Thursday, September 8, 2011

How to Lose Your Mind in 30 Days

We are nearing the end of the construction/landscaping that has been going on in our front and back yards for the past several weeks.
At least I hope we are.
Crossing all my fingers.
And my toes.
Uncrossing my toes, because that actually is quite uncomfortable to do while wearing shoes.
The idea of redesigning the yard was an exciting one.  It meant that we would actually have a usable space outside - Instead of a pathetic strip of winding concrete that was passed off as a patio without so much as a cover.  A place we could wipe off dirty dogs before they came inside the house.  Someplace for the little munchkin to play that didn’t have giant boulders every ten feet.  An actual yard instead of what we usually just referred to as “outside.”

That’s what we’ll call The Before.  When ideas flow freely and excitement runs wild.  When we sit around and say “this can go here” and “that can go there.”  When we dream of all the parties we’ll have when it’s finished.  When we still don’t really have any idea what we’re in for.



Then we have The Beginning.  Sure you anticipate the noise.  And you worry about how it will affect your infant son who likes to sleep until almost 9:00am (thankfully, no issues there).  But, mostly you’re still excited about what’s happening with all that demolition.  You’re cheering the removal of concrete, and the sound of tractors.  You’re enjoying the progress.
It changes pretty quickly.
You don’t know it, but The Beginning really only lasts a couple days.  Then it immediately becomes The During.  And that’s when you realize you had no real plan way back at The Before. 
I’m not talking about a plan for the design.
Or about the baby.
I’m talking about the dogs.

Our two dogs, Jackson and Greta, who love to spend the mornings outside chasing squirrels, became prisoners in their own home.  They would have to be hustled out in the early morning to quickly do their “business” and then pushed back into the house where they would remain for hours.  They could be let out again during the workers’ lunch break, but then shuttled back inside for the remainder of the day.
They have become quite melancholy, our dogs.  Staring at me all day with those eyes.  You know the ones.  Where they hang their chin low so the eyes have to look up at you and they adjust their ears in just the right way.  The look that says, “We’re doing this again?” It makes me feel guilty.

On the days when I just couldn't take their pouty looks (or the relentless noise of the jackhammers) I would load everybody up in the car and take the short jaunt to Grandma's house.

Loading up the car was in itself a feat.  First, I would have to pack up any food/treats for the dogs, as well as the diaper bag for the baby in case I was going to be gone for a while.  That finished, I would take the supplies and go out and open up the car.  It's the hottest time of the year and the inside of my vehicle is roasting, you can't just throw pets and a baby in it.   Then it was back inside to leash the dogs (thankfully they got used to this process so it took less time as the construction schedule wore on).  Once I had the pups loaded in the back, it was inside again to round up the munchkin.  Then back to the car, load him in, get in myself, and off we went.

I'm tired just thinking about it. 

I need a nap.

We've been involved in this whole process for over four weeks.  I've heard that the end is coming in a few days.  Looking at my yard, I don't know how that's possible.  But, as I have been saying all this time, "Have patience, it will all be worth it."

I don't think the dogs are buying it.



1 comment:

  1. I'm sure Jack and Greta aren't mad at you...especially after you gave them star billing in your blog. Hang in there...good things come to those who wait (and suffer)!

    ReplyDelete