The Vacation is OVER

Last week the husband/daddy was home on vacation. It was nice to have an equal child-parent ratio: they seemed so much easier to manage. We went out frequently, mostly to the hardware store/garden center, but also to the park to play on slides and go for walks on the trail.

During this time I discovered that my previous aversion to gardening was somehow mistaken. For most of the week, I rose earlier than everyone else and enjoyed the birdsong of early morning and the quiet from the city, and worked in the garden, planting my new acquisitions. It was so relaxing and calming that I have decided to continue to rise early and spend sometime out of doors by myself as often as possible.

The week flew by so quickly and we didn’t get as many projects done around the house as we had hoped. We purchased most of the supplies we need, however, and the pile of project paraphernalia awaiting use in the basement is beginning to grow out of control. At any rate, the garden is practically done (for this year anyway), the porch is sanded, the picnic table painted, the gate repair started, and the pavers laid in the front of the house.

Getting back to the grind of everyday life yesterday was a little tough. I’m outnumbered again and the kids really made the most of their numerical strength. It was a day of near breakdowns, a few flip-outs, and general weariness. But I’m sure we’ll all be back in the groove soon enough.

Dirty Dirt

It is with hesitation and a feeling of deep shame that I confess what I fear is a dislike for gardening. I love plants and flowers; I love looking at them and smelling their aroma. It’s the dirt I don’t like. I really, really don’t like dirt. First of all, sitting on the ground in the dirt is not something that appeals to me because of all the skittery ants and bugs. Even when wearing gardening gloves I become a bit squeamish at the sight of juicy pink earthworms writhing around in my trowel.

The idea may not seem like such a trial if I was actually good with plants. I need low maintenance flowers because I have a propensity toward destroying them; and there is the ordeal of where to put them. I’m not a landscaper, I don’t know about these things. It really is quite embarrassing.

So far, our method of gardening is me instructing my husband on where I think it best for a particular plant or shrub to go, and him digging around in the dirt and mulch gloveless, getting dirt under his nails and manhandling the weird live things that he finds in the bowels of the backyard, at which point I need to avert my eyes and insist that he not let our son touch that! I realize that my son is indeed a boy and will most likely find himself drawn to all things slimy, but I would prefer to delay that phase until he has learned not to put his hands in his mouth when he plays outside.

If nothing else I feel I must be succeeding at being Mommy because when I opened my eyes this morning both of the cats were staring worriedly at me from the bedside. My husband herded both of the kiddos downstairs so that I could lie in bed undisturbed for an extra half hour. The sounds of coffee beans being ground and pancake batter being mixed were lovely.

The cats sensed the abnormality of the situation and hastened to my side. I do not know if they were just checking to make sure I was still breathing, or if they were concerned about Daddy being left alone to multitask while the children were present. It’s hard to sleep while being stared at and I was pretty confident the baby needed a clean diaper, so I got up. It was nice while it lasted!