What No One Told You, part 1

Those of you who are blessed with children will understand and those without can probably imagine. My youngest daughter had to have minor surgery to repair an eye lid recently. I was completely fine with having this procedure done (we have known it was coming for 3 years). This lid defect is something that she was born with and it was beginning to obstruct her vision. There were medical reasons that out weighted the risk of surgery on a three year old. However, knowing intellectually about the process and being prepared emotionally for the day when it would happen is different.

We had spoken to her about going to see the doctor to get her eye fixed. But how do we explain to a child that someone is going to come get you from Mommy and Daddy and take you back to a room where they will put you to sleep and cut on your eye? How much information is too much information?

When my husband and I decided to have children, we said that we would never lie to them and answer their questions as they come as honestly as we can... and on a level that they can understand. An example of how we have done this is:

My eldest asked about the Easter Bunny, if he were real. I asked what she thought and then told her, no. A giant bunny doesn't go house to house delivering gifts to children (which is kinda creepy to me... Johnny Darko), but rather it is a game that children and parents play and that we are happy to play it with her if she likes. So she pretends and we supply gifts.

Now, back to the surgery. I decided to play the day of the surgery by ear and hold true to my policy of answering questions honestly. Thankfully, our youngest daughter(3yrs old) didn't ask any questions. She woke the morning of surgery in a great mood and never asked to eat or drink ( she couldn't partake until after). She sang and danced around the waiting room. She quickly went with the nurse when her name was called, leaving her father and I sprinting after her. However, once in the pre-op room, her mood changed.

The nurse told us to remove her pj's and have her don a tiny hospital gown. She was not happy about removing her favorite monkey pajamas for an old ratty gown. She behaved until we put the "monkey jammas" in the white plastic bag they provided. Her easy cooperative attitude changed as quickly as her attire. She didn't want the booties, she didn't want her blood pressure taken... It was getting bad so I whipped out my secret weapon, a Nintendo DS. She then played with the nurses and talked to the anesthesiologist. When her familiar doctor came in she recognized him immediately and started putting things together. I am unsure of what she thought was going on up to now. The people were all strangers and it was unfamiliar but she was going with the flow. Once she recognized someone, she knew something was up and began to act uneasy. The surgical nurses came in and she was okay until they took her. This is another point that I was not prepared for.

How do I explain to my daughter that it is okay to go with these complete strangers? Why was is surprised that she began to cry? I should have anticipated this. I spend all of my time telling her not to go with strangers and here I am giving her to two women dressed in odd clothing. Once they took her from me she began to protest and as they took her through the doors I could hear her cry, "MOMMY!!!.. my Monkey Jammas!" I thought she was scared. Really, she just didn't want anyone to get her pj's.

Let me tell you, if you never have kids you will never understand. But, I have yet to experience anything more excruciating than knowing that I cannot be with my child.... Knowing that even if I wanted to see her, I could not. Couple that with the risks of anesthesia for the first time ( you never know at this age how they will react or if they have medical allergies)and the waiting is painful. I tried to occupy my time playing on my DS and being nosy on Facebook, but the minutes seemed like hours.

I had visions of her fighting the nurses, crying for me, being confused, angry, or scared. Then I would wonder what part of the procedure he is doing right now. Wondering if it was going according to plan. Praying that she doesn't have any reaction to the medicines that they were now administering to her. Thinking about her tiny body on the table. How little she would look surrounded by all those doctors. What her eye must look like split open... What would she look like after the surgery? Would her eye be black and blue? Would it be bandaged up? Would she be nauseated from the medications? My thoughts flopped frantically the hour and a half that she was away from me.

Soon, we were taken to a private room where we met with the doctor. He explained that the surgery went well and that he was happy with the results. He told us that the muscle in her eye was deformed or incomplete. But that he found it quickly and pulled it tight to help her open the lid. He stated that it will be a bit swollen and told us how to care for her properly while it heals. Honestly, I pretty much stopped paying attention to him as he spoke and just wanted to get my hands back on my baby as soon as possible. He began to sound like the teacher in Charlie Brown... a trombone squawking in my head. I desperately longed to know that she was okay. I wanted to touch her and see her.

Then, I thought again about what she must look like after undergoing surgery. Swollen? Did he say Swollen? I prepared myself for the worst and tried not to cry out of relief. After several long minutes of waiting, we were taken to a little room where they brought my tiny daughter to me. Much to my surprise she was talking and smiling. Her eye wasn't really that swollen and wasn't discolored at all. She looked rather normal. The lid did look like a Frankenstein Monster lid, but really considering the images I had bouncing around in my head an hour ago, she looked great. I held and rocked her as nurses and the anesthesiologist came back and forth to make sure she was okay. They gave her juice and crackers and she ate and drank while clutching to me. She looked around and said, "They take me night-night." The nurse came in and told us we could get her dressed and she was happy to be reunited with her monkey 'jammas.

All in all, the experience was a good one considering that no one wants this for their child. I feel guilty that she was even born with a defect in her lid. I wonder if it was inherited from me or if it was something I did while pregnant. Intellectually, I know that there is nothing I could do about it either way and am so relieved that modern medicine can correct these things. But emotionally, I hate it. I hate that she had to go through this. I hated not being able to help her. I hated not being able to be with her. Now, when I look at her I am so glad that she had it done, but it breaks my heart to see a row of stitches across her beautiful little eye lid.

I guess this is how it is going to be for the rest of my life. Parenting is hard to describe. I have never loved someone so much prior to having kids. And with each child my heart grows. Yet, with the love comes the pain of loving someone so much. The worry and the joy. No one prepares you for this when you talk to people about having kids. No one tells you that as a parent you will experience love and joy unlike any you have ever know... and because of the overwhelming love you will also experience new levels of worry, sadness and frustration. Is it worth it? Yes. I wouldn't change a minute. I will happily take the good with the bad and pray that there is always more good.

Into the Future


Recently my eldest daughter, B., started losing her baby teeth. She is six years old and has a flare for drama. The first tooth she lost was the lower front left (you know one of the first a baby gets). This tooth was so loose that we could see the new tooth growing behind it. She was reluctant to have it pulled and kept hoping that it would come out on its own. Finally, she came home from school and it was dangling by one lonesome root. I told her that we would have to pull it. She agreed.

Isabella and I went into my bathroom and stood next to the sink. As I tried my best to grab her tiny baby tooth she screamed in pain, "Ouch, No Ma'ma!" I had barely touched it.

"Well, B. It's gonna have to come out." I said firmly.

"Okay." she agreed.

I grabbed the tiny tooth as delicately as I could and began to twist and pull.

"No, stop Ma'ma." She was crying this time.

I tried to explain, "B., I am going to have to touch it if you want me to pull it." Then, I suddenly had an idea. I found some baby Ora-gel and coated her gum and tooth. Five minutes later, I tried to pull it again.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Okay. I will try not to cry..." she said with my fingers in her mouth.

I began to twist and she began to whine and cry with her eyes squeezed tightly.

"Stop! is it out yet? Stop! Is it? Ouch... Stop." she begged.

"B.." I said. "Look, it's already out."

I looked up to see a huge grin on B.'s face as she squealed and jumped with delight. She was so happy and proud that she had finally lost a tooth. The loss of a tooth was a milestone for her, a declaration of maturity.... She was bigger than yesterday. I understood then that it was truly a turning point. In my hand I held the tiniest tooth I had ever seen. I was surprised by my emotions, and I had to fight back tears as I saw the adult tooth peering up through the swollen gum.

Maybe I think too much, but I realized at that moment that the tooth I was now looking at is the one she will have for the rest of her life. She will one day be 31 and (Lord willing) I will be looking at that same tooth. It was like seeing into the future... A future that I have little control over.

I can help her as she grows. I can help pluck away the old childhood things as she matures, but I cannot stop her from changing before my eyes (nor would I want to). I am so blessed to be able to share these moments with her. I hope that one day she looks back as fondly as I do.

All in a Day's Work

This was how my day played, Tuesday,08-03-10:

3:30am- Awakened by my youngest crying, "Mommy."
3:45am- Checked on said child. Re-tucked, kissed and told child to go to sleep.
3:46am- looked at alarm clock

4:45am- Having never fallen back to sleep, got up to use the restroom.
4:47am- woke husband as an attempt of "tiring myself out."
5:00am- went to closet and picked out my clothes for the day.
5:10am- climbed back into bed.

7:30am- woke and made myself a cup of coffee
7:35am- sat on couch and sipped coffee
7:36am- picked out different clothes and ironed them
7:50am- donned new clothes and plugged in iron for my hair

8:15am- wearing freshly ironed clothes with freshly ironed hair I opened garage and unlocked door for my mother-in-law.
8:15am- cell phone rang. answered cell phone.

8:15am- put my foot in my mouth.

8:25am- mother-in-law arrives.
8:26am- kids wake up.
8:30am- fix children juice cups. Try to remove said foot from my mouth, yet continue to gnaw on my toes.

8:45am- get off the phone and begin to command my children to get ready.

9:10am- put children and mother-in-law in the car.
9:11am- returned to house to refill sippy cup.
9:12am- returned to the car with full sippy.
9:13am- urgently ran back into the house to type a hasty email in effort to get bad taste of foot from my mouth.

9:20am- returned to car. drove 3/4 a mile down road. called doctor to tell that we late. turned around to get umbrella.

9:21am- pulled into drive way. searched for umbrella.

9:23am- on road.

9:25am- was too busy talking to mother -in-law to realize that I was driving the long way to Augusta.

9:30am- stopped to put gas in car.

9:45am- hit heavy rain... while on interstate. slow d-r-i-v-i-n-g...

10:25am- Arrived at front desk of doctor's office with four children and one brave mother-in law.

10:38am- get called back to room with the two boys(5yrs and 18mo) and waited for doctor while my youngest screamed at the top of his lungs. Held 27lbs of angry baby.
10:39am- sang "Under the Bamboo Tree." continued to hold heavy baby
10:39.5am- sang, "If Your Happy and You Know it." continued to hold the monster baby
10:40am- sang, "The Canoe Song." while baby continued to cry while I held him. Thanks Camp Pinnacle for all the songs
10:41am- played "find a white car" out of the doctor's room window with older son. Baby sniffed... and cried.
10:42am- began to jump while holding baby. baby laughed.
10:43am- continued to jump while holding monstrous 27lb baby

10:48am- Doctor entered while I was singing, playing "find that car" and jumping up and down while holding Monstro.
10:48.2am- baby began to cry while big brother covered his ears.

10:50am- 10:59am- Doctor, big brother and I yelled over Monstro while trying to discus big brother's health.

11:00am- Doctor began physical of Monstro. Monstro had to be restrained...

11:10am- Doctor is done with physical. Monsrto proceeded to kick me while doctor and I hollered at each other over his tantrum. Big bro behaved as if nothing unusual was occurring.... Nothing unusual was occurring. Doctor and I yelled at each other some more.
11:11am- Doctor suggested that I just let Monstro pitch a fit on the floor.
11:12am- Doctor and big brother had to go to another room to do the hearing test because Monstro would not cease.
11:14am- Doctor returned with big bro to tell me big bro has passed his hearing test... Which is amazing because at this point I couldn't hear a damn thing.
11:15am- Monstro was flopping on the floor like a fish while screaming. He and Big Bro stepped out for the eye exam.

11:20am- Doctor returned to room with Monstro the giant whale flopping on floor. Doctor had red bucket and shot in hand.

11:21am- Doctor gave Monstro something to cry about. Think I saw a smirk spread across doctor's face.

11:35am- finally got all four children back in car with sucker's in hand. Mom-in-law and I changed diapers.


11:45am- Finally fed my children their first meal of the day. All ate.

12:10pm- Went to "Kid to Kid" consignment shop to make cash/ credit of old items.

12:30pm- arrived at Kolh's for school shopping. fighting. shopping. Depart $116.00 less richer than I arrived.

1:20pm- arrived at Kid to Kid to redeem credit. pooped. shopped. purchased new/newer items without paying.

1:22pm- changed diaper

2:00pm- exited Kid-to Kid.

2:10pm- tried shopping at Ross. visited water fountains. Ross sucked. Parted empty handed.

2:15pm- Entered Marshal's... Marshal's sucked less. Again, left empty handed.

2:30pm- Braved, Academy Sports. fought. tried on ten's of shoes. screamed. hit. kicked. shopped book bags. nagged. complained. begged. fought. pouted.

3:30pm- Escaped Academy Sports $90.00 poorer.

3:45pm- drove interstate- longed for home. Kids slept, fought, nagged,and slept.

4:55pm- arrived home. all were safe. all were sound... yet not all of sound mind.

5:00pm- Entered house with shopping bags to find husband playing video games.

5:15pm- Brave mother-in-law retreated to her home.

5:15pm-7:35pm- Blurred, involved a fashion show with the two oldest and the eating of left over Chinese food.

7:35pm-9:15pm- I retreated to the computer while children asked me questions they could have asked their father.

9:15pm-9:30pm- laid on the floor with children and watched the end of Spider-Man 3.

9:45pm- After tucking all the children in to bed, I drank half a bottle of water, read half a chapter of a novel and fell asleep.



Here is what I learned today:

1) wear the clothes that you pick out at 5:00 in the morning. If it was so important that you had to pick them out at 5am- why change your mind? OR- Don't pick out clothes at 5am.
2) Never answer the phone if you do not have time to talk.
3) I should fill my car with gas the night prior to going somewhere.
4) I should pack the car the night before with drink pouches and snacks
5) a 27lbs baby doubles in size and strength when he is pissed-off (kinda like the Hulk).
6) School uniforms really would be helpful to a parent.
7) my six year old thinks shes should dress like a 16 year old
8) commercials are superb in brainwashing kids. To my children ," as seen on TV" means "awesome."
9) If it is bright, tacky, has characters on it, and cost 3 times the norm.- a six year old is drawn to it like a prostitute to Charlie Sheen.
10) If I am a muddled mother... then my mother-in law must be extremely brave or extremely foolish.

Musings of a Muddled Mother

I am a thirty-one year old married mother to four precious gift's from God. God blessed me (in abundance) with a string of children. We have four kids under the age of six... All single births (all passed through my who-ha). I was pregnant or nursing for almost 5 years straight, and I ain't been right since. They say having a child changes a person. I say, having four children (six and under) changes your profundity (go ahead look it up). From time to time (while driving) I have moments of "deep thoughts." You know the kind of thoughts that Jack Handy (from SNL) might have. Okay, I can't say that they are all that deep, but they are thoughts...


- If back in the day when people lived on farms and rode in wagons... and lived acres apart... If they went to the barn to milk a cow, they didn't take their four kids to the barn with them, right? How come I gotta strap all four of my kids into this mini-van just to go get a quart of milk a block away?


- Sometimes I feed the babies bowls of dry cereal (Reese's Puffs) and place the bowl on the floor for a snack... Why am I surprised when they are eating out of the dog bowl?


- Why do my kids poop in unison? Did they make a Poopy Pact?
"Nobody goes until we all go."
"The first rule of Poop Club is, we don't talk about Poop Club."
"All for one and all for number two."
"Okay, here she comes... on three."
"Let's wait until we are all dressed and ready to go. No, I got it! Lets wait until right in the middle of dinner!"

- Big, bigger, biggest, big 'ole, big 'un? Is that red neck order? Starbucks has the "Venti", Circle-K has the "thirst buster", but only in the southern most parts of the U.S will you hear someone say, "Hey, get me a big'ole drank... No,naw man. The big'un over yonder."

- If I wear my Shape-up's to the fridge to get a cold piece of chocolate... doesn't it cancel out the calories of the chocolate?

-Why do my kids only want whatever the other kid has? If one is playing with a empty water bottle the other wants it. Maybe they just want what they can't have... or maybe it didn't look fun until someone else had it? I dunno... I should try laughing and dancing while cleaning their rooms. If it looks like fun they will want to do it, right? (I will let you know how this one turns out).

- I have a theory about clowns: Nothing or no one can be that happy all the time. And if they are... they are either high or mentally disturbed. Either way I'm staying the *%@# away.

- Why do perfect strangers think it is okay to ask to hold your baby? He's a person not a dog. For that matter, why do people think they can give me parenting advice in the middle of Wal-Mart? Look, I have four kids six and under with me and $300.00 worth of crap in two shopping carts... if I were you I just stay the heck away. I could go off at any moment. If you ain't here to help (and no you are not holding the baby) shut- up. As my friend Chris says, "I tend to not take advice from people wearing pj's in public at 3pm."

-I sleep on my left side most nights. Does that mean that I will have more wrinkles (as I age) on my left side? Maybe I should change it up a bit. I mean, I don't want to look like one of those people at the talent show who dresses up like a man on one side of their body and a woman on the other... But, I would be old on one side and young on the other. Maybe I should learn to sleep on my back... or upside down.

-My life is a mixture of rushing around and procrastination. Yes, I know I wouldn't have to rush around so much if I wouldn't procrastinate...

Zebadee Bee

by Nellie June (a bedtime story I told my kids... before bed one night)

The sun was rising over the top of a beautiful garden patch. Bees were buzzing throughout the garden and a tiny voice could be heard in the wind. Young Mother Bee could be heard encouraging her boy to get ready for his first day of school.

"Zebadee!" she snapped. "Hurry up, you are going to be late for your first day!"

"Yes 'em," Zebadee said, a little down in the mouth.

"What's wrong? It will be fun. You will make new friends and learn many new and wonderful things." Mother Bee encouraged. "I am sorry, I know that you are worried, but I promise you will be fine. We really need to leave now."

"Yes 'em."

As they entered the school tree, Zebadee noticed how beautiful and large this new school was. The school he went to at the beginning of the year was nothing like this. Little boy and girl inscets and animals moved quickly to and fro knowing exactly where they should be going. Zebadee felt out of place. It is never an easy task to move to a new school mid-year, but Zebadee knew that he would be fine just as Mother Bee had told him.

Upon finding his room, Zabadee Bee entered meekly. Finding the teacher at the front he handed her his tardy slip and said, "Hello ma'am. My name is Zebadee Bee."

Zebadee could hear a snicker from the other children.

"Take a seat, please. Zebadee, we are on page fifty-nine in our book." Teacher said.

Zebadee took the first open seat. It was on the left side of the room next to a little green tree frog. He turned and smiled at the boy as he sat and opened to page fifty-nine. But the tree frog stuck out his tongue and chuckled. All the other children began to laugh.

At lunch Zebadee sat at a table by himself until the little green frog decided to join him.

"I'm John." he said and continued. "What kind of name is Zebadee? I mean Zebadee Bee? And what's with all the 'yes ma'am and no ma'am'? Who talks like that?"

Before Zebadee could answer a crowd had appeared around his table and he looked up to see a wasp laughing and a grasshopper snickering. At the next table he saw kids pointing and laughing as they whispered, "That new kid is weird. His name is Zebadee."

Zebadee, not sure what to do sat quietly and ate his lunch.

As soon as the bell rang he was out the door. He met Mother Bee and as they buzzed home he asked, "Mother, why did you name me Zebadee? Why do we have to move around so much? Why do I talk different?"

Mother Bee answered, "My sweet-heart. You speak differently because you are from a different part of the country side. Each region has their own sound. We move around because we go where there is work to be done. And most importantly, you are named after a very brave bee. Probably, the bravest bee I know."

"Really?" Zebadee asked. "Who is he? Is he famous? Was he a general in a battle? An explorer maybe?" This was an exciting thought to Zebadee. The idea that someone else had the same name and the possibility that this bee could be someone of importance was a comfort to him.

Mother smiled and replied, "I will tell you who you are named after when you are older... or you can try to figure it out on your own. We can make it our own little game."

The next day at school Zebadee was greeted in much of the same way. John laughed at him and at lunch he over heard the kids mocking his name. As John approached his table, Zebadee remembered what his mother said about him being named after a very brave bee. And suddenly he wasn't very afraid of John and the other children.

"Zebadee, hahaha! What kind of dumb hick name is Zebadee? hahaha! What part of the country side are you from where it is ever okay to be named Zebadee?" John said as loudly as he could making sure as many kids as possible could hear him.

Zebadee put down his lunch and looked John in the eye, "I'm from the South. I don't know if it is okay to be named Zebadee there, but I do know that I am named after a very brave bee. The bravest bee my Mother Bee knows. AND! who wants to be named John? Everybody is named John?" And with that Zebadee picked up his honey comb and began to finish his lunch.

The little frog, John, was so stunned that he hopped back to his seat. Zebadee thought he saw a little red wasp smile at him from the next table.

That day after school Zebadee was in a much better mood. He told Mother Bee about John and what he said and how the wasp at the next table smiled.

"Mother, you should have seen me! I was brave just like Zebadee! And John, John didn't know what to say!" Zebadee said with a smile. "Please, tell me who that brave bee is that I am named after. Give me a hint or something!"

Mother Bee replied, "This brave bee isn't only the bravest bee I know, but he is also very wise."

The next day Zebadee got to eat lunch in peace, but at recess John had plans.

While Zebadee was swinging with some other children John walked up behind and pushed him off his swing.

"Zebadee! The dumb hick from the South. Can't even swing without falling." He said loud enough for everyone to hear. "I bet they don't have swings where he is from. Are you too poor for swings? Is this your first time on a swing, ZEB-a-DEE?!" John teased.

Zebadee brushed the dirt off of his body and stood up trembling with anger.

"Oh, look! He's mad! What are you gonna do, Zeb-a-Dee? Are you gonna fight me?"

But much to John's surprise Zebadee just smiled and got back on his swing. "Yeah, John. We have swings where I am from and no this isn't my first time on a swing, but it is my first time being pushed off a swing by a mean little frog." With that the kids began to snicker but this time they were laughing with Zebadee and not at him.

"You should have seen it Mother!" Zebadee shouted as he recounted his day for his mother. "I think I might have actually made a few friends today. You know, I don't think that all of these kids are bad, but that just this John guy is a bully."

"Sounds like it," Mother Bee replied "and maybe he is just scared of whatever is different from himself?"

"Yeah. Hey. Give me another hint about who I am named after." Zebadee pleaded with his mother.

"You still haven't figured it out?" Mother Bee asked.

"Nope."

"Okay, not only is this bee brave and wise. This bee is also smart, funny and friendly. Also, I love this bee more than any bee in the world."

The days passed and Zebadee continued to go to school each day. No longer did Mother Bee have to encourage him to go, but he loved school. He made many friends and was asked to serve on the student council. By the end of the year so much had changed that he even became friends with John. Zebadee became so wrapped up in school that he hadn't noticed that his mother never told him why she named him Zebadee.

The last day of school John asked the little bee how he really got the name, Zebadee. This time John was genuinely curious.

"So, really. Who are you named after?" John asked.

"I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet. I have been so busy that I forgot about asking."

That day at home Zebadee went to his mother and asked, "Mother Bee, please tell me. Who am I named after? Why did you name me Zebadee?"

Mother Bee smiled a loving smile and said, "You are named after the bravest bee I know. You are named after a wise bee. A bee that is also friendly, smart and funny. But most importantly a bee that I love more than any other bee in the entire world. It is YOU!

She continued while hugging Zebadee, " YOU, are the bravest bee I know. Moving from school to school is a hard thing and requires a lot of courage. You are a very wise bee. There is a lot of wisdom required for one to know when not to fight. You are a smart, funny, friendly bee, and I knew it would be just a short time before you would let everyone see just exactly who you are."

Mother Bee pulled back and held Zebadee's face in her hands, "From the time you were born you have been special to me, so I wanted you to have a special name. You are unique and so is your name. There will never be another you, Zebadee."

Zebadee smiled as his mother finished, "And I love you very much."

Greener Grass
by Nellie June/ Mebella3

Growing up in the south, I often heard adults around me use the expression, “The grass is greener on the other side." Now, I don't know if this is a common phrase used in other parts of our wondrous United States, but it is very common down here. Usually this expression was thrown at me by a parent when I was claiming that a friend had something better than myself.

”But Dad. Jennifer Jones never has to do chores and her father bought her a new pair of GAP jeans!” I would plead. “She has it so much better than I do...”

“Well, you know what,” (here it comes) My father would retort. “The grass is always greener on the other side for you, huh?!”

Sad to say that fifteen years later, I haven't out grown my lack of contentment. Thirty years old and I still struggle with comparing myself to others. I'm trying to keep time with the Family Jones. Now the toys are bigger and clothes costly.

“Well, how is it that my neighbor has a new Mustang (a black GT), a boat (The Party Barge) and a pool (salt water filtration)? You know, I think that his grass is actually greener than mine and not a dandelion in his yard. What do I have to do to get that...."

While out cutting our lawn today (The Jones' have a gardener) I had an epiphany. I was riding along in an orderly fashion listening to the motor and looking down at the grass (dandelions). Slowly, I moved through the lawn. I could hear the motor get bogged down every time I would come to this certain thick patch. I hopped off of the riding-mower to check it out. Upon closer examination I realized that this was not simply a patch of thick grass, but two strips of fat green, lush, vibrantly colored, lawn vegetation from Heaven!

“Man, if only my whole yard was made up of this stuff. I would be the envy of the neighborhood!” I thought as I stepped further back to admire my little patch of Heaven. “Wait.Hold the phone!(Mr Jones has the new 4G touch screen). This vibrant grass is growing right over my septic tank's drain field. This is poop grass! This grass is so beautiful because it is full of human waste!”

As I got back on my mower and began to think about this beautiful grass that has flourished because it was full of poop, that familiar phrase came back to me. “The grass is greener on the other side.” What if the Jones' really don't have it that great? What if my peers are all show but at the root have been feasting on the septic system of the world? I mean, I know some of them well and I must say a few are full of … poop.”

My generation spends so much time worrying about having the latest car, electronic gadget, or clothes. We want our kids to attend the best schools, live in the best neighborhoods, and often not for their benefit, but often just for appearances. We want the best and we wanted it yesterday (not unlike Veruca Salt). Often we look at our neighbors and think, “Wow. They have it all. What a great life they must have.” Maybe we need to stop and think deeper.

Perhaps a person's grass is only green and not their life. Possibly deep down their life is just a septic mess. You never know. Young guys remember this: The new young hot girl that just moved into the apartment next to you might just be a shell of hotness. She might bring a lot of “mess” with her. Young ladies remember that guy that took you out in the nice car. The one with the nice hair and teeth, who said the right things and wore the right clothes. The guy you went out with because he had the prestigious job... he might just be full of “poop”. Who knows? Let this be a warning to you to investigate a bit deeper and discern what that covetous turf is feasting on.

Certainly people are capable of producing wonderfully green lawns with honest hard work. One can fertilize their yard, aerate, burn and till. When hard work is applied the possibilities are endless. It is amazing what some of the master gardeners I know can produce. Yet, I am reminded by my own experience, that the greenest grass isn't always the cleanest or purest. The grass isn't always greener on the other side. In my yard the grass is greener over the septic. And well, the Jones'.. they are now going through a horrible divorce (wonder if he will sell the Mustang).