Happiness in a Leaf Blower

When you're a new Dad, whether stay-at-home or working, there are certain activities that you don't do as often (no, I was not referring to that).  One of the saddest losses for me has been my use of power tools, which decreased sharply, NOT for lack of jobs that need done desperately, but because their use may:
A. Wake sleeping babies even if you work on the other side of the house, outdoors, underground
B. Deafen conscious babies if you try blaring Barney on surround sound to mask use of power tools nearby
C. Blind the babies if you try to wear them in a Baby Bjorn and use a reciprocating saw
D. Cause damage to growing bones and joints if you allow them to "help Daddy" use a framing nailer



So when I noticed the back yard was consumed by odd, drought-stricken leaves that was hiding all my beautiful brown grass. I offered to clean up the yard on a weekend when my wife was taking the kids to visit friends.  Mowing, weed-eating, leaf-blowing, and anything else involving my lawn does not appeal to me.  While my mother finds mowing to be calming, I find it extremely tedious and time consuming, most likely thanks to my obsessive compulsive personality that requires EVERY blade be cut, even if it requires the scissors I keep in my back pocket while I mow.

If that sounds ridiculous, imagine me with a leaf-blower in our back yard that has three huge trees, two small dogs that dig holes and poop ten times a day, and an array of "garden areas" that have been mulched, cocoa beaned, and graveled at least seventeen times in the past decade but never truly demarcated from the lawn.  So from the second I started the motor on that leaf blower I knew I was in it for the long haul.

And then I put the earplugs in....

It was like that moment in movies where the half-dead person floats up off the gurney and sees the white light.  I was immediately at total peace.

I worked for two hours with a deafening, violently vibrating, shoulder-wrenching machine in my hands and a mix of dirt, leaves, mulch, dog shit, and bits of a dead bird whirling around my head.  Smiling all the while.

 I realized it's probably a mix of the earplugs and the mind-numbing complete focus that power tools require that draw us (men) to them. Then again, it could be the way they drive everyone else away and require our small children to leave the house with their mothers while we use them.