Addicted to Grass

I have a problem. I hide things from my husband.

I don’t hide anything dramatic or something that calls out for a two-part docu-series on the Investigation Discovery channel. I don’t even hide my feelings because, well, I love expressing my feelings and I’m really good at it. For example, if I’m in a bad mood I’ll tell you why and have been known to use color coded charts to fully explain my current disposition.

I’m aware that a lot of people hide purchases from their significant others. My mother was the queen of the covert shopping spree. Her theory was that my dad didn’t need to see all the purchases at once and she was doing him a gentle kindness by slowly revealing what she had bought.

I fear I may have inherited my mom’s propensity for the consumer cover up. For hiding in my car is a 50-pound bag of sweet, sweet,  premium fescue grass seed. I’m very aware that this is, perhaps, a strange thing to be keeping from your spouse.

Some of you may be thinking, “Hmm, a designer handbag I can understand being sneaky about but grass seed – no.”

Well, you see the seed is an issue because I promised my husband I would quit buying it. I may have gone a tad overboard in the last month with my yard remediation program. In my defense it wasn’t entirely my fault.

I was seduced, yes completely seduced, by a siren song disguised as a YouTube video I watched on saving your yard. It spoke to me and stirred my very soul. I felt that now was my time to join forces with the mighty fescue and launch “Operation Over seed.” 

What I didn’t know at that time was that grass seed isn’t cheap. Holy freaking moly it’s expensive. At one point I told the guy at the landscape store that I wanted to clarify that I needed grass seed for my yard not gold.

This expense is why my husband was all about putting a kibosh on any more seed purchases. I agreed and yet I knew deep down in my heart that I needed one more 50-pound bag to complete “Operation Over seed.” The issue then became hiding my seed purchase from my spouse until I could dump it on the yard without him noticing.

 It’s not like it’s all easy peasy to stow a bag of seed that big so I asked my son to hide it in his car for me. This is when I discovered what child would really be there for me when times get rough. My son, come to find out, is not that child.

His response was curt, forceful and not in my favor when he announced, “I will not be a party to your sick seed subterfuge.”

I was left speechless and yearning for my daughter because you know what a daughter would have done? A daughter would have said, “Yeah, just throw it in my car, no problem.”

After I recovered from my son’s basest betrayal of me I said, “Well, I guess if I ever need to hide a body you’re not the kid to call?”

“Seed or body – count me out Mom. I’m not an enabler to bad behavior.”

Oh, how dare he throw back the very words I have used on my children for years. “Not an enabler to bad behavior” was my parenting calling card. The nerve! 

I finally had to come clean with my husband and admit I had purchased another bag of seed. I did solemnly swear that this would be the last one. But just between us that’s only because it’s getting a little late in the season to do anymore over seeding.

 

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