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The Grass Is Always Greener...

I've pretty much been forbidden from mowing the lawn. By Ralexwin, who insists that having his pregnant wife out mowing reflects badly upon him. Also by our local missionaries, who showed up one day to mow after they caught me doing just that.

So that's nice and all, but its been two weeks now and the lawn is looking a little needy. This is only compounded by the fact that the neighbors on either side have mowed their lawns again effectively creating a line of tall grass marking my property.

I have a problem with this. I have a 'bad lawn disorder' that borders on OCD. It comes from my childhood and the distinct lack of lawn care at my house growing up. I'm not even sure we owned a lawn mower. Well okay that's not entirely fair... I think we owned one for a summer or two.

Imagine if you will a jungle of tangled grass and weeds rising to the height of perhaps a four year old child. Now imagine that various attempts had been made (mostly by my older siblings) to gain dominion over said jungle. In one corner a flattened, tilled area for a vegetable garden. A second section where local rocks had been placed in a circular pattern for reasons forgotten to time. A third, although most definitely not final, area in the center of the lawn was given over to a three tiered island for a flower garden. Now picture all of this overrun by that same invasive jungle. It wasn't pretty.

I can hardly blame my siblings. They hated it as much as I did, and their attempts at control were well meant. We were, however, mere children susceptible to the will of our parents. Parents who, for reasons beyond my comprehension, felt little need to deal with this minor 2 1/2 acre problem.

So when my yard starts looking a slight bit derelect I can feel that old harboring tension (and resentment) building up. I hate weeds. I loathe uncut grass. I find a very clear, slightly maniacal, pleasure in mowing the hell out of a field of green.

Call it instant gratification. Call it obssesive compulsive disorder. Call it overcompensation. Whatever it is if I find myself on the losing end of this battle I tend to go a little off the deep end. That's usually when the lectures start.

"Weed or not, my dear," Ralexwin might say, "Stinging Nettle needs more than just your two gloved hands."

"Sister Win," as the missionaries would call me, "next time you get the urge to mow call us first."

The reality is I need a gardner. I'm to emotionally invested to make rational decisions about lawn care and I don't know enough for those decisions to have any weight.

I have an innate fear that someday my lawn will look like the one from my childhood and I'm willing to risk preterm labor or possible debt to avoid my yard looking like that.

See what I mean when I say 'bad lawn disorder?' I'm completely undone by grass. And here I sit staring out my front window wondering if I ought to call the missionaries, but really just wishing I could go out there and mow without getting another lecture.

Comments

Claire Wessel said…
Call the mishes!!! They can only tract this town so many times. I'm sure they'd welcome the distraction...er...opportunity to serve the members of the branch :)

Personally though, I think it would be a hilarious story (much, much later!) if you managed to break your water while mowing the lawn, as long as you are within sight of your actual due date, that is.

So yeah, CALL THE MISHES!!
Jessica Bair said…
If we were in Vermillion I would send my husband over. He's such a good deed doer and wouldn't mind it at all.
Polly Blevins said…
You are not that early, how bad can labor this early be? That is funny though because last time I was preg. we planted our back yard. Will had the tiller and I had Cole on my back in one of the hiking packs and I was pushing the seeder. Will of course was finished with his part first because he had to be. He was watching when my neighbors pulled up and of course made some comments I was as far a long as you. After that, he has been much less willing to let me help in the far stages of pregnancy...unless I am due in 2 weeks then he wants all the help he can get so I can go into labor.
The Paynes said…
I do this too. Trent says it embarrasses him, but it's better than feeling like the trashy house on the street. If I threaten and take the mower out, just around the time he comes home, he'll take over for me. I don't mind mowing, and I know I have more time on my hands than he does, but it's a pride thing. Let him be the man.

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