Is anybody else’s husband lawn-obsessed?
Hunky Hubby is in serious need of attending L.A. (Landscaper’s Anonymous) for the hours he pours into researching plants and flowers. In my opinion, having to put in your own yard is one of the major drawbacks of building a home. That and the mortgage that follows.
Granted, I may be a small part of the problem due to a little deadline I gave him to build a retaining wall, fill in our ditch, cover it with rubberized mulch and then build Haddie’s playset on top of it. All by next Friday for Hadley’s birthday. Really, that isn’t too much too much to ask, is it? After all, Rome was built in a day (my blog, my interpretation).
I should have seen the early signs of his mania. Even when the snow was still flying, he was already obsessing. Case in point: the kids and I were playing outside in the snow waiting for him to come home. When he arrived, I went to finish dinner and asked him to help the kids remove their clothes. Sure, no problem.
Until he saw The Package. The package that contained the first seedlings of the season. He voraciously tore into it.
A few minutes later, the abandoned abominable snowchildren started protesting.
“Umm Jamie, did you leave the poor kids by the front door? They really need help getting their snowpants and boots off!”
“Yes. But my package. Came!” (The man is rendered unable to complete a full sentence during his trances.)
“Honey, they haven’t seen you all day.”
“Yes, but I haven’t seen this package…ever.”
Photo: Jamie shortly after we moved in with his leftover pile of crap compost.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 