Domestic Dramedy: Backyard Chaos, a DIY BB Gun Backstop, and a Whole Lot of “Pivot!”

There are two kinds of projects in this house: the kind Scott says will be “real quick,” and the kind that somehow involve all three of us sweating in the yard, carrying something awkward, and questioning our life choices. 

For Christmas 2025, I finally got Spencer the Winchester 1977XS BB gun with scope he had been drooling over, along with an airsoft Glock 19 pistol. Before anybody clutches their pearls, his dad and I have always taught him to respect firearms and understand they are not toys. I am happy to report that this is one lesson he actually listened to and takes seriously. Even though these were “just” a BB gun and an airsoft gun, safety, respect, and responsibility still mattered. 

The only problem was that once Christmas morning was over and the excitement wore off, he did not really have a regular place to use them. 

We have about half an acre, and the back of our property is lined with thick trees, so Scott decided he would build Spencer a BB gun backstop where he could safely set up targets and shoot in the backyard. In theory, this was thoughtful, practical, and honestly a really good idea. 

And anyone who knows Scott knows that man does not do anything small. 

He did not build some little backyard target stand. He built a monster. A full-blown, oversized, ridiculously heavy DIY BB gun backstop that looked like it could survive a tornado, the apocalypse, and maybe the return of Christ. 

Between other projects, it took him about a month to build, and because it was winter, it had to sit in the garage until we got a stretch of nicer weather so he could paint it. So yes, Spencer had these amazing Christmas gifts and then had to stare at them for weeks while waiting for the weather and the backstop to cooperate. But we live in the South, so February finally threw us a few decent days, Scott got it painted, and it was time to move it into place. 

That was when we realized a very important fact: 

This thing was huge. 

The Backyard Beast aka BB Bunker

Not just big. Not just heavy. Huge and heavy. 

It had to go up the driveway, over the leftover mounds of dirt we still haven’t leveled out from the French drain project. 

Now came the real challenge: figuring out how to move this monstrosity, and naturally, Scott had an idea. 

Now, Scott’s ideas are always a gamble. Sometimes they are genius. Sometimes they are dangerous. Sometimes they are both. 

This time, by the grace of God and probably pure luck, it actually worked. 

He grabbed our old estate-sale dolly and stuck it under one side of the backstop. Spencer’s job was to pull and steer the dolly while Scott and I each took an end of the other side and lifted and pushed. 

Yes, we were being led by a teenager who cannot find his toothbrush when it is literally sitting in his toothbrush holder. 

But these were the jobs assigned to us by Scott, and apparently none of us had voting rights. 

Scott had way more faith in my lifting abilities than I did, but I was the only other available muscle, so I had to woman up and get after it. We started up the driveway, which was somehow the easy part, and within about thirty seconds I realized this thing weighed approximately one metric ton. I had to tell them I needed to set it down for a second so I could readjust my grip. 

Of course, Spencer immediately thought this meant we were taking a real break. 

“We need to take a break,” he said. 

That phrase came out of his mouth at least three more times before we finished, and every single time Scott responded with some version of, “No breaks until we are done.” 

Sir, this is not basic training. 

Once we got off the driveway and onto the dirt mounds, the real fun began. Spencer was out front steering and trying to navigate us around holes, dips, and uneven ground like some kind of teenage air traffic controller. 

“Pivot to the left.” 
“Pivot to the right.” 
“Go straight.” 

At one point, he stopped giving instructions for half a second, and we promptly ended up in a hole and had to back the whole thing up and start over. 

Then came my favorite part. 

By this point, my arms were giving out, I had gone from lifting to mostly shoving with whatever strength the Lord still left in me, and I was no longer paying close attention to Spencer’s directions. All of a sudden, we heard him yelling from the front: 

“PIVOT! PIVOT! PIVOT TO THE RIGHT!” 
“MOM, stop pushing and PIVOT!” 

And just like that, my backyard turned into an episode of Friends. 

I do not know what made me laugh harder, the fact that he was fully committed to the bit or the fact that he was also completely right. 

Somehow, against all odds, we got that giant BB gun backstop across the yard and maneuvered it onto the blocks where it needed to sit. Once it was finally in place, I stood back barely breathing, my arms shaking, fully convinced I might actually die in my own backyard. 

Scott, meanwhile, was standing there like He-Man, not even out of breath. 

I wanted to roundhouse kick him in his pretty little face, but fortunately for him, I cannot kick that high. 

Spencer, though, was thrilled. 

As soon as it was set up, he started collecting cans and black walnuts from around the property so he could use them as targets. Honestly, that was the best part. It made this mama happy to see him out of his room, off the phone, away from the video games, and outside doing something he genuinely enjoyed, which if you have a teenager, you know is basically a modern miracle. 

And I will say this: that boy is a dang good shot. 

Way to go, Spencer. 

Sometimes family bonding does not look like a board game or a movie night. Sometimes it looks like three people hauling an absurdly heavy BB gun backstop across a lumpy backyard while your teenager screams “PIVOT!” and life with a teen son and a man-child husband is on full display. 

But the older I get, the more I realize some of the sweetest family memories are made in the middle of the ridiculous stuff. Not the polished moments. Not the picture-perfect ones. The sweaty, awkward, slightly unhinged moments where everybody is tired, somebody is bossy, somebody is complaining, and somehow we are all still working together anyway. 

There is something holy about that too. 

About showing up for each other. 
About laughing instead of snapping. 
About using the strength God gave us, even when our arms are shaking and our patience is on fumes. 

AI Generated

That day, we were just trying to move a giant backstop across a messy backyard. But by the end of it, I got to watch my husband use his skills to build something for Spencer, and I got to watch Spencer light up with pure joy over something that pulled him outside and made him feel proud. 

And maybe that is part of what family is supposed to look like. 

Not perfect. 
Not easy. 
Just faithful in the small things. 

Even in the dirt. 
Even in the chaos. 
Even while yelling “PIVOT.” 

“Let all that you do be done in love.” 1 Corinthians 16:14