The Day I Mowed the Lawn

 

 

The other day, I was teasing an adult friend who didn't know how to use a lawn mower. Then I realized, neither do I.

 

Theoretically, I know how a lawn mower works. I just never had the opportunity to mow the lawn. 

 

I lived in apartment complexes during my pre-marriage adult life, and when I was an adolescent, my dad and my brother, once he was old enough, mowed the lawn. It's not like I did nothing as a kid around the house. I had chores, but mowing the lawn was not one of them. 

Now here I was, having recently turned forty-five years old, worried that I might have been playing into the patriarchy for almost half of a century.

 

"What if you die?" I asked my husband, Dan. "I need to know how to mow our lawn!" 

"Just hire someone. That's what our neighbor does," he said.

 

"She's like eighty."

 

Dan paused. He seemed unsure if he wanted to continue his line of thinking.

"I'm kind of worried that our mower might be too big for you," Dan finally admitted. "It's a tough job, and you're little, and we're not as young as we used to be."

 

"Women mow the lawn all the time." 

"I think you might need a self-propelled mower."

 

Eventually, I wore him down and convinced him I needed to know how things worked . . . in case he died. (The death thing was also how I got him to share his passwords with me.)

 

I wore a mask because my allergies were INSANE while mowing the lawn.

Dan taught me how to mow the lawn in the backyard because I was too embarrassed to learn this brand new skill in the front yard. 

 

I would hate for anyone to the think I am incapable as a homeowner. I already practice the Throw-a-Bunch-of-Seeds-Around-the-Yard-and-See-What-Happens method of gardening.

"Trust me. The neighbors don't need to see this," I told him.

 

 

My first challenge was starting the motor. Dan stood and watched (in amusement, I'm sure). It took at least five attempts every time I tried to get it to turn over.

 

 

"You don't have to mow the whole lawn," Dan said. I had successfully mowed one section.

 

"I'm fine. Maybe I'm not as wimpy as you thought."

 

"Yeah, maybe," Dan said carefully. "I might have to go back and redo some of these spots though."

 

 

"I guess this is how I get you to do things for me," I said, okay with ending the lesson early.

"What? You mean, look pathetic?" Dan asked.

(Down with the patriarchy!)

 

 

 

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