Well, we’re deep in the “getting worse” phase, before all my crazy planning starts to make things better. So deep.
We got veggie boxes built and I filled them; while I was doing that the chooks got in and tore up both the gardens were already producing veg. Man, those girls can throw dirt a long way. They literally excavated 20cms of soil into an area twice the size of the original beds. On top of the hoeing we’ve been doing to prepare the side yard for turfing. Then Mother Nature got in on the act and dumped something like 15cms of rain on us in one weekend – and kept going. So, the yard looks a bit like Flanders Fields, before the poppies.
The patio, cleaned and cleared for the IWD event last week, is now lavishly strewn with the new parts from Mr Pixel’s bed that we’re painting. Twelve large shelves and 20 bed slats, plus brackets for the new shelves… and a liberal coating of chicken poop, because the girls are still on the loose, rain having prevented me from finishing fencing the side yard.
Meanwhile, indoors, we got busy sanding. We’re converting his loft bed into a fully functioning Lego work-station and repainting it from bright little-kid colours to something more mature. It’s going to be magnificent. But it’s a lot of fiddly sanding. Heat gun shavings just fall to the floor, but neither sander’s bag works particularly well so thick, pale greenish dust coats the entire room, tracked out into the playroom. Where his stuff is.
Well, his stuff, and CraftyFish’s stuff, because she couldn’t bear that I’m putting in so much time next door while her room looks like someone put Big W’s entire inventory through a shredder and then dumped it on the floor. So she got in on the act. She excavated four loads of laundry from the floor (FOUR!); she’s thrown out more stuff this week than previously in her entire life; she’s moved stuff to the playroom, donated to charity, piled outgrown treasures into a box for storing. She’s sorted some stuff, too, labelled boxes, dragged all four sets of shelves out into the hallway for cleaning. And then she had a costume birthday party to go to (anxiety! costume! anxiety! gift! anxiety!) so it’s all just been left. She can’t even sleep in there right now, there’s so much stuff piled on the bed and floor.
And none of that is as simple as it sounds on the page, is it? ‘Sanding’ required an emergency dash to buy more sheets, jerry-rigging an old-sock bag for the one that broke, and finding protection for hyper-sensitive ears; I worked until past dark yesterday reconstructing one of the excavated garden beds; we’ve driven all over town collecting manure, paint, plant pots, costume, mulch, Mr Pixel’s new bed, donating to charity; I keep having to stop what I’m doing to feed people, sort playdates, and field meltdowns.
I’ve dropped the exercise ball, I’ll be honest. I’m not sleeping well, either. In the face of that much mess, it can be hard to see any progress at all, and I’m pretty sure the Sceptic is considering moving out until I’ve finished everything and put away the broom. I know it’s just stress and that if I breathe deep, hold tight to that vision, reassure everyone that we’re making progress, and keep chipping away, it will eventually get better.
So that’s what I’m going home to do, in yet another day of <30C heat and <70% humidity and not being able to take two steps without standing on or tripping over something. Because in our house, this is what gifted looks like.