Little Setbacks: Part 1

As I posted previously, my lovely wife has been on a retreat. She needed some time to get away and simply be alone with God, without the distractions that follow her from day to day. That means I’ve been playing the role of Mr. Mom with our two children. Usually, the shoe is on the other foot with the Mrs. traveling with the kids on some trip and me left at home to work. These are by and large relaxing times for me. I’m basically free to run the house by my own code. I can play a war movie at 100 decibels while grilling a 72 ounce T-bone, if I choose.¹ With no offspring to riddle my patience with incessant questions firing at 30 rounds per minute, I have time to enjoy those little things I once took for granted, like thinking, reading or doing both in the bathroom. (Maybe that’s too much information.) But after a few days, the novelty wears off and I begin to miss my family and prepare for their return. For my wife especially, I always make sure to have the house semi-immaculate and in proper order. After all, she’s been flying solo with the kids. The least I can do is have her domicile clean and organized, ideally with a delicious dinner waiting when she arrives. By contrast, on the handful of occasions where I’m left alone with the twin tornadoes, she’s typically at ease if she returns to find the house still standing, no court summons from social services and me hanging around for at least 5 minutes before I split.

Well, these are special times. I decided to forgo my usual fleeing the scene and have the house nice and spiffy to welcome her back. I also had a big flank steak marinating with baked potatoes to boot. But the real shocker that was sure to be a surprise hit was dirt—50+ cubic feet of rich, dark top soil, neatly distributed in her new flower bed.

She had recently constructed a half-circle retaining wall using recycled bricks and wanted to fill in the space with dirt (dark dirt to be exact). She purchased five 40lb bags of soil but wasn’t even close to covering the surface area, not to mention filling the depth created by the wall. I knew she wanted the bed packed, so I heeded my brother’s advice and got a truckload of dirt from our neighbor’s private landfill. (Thanks Glen!) The terra was terrific! It was dark (as requested) with little to no debris and (best of all) totally free! My children even enjoyed the trip in the pickup as we journeyed to the land of the ravenous, diesel-powered dinosaurs.²

After unloading the earth, her flower bed was ready for cultivation. Now everything was in place for a grand welcome home. It was going to be perfect.

And then I blew it.


¹Once, I even prepared a steak while wearing nothing but my shorts and then consumed it right from the grill. No joke. I turned off the burners, sliced up the succulent slab of juicy bovine and ate it while standing, without so much as a plate. Now that’s freedom!

²Have you ever been to a landfill where there’s giant earth moving equipment? You feel like you’re in Jurassic Park without the blood and carnage.