When I got married 9+ years ago, my husband and I had this weird agreement: I would cook, clean, etc. but he would take out the trash, mow the lawn, and whatever outside. I know, I know… it’s sexist, but I don’t care. I’m usually happy to be a stay at home mom that does all this while her husband works six or seven days a week. Except for this week.
Years ago my husband, Brian, fell at work and it dislocated his shoulder. We never got it fix and, eventually, it got so bad that the socket was actually broken/misshapen. He didn’t necessarily need the surgery, it was something he could have lived with IF he could handle being in pain every time it popped out of place; this happened frequently, sometimes multiple times a day. I wouldn’t want to live like that, not being able to play with my children some times or having to worry about it popping out while moving something heavy at work, potentially having a bigger problem, no thanks.
It has actually been a major problem, with the instability it was causing issues at his work place…. He has been off work since June and is not expected to go back until March. I love him, but he occasionally gets on my nerves.
This past week he had surgery to fix it. They had to take bone from a cadaver and reshape the socket, in order to do this they had to cut his tendon and what not. For the next two months he is in an immobility sling. Yes, you read that right: TWO MONTHS of not being able to use his arm. No playing with the kids, no driving, no work, no movement at all. I thought he was getting on my nerves before the surgery, ha!
I’m not going to lie, I did a lot for my husband before his surgery, but I didn’t have to do it.. it wasn’t expected of me. Now not only am I taking care of the children, pets, etc., I have to cut my husbands food for him, drive him everywhere, help him bathe, all while making sure he doesn’t move his right shoulder in the slightest bit. On top of all of that, I now have to pick up the chores that he cannot do for what will more than likely be the longest two months of my life.
One thing I was dreading on having to do was mow the lawn.. with my depression/anxiety, my mind set was this: why should I have to be the one to do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, taking care of the children, shopping, and the list goes on… plus take out the trash and mow the lawn? Then I got super nervous that I would crash this expensive mower, hit one of the vehicles, or mess up the yard. Would I even do a good job; I probably would miss so many spots I’d have to do it over and over again for a week straight, right? I actually contemplated calling my dad and bribing him to do it for me.
Never in my 27 years, have I ever cut the grass before yesterday. Hell, I remember the only time I drove a riding lawn mower I was a kid and I drove it into some hay bales (see, not all my anxiety was unfounded).
I had no idea what I was doing when I walked out to the shed with my four-year old, trying to figure out how to operate my John Deere. My son told me about all the levers and buttons, where to put my foot, where the gas gauge was, everything; he’s a seasoned pro apparently. I’m glad he paid attention to all the times he helped his dad mow the grass.
Seriously, the blade has to be up or it shuts off, parking break needs to be engaged or it won’t start, it won’t switch to reverse and cut unless you push this button, blah, blah, blah. Like I said, I had no idea what I was doing. I think it took me five-minutes to figure out how to start the thing and back it out of the shed
And then it died, I don’t know why, but I couldn’t figure why it wasn’t turning back on. I thought I broke it. I called my dad after getting the affirmative that he wasn’t at work.. dropped the call. I’m pretty sure all he heard was “it died, I’m out of gas, and it won’t turn on,” or something equally scary when your daughter could be in a dead car on the side of the road with her children in the backseat.
Anyways, I figured out what was wrong; I ran out of gas, added more though… still wouldn’t start, so what else? Well, the blades were down and the parking break wasn’t engaged, duh. Then my dad called me back, asked what the hell I was doing, like I said, he probably was worried about his grandson’s being in a car broke down some place.. hell, he was probably trying to decide if he should head home or start driving around looking for us. Thanks Dad, love you!
I eventually ran out of gas again, because we didn’t have much in the can. I only had to text my dad once more after that, same mistakes.. that ridiculous parking break, ugh! I am happy to say I did a pretty good job cutting the grass, my son said I did great. I only missed a few spots that I wasn’t comfortable trying to get the mower into, can always get those later with a push mower or just say whatever, it’s gonna snow soon. And, I didn’t hit anything!
I can’t say I’m 100% comfortable on the mower, but my dad assures me I’ll get used to it… How many times do you think I’ll have to mow it in the next two months?