I feel like someone just dropped me into this adulting thing. I don’t know if I really have the skills and preparation to be in charge of my life, not to mention the two little ones I brought into this world. I try my best. I procrastinate. I work hard at work. I work hard sporadically at home. I am a fun Mom to wrestle with and play Rescue Bots and toddler “catch me as I deliberately jump into your arms from a scarily high surface” games.
Because I do silly things. I spent three hours spraying and pulling weeds two days ago.
Is my yard huge? No.
Had the weeds gotten away from me due to quite a bit of rain and ignoring the yard? Yes.
Should it have taken three hours? Not even close.
I approached it in my usual shotgun, I’m-just-going-to-spend-a-few-minutes-on-this-while-the-kids-are-napping sort of way. I made up some weed killer from concentrate. I sprayed a bunch of weeds. Then, I noticed some of the tall ones pulled up fairly easily, and pulled a bunch of them. I went back to spraying. My sprayer was trickling out poison. So, I pumped and pumped and dribbled and dribbled (reminiscent a bit of my breast pumping time, but I digress). I spent about two and a half hours and finally sprayed my whole front yard (not even starting on the urban weed jungle behind my house—thankfully enclosed by a block wall still taller than the weeds).
Finally, I went in the garage to look for the sprayer I bought when I didn’t think the original one was working. Amazingly, I found it fairly quickly and on a whim, took it out of the box and poured some of my weed solution in it, screwed it together, and lo and behold…the poison sprayed out. Sprayed out! Not dribbled, sprayed. No wonder six months ago when I sprayed my weeds it only took me about half an hour.
Why didn’t I check this out two hours ago?
So, I resprayed the whole yard and one day later, about half the weeds looked slightly ill. If only I could remember the time frame for death.
Two days later, as I write this, it looks like rain. Just in time for a weed resurrection.
Meanwhile, the potted plants inside my house are all dead but the two hardiest. The plants I try to intentionally keep alive…dead. The plants I intentionally try to kill…alive.
All these years in, I still do silly things. I get us by, I really do. But, I really think it would go better with some adult supervision.