Last weekend we packed up the ridiculous amount of things that are required for two adults, a six year old, a one year old and a giant dog to leave the house for the weekend and visited grandma. Blake surprised me by sleeping until the very late hour of 6:10 am. The day before was 4:40 so seriously, I’ll take it! After feeding Charger his breakfast and sharing some mini pancakes of our own, Blake and I headed outside in the name of keeping the house quiet so everyone else could sleep. And of course we brought his favorite toy…
The broom. It is all about brooms and mops right now. So much so that you would think our house would be spotless but trust me, it’s not! Without realizing it, Blake unleashed his passion for sweeping upon the sidewalks of a street that has become a series of little old ladies living alone.
I had never paid much notice but since Craig and I got married things have changed on this quiet street. The homes and lawns look very much the same. The trees still drop big, thick leaves come fall and you can almost always see a furry little bunny rabbit hopping by. But as the years have gone on a multitude of sweet little old ladies (I should probably say sweet older women, but come on) have found themselves husbandless.
The sad and scary reminder of what likely is the future for many of us women. Spending your life building one with the person you love the most only to one day have to figure out how to live it by yourself. A pit grew in my stomach and my heart ached for my mother in law while Blake continued to run his broom back and forth over the sidewalk without a care in the world.
Three years later she’s still figuring out how to live life without the man she built hers around. There are definitely tough moments but my goodness, she’s doing as good a job as you could ever ask someone to do.
Blake’s sweeping though entirely selfish and simply for his pleasure reminded me that the rest of us should be helping, leading by example and instilling those same values in our kids that our parents did for us. I feel like I’ve been lacking in this department and I’m not proud of it. Kayla who is six but I call her my sixtween year old came out and wanted something to do. Lately it’s been a struggle.
I asked her to bring in the newspaper so Craig’s mom didn’t have to bend down to pick it up, half expecting a huffy response but didn’t get one. She then surprised me by offering to get the next door neighbor’s too. A sweet 90ish year old woman who recently lost her husband. I smiled. Surely we have a ways to go but perhaps all isn’t lost on my parenting and the fate of the next generation.