Manipulation is mostly lost on me. It requires a level of scheming too complex and planful for my lifestyle. At almost 40 what I can do is figure out what I want, most of the time. This morning I wanted to faithfully carry out my "Carless Transportation" commitment, with as little effort as possible.
Biking filled the bill, and preparations felt doable: get lunch together, the hair dryer, my sneakers, work shoes and coffee. Lots of coffee. What I wanted to avoid: getting the bike off its ceiling hook in the garage, and lugging it into the house, its panniers to pack. Out of desperation to fulfill my commitment and reserve enough energy to actually pedal to school, I asked Harold to bring it in for me.
It was 5:30 a.m., and pretty cold outside. Of course he did it, because he just helps when he can. And yes, he did it grudgingly. He grunted. He sighed. He yawned broadly. I politely thanked him. Profusely thanked him. And when I discovered my rear tire low on air, he received another eye lash-batting request from me. Oh, did he struggle. The position, the air pressure, the early hour, it all oviously disagreed with him, and yet he insisted on coming to the rescue. In recognition of his efforts I did the dishes he had waiting in the sink. No offer, I just did them. And felt happy about it to too. By the time I left, his attitude turned.
As I rolled my heavily-laden bike out the door, he offered to carry it down the steps. He checked that my lights worked. He watched as I peddled off. I felt ready and energized for the ride. Because I recognized a need for help, got up the gumption to ask for it, and felt compelled enough to offer some remuneration for it that I actually did him a sizable favor, we parted ways amicably after what could easily have been a tense and difficult time.
In the past I've been more reluctant to ask for help, landing me in more trouble than I ever imagined. Building our daughter's swing set largely without his help created significant ripple effects for our relationship. Landscaping our front, side, and back yards, hauling 3 cubic yards of pea-gravel, and putting in an asparagus patch were all gestures I thought he would appreciate. He did, and he also felt some residual negativity. So did I. Can you say "resentment"? I learned quickly. And yet, working together demands a delicate balance of recognizing the efforts of another, capitalizing on one another's strengths, and knowing how to most effectively thank the other party.
In all honesty, I toddled off this morning with these words scrolling through my mind like a marquis: "She's got a man, and she knows how to use him!" The spirit being: I finally figured out the "I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine" balance in our marriage. Well, this time. Through some mysterious combination of time, experience and love, managed to mine my resources and extract exactly what we both needed. It took manners, love, appreciation, and a great deal of patience.
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