Woke up. Went grocery shopping. Had caffeine with child in tow at public location. Dropped groceries off at home. Took child to HomeDepot again. Bought rocks etc. Gardened with a three year old for 90 minutes until I was rescued by Daddy.
I like gardening. It is terribly enjoyable to me. And sometimes it’s even fun with my son. Ok, I lie. It’s 50% enjoyable with my son.
I am in the process of renovating our courtyard, such a cute litte area between our garage and townhouse. A really pretty, curvy garden bed with a lovely little bricked courtyard surrounding it. It looked like crap when we moved in 2 years ago. Overgrown rockpit with 4 foot tall weeds.
Since then it has been a vegetable garden (of which we ate nothing) and then a decorative mulch ‘pit’. After the mulch experience and then the discovery of mulch forming some sort of substance that is no longer mulch after its been on the ground for too long, I elected to remove the mulch.
And so I’ve been renovating it. With some help from my son.
At first, he was totally on board. He carried rocks for me and put them in buckets, he dug with his little shovel and carried wee buckets of dirt here and there. He ‘hop hop hop’ ‘d like a frog on the pavers that I put in the garden bed like a path.
And then when I put more in, they turned into train tracks and his many vehicles made some incredible voyages. And then as more and more rocks joined the garden, V’s tricycle started venturing into the garden bed. Then it slowly, bit by bit, ended up in the dirt.
“Mummy! I’m making a choo-choo train!”
“Baby, please get out of the dirt.” I was in the middle of laying down landscaping cloth and smoothing a layer of soil over it.
“No Mummy, I just go der.”
“Honey, please stay out of the dirt. Please!”
“No, I just going der.”
“Baby, DON”T GO IN THE DIRT.”
“It’s Ok Mummy, I just go ober der.”
I am sure you can guess that ‘ober der’ and ‘der’ was exactly where I didn’t want him to be.
And so was the dog. And so was a fire truck. And so were several dinosaurs.
Edward interrupted us deliberately and swept V away to the library/book store/PopPop’s pool/ice cream shoppe/etc.
And then I went running. And then I felt better. Running makes everything better. And then I came home and gardened by myself. In my sweaty gym clothes. And then I took a shower and it was delicious.
And by the time the boys came home, I was ready.
Mummys need breaks sometimes. Or they go crazy. Really.
Please, love on the Mummys or they will hurt you… Either with spades or wine glasses…