Progressive’s insurance ads about turning into your parents are so on point, at least for me. Try as we all might to avoid emulating all the foibles of our moms and dads, it can be a borderline impossible task. My dad, for example, likes things done a certain way … just so. Like that time our suburban New Jersey driveway became a frozen lake in one particularly brutal winter, and he had us out there with 6-foot long steel pinch point bars to break it up. Every … single … piece. I can still remember groaning and whining the whole time. Especially after learning that even though my brother and I thought we had finished the task, it wasn’t quite right. Meaning more smashing of the giant steel bars.
Fast forward, oh, 30 years, and here I am, in full dad mode, with kids of my own … and turning into my parents.
And wouldn’t you know it? I want the things done in just the same particular way. In New Hampshire, winter hit hard this year. As I write this in late March, a winter weather advisory has just popped up on my computer. It’s all good, our family loves the snow, and our household is fully equipped with the various tools needed to keep steps, walkways, and the driveway clear. But boy have we seen a lot of snow. Which means, a lot of opportunities to get out there and clear it — the right way.
I don’t usually like to micro-manage, but …
Between our thundering snow blower, shovels of all shapes and sizes, and three kids ranging in age between 13 and 14, there’s no shortage of labor or equipment to get the job done.
At this point, I’m still mostly running the snowblower. It’s a beast, and aside from a bit of side-by-side training with the kids at the helm, it’s largely been in my hands. I think the kids might be afraid of it, which is a rare instance where I think a bit of fear is a good thing. As for the areas that require a shovel, that’s on them.
I don’t like to hover or micro-manage the kids, which means on snow days, I just tell them to come outside with me and get to work. Early in the season, they’d attempt to finish the job in about five minutes. But even with three of them working, it’s more like a 30-minute job — to get it right, that is. As in, crisp, square edges all the way around, cars completely cleared of the white stuff, and said white stuff shoveled out of the way, and of course, rounding off the snow bank corners where the driveway meets the street. Because, you know, when those sections freeze, you could probably take off a bumper cutting it too close.
Needless to say, the children do not execute their task quite this way on the first go. Which necessitates a second round and much whining and groaning. While this is happening, I’m typically cracking up, which is met with confusion. “Are you laughing at us?” is a common refrain. Absolutely not. I’m laughing at myself, realizing that I have literally turned into my parents.
