TomTom Temper Tantrum

Last Wednesday at baseball practice TomTom had a scrimmage with another team to practice for his first game later that weekend.  When we showed up at our normal practice time of 7 pm the players were already on the field and he joined in the action.  I sat on the bleachers prepared to read up on some gardening while watching practice.

TomTom went up to bat and struck out.  He wasn’t planting his feet and was barely swinging his bat.  He went out to play his position in outfield and when he made it back to the dug out I put down my books to go give him some reminder tips on batting.  He was lined up to bat with his helmet on and bat in hand.  I called out to him and gave him some quick pointers, but he wasn’t acknowledging me.  I called to him again and got little to no response.  I was no more than the wind blowing in his ears.  I told him to come over to me and he resisted as I reached out to him to get him close enough to make eye contact with me.  I was reminding him to plant his feet and swing hard.  Simple words delivered in a simple method.  He began pulling away from me and went straight into a temper tantrum about how he lost his place in line to bat.  The coach was no more than six feet away from us and had not called TomTom’s name to go wait for his turn to bat.  I told him all he had to do was get back in line.  Then he started crying and went into full anger mode getting very loud about how I made him miss his turn to bat.  It was a bit ridiculous and his anger was looming out of control.

He had caused such a scene with the other parents around us as I was telling him to get back in line to bat.  He continued to insist he missed his turn, which was clearly not the actual situation, and would not get back into line.  I told him at that point to go sit at the tables across from the dug out until he got his temper under control.  He stomped off in extreme anger with what sounded like “God….!” and cursing me under his breath.  He also said he wished he could stab me.  Well, that was enough fun for me.

I followed him back to the tables and he threw his bat on the ground.  I told him to pick up his bat and place it down next to him at the table.  He picked up the bat and threw it on the ground under the table.  I told him to pick it up again and sit down and calm himself down.  He sat with his head in his hands, crying, temper tantrum to the max, fussing about how I made him miss his turn to bat.  This scene took about maybe ten minutes.  Whatever happened with the game behind us I was not sure of, but I know that it ended and the kids started packing up their stuff.  I went back to the dug out and gathered up his baseball equipment and stood by the fence to listen to what the team was doing.

The coach called the team back out onto the field for one last pep talk and called out “Thomas??? Is Thomas still here?”  I went back to the tables and told TomTom his coach was calling for him.  He rudely said “What does he want?”  I told him he was a part of the team and his coach was looking for his participation.  TomTom said he wasn’t going out on the field.  I told him if this is what baseball practice was going to be that we wouldn’t return in the future and that he would be punished when we got home.  TomTom responded with “How does this effect me?”

The very thin piece of straw that had been holding me together through our busy schedule the last three weeks had finally snapped.  I walked back over to the fence to get the last announcements the Coach was giving the team.  When the team was dismissed I walked over to the tables and told TomTom to get a move on to the car… NOW!

He strolled along as if nothing was wrong and got into the back seat to get buckled in his seatbelt.  I was loading his baseball gear into the back of the car and when I shut the car door I was approached by another team mom.  She is a very sweet woman and I have chatted with her a bit at previous practice nights.  She offered me any help I might need to get to practice on time by picking TomTom up or whatever I might need help with and told me she does the same with another mom on the team.  I was so angry with TomTom at this point.  When I get angry, for whatever the case is, I cry.  I hate it, but I cry.  My eyes were already watery from the temper tantrum and I had held it together to the car.  After her offer I was so overwhelmed with emotion that the water works started to flow.  I told her that was so sweet and I really appreciated it, but we would be ok for now making the practices.  I also explained that we had just had a rough couple of weeks and apologized for my water works.  She saw that I was starting to cry and gave a polite “Awwwwwwww.”  Her sympathy because I was crying made me angry too because I hate when people see my moments of weakness and I thanked her again and got into the car.

On the drive home I was trying to regain my sanity to not hurt the small child in the back seat of my car.  I realized he was flipping through a magazine with all the attitude in the world.  I reached back and snatched the magazine out of his hands and threw it into the front seat.  I looked at him in my rear view mirror and like a demonic-psycho-crazy-bitch-of-a-mom explained a few things to him.

1) That if he thought his seven year old antics and temper tantrums embarrassed me and made me feel inferior that he had absolutely no idea the experiences I have been through in this lifetime.

2) That if he had any idea what hell was before, he was going to know what hell was by the time I was done with him.

3) He was as of this moment punished from anything and everything and would have no privileges from this moment on.

4) He would be only reporting to school, home, and mandatory team functions during his punishment.

And I think there was some other screaming in there, but I must have blanked out because all I remember was anger and crazy screaming at him in the car.

We made it back to the house and I told him to get everything of his out of the back seat of the car because it was my car and I let him ride in it.  Then he was to go inside the house and get into the bath and then get into bed.

While he was getting his things out of the car I went and grabbed several garbage bags from under the sink.  I then went back to his room and started packing up every toy, electronic device, and things that looked fun and put them in the garbage bags.  He walked in his room and saw me literally emptying his drawers into the garbage bags.  He asked me what I was doing and I told him that all these things were privileges and no longer belonged to him.  I then went into the front of the house and packed up all the video games and controllers into garbage bags.  I left him with pens, pencils, paper and books.

While he was in the bath tub I created a check list system and a set of rules as to how his life was going to be changed from now on.  I wasn’t finished with my creation when I tucked him into bed, but I know for the first time since I have had him it was hard to lean down and kiss him good night.  I told him that he had hurt me body and soul that night and even though I loved him it was hard for me to be kind to him at this moment.  It took all I had to give him a kiss and exit the room turning the lights out.

French Quarter Festival 2011

After longing for my weekend plans after such a shitty week, Saturday finally came along.  I thought about how it was going to be a great day, but come that morning I took it slow and easy getting ready.  I made it over to Metairie around 2 PM to hang out with the family and head to the French Quarter Fest.  After much adieu about what my cousin’s were going to wear and how they were going to do their hair and their friends arrival, we were ready to make our journey into town.

We stopped off at the Smoothie King on Vets for a quick bite to drink/eat for the minors.  My cousin’s girlfriend and I headed to the daiquiri shop across the street for her adult beverage.  I had my trustee backpack cooler full of jack and coke raring to go!  We all met up again, loaded up the cars, and headed towards Canal St.  Along our way we passed some public facility that was displaying a multitude of traffic cones in a row for no apparent reason at all.  Maybe they had cleaned them and set them out to dry?  Maybe they were making some big point that we were unaware of?  We weren’t quite sure so I snapped a photo because it was such an odd sight.  I also took a snap shot of my cousin, her boyfriend, and her friend in the back seat with smoothies in hand.

 

We parked by City Park Ave and Canal St and got ready for our street car ride.  My last ride on a street car was without a/c, and I had to ditch the drink I had in hand, so I was prepared for it this time around.  However, upon boarding I felt a wonderful blow of cool air as I struggled to feed my dollar bill through the slot.  My cousin heckled me from behind and said he was paying for everyone this go round after saying my name two or three times.  I pleasantly thanked him and proceeded to the back of the very full street car for the nearest standing strap holder thing.  On my walk back the street car driver was of the lively sort and said into her loud speaker something along the lines of “Everyone let’s hear it for Sarah!  We have Sarah on board today!”  I took my cue and with arms flying in the air gave my best impression of Arsenio Hall and his dog pound with the “Woof! Woof!”  (Does anyone else remember that??)  The street car was a great place for some candid shots and very interesting advertisements.

 

We arrived at S. Peters and hopped off the street car for our day of adventure.  First stop for the ladies of course was the bathroom.  We took the privilege of using the facilities of the mall at Jax Brewery.  I also took the opportunity to fill myself up with drink #2.  After the bathroom, everyone else grabbed a bowl of jambalaya, but the greasy smell of it didn’t sit right with my stomach so I just grabbed a small sampling of sausage off one of the offered bowls.  I had eaten a turkey sandwich and some watermelon before I left the house (that being my only food of the day) and figured it would be enough. 

We walked to the river and enjoyed the sights and the band playing at the nearest stage.  We sampled a few of the other stages and then decided to go for a walkabout through the Quarter.  More photos of all the necessary sights including the river front, and Jackson Square – beautiful! 

And some other random walking street shots.

 

I met and talked to a few strangers along the way. 

We made our way to the French Market and the sunglass shops for the cousins. 

I managed to find an ever-so-cute jazz fest type purse with bright colors and Om.  I had a bit of a fiasco with paying for a credit card, but was able to do it at a neighboring booth.  Then we marched on to the outside of the French Market where I took a fascinating photo with a crazy looking mannequin that had her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

Much more happened along our walking route including various pit stops, and what not, these will remain known only to the participants of this wonderful event.  I want you to keep in mind at this point that my older cousin and his girlfriend had been continually responsible and watchful of the younger cousins.  I as the second oldest cousin began to rapidly deteriorate at this point.  We walked back to Cafe Du Monde for beignets and it was at this point that I realized I wasn’t doing so well.  I told my older cousin’s girlfriend I was heading to the bathroom and left my stuff at the table.  After seeing the line for the bathroom and the loudness of the Cafe booming in my head I decided it was best to walk out the back of the Cafe.  I found a nice little perch at the corner of the ledge behind the Cafe and leaned over and let my head rest on my hands. 

At this point I know there was spew-age.  Not much, mind you because I hadn’t eaten anything and with all the walking and dehydrating in the sun most of the liquid was out of me.  But nonetheless, something made its way to the surface.  I was lucky enough to land it on the ledge on the side of me and not on my person.  I also realized that there were people walking by witnessing the event and after 35 years of living in and around the city – i had turned into “one of those people.”  I every so slickly reached for the pine needles in the corner garden I was leaning over and dragged a few over the mess I was leaving behind.  I think my younger cousins’ boyfriend was on the search for me because I remember him stopping by after he found me.  I probably told him I was alright and would sit there for a bit longer, but don’t remember what the actual conversation was to this day.  I know that night came upon me.  Did I fall asleep?  Or was it one long eternal moment of spew-age, cover with pine needles, and remain slumped over in the corner?  I couldn’t tell you.  But I know it was the relief I needed at the time.

So there I was, in the darkness, brought back to consciousness by my older cousin’s hearty laughter at the sight of me.  My instinct had me move more pine needles to cover the latest episode of my recent mess.  I immediately started to apologize.  It dawned on me that after spending all day with the kids, it was the 35 year old single mom that was making him take care of her when there were many more important things to worry about.  I remembered I should be worried about my personal possessions that I left behind, but honestly all that shit is replaceable.  And I think I would have been content to stay the night there with the comfort of my pine needles and ledge, but he was not having any of it.  He grabbed my hand and with his forearm supported the entire left side of my body for my walk back to his car.  Thank Christ I didn’t have to hold it together for the street car ride!  And thank you to my older cousin for coming to my rescue and having to deal with my disgusting drunk ass!  I think I had a few moments and spoken words on life in general and how I sucked for making you take care of me.  I think you graciously dismissed them as moments of drunken stupor, but you should know that they were heart felt on my end and the gratitude was endless.

Somehow I got into the jeep and realized I didn’t really care about being buckled in or the fact that there were no doors and I was swaying too and fro with the motion of the Jeep.  I recognized Metairie, and the conversation around me as to the younger cousins being on board in the vehicle with me.  I recognized the grass of Bonnabel Blvd like the grass in my own back yard and wanted to willingly just lop out of the jeep into their comfort.  Maybe they would find me tomorrow, or maybe I could just be left to sleep off this crappy ass week and this crappy ass ending to an awesome day.  Rally’s.  We were in the Rally’s drive thru.  OH!  the smell of greasy grossness of a fast food joint in Metairie.  And there it was again, that delightful spew-age, carefully angled out of the jeep, yet down my entire right arm at the shoulder.  Again, there wasn’t much too it.  More like gross tablespoons of spit, but yet enough to keep my shoulder damp.  I politely asked for a napkin and carefully wiped myself off.

Salvation!  My cousin’s house!  I had made it back to base camp thanks to the loving care of my cousins!  Sanctuary!  The hot tub!  I walked right out of my shoes and right into the hot tub.  No bother in changing clothes, the cleansing experience of it was great for me.  I came back to reality slowly, but surely.  I even tried a bite of a Rallyburger…. no… no that tastes like crap…. please take it back.  And then at the point of exhaustion up the stair for a proper shower, drying my hair, placing all my wet clothing into what I thought was the dryer – but it was one of those fancy ones – so it may have been the washer.  And finally, to bed.  Sweet….. sweet…. bed.

Daylight.  640 AM.  I’m freaking dying of a thirst here.  Down the stairs for a glass of water, a glass of orange juice, and another glass of water.  Back up the stairs for an attempt at more sleep.  840 AM the phone rings.  It’s my mother.  After Friday night I didn’t have much tolerance for her shenanigans.  My son was safe with my father at the camp sight and I knew they hadn’t tried to call me.  The conversation starts…

Mom: Where are you?

Me:  I’m at my cousins (to myself: where you know I am!)

Mom:  Why didn’t you answer the phone last night????

Me: (to myself: I am off shagging the entire royal guard and have no time for you.  For Christ’s sake I am 35 years old, no matter what happened last night – what kind of a question is this??) Ummm… I was probably in the pool.

Mom:  (what I heard – blah, blah, blah, blah) …. and your bikes were just there on the carport of your house and I didn’t know if the dog fence should be opened or closed with no car there to protect the bikes.

Me: (to myself: WTF?? Where is this going?  If you wanted me to be awake because you are awake, just say so and stop all this bullshit!  Get passed it and just say it out loud – you are not entitled to any fun!  you are a single mom and all you need to do is take care of your son and nothing else!)  Mom, I have no where else to put the bikes.  They are chained to the post of my carport. 

The bullshit about the bikes went on and on and at some point I ended it because this was a bullshit phone call.  I made my way into the bathroom to get myself together for the drive home because I longed for the comfort of my bed and to have my son safe at home with me and to be rid of the bullshit phone calls because my dad was doing something with my son and my mom hates the fact that my dad is involved with the boy scouts. 

I ate a donut with my cousins, but my mouth wasn’t working so well and the whole of me was shaky and off.  I found all of my personal items, one by one, thank you again to all of my family members that managed to grab them all for me from the French Quarter.  I made my way back across the lake to the comfort of my home.  I called my dad to check on the arrival time of my son and he was just getting to his house.  The bed would have to wait.  I went to pick up my son.  My dad was exhausted and not much interested in paying any attention to me.  My mother, the good Catholic woman that she was, was watching mass on TV as my son was trying to work the video games in his room at their house.

I found him!  My sweet little home away from home.  Big hug.  BIIIIIGGG HUUUUGGGGG!  And he was stinky.  My mother had to tell me everything negative she had heard about the camping trip and all I wanted to hear was from my son how much fun he had at the campsite.  I got him into a nice hot bath and cleaned him up really good.  He had tons of huge bug bites, a huge bruise on his forehead, and dirt and rashes in every crack and cranny of his body.  I took care of that and gave him some Benadryl for the bites and we headed back home.  Home. Sweet.  Home. 

I got him into the bed to chill in his Benadryl state of mind and watch TV in my room.  I unloaded the car, fed the animals, checked on things around the house.  TomTom wanted lunch so I got him lunch in bed.  I made some lunch for myself too.  I noted that I needed to mow the lawn, fertilize, water the garden, and blow off the carport.  It was about 1 PM.  There was time for a nap in there.  I crawled in next to TomTom and after his complaining about a nap I promised him he could wake up whenever he wanted to – I didn’t really care as long as I got 15 minutes of sleep. 

We woke up at 4 PM.  I cut the grass.  I fertilized the lawn.  I gave the dog a bath.  I watered the garden.  I did laundry.  I cooked dinner.  I got TomTom to bed for the night.  I sat on the couch and stared at the TV while the movie “Nine” was on it.  I got into my bed and called it a weekend.

This past week in the life of…

Where do I even begin???  Let’s start where I think I left off, last week I was aggravated to all hell about things that were happening at work and in life in general.  Turns out it was also the beginning of my monthly visitor. Coincidence?  I think not.  It is the likely story of when it rains, it pours. 

My week ended on a low note on Friday.  My mom checked my son out of school because I sent him with some Aveeno anti-itch cream and the teacher told him he had to leave it with the office and go there when he wanted to apply it.  Yet again, his skin allergies were looming out of control so I was trying to be pro-active.  Not to mention I forgot to give him his Zyrtec Friday morning when we were rushing out of the house.  When my mom got there to apply the cream for me she said he was all broken out and his eyes were broken out so she was going to check him out.  I asked TomTom if he wanted to stay or leave and of course he wanted to leave with his Nana.  This led into a griping spiel from my mom about the cats and how they were not good for TomTom. 

Later that evening I met the family at Schwings for a Lenten seafood dinner.  My niece was there with my son and parents.  The food was great.  I had the shrimp salad and boiled shrimp combo and was quite impressed.  We got on the subject of TomTom’s allergies again and that started the griping about the cats.  I tried to change the subject on a positive note and start talking about the garden project that I completed over the weekend when my parents were out of town.  I showed the photos on my iPod so they could see how great it came out.  My mom took to them and seemed a bit impressed that I got all the mud moved and made a nice garden.  My dad’s response however was simply, “you are going to get all kinds of weeds in that garden.”  I snatched my iPod back from him and with all the seriousness I could conjure up without being completely hurt told him “you have no idea what I did.” 

He didn’t bother asking how we did the garden, or remark that it even looked remotely nice, or even that I did a good job on moving all of the mud out of the truck.  He has no idea that I used the layered garden method to prevent the weed growth that I discovered from the article in Mary Jane’s Farm girl magazine.  He didn’t even bother with wanting to know, just went straight into the negative and dwelling on it.  My mom I think tried to defend me for a split second and then my dad went into whether or not I filled out TomTom’s wolf cub book with the completed projects.  He also wanted to know why I hadn’t removed the watermelon plants he had at his house that he offered me when they were out of town.  And my mom added in with why I hadn’t organized the removal of the furniture and other items she had donated to one of my co-workers. 

At that point I think I slipped over the edge and told them that if they had any other grievances and complaints about me, my life, and the things I choose to do with it that they should just go ahead and get them all out on the table right now because I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.  I reminded them that not once did they ask about how TomTom and my week was, nor were they even concerned about my week at work and all of our extracurricular activities that went on after school.  I said this in a short speech directly to my parents which left them with mouths hanging open just staring at my like I was some psycho bitch from hell.  My niece was sweet enough to break the silence and chime in with “let’s talk about something else.”  I gave her a glance and a nod and she started in with a more pleasant conversation.  Thanks niece.  Thanks for seeing that I was at my breaking point and deflecting more criticism from my parents and bringing me back up to earth from my small and fraying rock that was rapidly diminishing from the lava in the pits of hell.  I really appreciated it at the time and need you to know that.

My parents later stated that TomTom could sleep at their house since he was leaving to go camping with my dad in the morning for boy scouts.  I had also been lucky enough to make plans by watching “The Hangover” at Francesca’s house later that night.  Some where along my drive in between Schwing’s and Francesca’s house I had a moment with myself in the car with my favorite Janis songs blaring on the radio.  A moment when I realized that by that one comment from my father my little demons all came rising back to the surface and I recalled this note from my fast back in March:

“The demon is a lost child being beckoned out of a dark corner by a trail of bread crumbs.  She peeks out so you can see her eyes, pale and lonely, she grabs a crumb and then ducks back in the darkness.  She is still afraid, full of fear, but she wants to have the support to make her dreams come true.”

With that one negative comment and absolutely no consideration towards my life and the obvious things I am trying to make it better for myself and my son – that lost little child was kicked in the gut and pushed back behind the corner.  All the fear and turmoil sent raging inside and left to sit in the darkness with the sadness of humiliation and rejection.  And yes, the tears flowed, and I thought of my Grandma and the love and acceptance that she always gave me.  She is such a source of strength for me when I get to feel this way.  And I also tried to remember in my car what that lost, sad child in the darkness needed….

“The gift is open arms for tears on a warm and welcoming lap rocking and rocking and rocking like my grandma used to do.  A warm heart to talk to that does not laugh at my dreams or make me feel like they are not good enough.  My ally talks about everything I am interested in and everything that I want to be in this life.  She will hold my hand and help me mark out a path to achieve everything that I have wanted.  And she will be there when I have fear again and want to duck behind the darkness.  It (the fear)  may be safety on one side, but on the other it is a barrier from all the things that will light my path in this life.   She will remind me that I can overcome the fear.  She will give me the acceptance and warmth that I need when I become afraid, she will give me the strength and protection to go after everything I want in this life.”

That’s you Grandma.  Even though you have passed away I can still feel that around me when I can’t get it from anywhere else.  Thank you for always giving me the strength to rise up above when everything around me is clawing at me to hold me down. 

“I need acceptance and unconditional love.  I need a support system, I need belief that I can grow into something wonderful.  I need to know that the things I like and want in the outside world are okay to go after.”

And if it is the remembrance of the calming presence of my Grandma’s love that helps me remember this than I will always bring it back in my mind when I need it.  That is how she will live on through me.  That is how her spirit will always surround me.  And it only takes a few moments of hearing Janis sing…

“One of these mornings, you’re gonna rise up singing.  You’re gonna spread your wings, child, and take… take to the sky.  Until that morning, nothing’s gonna harm you now.  No,no, no, no, no, no, no don’t you cry.”

The British High Tea Room

This is it for the night because I am exhausted and I’m getting a little closer to getting caught up with these updates, but not much.

Today I decided to lunch with my mate Franny at the Tea Room in down town Covington.  Every time we go there it has been superb and the nicest elderly British man is always there to wait on us.  It has been awhile since we last visited this establishment and much has changed.

What was once our nice quiet sanctuary was full of the hustle and bustle today at lunch.  And sadly, our little British friend was not there to chat about old times in the UK with Francesca.  After two vanilla scones each, covered in sugar, and then basted with Clotted Cream and lemon curd, we started to get a sugar high.  Turns out we think they killed Old Martin and buried him under the building.  They knew we were on to something so they wouldn’t let the other customers sit near us.  There were moments when we would stop our conversation and see if it was Martin’s voice calling us via the fire place from under the house.  There was even a moment when Francesca reached out to see if that was his spirit in the light.

Turns out that wasn’t him so she tried reaching to the other side of the table.

She heard Martin’s voice calling to her for help and kept trying to find where it was coming from.

  

What used to be the best lunch outing with our British friend has turned into a complete horse-and-pony show.  One of the waitresses came over and asked for our flower vase in the loveliest British accent.  We both did a 180 when we heard her behind the counter talking in a harsh American accent.  Then she went on to make a new voicemail for the restaurant in her Faux British accent.  We were humiliated.

  Francesca wept for Martin. 

There was a moment of silence.

I was able to record the moment of her looking longingly in the distance to the music of the Tea Room searching for Martin’s lost soul.  However, our sugar giggles took over again – and of course I stink at recording with this thing – but at the end of this clip you can see his orb.  He really is there in spirit after all!!!

Butt Crack at Northpark

Not only have I had a week from hell at work, but when I finally get out to have lunch with Francesca today we have to stare at this at the red light. 

Could you not see what it was in that photo?? Let me see if this helps you out….

 

Yeah… that needed a traffic cone alright. 

The boys are back in town

The boys are back in tooo-ooo-oooo-oooowwwnnnn.

TomTom has been spending some QT with his cousin during his time off.  The best part of this time off so far… finding two brand new bikes in the dumpster at Target.  One for me… one for him. 

“Buddha will provide.”

How does your garden grow?

Well, it’s done!  Or at least phase one is done!  And it went a little something like this….

“Mom?  Can you see if Dad can pick me up 40 bags of top soil from Home Depot since he gets his Military discount?”

And then after that line there were about two or three phone calls from my dad…

1) Dad: Are you sure you want 40 bags of mud?  What are you trying to do?  Me: I want to fill that old pond in and make it into a raised veggie garden for my seedlings.  Dad: Do you want me to get you a truck load of mud instead?  Me: Well, I don’t know… how much is that?  How much mud are we talking? It’s not that stuff with all the manure in it, is it?

2)  Dad:  I think the truck load of mud will be better.  Me:  I just don’t think I need that much mud.  And I’m not sure of the price and the type of mud I’m getting.

3) Dad:  I’m at the mud place.  They say they will fill up the back of my truck for about $30.  It would be one scoop.  Me:  I don’t care anymore.  You do what you think is the best.  You’re the man in this I don’t know what decision to make.

And that is where I found myself this past weekend.  My parents headed to Florida and I was ready for my weekend of garden work.  I had a truck full of mud, a shovel, a wheel barrel, and two days on my hands.  Since Saturday started off with a cub scout outing and some necessary errands, I got started some where around 2 or 3 PM.  For the next four hours this is what ran through my head, scoop…. dump…. I would count off about ten shovels of mud into the wheel barrel (is that even what the thing is called???)…scoop…. dump…. and then empty a bag of compost and manure into it…. scoop…. dump…. then I would shovel about another 10 scoops…… dumps….. and mix it all together.  Then walk backwards through the fence, turn it around and head toward the pond.  I placed it next to my air conditioner thingy because not too much grass grows around it and it wouldn’t kill any of my lawn there.  Scoop…..dump…… all the way into the bottom of the pond.  Scoop…..dump…… until the wheel barrow… IT’S A FREAKIN’ WHEELBARROW – GOD LOVE GOOGLE was empty.  Then back off to the truck to do it all over again. Scoop…..dump…..  You have a lot to think about when you are moving mud.

You think about how you are not going to kill your dad for getting you this freaking truck full of dirt.  Scoop…. Dump….That you can’t drive anywhere fun because you have a pile full of dirt in the back of the truck you are borrowing. Scoop…. Dump…. You think about how you have to get this finished because you can’t drive this truck full of dirt to Harry Connick Jr on Monday night. Then empty a bag of compost and manure into it…. Scoop….. Dump….. You think about how you are not going to get upset because your Dad was doing what he thought was best and you pretty much gave him full reign to spend your money and make the final decision.  Scoop…… Dump…..  That you might be able to bury the old man right here in this f’ing pond.  Scoop….Dump….  I hope they are having a great time on the sandy shores of Cocoa Beach.  Scoop….. Dump…  Walk backwards through the fence, turn it around and head toward the pond. Scoop…. Dump…. I can’t wait until TomTom is old enough to help with this kind of thing… Scoop…. Dump…. Back over to the truck to do it all again.

That went on for about three or four times and the pod was pretty much full at that point.  Now for the fun part!  TomTom went and got all of our seedlings that had been hardened off and we planted them into the pond.  We have Roma tomatoes, Beefsteak tomatoes, Dill plants, and Bell Peppers (we bought the peppers from Home Depot the others we grew from seed).  What we ended up with was this:

Not excitingly pretty, but a veggie garden made out of an old pond that was pretty much useless for years in my back yard.  Now onto the next problem, what to do with the rest of the mud – I had about a half a truck bed full left.  I had read an article in Mary Jane’s Farm girl magazine about a layered garden made anywhere in your yard.  And I still had about twenty or more lettuce seedlings that needed to get into the ground.  I headed inside for the article and gave it a look over.  I pretty much had everything on hand that I needed, now I just needed to decide where I was going to put it.  I found the perfect spot under the tree where the grass never grows.  And it spends most of the day in part shade so the lettuce won’t be unhappy due to heat.

I covered the ground in old newspapers and paper grocery bags that I had around the house.  I used this method to cover all the area that I wanted to make into the garden. Then I gave it a good hosing down as noted in the magazine article.  Scoop…..dump….. then I covered that with about a three inch layer of the mud.  Scoop…. dump…. and the final layer was about three compost and manure bags opened up and spread out with a rake.  The fence is wet from the hose in the photo below, but other than that not too shabby for a girly girl.

The article said you needed to make your layers at up to approx two feet in height.  As you can see in the photo with one layer, and wetting it down, I was some where around three inches total.  And I was out of my paper layer.  I ran off to the Dollar General by my house and they told me I could take any card board boxes they had around the side of the store.  I filled up the back of the truck and we headed back home.  It was probably around 5:30 PM when I started my next layer.  I laid out the card board boxes over my first layer that was already on the ground and then I had at them with the hose .

Scoop…. dump…… yep, you guessed it, back to the wheelbarrow and mud.  Scoop…. dump…. and after that a few more bags of compost and manure.  At this point walking on top of the garden to spread the compost layer was a mess.  I spread the empty compost bags over where I needed to walk and this helped tremendously.  No more wet mud sticking to my shoes.  This photo shows the layers: cardboard, mud, compost.

I was on my second layer at this point, maybe some where around six inches after hosing it all down again.  The mosquitoes came out and were taking advantage of me so it was time to head inside for the night.   This is where I was at the end of day one.

My dog who had been watching me scoop and dump all day thought I was crazy and just wanted to play, so I took a photo of him before I went inside.

 

Sunday came along and I had to drag my sore butt out of bed to get finished up.  I got a call from my dad.  Dad: Did you get any of that mud moved yesterday?  Me: Ummm… I’ve been trying every since you guys left.  Dad:  Well, you need to get it out of my truck as soon as possible or it will damage my truck bed. 

Scoop…. Dump….. I will NEVER get a truck full of mud again.  Scoop…. Dump…. I will have my argument ready for when he wants to know why I just don’t want a truck of mud.  Scoop…. Dump…. If I wanted to take TomTom out to do something fun, I could just leave the bags on my porch until I had time to deal with them next weekend.  Scoop….. Dump……

I did my final layer as thick as possible to use up as much mud as possible from the truck.  I started again with a layer of cardboard boxes, a thick layer of mud, and a thick layer of compost.  I don’t know if I hit six feet, but I felt like it was enough to get me started.  The article suggested using shallow rooting plants – like lettuce – in your top most compost layer so that by summer time the bottom layers will have decomposed and would be ready for more deep rooted plants. 

Off TomTom went to get our lettuce seedlings.  I had worn a bandana tied around my hair to help keep the sweat out of my eyes and when he came around the side of the house he had a bath towel over his head, secured by a belt, with his Gravedigger hat on top to mimic me.  Then he helped me plant the lettuce.

          

Did I mention he was my bestest buddy???

The finished layered garden.

     

Now I am wishing I would have just made these around the back yard instead of fussing with the pond liner.  It just flat out looks nicer.  And in the fall I will be able to cover it up with all the pine needles and leaves that fall out of the tree and it will automatically start layering itself yearly if I add top soil and compost and then new plants.  But for now I will stick with this and the pond garden.