The Grass is Always Greener
Posted on April 24, 2008
Filed Under kids, parenting, suburban joys, bitching and moaning, My Better Half, Anxiety, challenges, neurosis |
I should be posting something lovely and springfully poignant but it’s April vacation and the kids are up my ass, and My Better Half works from home, so he too is up my ass, and the cats and the dog and the two Siamese fighting fish are up my ass. And the second floor windows still need washing and the grass seed needs spreading and 5 yards of mulch will arrive any minute and require hours of back breaking toil, and there’s an entire tree laying in the side yard that was felled last weekend and left there to taunt me. MBH knows I will cave and chop it up and start dragging it off to the woods and rake up all the wood shavings and branches and mess. It’s just a matter of time. All this and the usual weekly toil that includes dishes and vacuuming and laundry and scrubbing the tub and preparing meals and buying pet food have been neglected for far too long and the dog hasn’t eaten for two days and the kids are sick of fish sticks and I’m not sure if I’m getting clean anymore when showering or just contracting foot fungus, and I’m quite sure that we’re all out of fresh underwear.
All day long the pets, the kids, MBH are in and out, in and out. Leaving a wake of dirt and hair and discarded shoes throughout the first floor. If everyone could just pick one pair of shoes to wear today instead of first trying a pair of crocs and then the sneakers and then the garden boots and then the flip flops and then second string sneakers only to end up, at some point, out on the sparse lawn in previously new, white socks, if the pets could agree to stop blowing their winter coats on every piece of furniture and beneath the piano and on the bathroom rugs, if O and G could notice the filth on their hands each time they dash out and bounce the basketball a few times and dash back in to get a glass of water or use the bathroom or go pilfering in the refrigerator, leaving dirty finger trails on walls and door jambs and window panes, and if the f-ing beech trees that line the driveway could just once and for all release the dead brittle leaves of Winter and stop sort of dribbling them out on the lawn and in the garden beds that I spent four hours last Sunday raking and cleaning and preparing for spring only to find it needed raking and cleaning and preparing for spring all over again after one stiff breeze, then I might feel like embracing this early summer. But right now, it’s just feeling like gleeful freedom for most but tedious servitude for me. Have I mentioned that seasonal changes induce to-do list panic and high-level anxiety for task oriented people like myself? You may have allergies but I have mental illness. So there.
And I feel like this unseasonably warm weather has caught me with my pants down so to speak. It’s bare feet and tank top warm and I haven’t had a pedicure since last August and my summer clothes are still at the back of the cedar closet. Every morning I climb the stairs to the attic to retrieve a pair of shorts for O to wear. You’d think I’d just drag the whole box of shorts down to the second floor and arrange them in his bureau drawer but I’m afraid such a bold gesture will incite the wrath of Mother Nature. She can be so spiteful and mean, ushering in late April snow storms just to mess with over-efficient mothers who have prematurely mothballed the winter hats and mittens. So as a precaution, I take each short sleeved shirt, each flouncy spring skirt from it’s winter storage, one item at a time, until it’s safe to assume that Winter is but a distant memory. And I’m kind of missing it, the blank, boring nothingness of a winter afternoon spent sipping tea and dreaming of sunshine. Remind me of this longing next February when I bitch about the intolerable last stretch of cold. Remind me that the grass is always greener and greener grass means lime and fertilizer and mowing and leaf blowers and incredible amounts of yard maintenance.
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13 Responses to “The Grass is Always Greener”
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It’s hard not to long for what isn’t. I say get out and breathe some of that fresh air.
Just when I was thinking again how nice it might be to start a relationship with a real live person who might want to buy a house, plant a garden, have kids… now I see that your grass just appears to be much greener from way over here. So I have resolved to be happy alone in my condo, refusing to turn on the a/c until May 1 even though my west facing living room is often 25 degrees Celsius (that’s 77F to you, I think) or higher from mid afternoon to well after sunset.
Now, remind me why this is the case for you Cce dear but aren’t there strict lines for a reason and I want to know why you’ve crossed them?
Inside the house - woman’s domain. Outside the house - man’s job. Hard, back-breaking outside labor (e.g. chopping trees) - man’s work. Bringing skirts down from the attic (woman’s job).
You know, I repeat the offer I’ve made to you before. Foster the kids and pets, farm out the husband. Come visit. I know a great place to get a pedicure.
Don’t you just love “spring break”? LOL. I can sympathize with you about it as well. If only they would pick up one thing each time they come inside and put it away, life would be so much easier.
I too have been going to the box of shorts for myself for a few weeks now.
One of the few advantages of a postage stamp size backyard - not much to do. Let it go…no one is judging you by the fingerrpints on the door or the messy shoes. I know - easier said than done by someone like you - but try….just let it go. Not everything has to happen. Find a good book, snuggle into a chair and relax.
If I weren’t so busy, I’d send you a photo of our side yard. It’s FULL of leaves. And yet, the swimming pool is already open (to accommodate the cement pourers).
This is a perfect rant.
ok, that is a lot to have up your ass. Sounds not at all comfy
Maybe everything would be better if we just got that pedicure.
I agree with TEOM…start with the pedicure. And get a manicure, too. And get your BH outside, to chop up that damn tree. And get the kids to help him (we always used to have to help with stuff like that, and though it pissed us off, it didn’t kill us).
I say make a list of all the to-do stuff and divide it among the lot of you. There’s not a reason in the world why you should do everything yourself.
I love the Mr. Clean Erasers for all the fingerprints. But I would like it better if they never appeared. Still, those erasers are magic.
Oh, and please feed the dog.
One more thing…I highly recommend a cup of tea and a book. Close the door to all the other rooms, and close the blinds so you can’t see the tree. Take a deep breath, and relax.
Even though you write a better rant than anyone I’ve ever read.
Hang in there.
dude, you need a wine enema.
Grass is greener, you say?
How about one Momo told me when I was a teenager? It’s always better to want and not have, than to have and not want.
This made me fall off my seat laughing. My favorite was the “you may have allergies…”. If I might give you a little tip that has been a life saver for me….be very neglectful about shoe buying. The boys only have one pair of shoes that fit right now and they are crocs which can be easily rinsed or thrown in the laundry. Ryan does have ONE pair of school shoes, but other then that…nope. As for the pets…I give up.