Pig in mud


We moved into our beautiful home in December last year and yesterday I felt the need to do a stock take of all that we’ve done to the place so far. That’s right, you can’t move into a beautiful home and not do stuff to it. That would be, I don’t know, relaxing or something.

The reason for the stock take is that I have been feeling like I’m not making headway on much. You know what it’s like when you start a million things that never get quite finished because there is playdoh to squish, nursery rhymes to sing, crayon to scrub off walls, banana to scrape from the cracks in the floorboards… all the regular stuff. It took me four hours to send a 5-sentence email the other day! So while Blossom had her morning nap, Little Lion and I went out into the sunshine to check the perimeter.

We really have been doing plenty, but it’s all that stuff that makes you feel like you’re actually going backwards, courtesy of the mud and general look of destruction about the place. Cutting down trees… lots of trees, underground mains, three-phase power, stormwater. Yep, our place has been trench-city for some time, but we covered the trenches in a few weeks ago, we let them settle and watered them in, we topped them up and last weekend we threw a bit of grass seed around (too feed the pigeons, it would seem). With this weather, thunk I, it should all be sprouting in no time and those muddy scars will be gone for good.

And not before time, too. You see, Little Lion had a bit of a run in with one of those bare earth patches last week. Literally. He had his gumboots on (because making contact with the ground with bare feet is just not on!) and phone in hand when it suddenlt occurred to him that he had something of the utmost urgency to report to Daddy. He turned with a flourish and charged with all his little legs could muster, only to find one of those damned boots was firmly embedded in the dirt. The poor little mite hit the ground with such a splat he was chewing on grit for days.

Consequently, he has developed a mud phobia and all my attempts to teach him the joys of barefoot outdoor exploration and general grubbiness have been sent right back to lesson one. So on our stock-take perimeter check I was thrilled to find he was quite happy to tip-toe through the dewey grass! Sadly, a breakthrough that was not to last.

Because then we came to the mud. He asked to be carried. I granted the request and boldy went on, praising the joys of squishing mud between one’s toes when the earth disappeared beneath me and I, with my screaming toddler, was knee-deep in sludge and sinking.

It took a good minute of struggle to extract myself (shorts still in place) from the bog – Bear Grills eat your heart out! I could only be grateful that I had chosen the bootless option otherwise I may have been forced to dive in after them.

Every attempt to make light of the fact I was covered to my pits in brown goo was entirely lost on the Little Lion. There is no way he will ever touch the stuff again. I’m sure of it. Not even the opportunity to hose me down gave him any joy. He stood and wailed and was certain I needed a doctor. The day was spent reliving the ordeal and checking to see that all the mud was cleared from my toes.

And this little piggy was so much looking forward to mudpies with my leaf litter tea…

We’re flogging with Lori today! Enjoy!


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