My father is one of those guys who maintains an immaculate lawn and judges his neighbors for not doing the same. His yard green and even. It’s a delight to walk on. He picks up crap from his two stupid dogs and waters it daily. He feeds it, weeds it aerates and babies it. The whole process makes me sick.
My parents spend a lot of time working on their house and yard. The unspoken agreement between them is that my father does all of the outdoor stuff and my mother maintains the interior. But whenever a project rolls around, she “recruits” his help. They’re always doing something new to the place, like cutting trees down or staining the deck- occasionally, they cover something in concrete.
I used to love working in the yard- planting flowers, mowing the lawn, building retaining walls and watering it each evening. I looked forward to buying my own home and doing the things my parents didn’t do and having a much more awesome outdoor space than the one I grew up with, even though it was still great. I had visions of ponds and waterfalls, frogs and fuchsia-lined walkways. I never considered the effort.
My parents bought the house they currently live in when they were both 30- I was four. I’m 29 and am nowhere near purchasing a house, getting married or making babies and I’m mostly okay with it. I couldn’t imagine trying to maintain property right now. Or ever. I might be a permanent renter, so somebody else has to take care of things like broken water heaters, bad wiring or a lawn. The same goes for raising children. That’s scary crap right there.
Even when I find a wife and start procreating, I worry that I’m likely going to be that man whose kids are invariably frumpy and for some mysterious reason, a little damp (please Jesus, don’t let them smell. I promise I’ll bathe them and put clean clothes on them). My yard won’t be beautiful, either. Unless I can pay someone to make it so.
Am I prematurely waving a white flag?
I might be too young to give up. I haven’t even tried any of it. I might be a dandy parent and landscape artist- they’re practically the same thing, right? But as I get older and as my world continues to grow (along with my do-list), I’m realizing that some stuff has to suffer. Always. I already don’t have enough time to do all of the things I love without at spouse and little humans in the picture. It’s killing me. Even my poor blog is suffering, and I hate that the most- probably more than I hate missing out on things with friends, which is saying a lot.
So, here’s to getting some of the things done.
Also? Jesus, please don’t let me get fat- because I don’t have time for the gym right now. Amen.