**WARNING – THIS POST CONTAINS MANY (ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED) SWEARS**
Ah – summer! Glorious summer, season of BBQs and garden fun and long days frolicking on the lawn…
Alpha Mummy and her precious darlings enjoy every moment, playing in and tending to the garden, hats on at all times, of course (no burnt noses for her children, thank you very much).
…Except wait – as you know, I am Beta Mummy. By June, the “lawn” is up around the toddler’s shoulders, there are significantly more dandelions than there is grass, and the bloody neighbourhood cats have used the garden as their winter litter tray.
Unable to pass it off as a “nature project” any longer, and with the kids moaning that they can’t see over the weeds, I muster up all my energy, and beat a path to the shed with a broken spade. After what feels like several days, I make it – hoorah! Of course, the padlock has rusted up over the winter, and it takes several minutes of key-wiggling, cursing, and kicking the shed door until I finally force it open. Immediately, the kids and the stupid cat wriggle their way into the crannies of the shed, out of my reach due to the shed being like the Black Hole of Calcutta and jam-packed with bikes we don’t use, garden tools (ditto), half-used tins of paint and several mildewy sun loungers.
“Ooh mummy, a saw!” (wielding an actual saw above his head).
“Mummy, what’s this?” (It’s white spirit, with a decidedly non-child proof cap, great).
Groaning and heaving, I lug the 20-year old knackered lawn mower out, then go back to retrieve the children. The cat can sort herself out (note to self – don’t lock her in later). Fetch the extension lead. Plug it in. Not working, the bastard. Go back inside, switch plugs. Not working. Wiggle everything. Lawn mower clicks a little. Loose wire, brilliant. Gaffa tape. Seems to do the trick. Start mowing, woo! I’m a domestic goddess, an independent woman who don’t need no man to mow my lawn for me (no dodgy pun intended).
Grass collector falls off. Fucking thing. Clip has snapped, fucking fuck. Bungy cord – it’s not pretty, but it works! I am a clever engineer-type. Mow a bit more, crunching up the toys/rocks/creatures as I go (sorry toad). Grass collector is full. Undo bungy cord, empty collector. Can’t get the bloody thing to go back on again. Getting fed up now. Feral child #1 offers to help, insisting that he’s a bit of an expert at lawn mowers. Remember Feral child #2. He is “explorin'” – i.e. mashing up slugs on the path. Joy. (Should I be worried – psychopathic tendencies?)
Mower sorted, working again. Feral Child #1 now riding on the mower; I figure that at least he’s not in front of/under the mower, although he is bloody heavy. Wish that I’d mowed earlier in the year, as the long grass is jamming up the blade every 5 sodding minutes. Neighbour pops her head over the wall to tell me that I “shouldn’t have let it get so long”. Bite my tongue to refrain from telling her to F-off.
Grass collector falls off again. I jump up and down, loudly ranting and raging, kicking the mower and possibly breaking my toe. It has taken me nearly 2 hours to mow approximately 1/20th of my garden. That’s it, I give up. My lawn looks like it has mange, but I need wine. Lots of wine. And a sexy gardener.