What Was I Thinking?

Christmas lights were tested and more were purchased. We had a sitter for Kid #3, and kid #2 was ready to help decorate the house for holidays. I ventured into our garage, past my car and the set of four-wheelers, and grabbed the tallest ladder I could find.

For whatever reason, all the aluminum death traps leaned against the wall in front of my Jetta. I took my time and maneuvered between my baby and my son’s four-wheeler—I’m sure he considers that his baby, too—so not to scratch any paint. When the top of the ladder bumped into the garage door, I realized I had to lay the stupid thing horizontally to get outside.

Turning the corner, I carried the ladder up the sidewalk, proud I’d done this myself—really, it’s the least someone with an insane fear of heights can do for her husband. After depositing the tool by the porch, I went through the garage and inside the house to let him know I was ready to support him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Sunlight beamed through the big window in the top story of our foyer as I entered. Through the narrow windows on either side of our front door, I saw him and his mother outside with another ladder.

I joined them on our porch and looked around, excited at the prospect of a beautifully lit house.

“You ready to go up?” my husband asked, holding a string of white and blue Christmas lights.

Is he nuts? When my husband and I discussed decorating, I didn’t think he wanted me to go on the roof with him. I cringe when the kids ask to go on a Ferris-Wheel. I plaster myself to the inside wall of imitation Eiffel Towers at theme parks. My hands sweat just thinking about climbing a tree. He knows I’m afraid of heights; we’ve known each other for over ten years.

“You want me up there with you?” I asked, trying to hide the fear in my tone; kid #2 was watching with big, I-will-act-however-you-act-Mom eyes.

He nodded.

“Okay,” I said, wishing like hell I could call one of his buddies and have them come over to help.

At our old house I never had to assist with decorations. It wasn’t nearly as tall, wasn’t nearly the large project our new home is. Before I had time to talk myself out of it, I was following my dear husband up the ladder, cold aluminum chilling my hands. Each rung climbed was another step closer to death—or at least some severely injured organs or broken bones.

Once I was on the first roof, I didn’t feel so bad . . . until I looked up and understood he had to climb yet another ladder to reach the highest peaks. I put some plastic hooks in my pocket, supported the additional ladder with all my body weight, gripping the damned thing for dear life. If he fell, I’d fall. And if he fell, he’d go all the way down. We’d both die. The kids would be orphans. What would happen to the dogs? Do we have a living will?

I pushed harder and harder, avoiding any eye contact with what he was doing above me, avoiding a glance at the ground, avoiding taking a breath. My fear must have rolled off me in waves and whimpers because my fearless husband kept giving me instructions in case he fell. He hollered for kid #2 to stay away from the portion of the roof we were on. Was he scared too?

“Got it,” he said, relief flooding his voice. “I’m coming down.”

I moved to the side, keeping my shoe propped against the foot of the ladder, and took a deep breath when he was safe on the first roof with me. Hands sweating profusely, my body shook with fear. There was no way I would be able to crawl down to the ground.

Whipping my cell phone out of my back pocket, I called my mother-in-law.

“Hello?”

I sighed. “Can you open Clarissa’s window? I can’t go down a ladder right now.”

She laughed and said she’d be right there.

When that window opened, I practically ran to it.

“Don’t run on the roof,” my husband yelled.

Too late, I was already inside . . . on level, carpeted, safe flooring—yet only half the house was finished. Luckily the next part could be done from a ladder propped on the dirt. We managed to string up the lights in a matter of minutes, and I have to admit, they’re beautiful.

But next time he’s going to have to find someone else to help him.