Daily photo: Projector Fun
 

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Originally uploaded by SarabellaE

Halloween pictures up on my Flickr. Most are of Asher in his tiger costume. The Spider-Man pics from a couple of weeks ago are still there.

I broke down and hired a landscape maintenance company to clean up our yard. It has gotten so far our of our control this past year! Ian and I have been busy doing things like running companies and raising humans, so it’s not like we’ve been slackin’ or anything. But we let the yard get to the point where it’s hard to see all the landscaping we once had, which kinda makes all that hard work we previously put into the property moot. 

So, it’s fall and the leaves are falling and the grass and weeds are a foot high. Our neighbors probably hate us. With no end of busyness in sight and a powerful feeling of being grossly overwhelmed by Nature’s bounty, we made the call for help.

The workers have been here a day and a half. They have weeded out pernicious bermuda grass and pruned many shrubs down to the ground. They have lopped off limbs, cut out suckers from trees, and taken a year’s worth of leaves out of the “flower beds.” The tackled the wisteria from hell. They uncovered the strangled daylilies. They vanquished the blackberries. They filled a giant truck with tall sides (smaller than a semi, much bigger than a pickup) to its brim with yard waste and hauled it away. Then they brought it back again for another load. Eventually, they chopped and cleared enough of the jungle to actually mow the lawns. 

I know that this work was desperately needed. I know that my plants will be happier for having the space and resources to grow in the coming year. I can look around and see so much that’s improved. But the truth is, this kind of tough love is difficult for me to accept. I love a riotous garden bursting with color and exhuberant growth. The area of my backyard that I think of as my future “secret garden” isn’t so hidden as it used to be, now that the workers have gone and unchoked the bushes.  Low tree limbs that I liked are no longer reaching; vines turning a gorgeous rust color with the cold are no longer writhing up my house. Without the carpet of red and gold leaves and the overgrowth, it’s kind of scrubby and bare around here now. 

It will grow back. It always grows back. I can’t help but feel a little sad, even though I tipped them.

Asher is sick with a mild cold. Most of the time he’s his usual self, but then he punctuates that with periods of bitchiness. One of those charming periods started last night at 10 o’clock, just when Ian and I were drifting off to sleep, and lasted until 12:45 a.m. During that time, he kicked me, scratched me, pinched my nipples, hit me in the face, and pulled my hair. It’s not fun trying to sleep with an attack baby by your side.

“Mom! I’m uncomfortable and mad, and you’re trying to sleep! What the hell? Don’t you know I’m The BABY? I RUN THE SHOW AROUND HERE. How dare you try to sleep!”

Ian snored—loudly—when I wasn’t talking to Asher or crying out of frustration. I eventually gave up and turned on our nightlight and the TV. Asher was delighted to be sitting up in bed watching the tube. “This is WAY more fun that sleeping or torturing you with my tiny fingernails, Mom!” Lucas slept fine until he wet the bed. At 12:30 a.m. we were all awake and looking at each other. Ian and I were both pissed off, Lucas wanted to snuggle with us and didn’t consciously realize that the reason he was out of his bed was because of the puddle in it. Asher thought it was grand to see everyone in the middle of that long, boring dark thing. What do they call it? Night?

I’m so freakin’ tired. The effects of sleep deprivation are cumulative, I’m certain of it.

The painful moment when I give up my office to my son so he can have a bedroom and move all my work crap into my cute living room has arrived. I am sad about The Move. It may actually take me weeks to complete it, as cleaning and organizing are NOT my strong suits in life, but the process has begun. Yesterday Ian and Lucas built my giant bookshelf/room divider from Ikea. It has been sitting in my living room in its three boxes for weeks, and yesterday it went together so quickly that if I hadn’t known its origin, I wouldn’t have believed it was an Ikea product. 

The truth is that Asher has accumulated enough stuff —clothes, toys, etc.—that it’s all scattered everywhere and there’s nowhere to put any of it away until The Move is done. Even if he doesn’t sleep in this room, we need the space for his stuff.

Last week we gave away a La-Z-Boy chair. We have its twin to give away still, so if you know of anyone who wants a blue La-Z-Boy let me know. It’s functional, not ugly, and comfy if you’re tall. If you’re my height, it’s not so comfy. Thomas? Steve? Bryn? Anyone?

The good news is that we’re going to buy some new furniture this year and next.