Coping

For a change, I was waiting in the car for the boy and the lass this morning. My plan was to get the kids to school, then head up to gas up the car as well as grab some gas for our mower, since we were out. Then I’d spend a couple hours this morning taking care of the grass, including using the weed wacker for all the edge stuff. It always looks a lot neater that way. Then, I’d spend the afternoon digging.

The boy hopped in the car, grabbing the coveted “shotgun” position. His sister wasn’t too far behind. In case there was any doubt about the value of “shotgum”, she immediately started in on her brother for “always” trying to get the front seat. I just let it ride.

As we started up the driveway I glanced over at the boy and noticed he was missing something. I also took a quick glance at the lass, whom was not. I then said “Didn’t Mom ask you to wear a sweatshirt this morning?” Yes, we’re 3 days from June and the kids still need cool weather gear on occasion.

The boy took a look at himself, then sighed an irritated hissing noise. His face screwed up in a grimace. I thought of saying something, then chose not to. Let him learn to deal on his own.

Halfway to the school, the boy grabbed his backpack and started rifling through it, looking for something. He got progressively more agitated in his searching. His back pack is only so big, so I figured he was missing something.

“I forgot my black notebook,” he said through clenched teeth. His jaw was set in a grimace and he was staring like he was trying to light small objects on fire with his gaze.

Two things he’d forgotten this morning in the rush to get out the door. I considered turning around to bail him out. Again, I chose not too for the same basic reason as before. He was in the middle of getting himself all worked up about forgetting his notebook, so let him learn that it’s not the big deal he thinks it is.

---

I took my time when I got home. I had a second cup of coffee, caught up on some WwF games, did some reading. The Wife came down and chatted for a bit before her morning regimen of phone calls began. I finally headed out the door to start my day.

The weed wacking went off without a hitch. I was done with it in about 20 minutes. Then I went to start the mower.

No dice.

I noticed fuel was spitting out of the muffler. I took it to a spot where I didn’t want living things and tipped the mower up. Gas drizzled out of the muffler. Not good. Not good at all. I tried a few more times and the mower started. Maybe running it would act to clean out whatever was causing the problem.

5 minutes later, I had my answer. Now, when I tried to pull the cord it held fast. I tried a few things I was capable of mechanically, but none of them worked.

I was pissed. The mower is less than a year old. My previous Toro never gave me problems until the final years that cause me to get a this one. That was 10 years of service without issue. This Husqvararna was letting me down big time. The grass is already 6 inches high since our current weather is perfect grass growing weather. Now, I was going to have to bring it in for repair and lose a couple more days, maybe more.

I spent the remainder of the morning draining the gas tank, since the gas continued to flood into the engine, and then finding and bringing it someplace to get it serviced. My frustration abated after I’d dropped it off. I had other things to do and started focusing on those.

---

The boy got off the bus from school today with his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. Hmmmm, perhaps things had gotten worse for him after the morning’s forgetfulness?

His sister was in a good mood. She scuttled on into the house, chirping at the dogs as she went by. I had to ask the boy 3 times to check the mail because he was so busy with his funk he didn’t hear me the first 2 times. He was walking slowly. Deliberately. The weight of his troubles squarely on his shoulders.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked. I took the mail from him.

“I forgot my notebook. I forgot my library book. I forgot my planner. I forgot my homework. I forgot my Friday folder,” he spat out. He continued staring down at the ground, dark clouds swirled around his head.

So much drama.

“So what happened?” I asked. Surely, he must have received a speech or something from a teacher or something.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just forgot all that stuff.”

“The teacher didn’t yell at you?”

“NO!!“

Wow.

“Kid’s didn’t make fun of you?”

“NO!!“

I paused for a minute. He was in a hell of him own making. He’d forgotten a bunch of stuff and the penalty had been minimal, if there’d been any at all. His anger was solely about his forgetfulness. It wasn’t like he’d had a lawnmower die on him and now had a looming repair bill, and growing grass. I decided to try and lighten his mood a bit.

“Did you get kissed by a girl?” I ask slyly.

“NO!!!!” he bellowed. His eyes focused on me like lasers.

My first thought was “That was a bit defensive…” but I held my tongue and let it drop.

Someday, he’ll have different sources of frustration. Hopefully he learns how to cope better by then.