Today, I hated my lawn. I looked upon my backyard and saw that it was awful as far as I was concerned, as awful as a random surge of jealousy can be. Failed fertilizing, failed overseeding, (both purely on lack of time and interest on our part) plus a broken sprinkling system that we simply cannot get fixed… and there it is. A patchy lawn my husband does not want to mow until after the sprinklers are fixed, patterned with weeds.
I rather wanted to cry upon seeing it. For a most of minimal, unexplainable reasons, I have been feeling sorry for myself the last couple of days. Apparently I’m unfit to be a stay-at-home mom simply because I don’t have the practice time and just sort of have the deal shoved upon come summer and school’s out. I don’t know how to keep my house clean and I certainly don’t know what to do with the stupid lawn. I’m a working mom, which means I’m a horrible person, I don’t have the giant house other people have, I’m clearly a failure at life.
In fact, at one point this afternoon I just wanted to scream and break something.
On Sunday, our Relief Society lesson was, pretty much, a book report on Elder Uchtdorf’s book Forget Me Not. I had in on my Kindle, and today I read the short little book of thoughts, finally completing that bookaday challenge I’ve also been failing at this summer. It was a good read, one I needed. God does not think I’m a failure. God does not care about the state of my lawn or how much we have to show off for our income. God has not forgotten me or my sadness.
In the evening, I went out to do some planting. I looked at my lawn and realized, it wasn’t so bad. A little wild-looking, but hey, that’s how it goes. It wasn’t so patchy and it really just needed a bit more attention of me bringing around the hose with the sprinkler head.
My lawn was rather pretty, in that anti-establishment manicured lawn look. There’s clover, little wild flowers, the baby trees growing up the trunks of our lindens.
I pulled out a couple of the dresser drawers that had been sitting on our patio for nearly a year, remainders of a failed furniture incident, and planted some basil and spinach in them–because apparently I can be creative and use old dresser drawers as planters, played with Baby Jade as she fiddled with the tall grass, and realized, things aren’t so bad.