Women's Work

So, today I was trying to be all helpful and productive (plus I was actually out of bed and had my coffee before 8AM!) so I went outside to mulch and pick up the roughly a zillion sticks that last week's storm had blown around our yard. I'm supposed to go out to dinner with my mom tonight, while my poor husband has to mow the lawn, so I thought, maybe I'll be a nice person and make his job a little easier by clearing the yard for him. Nice, right? No! Terrible idea. No good deed goes unpunished, that is my lesson of the day. To explain, here is a blow by blow account of the inner workings of my mind for this tragic episode of attempted helpfulness:
Hmm, Addy is awake, so she'll have to go outside with me while I mulch. But wait, the bags of mulch are still in the garage, and I can't just leave her sitting in her stroller alone outside while I drag them all to the backyard. She might get stung by a bee or something, who knows! I'll just put her in her exersaucer while I take the bags out to the back.
(Sarah puts on sandals, brightly assures daughter that she will return momentarily, and heads to garage.)
Oh, wait- these bags are big. And there are a lot. It's going to take me forever to get them all back there. If I can even lift them, which is doubtful. Better get the wheelbarrow.
(Sarah takes look around garage.)
Oh wait, no wheelbarrow. Where is wheelbarrow?
(Sarah takes second look around as if expecting wheelbarrow to sheepishly emerge from its hiding place.)
Oh wait, wheelbarrow is in the backyard. Husband was using it.
(Sarah walks around the house to fenced in garden, which at the moment is more of a weed garden.)
Aha! Wheelbarrow. Oh dear. Upon closer inspection, wheelbarrow is filled with.... packed in dirt. Why, why is wheelbarrow filled with dirt?! Oh well. What to do? I need to break up the dirt and get it out of the wheelbarrow in order to fill it with bags of mulch, that's what I need to do. Obviously. I'll just go get the shovel.
(Still unperturbed, Sarah heads back to the garage to find shovel. Finds shovel, returns to backyard.)
All righty then, now to break up the dirt. Oh good, this is working. Now to dump it out...
(Sarah attempts to tip wheelbarrow, but instead it wobbles and falls on its side, nearly pinning Sarah's leg and spilling its contents into the one part of the garden that actually is a garden and should not have mounds of dirt randomly tossed into it.)
What... No, no stop that! Why....
(Sarah rights the wheelbarrow, fumbles around for a bit, and then manages to overturn it on its other side.)
That's better. All right, an empty wheelbarrow. Mission accomplished. Oh wait, the mission was to haul mulch to the backyard. Well, one step closer anyways. Off to the garage to get the bags!
(Sarah heads off triumphantly towards the garage, but her triumph is short lived as she is immediately opposed by the rogue wheelbarrow, which is attempting to flop to either side with every step.)
Oh, come on... What the heck. All right, let me just see what the trouble is here...
(Exasperated, Sarah bends over to inspect useless wheelbarrow, forgets that all wheelbarrows have portruding handles, and slams left eye directly into one of said handles. Sarah puts hand to her face and wonders how she will explain black eye to concerned acquaintances. She then looks down with her good eye and realizes that tire of demon-possessed wheelbarrow is completely flat. Sarah returns to house, defeated, to find her poor neglected child yawning pitifully, her sad, tired little head lying on the tray of her exersaucer.)

So, there you have it, folks. Don't attempt helpfulness! You will only get hurt! A woman's place is in the house, that is another moral to my story. Also, if you have a baby, you shouldn't try to get yardwork done. You will end up feeling like a negligent mother who should be hauled off to jail. And those are my words of wisdom for today.