Dear Kid,

There will be no DearKidLoveMom post today on account of too little writing and too much weeding which has me now resting on my back. The weeding, not the lack of writing.

I am typing this with the laptop on my tummy. I don’t recommend this position as one that is terribly good for accuracy and speed. The “backspace” button is my new best friend.

On the plus side, one-third of one-tenth 0f the weeds down by the iris are now gone. On the downside, I left lots of little weed piles for Dad to clean up. He’s guaranteed to be pleased about that.

Hopefully, he’ll direct all his “pleased-ness” at the lawn mower people. He took the mower in for repair the other day (don’t ask why. I have no clue nor any interest in finding out). Today, he discovered that they gave him back a squeaky mower. He had a marvelous time playing with the lawnmower and the WD-40, and then set out to mow the lawn.

I don’t exactly know what the current problem is, but it involves a lot of new and interesting expletives and a  lot of not-so-great sounds from the lawn mower.

I expect someone will be getting a call on Monday.

Rule for Life: Lawnmowers only break on weekends. Lawnmower repair people never work on weekends.

Have a great weekend, sweetheart.

Love,

Your Horizontal Mom

Dear Kid,

Sunday is a great day. Whether you are a church-on-Sunday person or not, it is a day for taking a deep breath. The newspaper (remind me to explain to you about newspapers) is full and designed to be read over several cups of coffee or tea (or some other beverage if you prefer).

At this time of year, I particularly enjoy breakfast and the newspaper (and my beverage of choice for the day) out on porch. (When we first built the porch you were a wee bit of thing and referred to the room as the “forch.” This makes me smile.) While our grass is something of a hot mess, the birds are enjoying the birdfeeders (at least now that we put the right seed in the right feeder) and the plants are sprouting up cheerfully. It’s a nice place to be. Today it is my favorite room in the house.

Booker is out here with me and is happily enjoying the sun spots on the floor. He is also keeping a sharp eye out for invading cats. He is ready to jump—at a nanosecond’s notice—out of sun-induced sleepiness into full on I-am-an-entire-pack-of-large-angry-barking-dogs frenzy should the dreaded yellow cat appear.

There are two squirrels chasing each other through the trees. I have it on good authority that they are not juveniles playing a friendly game of tag.

Speaking of trees, it looks like the ash tree borer has bored our ash trees to death. Scientists are not sure where they get their lecture material but it appears to be much more toxic than anything you sat through this year. As of yet, we have no plan for taking down the dead-or-dying trees or for replacing them with something less ashy. Perhaps while you are home you might acquaint some of them with the sharp side of a saw?

It’s good to take a little time out every now and then to enjoy life. Hope you enjoy today.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Our front lawn looks pretty good. And by “pretty good” I mean if you drive by at about twice the speed limit without your glasses on you probably won’t notice that the lush green is equal parts grass and weed. Primarily wild strawberry, clover, and dandelions, but there are a bunch of invaders I can’t properly identify.

Our backyard, however, is an entirely different story. Even if you fly by in a plane at 20,000 feet and you’re not paying attention, you can’t help but notice the big, brown patches of not grass.

Puppy: What’s “not grass?”
Me: The brown stuff in the lawn that isn’t grass.
Puppy: I’m color blind.
Me: Good point. It’s the stuff that’s crunchy to lie on.
Puppy: I prefer napping on the soft stuff.
Me: My point exactly.

We are working to eliminate the not-grass. And by “working” I mean contemplating and talking about. There isn’t much actual “work” involved at this point.

I spent part of the weekend ripping out some of the not grass. You can tell it’s not grass because real grass is difficult to pull out when you have the hand strength of a three year old. And I had no trouble pulling this stuff out. There’s a lot to remove so it will take longer than one afternoon.

Puppy: I napped in the sun while you played with the not grass
Me: Yes you did
Puppy: Aren’t you going to say “thank you”?
Me: Um, thank you.
Puppy: No problem. I like to help

Love, Mom