Thursday, June 12, 2014: How Ya Like Me Now?

Dear Babies,

“Pedro and his mulch…”

Usually when I’m standing like that, and I mean like that, with my hands on my hips and that mad look on my face, I’m posing a question, one I won’t get an answer to.

Who did this?

Do you think this is funny?

Do I look like I’m laughing?

Who’s gonna clean up this mess???

But today it was Pedro, our kind, hardworking gardener, who felt the blunt of my wrath.

I was looking out the kitchen window when I saw his blue slicker pass by.

I heard the chainsaw I mean the leaf blower fire up.

And then I saw it: The mulch.

Blowing–nay, blasting–everywhere.

There’s only so much a dirt girl can take.

…One day you will love a person so much. Still, this person will leave a sticker on a tomato, and you will want to chuck said tomato at said loved one’s face. This will be called marriage.

What??

What type of person leaves a sticker on a tomato?

He washed it, but he didn’t take the sticker off? Obviously he’s not going to eat the sticker. I know he saw the sticker. What, does he think I have nothing else to do but go around peeling stickers off tomatoes all day??–

Please note I was thinking this while peeling the sticker off the tomato.

“Love and Marriage” is a Sinatra song. Love and Nonsense is the truth. Because you need love, real love, to get you through all of the nonsense that comes up. And there is a lot of it. From stickers to mulch.

…Your dad is a mulch guy.

He loves “the look.”

He put it here, there, and back there too.

As a couple we are on board for a lot of things. Bloody mary’s and hot sauce. Mustard over ketchup. Don’t give us cilantro. But when it comes to organic soil matter, he likes…mulch??

Et tu, Brute??  

Everyday I look out the kitchen window and there are mounds of tiny wood chips torturing me so.

That is, until today…

…Today after Pedro left, after the chainsaw I mean leaf blower silenced and the dust settled and I saw the blue slicker pass once again, I went outside with my trowel. I went to work scooping out my herb garden, scraping and digging away. It was the closest I’ve been to being a little old lady with a broomstick sweeping her sidewalk while muttering angrily to herself to date.

I took back my tiny garden (because who has time to de-sticker tomatoes AND de-mulch a whole yard, come on!).

Upon completion I went inside and washed my hands at the sink and, looking back out that window, I saw dirt again, and I was happy.

Because sometimes you give in. Sometimes you compromise. You let things slide. Sigh, whatever.

Sometimes in a world with such capacity for nonsense, you remember if you don’t like something, you have the power to change it. You snap and run outside with a trowel, saying take that, wood chips, how ya like me now?

Future Me...

 

Love,

Mom

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