Headed to Grandma’s for a swim and other shannanigans. An angelic moment, but don’t be fooled…

I see a future for my grandchildren working at the Tyson Chicken plant.  Plucking chickens by hand.  They still need people to do that, right?  I think they’ll have bright and rosy futures.  At the very least, they’ll lead happy and fulfilled lives.  

Why do I think this?

Because I arrived home from a very relaxing weekend to find out the destructive little hoodlums plucked my prized yucca plant bare-naked. All the beautiful white blossoms are gone.  And, according to their mother, they were fast and efficient, performing this task at lightening speed.  Apparently, before she had a chance to intervene.

THIS is why we can’t have nice things. 

But, the optimist in me wants to salvage the situation. Why not parlay their instincts into nice careers?

Quite simply, kids are at their happiest when they’re destroying stuff.  But, there are ways to defend oneself against this assault.  In the 1970s, when my mother was raising me and my siblings, the interior design palette of choice was called, “Earth Tones.”  This worked swimmingly for Doris, as we tracked in quite a bit of “earth” that blended well with the Burnt Oranges, Harvest Golds and Avocado Greens she and her designer splashed around our house.  

When I was bringing up my brood, that similar interior design style was re-branded, “Old World.”  Luckily for me, this trend embraced an aged patina and dark colors.   The more bruised and battered an item was, the more chic it was.  Again, timing is everything.  My generation of mothers got lucky.

Nonetheless, after my 5 children were grown and flown, home decor styles started changing and I was more than ready to dress up my domicile in the new trend.  Out went the dark colors, the dinks and the dings.  Gone went the distressed wood and the barren industrial concrete floors.  The design world ushered in a new look one might even call, “New World.”  This vibe is all about white or cream with “pops of color.”  After years of living in a home that resembled a medieval dungeon, it’s a breath of fresh air.  And, what’s more…white goes with everything!

Except children. 

This became apparent when I recently redecorated.   I started with my “anchor piece.”  A rather large sectional in a luscious creamy boucle that cost more than my first car.  Not to say the couch was insanely expensive, it’s really more of a commentary on how cheap my first car was.  But still…I do love the couch.  I get visibly nervous when the grandchildren get within a foot or two of it, prompting one of my daughters to snap,

“Why in the world did you buy a white couch anyway?”

Because I wanted one! And I deserve one!”  It was the only response I could think of on short notice.  I know…not my most clever comeback.

So, when I walked out onto my patio Monday morning, mug of coffee in hand, ready to greet the new day and saw the fate of my precious yucca plant…well…I was just apoplectic.  

The thing had pointy sharp spikes on it.  Literally like swords.  How was that not a natural deterrent to it’s destruction?  

At first I thought we must’ve had a heck of a windstorm. But then I opened the lid to the spa where the children frolicked and it looked like an overly-enthusiastic flower girl had scattered petals about, making ready for a hot tub wedding ceremony.  I immediately knew who the culprits were.  

It’s one thing for them to tear up the house, but now even my backyard sanctuary space isn’t safe from the little darlings.  I thought about complaining, but was afraid all three of my daughters would ask me why I “even have flowers” and I would come up with some equally lame response such as the one I used to defend my couch. 

The truth is, I don’t have a leg to stand on.  There are friends and family members dotted across this great land of ours that still break out in hives just thinking about me dropping by with my 5 children for a visit.  And full blown PTSD at the thought we might extend our visit to a weekend stay.  The things my kids did to people’s homes…looking back…cringe.

So, I stuffed down my annoyance and whispered a remorseful apology heavenwards to my mother instead.  Back in the day, I would get as prickly as my yucca plant if she dared comment on how my children destroyed her home when we came over.  I once had the audacity to suggest she might love her “things” more than my little monsters, so righteous was my indignation! 

So I suppose I’ll just buy some hive cream and some therapy because I totally have this coming.  But..still..who can blame me for wincing a bit when those little Pluckers come a-calling.