I asked my husband to do two things this past weekend: mow the yard and trim the weeds around the trees.
Saturday started off pretty promising. He traipsed out to the pole barn, where all the necessary tools and devices were in order for him to complete his assignment. He even offered to take our 1-year-old with him to allow me to get some work done inside the house.
A few hours later, I went searching for my guys, only to find that, not only did none of the yard work even get started, but that my father-in-law was in the barn as well and that the trio was "cleaning" the barn.
What is it about the "man cave" that creates a black hole of productivity and usefulness?
Despite their best efforts — and to be fair, the toddler isn't speaking sentences yet, so he didn't provide much backup — my husband and his dad could not convince me that anything had improved in the barn.
Sure the socket wrenches were shined up, but there are piles of junk everywhere. Wire fencing sits outside the barn, rusting away. There's enough tree trunks next to the structure — now two years running — to re-create Abe Lincoln's childhood home.
As I found myself mowing the lawn later that evening, I wondered about the allure of the man cave, and I wondered if there is a female equivalent and failed to come up with one. I'm too busy working, cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring to get sucked into a vortex of feminine fun. Even if I were to offer up cooking or shopping as stereotypical female "pastimes," I still manage to have a finished product or service at the end of that rainbow.
My son is quickly following in his dad's footsteps. He insists in handling every tool within reach and keeps trying to climb the riding mower so he can pretend drive, "Brrm! Brrm!" Every time I try to lure him out of the barn, my efforts were met with royal temper tantrums. I finally was able to get him in the house using goldfish crackers as bait.
But as soon as his nap was over, he ran to the door, grabbed his coat and sunhat and handed them to me with the expectant look of "suit me up for more outdoor fun, Servant!"
Sunday came with the promise of finishing up the trimming, but more "barn work" with friends ensued and only a little trimming was done. So now, as I look at the weeds still thriving around my trees, I am contemplating what it will take to get this yard work done.
Perhaps changing the locks to the pole barn would do the trick …
— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
Saturday started off pretty promising. He traipsed out to the pole barn, where all the necessary tools and devices were in order for him to complete his assignment. He even offered to take our 1-year-old with him to allow me to get some work done inside the house.
A few hours later, I went searching for my guys, only to find that, not only did none of the yard work even get started, but that my father-in-law was in the barn as well and that the trio was "cleaning" the barn.
What is it about the "man cave" that creates a black hole of productivity and usefulness?
Despite their best efforts — and to be fair, the toddler isn't speaking sentences yet, so he didn't provide much backup — my husband and his dad could not convince me that anything had improved in the barn.
Sure the socket wrenches were shined up, but there are piles of junk everywhere. Wire fencing sits outside the barn, rusting away. There's enough tree trunks next to the structure — now two years running — to re-create Abe Lincoln's childhood home.
As I found myself mowing the lawn later that evening, I wondered about the allure of the man cave, and I wondered if there is a female equivalent and failed to come up with one. I'm too busy working, cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring to get sucked into a vortex of feminine fun. Even if I were to offer up cooking or shopping as stereotypical female "pastimes," I still manage to have a finished product or service at the end of that rainbow.
My son is quickly following in his dad's footsteps. He insists in handling every tool within reach and keeps trying to climb the riding mower so he can pretend drive, "Brrm! Brrm!" Every time I try to lure him out of the barn, my efforts were met with royal temper tantrums. I finally was able to get him in the house using goldfish crackers as bait.
But as soon as his nap was over, he ran to the door, grabbed his coat and sunhat and handed them to me with the expectant look of "suit me up for more outdoor fun, Servant!"
Sunday came with the promise of finishing up the trimming, but more "barn work" with friends ensued and only a little trimming was done. So now, as I look at the weeds still thriving around my trees, I am contemplating what it will take to get this yard work done.
Perhaps changing the locks to the pole barn would do the trick …
— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
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