The Boy Has Patience… I, However, Most Certainly Do Not

I have to brag for just a moment on the boy…

I have to. Like, I don’t want to because you’ll be all.. “Awwww that’s so sweet,” but then in the back of your mind you’ll be all… “Ewww.. That’s so gross.”

Because I think we’re gross. Like sometimes, I feel as if I should carry a barf bag with me at all times.

I know.

I shouldn’t complain.

And I’m not. I’m bragging.

Right now? The boy is outside in the dark fixing Sam’s bike… again. I say again because her bike is cursed, much like my car. I think this is the third or fourth tire he’s fixed. But he’s fixing it because she wants to ride her bike to school tomorrow. It will be her inaugural ride.  Am I nervous?  Of course.

Prior to beginning the maintenance work on the bike from the time I left to take Sam to her game, he’s been mowing… not just his yard, but my yard, too. So basically, he busted his tail all day at work (and he has one of those real, manual labor jobs…not a cushy one like mine where he sits in front of a computer all day…) and then he went and picked up the kids, got Sam in her uniform for me, started dinner, took Sam to get a bike lock and a bike tube and then started doing more real work after I left for a ball game. Not just with her, mind you, but with all the kids.  It doesn’t phase him.  He LOVES to spend time with the kids.  All of them.

But you know what else?

My flowers came from the Netherlands today. All the way on a boat, across the ocean, through customs and to my door step. The boy called me and said, “Hey! Want to know something that will make your day brighter?” Of course I wanted to know. And so he told me that my box from Breck’s was there.

After rushing around, and getting home, I found 5 minutes to open the box that I had been waiting so patiently for.

Ok, I wasn’t so patient, but I tried hard to be.

And you want to know what was in that box?

Dirt and roots.

Dirt and roots, can you believe it? That’s it. No pretty blooming flowers. No pots. Just bags of dirt and roots and the bags had holes so there is now dirt everywhere. Everywhere. Just this dusting so it’s not overly noticeable but it’s annoying and you feel all grubby?

So that’s where I stood. A box of dirt and roots, not what I was expecting, nor what I wanted, and still no earthly idea of where to put them and near tears because I wanted pretty flowers. Not dirt and roots.

But the boy? Not only is he good with bike tires and picking kids up and yard work, the boy? He’s a master at damage control. And trust me. When it comes to me? It seems like I’m always in need of some damage control.

With my lip sticking out, fighting back the tears I looked at him and said, “What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Put them in the ground.”

“But I want flowers. These aren’t going to bloom this year. And that means the other stuff I have coming is going to be roots too and now I have this huge flower bed and nothing to go in it. No color. No pretty flowers. Just dirt. And next year? I’m not going to remember what’s there and even if I did, I’m so ADHD that I’m not going to like it anymore so I’m just going to rip it up anyway.” I was well on my way to a massive meltdown. A meltdown that neither of us had time for.

He stepped toward me, placed his arms around me and said, “We’ll put those in the ground and then we’ll go get annuals that have color and flowers and we’ll put those in there too so that you have some colorful flowers.”

He knows that this gardening thing isn’t my deal. He knows that I am trying. He also knows that I am not patient. I think he’s enjoying my obsessiveness as everyday I walk over to my plants that I have in the pots and I look for new flowers, blooms, stalks… anything really to show me that they are doing something. And everyday, when I peer into the depths of those pots and the plants look the same as they did the day before, I say, “When are there going to be more flowers?”

And every day he looks at me with that grin and says, “You have to be patient, dear.”

I don’t have patience. I make no qualms about it. I just don’t. When the little card on the Lollipop Gerbera Daisies said “grows fast” that, to me, meant everyday a new one would shoot up. That’s fast to me. But apparently, those that create the cards and put them in the little stalks in the pot have a different definition of fast.

Which is okay, I guess.

And maybe one day, I’ll grow some patience. I’m searching for something in the lawn and garden section of Lowe’s for that, but I’ve yet to find it. For now?

I’m just grateful that the boy has patience with me. Because seriously?

I know that I can’t be the most pleasant person to deal with. But I’m so glad that he puts up with me.

Now I feel bad that I made fun of his day lilies last night while I was obsessing over the fact that I had no pretty flowers. Perhaps I should’ve refrained from calling them in their current state, “overgrown grass.”

Yeah, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure they will be beautiful when they bloom.  I’m sure they will be gorgeous for the three weeks that they are blooming.  But for me?  I want something that is always blooming and always colorful.  It’s just me.

But you know what else?

I’m glad that when I said that, he didn’t boot me to the curb. Instead, he just smiled, looked at me and said, “It’s a good thing I love you or I would be really hurt right now.”

I think while I’m in search of something for growing patience I’m going to look for something to extract the foot from my mouth and something else that will stop, or at least curtail, every thought in my head from exiting my mouth.

Yes, thank God for the boy.

But, I wasn’t patient waiting for him, but I did and the wait was well worth it.

So, I’ll wait for these flowers to bloom (which after further reading, I believe that they will grown and bloom this summer) and if the results are anything like that of the wait for the boy, then those flowers will be the most gorgeous ones that anyone will have ever seen…

(yes, you can get your barf bag out now.)

Until next time…