Four Worms, Three Kids, and a Millipede.
Today we decided to tackle the yard before we were reprimanded by the homeowner's association. Again. (Yes, again! Lest you forget the resodding.) My hands now hurt, my feet hurt, and even my nail beds hurt- and here is why. We have this weed in our mulch beds that has taken over the bed, the other plants, the yard... the house... our lives! Okay, maybe that's a tad dramatic. But it did take over my day.
It looks like a tall version of St. Augustine grass. I have no idea what it's called but I hate it. The root system winds and winds about a foot underground and you cannot pull the things up without digging. They are so tough they're hard to break with a shovel. I was doing acrobatics- press-handstands and all kinds of tricks to use the entire weight of my body as leverage and still, they were mean suckers. After a few hours of jumping on a shovel, your feet start to complain. I wish I'd taken before and after pictures. I think that might make it rewarding somehow.
We started at around 9:30 this morning with the kids out in the front with us. They took the first worm I came across under their well-intended but oh-so-rough wings and named him Dirty Earth Worm. Very original of them.
Jack was delighted. Apparently he doesn't remember ever seeing an earthworm before even though I found one in his diaper when he was about 8 months old. He was downright giddy while it crawled around at his feet, and very, very mad when Evan and Madalyn picked it up, thinking they might walk out of sight with it. I wish you could see the way Madalyn not only holds a worm, but coddles and coos at it like it's the most beautiful human baby you've ever seen. She said that very word, actually, because I remember laughing aloud. She said, "Aww, hello-o. You're so beautiful."
When he died, I tried to tell them so, but they were in denial. "No, he's sleeping. No, he's just sleeping, mommy." Don't be morbid.
"Okay. Whatever you say," I shrugged.
"Oh... you're right. I think he's dead." (Evan came to terms.)
But Dirty Earthworm wasn't much missed because soon Evan found an unfortunate millipede he named Margil. They put it Margil in an empty sidewalk chalk container and made a bridge of mulch and fed it weeds and showered it with water. Margil went fetal early on in the care-taking merriment, curled himself into a tight little ring, and I think that may be how he was when he breathed his last breath. (Well, you know- through his skin, or whatever bugs do.)
Then we breaked for lunch and put the kids down for a quiet time and went back to work. I found a plant bed particularly ripe in earthworms and saved a big daddy and a mommy and a tiny baby for the kids when they came back out. I told Shaun they were going to be so happy with me and it made that shovel feel just a bit lighter.
Hours passed. Hours of grunting and whining and wiping dirt and sweat from our brows. Then the kids came out.
"I found you some worms!" I told them excitedly and went back to my groaning and digging because they knew where the container was.
A few seconds later I heard Evan's voice behind me, "mommy, what did you do to these worms?"
I turned around to where he had his hand extended with three stiff worms- (oh and by stiff I mean like concrete)- and I cocked my head, confused. I glanced over at the bucket sitting in the full sun.
"Did you fry them?" Shaun asked.
"I guess I did. I didn't know that could happen. Sorry Evan," I said.
Apparently there's a reason the worms live deep in the moist and cool soil. Who'd of thunk?
He wasn't that upset. He's used to mommy's unfortunate mishaps. Besides, I put him to work with Madalyn, having them hold a garbage bag open and close their eyes while I filled it with weeds and roots.
It is sooooo nice when they are old enough to help with little things like that. The weed killer and mulching went fast after that and when I pulled my gloves off there were very defined dirt lines where my hands had been in the gloves and where my arms had been out. So naturally, we decided to put all that dirt in the pool and go for a swim.
Jack has gone through some phases with the pool. He was too oblivious to the danger for a while and if he fell in he went completely stiff until you retrieved him, which is a very unsettling site. And then still, no fear. Right back at it. Then he went through a phase of being overly fearful. Now he is past that and we are practicing swimming to the steps. Once he's back out he shouts, "Weet! Weet!" which translates to wait- because he wants to come back in the water with you and thinks you might turn your back on him to throw a kid or retrieve a toy for someone else.
Gosh, I am realizing I'm really writing with nothing in mind. I just miss recording the special little moments. I've been so busy with work.
We also have something big going on right now that I hope to share more about in the near future. I'm sure I will, but it's still too early. Anyway, I look forward to being here more this summer. I took some home videos yesterday and so I will be bombarding you soon with home videos and pictures from the past year and stories and memories and things you already have in abundance yourselves. So fasten your seatbelts, it's about to get wild in here. (That was sarcasm.) But writing here does make me appreciate the details of life more. Do any of you who blog find that to be true? Slowing down makes me realize how much I want what I've got. And that's the said secret to contentment, right? Wanting what you've got?
Happy Memorial Day!
