My Parents and Their Lush Manicured Yard and Beautiful, Clean Home.

Summary

The author reflects on their childhood experience of growing up in a home with a meticulously maintained yard and clean house, contrasting it with their desire for a more natural and playful environment, and how this has influenced their parenting approach.

Abstract

The author describes their parents' emphasis on discipline, hard work, and maintaining a pristine home and yard, which left little room for personal expression or play. They recall the relentless yard work and strict household rules, which included meticulous lawn care, a spotless kitchen, and limited access to personal items like makeup. Despite appreciating the lessons learned, the author yearns for a childhood filled with wildflowers, long grass, and more familial connection. Now a parent themselves, they are determined to create a home environment that prioritizes joy and togetherness over perfection.

Opinions

The author acknowledges that their parents were not bad, suggesting a mixed feeling of gratitude for the discipline instilled and a sense of longing for a less structured childhood.
There is an underlying tone of resentment towards the lack of recognition for their contributions to maintaining the home and yard.
The author values the lessons of hard work and humility but questions the cost of these lessons on their personal childhood experiences.
The author expresses a desire for a more nurturing and less controlled environment for their own child, emphasizing the importance of emotional connections and experiences over a perfectly maintained home.
The author seems to believe that a less structured and more natural home environment can foster creativity, freedom, and happiness.

I Dreamt of a Home of Messiness With a Yard Full of Weeds, Wildflowers, and Tall Grass.

Image is author’s

My mom and dad weren’t bad parents. I turned out alright. At least this is what I am told. I am disciplined. My dad taught me to work hard. At a very young age, a tender young age. If I could hold up a pail, I could pull weeds. If I could pull weeds, I could edge the yard. If I could edge the yard, I then could push.. and push a mower. Each tire track had to align with the last tire track, making perfect lines in the yard. Every week of every spring, summer into fall. Sometimes 2–3 times a week. My parent’s yard is about 1/2 an acre but to a young girl, it might as well be 100 acres. Seems this big. Family and friends of my folks come over ( I never had friends of my own come-over, there was never any time). They would rave about the yard. How beautiful it always was. Never a weed in sight. How perfect each row of grass and flower bed laid on the earth. Never a pat on the back for me, a thank you, a smile, or a simple nod in my direction. Did I say my dad… he was teaching me discipline.

Discipline. My mom. She too was filled with it. Sweeping her kitchen after each meal. Taking pride in knowing “We could eat right off the floors” Vacuum lines in the carpet mirrored the grass lines I created when mowing the lawn. “Her” kitchen closed at 6 pm sharp. No one was allowed in after this hour. Only one toy out at a time, no clutter ever! Markers for coloring… not allowed in the house. In the teenage years, makeup was not allowed until the age of 16. Make-up was “messy”. Showering was done only with permission and only a couple of times a week. My mom cleaned the bathroom thoroughly twice a week and the fruits of her labor needed to show for a few days. Our house was spotless! Our yard was lush! I learned a lot from my mom and dad. Discipline, hard work, being humble. How to landscape and thoroughly clean a home. I love my mom and dad. They showed their love by teaching me these lessons and as I was daily or weekly reminded… it was THEIR home. But how I longed for long grass I could at least hide away in. I wanted wildflowers to grow in the beds so uncontrollably that each day there would be too many to pick from. Weeds would climb their way up the fence, dancing between the property lines, never again seeing an unnatural edge line in the dirt. I longed for my dad to put on a mitt and play catch with his daughter. Hang up a swing and push me for a few moments. I would join my friends when they would ride by on their bikes. Play fetch with a dog or read a book in the sun with a cat in my lap. I longed for my mom to play makeup with me starting at a young age. To let me help her in the kitchen, bake a cake or muffins, no matter the mess. Sit down at the table and play cards. Tear out pictures in a magazine and glue dreams onto a posterboard. Sit cross-legged right in front of the TV, watching movies and spilling popcorn Laugh, Live, CONNECT.

I AM disciplined and determined… to give my son a home that is NOT perfected. Who has time for all of that?