Adventures in houseplantery

I really do like plants.  I like to garden, I like to have houseplants, I like how they look when I take the time to tend them.  I'm guessing you can see where this is going, so, not surprisingly, I don't always have the time to tend the plants as I would like.  Luckily for me, the houseplants in my home have been with me since I lived in my own apartment, and they are quite used to not seeing me for long stretches of time.  Every year one of the items on my to-do list is "Re-pot plants," and that item just never seems to get crossed off.  Until this weekend!

Most of these houseplants are still with me, and I feel compelled to keep in good, oh who am I kidding, alive condition, because of how I acquired them.  People very generously sent many plants and flowers when one of my Grandmas passed away about 10 years ago, and I ended up taking home a basket that had a beautiful little arrangement of tiny green houseplants.  I'll be honest here, I can't be completely certain that each of the plants I now own came from that basket, but since perception is reality, in my mind they all did.  So it just doesn't seem ok to give up on any of the plants, even if they never get watered enough, grow in crazy directions to get to the sun, or grow to over 5 feet tall.  I don't even know what some of them are, though I've tried to look up pictures on the internet, and quickly forgotten what I found.

I bought some pots on clearance from the floral section of the grocery store shortly after Valentine's Day, and this weekend I finally got around to using them.  First, I pruned and re-potted a poinsettia.  This one is not from the basket collection,  it is from a few Christmases ago, but it seems nice enough to keep around still. (I realize now that "before" pictures would have been helpful here, but you get to just enjoy the finished products.  Maybe it's better that way.)

Next I split an African Violet that had grown into two completely separate plants without my involvement.  I guess a lot of years left to fend for yourself necessitates growing a friend.  That friend now gets a pot all its own.  Maybe I should keep them next to each other so nobody gets lonely....

After that, I pruned one of the plants I cannot name, one of those viney things where you can grow totally new plants just from putting a leaf in water.  I trimmed off the long tendrils and planted a few pieces into a new pot to take to work.  I have had a spot selected for this plant in my cubicle for about a year now.  Probably should dust off the shelf before I set it down.
This particular plant has been shared with many people, and that's my favorite part about keeping this one going.  My Grandmother used to always have a row of little glasses on the windowsill growing new African Violets from little leaves that she would give to shut-ins from her church.  I'm using a different plant for my sharing, but the concept is still the same, and I think that is cool.








Finally, the beast.  The 5-foot-tall palm-tree-looking thing that may or not be a dracaena, based on my internet searching.  It has been way too big and not impressive looking for years, and I finally faced the truth that this thing had to go.  I solicited some ideas from Facebook friends, but in the end my husband recommended lopping off the top to try and grow new roots and start over, which I agreed would be as good a shot as any.  I also saw some gardening advice on the internet where they said you might be able to grow new sprouts from the top of the "trunk," so I'm hoping one of the two work.  To the right, the top.  Below, the trunk, with a little baggie tent with spritzed water to keep the top moist.

I feel SO much better having done this little project, I've been looking at these sad plants for far too long.  I am anxious to see what happens with the tall plant that basically had its middle removed.  Though based on how long it lived in a pot that was too small and alternating between drought and flood conditions, it's certainly much stronger than I think.

Two happy things

I've missed writing for you.  A busy schedule makes for both little time and low inspiration.  Since my last post not much has changed.  Scheduling goes in ups and downs in our family, and we are currently going through one heck of an up.  But I am stealing a few minutes today to share two things that have made me happy.

First, a book.  Not any of the grown-up books I have been diving back into, but a children's book.  In almost three years of parenting, this has taken over as my favorite.  You Are Special, by Max Lucado, warms my heart every time I read it to my son.  It's about the Wemmicks, wooden puppets who live in a land created by the puppet-maker Eli.  They spend their days giving each other stickers; stars for good things, dots for bad.  The story centers around Punchinello, a puppet who has a lot of dots.  I read it the first time to my son without having read it to myself before, and I had to choke back tears a little to keep going.  I know he doesn't understand the underlying meaning yet, just the story of puppets, but if he at least hangs onto a little piece of the message, I'll be happy.  I actually think there are a lot of adults who would benefit from the message, too.  So if you're in the library sometime and have a few minutes to spare, find it.  I've actually just discovered that this is part of a series, so I'm going to have to do some searching for the others.  This one though, stands just fine on its own.

Next, a blog.  I should explain first that I avoid the website Pinterest at all costs.  Something about it has always just made me feel uneasy.  It stressed me out from the moment I opened the home page, and I quickly left.  I also remember commenting when I had an infant and was reading a lot of parenting magazines that they just made me feel like every other mother in the world had more time, creativity, and awesome skills than I did.  Enter this blog, "Your Children want YOU", which perfectly explained to me why those things caused me anxiety.  I am very grateful to the author April Perry, for a nice little slap to the side of the head to remind me that I am the awesomest.  (brief disclaimer, I haven't spent a lot of time looking at the website that this blog is posted on, so I can't speak to the quality of The Power of Moms site.  But this particular blog is darn good.)

So that's what I've got for now.  Hope to see you again soon with stories of more awesomeness.

Limit Reached

I set out a few months ago with an ambitious list of things I wanted to accomplish.  And in true me fashion, I took that list with the intention of tackling the whole thing.  And in true me fashion, I found the proverbial wall and crashed into it with impressive force.

I have incorporated a lot of the things I wanted to do.  That includes both actions and schedule fillers and also just a better awareness for myself of  what I want to use my time doing.  And I'm happy with what I've done.  But, I'm tapped out.  All of the sudden all of the things, more prayer, more cooking, more reading, more exercise, more family time, more time with friends, more focused parenting, more time outside, more more more MORE MORE MORE MORE has gotten to the point of, well, too many "mores".  But it is also the season where it gets nicer outside and all of the sudden the schedule of things to do explodes.  But the problem is that I don't want to stop or slow down on any of the things I've added.  So somehow I have to figure out how to reorganize what I have with what is coming.  Now I have to make room for gardening and forest preserve walks and baseball games and swimming and vacations, and whatever else summer brings.  Which is all good stuff.  But my brain starts to smoke a little when I think about managing it all.  And I kind of just want to crawl onto the couch and turn it all off and pretend I have plenty of time to do whatever I want.

But I can't.  So I won't.  I'll figure it out.  I think.  Stay tuned.

Mommy, Mommy, what do you hear?

There are certain sounds that always make me smile.  Happy birds twittering in the yard (after I'm awake).  The powerful crescendo of a beautiful song.  The soundtrack to the movie Hoosiers.  The laughter of children.  I would bet that some may not agree with all of those items, but most probably can't help but enjoy the genuine laughter of little kids.  I got to spend my morning today surrounded by that beautiful sound.

We took our son to see the production of Treasured Stories of Eric Carle, performed by the Mermaid Theatre of Nova Scotia.   It was simple, colorful, and stunning.  And the kids there roared and squealed and clapped and laughed and it was awesome.  

Going into the show I was curious what they would do.  I've read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar," and "Brown Bear Brown Bear, What do you see?" and I couldn't help but wonder how they would stretch these very simple and brief stories into more than 8 minutes of show.  But they did, and it was a good reminder to me that we adults don't always have to be in such a hurry.  They took their time with every moment of every scene and had the entire audience captivated.  An entire audience of antsy, twitchy, short-attention-spanned children, mind you.  And they made it clear from the beginning that this was a "shoosh-free" show.  How liberating for all those kids to not have to be quiet, whisper, sit still, be proper, get scolded, and all that other boring stuff that happens when you go places with adults.  They could laugh, point, ask questions, give away the ending, and no one cared.

Before the show, as we sat in the lobby and waited to find our seats, my husband made the observation that it was very heavily girl-populated.  To which I replied, "well, that's no surprise, look at who primarily attends theater events as adults?" And I have to say I find that so sad.  I can say with total certainty that my son, his friend, and the entire rest of the little boys there enjoyed every second of this the same as the girls.  I won't deny that I enjoy playing, watching, following, teaching, and any other possible action you can take in relation to sports, and I see that my son is well on his way to picking up the same traits.  But I also see that he loves to dance to music, and paint, and read books, and sing songs, and it is really important to me to encourage him to do all of those things too.  It doesn't come as naturally to me to remember those things, but when I do, it is so worth it.  The excitement in his voice every time he has talked about since is more powerful than any motivational speaker on the planet.

Chapters

Life can be separated by many different generic stages.  Childhood / Young Adult / Adult/ Senior.  Pre-college / College / Post college.  Single / Married.  Pre-kids / Post-kids / Post-grand-kids.  Jobs / Career.  Today I came upon the idea that I can also break my life into chapters based on church.  We worshiped with our Goddaughter and her family at the church we transferred from about a year ago, and sitting there was a very pleasant reminder to me of where I've been.

So far I have spent most of my life in three different churches.  For most of my childhood I attended the same church, which I almost now consider my parents' church.  I find it kind of odd that I view it that way, since I went through first communion, confirmation, graduation, and my wedding at that church, which encompasses about half of my life.  But I guess in all things, once you're an adult you feel more ownership of the things that you do, rather than just being a tag-along. So that church now, which was such a constant for so many years, has become Chapter 1.

Present day, Chapter 3, we are at a new, well, new to us, church.  We have been there about a year, and really just starting to get more involved and take ownership of our role as members.  It will be the first church my son remembers, and maybe even the one he looks back on and dubs his parents' church.  Chapter 2, then, is the church we visited today.  That was the first church my husband and I joined together after we were married.  I think we were there about six years, until a few months after our son was baptized.  I sat there looking around and couldn't help but think about the people we were during the time we spent there.  What was happening, how we lived, who we spent time with.   I sat with my little blessing on my lap, staring at the same cross at the front of the church that I stared at for all those prayers to bring him safely into our lives.

The person staring at each of those three different crosses at the front of each church is so very different.  The first was filled with the confusion and distraction of everything that goes into growing up.  The second was consumed with marriage and home ownership and work and family.  Well, I supposed the third is currently consumed with the same types of thoughts, but at a different stage.  I'm not quite the newbie to any of that anymore like I was then.  But I recognize now what I didn't then, that things are happening.  Now that the book is a little longer, there are more chapters to show me where this story is going.

Free Fallin'

I have been very blessed over the last few months to have many opportunities to write about positive changes I have been making.  Today I want to share with you my regression.

I have a toddler.  Ergo, I have stress.  This is not shocking to anyone, nor to myself.  But even having a very clear understanding and anticipation that a boulder is going to fall on you doesn't make it feel any lighter when it does.  This day.....oh, this day.  This day has been a shake-your-head kind of day.  I am lucky enough to have a job that allows me to work longer days and be off on Fridays.  I know that this is a privilege many working moms would love to have.  And days like today make me feel completely ungrateful and wasteful of this beautiful privilege.  Because really, my most stressful days at work don't even hold a candle to what I feel when there is stress on Friday.  Work would be easy.

He is going to be three in a few months.  There has been some turnover in the teachers at his daycare.  He has been fighting eye, nose, chest cold stuff for two weeks.  I get it, he has stress too, and good reason to act the way he is today.  Every request I make floats out in the air never to be noticed.  Every question I ask to get a positive response elicits a no.  All movement at the speed of turtle.  Blank stares.  Every one of mommy's buttons pushed, pushed, and pushed again.  Is any of this behavior really that awful?  No.  But OH MY STARS does it test my patience.

Patience.  That virtue is one that I clearly have not passed the exam on, because God continues, and continues, and continues, to keep teaching me lessons.  Most of every difficult time I can think back on, when I came out on the other side of it, I was pretty sure that it was meant to be a lesson in patience.  And every time, I wonder if I finally learned it correctly that time.  So either I am the worst patience student and am going to be spending every class, every detention, and every summer school continuing to try and get this, or I am dead wrong and completely missing the point.  But, I'm pretty sure the point is patience.  And I'm not good at it.

I am pleased with myself that instead of cozying up in the corner with a party-size bag of M&Ms during nap time, I only grabbed three pieces of dark chocolate, which I am just finishing up now as I write.  Thank you, dear reader, for helping me bring my blood pressure down and hopefully step back from the ledge before nap time ends.