The weekend I became 15 again (without the added bonus of getting my 15 year old body back) and reason #572 I'm going to hell.

Every summer growing up my dad would leave lists on the fridge before he went to work of things my siblings and I had to accomplish before he came home.  This would come sometimes without further instruction and sometime would involve being taken outside in your pajamas barefoot to be shown what was expected of you that day.  

These chores ranged from the minimal watering the orchard (um...there were at least 50 trees in our orchard), mowing the three acres between our yard and the lot up the street, picking the million rows of peas...all the way up to linseed oiling the fence that surrounded our entire property.  (I hate linseed oil- the smell is awful.)  If we finished our chores in the morning, we had the afternoon off to do as we pleased.  But lets be honest, the mornings were spent farting around trying not to do chores so we spent our afternoons roasting in the sun trying desperately to finish our jobs before 5 pm when Dad got home.  This afternoon mad dash is one of the reasons I have horrible skin.  I was stupid enough not to wear sunscreen while weeding the garden in my swimsuit and shorts.  (but I was really tan my junior year- really tan)

A few days ago I got a call from my parents asking if I would be willing to water their garden while they were away this weekend at a family reunion.  No big deal right?

wrong

My dad wanted me to come over to show me what he needed me to do.  

Um...how hard is it to water a garden?  I did it growing up right?

wrong

It was like a flashback from 1994.

...my dad outside.

...me following him around.

...the way he walked

...the way he called my Jilly

...the tone in his voice.

He might as well come to my own home and stuck a "to do list" on my fridge.

I was 15 all over again...but not in pajamas...and without the tan.

My dad's garden is spectacular- and it's hand watered.  And...he has these fancy-dancy tomato planters that require watering TWICE A DAY.  I have four kids people...and a garden of my own.  But here I am spending my weekend watering my dad's Garden of Eden.

The Garden

The kid who was suppose to be helping me...but I'm not as good a parent as my parents were and he hasn't learned to work yet.

...but at least he shows size reference for the dang thirsty tomato plants.

The crazy planters.

Me thinking "If it wasn't for all the free roma's I'm going to get out of this garden...there would be NO WAY I would be doing this."

"Wait a minute...I'm going to be wrangled into making salsa for mom and dad with all those free tomatoes.  Whatever."

And to make me feel even more like a teenager, my mom called yesterday and asked if I wouldn't mind vacuuming and dusting her house before she brings my aunts home from the family reunion. (Actually, this felt more like my junior year of college on the weekend I got "Dear Jane'd" by my missionary...but I was already dating Steve...and my mother got mad at me because I was going out with him and not helping her clean.  The real reason she was mad was because my dad had Dear Jane'd her once too...It's a long story.  Maybe another time.)

Anyhoo...I told her no.

(I can't even keep my house vacuumed...why would I want to vacuum hers?)

I figure it is better to say no outright than to blow smoke...but I think I'm still going to hell.

I'm not the "good" daughter I guess.

But at least I'm not alone. 

I won't name names, but one of my sisters when I told her of Mom's request, sided with me...and admitted she didn't like cleaning mom's house either.  

The other sister, however, sighed a cute sappy sticky sigh and said..."Oh, you're not going to help her?  If I lived in town, I would bring my kids over and clean for Mom."  

GAG ME!

There are three sisters in my family: one Cinderella type and two hideous stepsister types.  I obviously don't need to say outright which type I am.  

(just look at my ugly feet)

Real nice Cinderella...way to suck up when you live hours away and CAN'T come over and vacuum mom's "south forty."

You can have the clock...you've earned it.

To my fellow Stepsister...next time you are in town, I'll take you to lunch.

By the way...my Andrew turned 10 today.  Happy Birthday!

Tonight I took him over to my parent's house to have him help me water the garden. (and take pictures of me being snotty)

He wasn't much help.

While my back was turned, he hooked himself to my dad's flagpole and gave himself, and I quote,

 "An Atomic Wedgie"

Just because he is a year older...doesn't mean he's any smarter.

(but he does have a nice tan)