I got a leaf-blower for Christmas.
Not a girly, light leaf-blower.
A manly, heavy-duty, back-pack, professional leaf-blower.
Last fall, we moved to a house in the woods and there were lots of leaves once the trees said “goodbye for now” to their petals of yellow and orange.
Lots of leaves. Everywhere. Constantly.
Enough to jump in and be lost for days in a pile of them.
You get the point.
I begged my husband for said leaf-blower and when I opened my bright shiny Christmas package, I giggled with glee. My kids nodded in amusement because they just know.
What do they know?
They know some out-of-the-box, but very cute things about me. Okay, not so cute. More out-of-the-box. Or at least out-of-the-gender-culture-box.
I like those things about me.
I like them a lot.
I am who I am.
I am not super girly. Or more true, what culture says girly is.
I like NFL football.
I like being physically strong.
I like spreading mulch.
I like feeling powerful.
I like taking care of myself.
I really like rescuing people. In fact, I just did it this afternoon when my husband texted and said, “I have a flat tire.”
I like being a little manly. Or more true, what culture says manly is.
I am who I am.
You know how parents get a lot of things wrong?
This is a BIG DEAL one that my parents GOT RIGHT!!
They never ever told me who I should be. They let me be ME. Fully. Always.
If that meant being strong, so be it.
If that meant traveling alone in Europe at 21, so be it.
If that meant moving to North Dakota on a whim, so be it.
If that meant loving football, so be it.
Yesterday, we had a huge storm. Leaves everywhere. Branches down. The yard was a mess.
Guess what I did?
I woke up and declared mightily, “I am going outside. Where is the leaf-blower?”
You know how spouses get a lot of things wrong?
This is a BIG DEAL one that my spouse GETS RIGHT!!
He never tells me who I should be. He lets me be ME. Fully. Always.
If that means spreading mulch, so be it.
If that means having a fantasy football team, so be it.
If that means rescuing him on the side of the road, so be it.
If that means taking a picture of me donning my leaf-blower, looking powerful, so be it.
(SIDE NOTE: My hubs chuckled with admiration as he watched me…maybe he thought I was sexy with this giant backpack, conquering leaves and sticks and yard debris. I sure thought he was sexy when I went back into the house and found out he made the bed.)
One last thing.
Sometimes, I am not so strong.
Sometimes, I need help.
Sometimes, I am a girly girl. Or more true, what culture says girly is.
Sometimes, I can’t pull the throttle hard enough to turn a leaf-blower on.
Guess what my husband did?
My tall, flower-loving, bed-making, likes-to-shop-at-cute-little-shops partner still let me be ME. Fully. Always.
“Yes.” He said, “I’ve got you. I can turn that on for you.”
I am who I am. Period.
Manly. Girly. Me.
P.S. Our yard looks beautiful again. Driveways clear. Walkways clean. Sticks gone. Leaves blown. Yup.
Manly. Girly. Me.
The Dolly Mama 