, papers, and any news were forgotten in our spontaneous competition. Feet planted in my low heels and stretching my suit shoulders to their max, I shot at the bullseye with determination and concentration. The ultimate relaxation for me.

"I haven't eaten anything all day," he commented.

With a pang came the wifely guilt. "I guess this isn't getting dinner made--is it?" So we agreed that I while I assembled dinner he would set up the target in the hallway. After dinner we would compete. Before we dispersed to our tasks I planted a kiss on his lips that raised his eyebrows.

"You're happy then?"

"Ummhmm." So happy that all morning I have told anyone who will listen how thoughtful my husband is.