Happy Cacophonous Father’s Day!

I didn’t quite know what was going to happen. I kept my expectations low, given how well Mother’s Day turned out, and the fact that Evelyn has a cold again. Lately she has been waking up crying 4 or 5 times a night.

Father’s Day this year started at about 6:30 am. It was a full 6 hours earlier than any start time I had been hoping for.

Evelyn cried – wet, hungry, teething, stuffy nose – as far as I know it was one of those things. It was clear that she was wide awake and ready for the day, but her mother had been up with her several times through the night, so I offered to get up with her and let Carolyn sleep in. That lasted 2 minutes. Bridget awoke from the noise and was feeling well rested herself.

Adults I know who have had a cold recently complain that it was very tiring and they had a terrible sore throat. I’m guessing Evelyn felt the same way, since not much could make her happy for longer than a few minutes at a time – less if she wasn’t being carried or held. But it was Father’s Day after all, and that means a special breakfast. So I helped myself to a 2nd bowl of Honeycomb Cereal.

In the midst of the cacophony two things occurred to me: both kids were very cranky; and we needed groceries.

Ah, the sweet, anonymous solitude of a gigantic grocery store. On the drive home I enjoyed my favourite contraband treat – the candy whose name shall not be spoken while the spouse is dieting.

I don’t think I was looking any hotter than I’m usually not looking when I don’t get dolled up to go get groceries. But for some reason women at the grocery store kept checking me out. Not all of them were cougars either. I don’t know what was so special about the fact that it was the afternoon of Father’s Day and I was alone at the supermarket. Then again, the only other man I saw there that day who didn’t have kids with him was wearing a “#1 DAD” t-shirt… To be fair though, I did have diapers in the shopping cart.

Once I got home I found that everyone had gotten over themselves. Evelyn was asleep while Mommy and Bridget were having a snack and watching a humming bird that had stopped by the flowers on our deck. Bridget teetered between quiet fascination, and the natural fear that occurs when you realize “Oh no! The Honey Bird is coming to EAT ME like a MONSTER!”

Fascination won.

I was armed with my Nikon camera and my brave daughter protected herself with a toy broom. For half an hour we sat quietly in the corner of the deck waiting for the humming bird to return.

By “quietly”, of course I mean that I whispered instructions to her about the importance of being still and quiet, then she would clarify loudly: “We have to be quiet or the honey bird won’t come back, that’s right Daddy. I’m being very quiet. Look at me Daddy I’m standing on the chair! Now I’m going to sweep you!”

It seemed prudent to move on.

I had a Father’s Day cup of coffee while Bridget dug in her sandbox. It was much the same as any other cup of coffee, except it was preceded by “yeah Daddy! A Father’s Day coffee! And me and Mommy will bring it to you, and you will like it, ok?”

They did. And so did I.

When Evelyn finally woke up she was as delightful and happy as she had not been the night before.

It was a relaxing afternoon. I watched Discovery Channel. I chopped some firewood. Bridget and I stacked it. Father’s Day cards were read, and phone calls to Grandfathers were made. The weather was warm and sunny after a long stretch of grey, wet days. In spite of this, I did not mow the lawn, and I did not do it with great sense of satisfaction. I just didn’t feel like listening to the roar of our ancient lawnmower as I circled the yard for an hour.

Not on Father’s Day.

The only din you heard from our house that day came from our selves. And after about 2 o’clock or so, it was a happy din.

Lawn Care Memos

Spring has sprung, and it’s leaking all over my lawn.

Here in the Maritimes we seem to have 4 distinct seasons. In Vancouver spring simply meant that there was a bit less rain for a few weeks then suddenly summer would explode in a floral bouquet. To hear Vancouverites tell it, this happens sometime during the last 2 weeks of February. The truth is closer to April, but who’s counting.

Now I find myself doing the things a homeowner does in spring. I try to predict the rain so I know when it’s safe to cut the lawn. I debate the morality of dumping weed and feed chemicals on my lawn. I even dug a little ditch to help drain the low soggy spot at the wooded back corner of the lot. Not being a particularly gifted ditch digger, it began to turn itself into a big ditch, but it eventually revealed itself as a medium sized reservoir. I KNOW water flows downhill. But creating just a little, gradual downhill as you go along isn’t as easy as you think. I dare you to try it.

Spring is the time to get back outdoors and talk to my neighbours. I’ve been getting to know them better with my meaningful banter, such as “well, then is this one a weed?”; “why is my grass turning brown?” and “How can I get my reservoir to drain into your ditch?”

Oddly, all of the answers involved me doing more yard work. I have to come up with questions which lead to a better outcome. I can’t decide between “Is that beer?” or “Hey what was that movie you were watching yesterday?”

This is also a time of year when the weather finally allows for a bit more family time outside. Some of that time has led to some Daddy-daughter bonding over a variety of topics. We’ve bug-hunted, twig-gathered, and dug a little more on the reservoir. We refer to these little dirt nibbles as “ditch tweaking”.

Just this morning I got to explain to her what slugs eat, while she demonstrated the Doppler Effect.

“Honey slugs don’t eat little girls”

“It’s chasing me the slug IS chasing me get it away Daddy!!”

The moral debate over lawn fertilizer was settled, incidentally. Twice.

The first time I used the slightly cheaper fertilizer. I didn’t notice that it was cheaper because it was just Feed, not Weed and Feed. I brought it home and read the directions carefully and followed them precisely. I did not fill the spreader anywhere that I could spill some and burn the grass. I set the dial on my spreader to the correct setting for this fertilizer. And I especially followed that part of the directions that told me what pattern to use while spreading the fertilizer.

“Make passes about 5 feet apart to avoid overlapping.”

The fertilizer people were wrong.

Or I can’t judge 5 feet very well. I definitely did not overlap. My sidelawn is about 25 feet wide and 100 feet long. It now has beautiful rich green grassy stripes 5 feet wide all the way down its length. And because I used “Feed”, instead of “Weed and Feed”, the dandelions within the stripes were particularly robust and lush. They were tall, and a brighter yellow than regular, unfertilized dandelions. They were proud, tall and bright. Their yellow seemed all the more yellowy against the lush green of the fertilized swath. And the green swath seemed all the more green and lush compared to the patchy, less green stripes that got no fertilizer.

Tuesday was a beautiful, sunny day. After work I cut the long green grass. And the not so lush patches. Then I applied a new bit of fertilizer. This time I used “Weed and Feed”. And I paid more attention to where the little pellet bits actually landed before I decided where the next “stripe” would go. Then I laughed as I thought about how it would look if I had cut the grass the same way – mowing a new swath every 21 inches – just eyeball it.

I have one more bag of fertilizer left. If I still don’t have it right I will switch to Plan B. The front and back lawn will stay as they are. The 25 x 100 feet of side lawn will become a green and brown want ad for a gardener. Fertilized lush green letters will spell “HELP MY LAWN”.

I’ll either get what I need, or I’ll start a new suburban trend. All down the block we’ll see fertilized messages:

“SITTER NEEDED”;

“HOUSE IS ALARMED”;

“HUBBIE LEFT. MOM WAS RIGHT”;

and of course

“BYOB BBQ SAT.!”