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Category Archives: Growing My Garden

The Best Worst Day of My Life

21 Monday Aug 2017

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Aaron, Growing My Garden, Inspiration, Life, Munchkins, Parenting, Reflections, Welcome to My World

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After two deliberate and self-imposed years of permit driving, my first-born, my only son, Aaron, took his driving test on Saturday, and passed, just as we all hoped and assured him he would.  And for as much encouragement as I gave him, I had two solid nights of tumultuous driving nightmares.  Oh, how I have prayed since then to Jesus, Mary, St. Michael and St. Christopher, that he be guarded by angels on these streets of Shreveport, that Jesus truly take the wheel and steer our son safely each day from and to our little home on the south side of town.

Aaron and I had plans to go to the DMV this morning – first rattle out of the box, as they say.  We ran a tad late because, well, I had to dig for the documents I should have retrieved yesterday.  We only ran ten minutes late picking up my nephew and driving Aaron’s (and Victoria’s – see, I didn’t forget you, baby girl!) week-old new-to-us car to school, where Aaron parked a hundred empty spaces away from civilization so that we could walk together into the school office for the last form we needed for the sacred DMV: the school enrollment verification.  Twenty minutes later, we checked that off the list and headed to the “faster” DMV in Bossier.

Bear in mind, I could barely recall where this branch of the DMV was located.  I grew up in Bossier, but I have been remiss in visiting (as my husband frequently reminds me) for the past two decades.  After side-seat driving Aaron down the interstate (sorry for the claw marks in your dashboard, love!) we arrived at the hallowed DMV, where I am now certain they made a grand and most important announcement mere moments before our entry:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for this inconvenience, but the State of Louisiana is updating the camera systems of the Department of Motor Vehicles state-wide.  Our expected wait for those of you renewing or receiving your driver’s licenses is an hour and a half.”

It was over an hour and a half before they made a new/repeat announcement of the same caliber, only this time adding that the original time frame had now passed, and they had no idea how long it would take.  By this point, we had been sitting for an hour, and the four-month old baby that was flirting from the seat next to me was almost cute enough to make up for it.  Had we known of this delay going in… oh, who am I kidding?  Aaron had been dreaming of this day for weeks, if not months (I’m sure I’ll never get him to admit to either). Was there any way in all of heaven that I would have looked him in the eye and said, “Sorry, sweetie. We’ll come back another time.”  Yeahhhhh. Not this momma.

And so we sat.

I worried about the work time I was missing, two months into whatever probationary period I am still on at my new job. I kept looking at my son, who was fiddling with his phone, but who would look up and smile at me with that “I’m about to get the coolest adult item ever” look on his face.  So we continued to wait.

Eventually, our stomachs were in a competition to see whose could growl the loudest, so we opted to leave for lunch and return in a few minutes.  I double checked with the lady who had taken our application for the license, just to be sure our leaving would not jeopardize our place in line for the camera.  She assured me it would not.

So we headed out to the parking lot, where I had directed Aaron to park a tad closer to the door than he did at the school, and we climbed in and drove off in search of food.  It was at the first stop sign out of the parking lot that Aaron noticed the note on his windshield.  “Mom,” he said, “there’s something on my windshield.”

“Throw the car in park, baby; I’ll grab it.” I jumped out, certain my SuperMom cape would catch the wind and signal to everyone that I had this completely under control.  My fist thought was a ticket, but then I knew we had been in a legitimate parking spot, so my second and prevailing thought was “church flyer.” Sadly, it was neither.

It was, instead, a note and an insurance card.  The note said that it was from the owner of the truck which was originally parked beside us.  He had hit our car as he was backing out, and was incredibly sorry.  Here was his phone number and his insurance card. Please call him.

Holy.  Crap.  This. Isn’t. Happening.

Aaron and I both got out to examine the damage.  It’s truly not awful – despite a long and ragged dent, the back door still opens, as does the gas tank.  But, OMG, he’s had this car a week!  A WEEK!! He gets to drive it to school for the first time TOMORROW.  And it’s already damaged.  It’s kind of like opening your most asked-for toy at Christmas and finding out that it’s missing a wheel or the remote control.  The fun sort of…fizzles.

We drove haphazardly through the old Swan Lake neighborhood to Cane’s on Airline Drive, mostly because I could not remember my freaking way around this end of town, and also because we were just a tad thrown off our game.  I did recognize street signs, and knew that they were streets on which many of my high school friends had grown up.  I thought of those people again, but it wasn’t like the last time I drove through this neighborhood.  Today, it was shrouded in suck.  I thought about how I wanted so badly to drive in high school, and of the people who rode in my car once I got my wheels – how happy I was and how much fun we had.  I missed them momentarily, but my mind shot back to my son, who needed direction and encouragement to not let this get him down.  I wasn’t very good at either for a while.  He ate – I felt like hurling, so I abstained from lunch – and then we headed back to the DMV, this time with me behind the wheel so that I could get us back quickly without having to think two steps ahead out loud about where we were and what lane we needed to be in.

Twenty minutes after arriving back at the DMV, it appeared the camera was back online.  But our customer service person was at lunch, and our application was stuck in a pile on her desk.  “God, grant me patience,” I started to pray, and then quickly stopped.  Have you ever noticed that when you pray for patience, things seem to move much slower?  “I’m on to you, Lord!” I thought. “Okay, please just give me peace.  Patience is a little far out of my reach now.  Peace will do just fine.”

And He did.  Just like that.  DMV Lady showed up, called our name second from her stack, and Aaron was smiling for the camera in no time.  I so desperately wanted to do what the mom in front of me did, and take an iPhone pic of my son getting his driver’s license photo taken, but I refrained.  Someday he may thank me for that.  Maybe not.  Maybe this is why I’m not a photographer.  I write to keep the memories. I just need someone to read them to me when I’m old and drooling in my jello, please.

Aaron drove me home under the authority of his brand new license.  We spent a couple of minutes sun-gazing at the eclipse from our driveway, and then I went to work, having given Aaron permission to miss the last hour of the school day. True, I typically don’t allow my children to miss even the last day of school because it is a literal school day according to the calendar (yes, I’m that mom) but I figured he had pretty much been through the ringer, as I had, and so I relented just this once.  Truthfully, this was also likely because I was glad to know he was home safe and I didn’t have to worry about him flying solo until tomorrow.  I drove myself to work and realized that I had changed purses and left my desk keys in the other purse.  At home.  Phone call to Aaron: “Sweetie, can you bring my keys to me?”… “Hey, Carey, what’s our office address?”… “Aaron, can you get here safely? The address is…”  He did get there safely.  I gave him directions out of our parking lot, and then stood on the front porch of the bank and watched him leave.  I felt like a stalker.  He saw me.  I waved, shrugged that mom’s-gotta-do-what-a-mom’s-gotta-do shrug, said a prayer, watched him make the left-hand turn across two lanes of traffic to get onto the main street, and I walked back inside.  And then I GPS-tracked him all the way home.

I also called the guy who hit Aaron’s car at the DMV. He was kind enough to have already set up a claim under his own liability – those wheels are rolling more smoothly than I ever expected.  I was very grateful to this man for the note he left.  Just two weeks ago, I was instructing Aaron that if he ever hit a car whose driver was not available, he was to leave his name and contact information on the other car.  “You don’t ever walk away from damage you cause,” I told him.  I am ever so thankful to this man for showing my son the example he is to follow.  These are the lessons we learn.  This is what you do.  This is how you act.  And, as I confessed to a coworker as I almost cried in her doorway this afternoon, this is such a first world problem; I feel guilty for letting it get me down so.

Victoria called me after school to see if I wanted anything from Starbucks.  “Are y’all going by yourselves?” I asked.

“Of course!” came her reply.  “Aaron’s got his license; I told him to take me somewhere!”

Starbucks had been on our practice track enough that I didn’t worry so much on that one.  I know my son needs those moments of independence, even though I want to hold his hand through each of them.  It really wouldn’t be fair to him if I did.  My mind flashed back to my high school days, tearing down Benton Road in my ’79 Buick Regal, wheels burning and spirt free.

I arrived home still in a funk tonight.  Dom suggested I pour a glass of wine and take a bubble bath.  “I don’t feel like a bath,” I said.  I wasn’t sure what I felt like. Headbanging until my neck hurt? At this age, that would take about two beats.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m going to weed-eat.”

“Want me to mow?” I asked.  Next thing I knew, I was on the mower, sailing through the backyard with 80’s pop and metal tunes blowing out my earbuds.  I found Metallica’s One and added it to the playlist, seeing in my mind the boys from the band as they sat in front of the jukebox and headbanged every Friday night at Johnny’s Pizza on Benton Road.  I thought of each of them, and of how they all came to my defense on the night I backed my car into another student’s car in the parking lot at Johnny’s.  He (yes, he) wanted to physically fight me right there on restaurant property, but the guys got between me and him and basically said he’d have to go through them if he wanted to hurt me. My car and I both survived that night.

Thirty years later, that memory is still solid in my mind.  Me… 17 years old with a license and a car, the future stretched out endlessly before me.  And then I thought, for a moment, one of the final lines from one of my favorite books, “Ahhh…the wheel comes full circle…”

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“Mom, I Can’t Feel My Toes.”

25 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Growing My Garden, Life, Life Is Good, Mabel, My Kids Crack Me Up!, Welcome to My World

≈ 1 Comment

On this, the third snow day of the school year, we finally got actual snow. Admittedly, I never expected it to snow. 1-2 inches in north Louisiana? Puh-leeze, weatherdude! What are you smoking???? We may get ice and sludge and generally terrible driving conditions, but real-deal snow tends to pass us by. We Shreveporters live in what I call “the weather bubble.” Weather aims right for us, turning at the last minute to soar above us or below us, rarely coasting directly through our lovely city. We are grateful that most of the bad stuff passes us by. Unfortunately, so does much of the fun stuff.

Until today.

That heavenly snowfall began around 9:00 a.m. and continued its White Christmas cascade all morning long. But as I look out the window while writing this, the snow seems to have finally stopped falling. 12:21 pm. The driveway is mushy and the street is beginning to regain its grey asphalt hue, no longer smooth and white…which tells me it is melting… just like weatherdude said it would.
(Which also tells me the roads may not be as treacherous as they were two hours ago. I may try again to haul my butt into the office. Y’all don’t lock me out just yet!)

I love the color of our world when it is illuminated by sunshine. But if it can’t be gloriously bathed in bright yellow, then I prefer it to be white. This white…

DSC_0645My photography skills leave a lot to be desired, but my desire overwhelms my pathetic lack of skill to bring you this…

DSC_0624And this…

DSC_0729And this…

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My poor, poor confused spring bulbs. 😦

And finally, yes, the kiddos took to the great outdoors, shunning their screen devices for a sacred morning of pelting each other with snowballs…

Aaron with a snowball earbud.

Aaron with a snowball earbud.

Look!  They're touching!  And smiling!!

Look! They’re touching! And smiling!!

…and competing in a snowman building contest.   Here are Misty with her creepy penny eyes…

DSC_0015 … and Frosty McTaxFraud, each sporting their very own coffee mug. DSC_0017Does anyone else agree with me that Frosty has a quirky Al Capone look going on? Nice bat.

So, while the kids toast their tootsies in front of the fireplace, I’ll leave you with a few more snaps of my favorite place on earth…

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the garden in winter…

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St. Francis near Mason’s grave

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The Mabelline!

DSC_0606 DSC_0595 DSC_0579 DSC_0599 DSC_0722DSC_0627Mabel’s favorite part of any snow day is coming in and getting dried off.

I’m gonna need more towels.

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List Therapy: Things I Like

28 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Growing My Garden, Life, Life Is Good, Reflections, Things, Welcome to My World, Where Did THAT Come From?!

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Here I am, head spinning from a stressful busy week, finding something to be  peeved about at every turn. In fact, this started out as a list of pet peeves (admittedly, some stupid, some funny, and some universal). As I mentally ticked off the things that tick me off, a still tiny voice in the back of my head said, “Way to focus on the positive, Lori.”

Ahem.

So I backed up a bit and decided to make my list about things that make me happy rather than the things that annoy me. Here goes.

  1. Sunshine. The brighter, the better.
  2. 70 degree weather (Can I get an amen?!)
  3. Babies cooing (even if they are so far in my past that I’ve almost forgotten them…almost…my memory was stirred by the family who sat behind us in church on Saturday.)
  4. Mabel in her role as “the Christmas Puppy.”
  5. Sunshine.
  6. Coffee with a just-right proportion of milk. It never lasts long enough. Good thing there are refills.
  7. A clean kitchen.
  8. Glimpses of summer at the end of January.
  9. Seeing Dom and Vic playing basketball when I pull into the driveway.
  10. Planning this year’s vegetable garden.
  11. Our freezer full of deer meat, which means I don’t have to buy hamburger meat at the store for almost the rest of 2015.
  12. Gospel songs, Statler-Brothers style.  “Are your garments spotless? Are they white as snow?…”
  13. Stove-top popcorn drizzled in Kerrygold butter– better than the movies!!
  14. A new bottle of nail polish.
  15. Sunshine.  (Can you tell I wanted to spend the whole day outside?)
  16. Realizing in the midst of stress just how blessed I really am when Aaron asks me, “Mom, do you need a hug?”
  17. Mommy-daughter time.
  18. Mom-son time.
  19. Dom time.
  20. Sunshine.

What was I stressed about, again?

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Creative or Crazy: Sometimes It’s a Coin Toss

28 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Birthday Wishes, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Dominic, Growing My Garden, Life Is Good, Reflections, Religion, The Process, Things

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

beginner art, bible verses for homes, painting, word-art

Victoria sat beside me diligently watching as I put the finishing touches on a baby shower gift for my cousin.  “I wish I could paint like you, Mamma.  I can’t paint at all,” she complained.

“Technically, I’m not painting.  I’m writing.  This is no great skill, sweetie,” I assured her.   I had replicated the Suessian poem Baby, Oh Baby, The Places You’ll Go in the shape of a dinosaur.  I had to write the entire poem in said dino shape four times before I got my spacing and letter size just right.  And even then, some letters were wonky, the word “scrumpulous” folded in on itself inside the brontosaurus’ foot, and I realized too late that I had given him the wrong type of tail. The gift recipients seemed not to notice the flaws immediately, and I was grateful.

But I was also inspired.  Driven.  Hooked.

Victoria and I traipsed to our local craft stores the next night in search of a wreath for our front door, and I suggested we just go “look” at the canvases.  They were on sale.  Half-off.  I left Michael’s with a large grapevine wreath (which aren’t so much grapevine anymore as they are tangles of leaves and twigs.  What’s up with that?) and a 36×48 canvas, labeled “Artist Professional Level 1: Beginner”… mostly because it was cheaper, but also because, really, there’s no sense kidding myself.

That’s the basis of this project, but here’s the history.  I originally set out this summer to make two word-art prints for Dom’s birthday.  One would be lyrics of songs that make me think of him, and the other would be quotes from my favorite love-story books.  I gave each a different design so that they would be similar but not the same, and filled in the background with more corresponding text.  This is the result:

photo

Since I couldn’t work on these prints in Dom’s presence and I was itching to keep drawing and word-arting (making up your own words is a fine art, too, you see), I decided to bring the bible verses forward from within our walls where I wrote them in 2012.  I wanted them all in one place where I could view them, and I wanted them to form a picture.  So I shaped words and verses into a tree design and got this:

photo

But I drew this on poster board, which is totally not standard frame size (who knew?) and therefore all but useless unless I wish to thumb-tack it to my wall or hang it on the fridge.  So I figured with a little perseverance I could re-create the tree on a larger canvas.  And since this is for my enjoyment, I could take as long as I need to get it just right.  So began the process:

photo

This photo was taken about an hour too late, actually.  I should have taken the picture before the darker color was applied to the canvas, the point at which it looked as if Mabel had stuck her nose in yellow paint and sniffed all over the canvas.  The same point at which I sat back on the floor, stared up at the easel and said to myself, “Holy crap…I’m worse at this than I thought I’d be!”

It is at this moment that I feel compelled to beg mercy from the judgments of true artists.  I realize I have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to painting.  Refer once again to the post title, please.

Over the next few nights I dabbled in my art project, adding swirly verses and wondering if there was some way to use more color on the canvas and blend it so that it looked more like sunlight behind the tree.  I determined that for my skill level, there was not.

For the next several weeks (er, months) I worked on it a little at a time.  I took over the upstairs game room, setting up my paints and easel near the window for good light, and indulgently leaving a mess no one had to clean up or look at.  I totally felt like Ally in The Notebook, painting in the room Noah created just for her.  Except that I was fully dressed.

Now, here we are, already in another year, and with the Christmas decorations all put away there is a gaping blank space on my living room wall just waiting for the finished tree.  And tonight, that blank wall is filled with the verses that have carried me through the process of making this house our home.  Of course, it’s only now that I realize my efforts to make the canvas match the wall were too well-coordinated.  The canvas blends right into the wall, making the picture look not nearly as artful as I had hoped.  When I lamented the fade-away quality of my color choices, Dom asked what could be done to correct it.  Ahem… start over?

Maybe next year.

photophoto

 

 

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The Dirt on My Green Thumb

07 Sunday Apr 2013

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Exterior, Growing My Garden, Things, Welcome to My World

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

flower beds, flowers, gardening, hydrangea, lemon tree, palm tree, tomatoes, watering

When I arrived home from the hospital after giving birth to my first child, I was greeted by a slew of new house plants sent by well-wishing friends.  While I loved the plants for their color and life, I was overwhelmed by the obligation to keep them alive.  I could remember to feed the baby…wasn’t that enough? The thought of more than Aaron depending solely on me for survival almost sent me into a panic attack.  I still maintain that giving a new mother one more thing to feed and care for is borderline sadistic.  Balloons are equally cheery, require no water, and no one is appalled when they wilt after three days.  Just sayin’…

My grandmother would water my plants for me each week when she came to stay with us, and would frequently ask if I had thought to water them while she was gone.  I would stammer my response and duck my head.  For Christmas that year she gave me a silk African violet plant.  Silk…because, in her words, that was the only kind that stood a chance at my house.

When Victoria was born, Aunt Maxine gave me a beautiful pink hydrangea.  Now, I’m a Louisiana girl who regularly subscribes to Southern Living magazine and would love nothing more than to duplicate the “fresh-cut hydrangea bouquet” look for my dining room table.  I love hydrangeas like no other flower.  But here I was, a new mom again, and the hydrangea sat in a pot in the front flower bed for more than a few months.  The tiny pink petals faded to cream, and then to gray (ugh!) and I feared that Aunt Maxine would see what a terrible plant mom I was after I had sworn to help it thrive in honor of both her and my daughter.  As Aunt Maxine struggled with cancer I could have kicked myself for not keeping that plant alive.  After she passed away, I believed she would know my shameful secret .  I whispered an “I’m sorry” into the heavens and vowed to someday have a pink hydrangea in my yard dedicated to her memory.  This week I bought and planted two pink hydrangeas: one for Aunt Maxine and one for Victoria.

DSC_0342

In the Spring of 2011 I dragged my Mom shopping with me at local nurseries where I bought about $400 worth of beautiful plants for my newly re-designed flower beds.  Gardenias, hydrangea, hostas, ligustrum, begonias, an angel trumpet, azaleas and canas, not to mention geraniums, gerbera daisies and lilies.  As [my] luck would have it, 2011 was the year that we had a drought combined with 110-degree days.  I remembered to water some of my plants, but truth be told, it was a pain to go outside and move the sprinkler around.  Plus, I would often forget to turn off the water.  Having the sprinkler run all night long does horrendous things to one’s water bill, and I eventually stopped turning it on altogether.  I lost all but four of the twenty or so plants that I had purchased.  As the year drew to a close and Dom and I were deciding to build a new house I insisted that whatever we did, I had to have a sprinkler system.  With a timer.

I did manage, for two years or so, to host a vegetable and herb garden in my backyard.  It actually thrived — except for my tomatoes, whose 14 plants yielded only about 14 tomatoes all season.  I don’t know where I went wrong there, but I know it wasn’t entirely a reflection of my ability since everything else seemed to grow with gusto.

DSC_0524

My Lemon Tree 🙂

I genuinely love plants now, and Spring lights a fire inside me like nothing else.  I spent Easter weekend getting dirty in my new flower beds.  I brought a few plants from the old house when we moved: the Angel Trumpet, various herbs and my lemon tree.  But heirloom plants are the best, in my opinion.  So far I have a yaupon holly and Indian hawthorn from my mother; cannas, lillies and irises from Dom’s Aunt Pam (the irises came from Dom’s Grandma Zern – many thanks to Uncle Harold for digging them up and loading them into my van!); daylily bulbs from my mother-in-law; pineapple guava plants, a peach tree and two fig trees from one of my Dad’s co-workers; and boxwoods and a tulip tree from Dom’s Aunt Bobbie.  (Aunt Bobbie supplied us with lots of great plants at the old house at a time when I was finally taking an interest in my landscaping.)  And the pièce de résistance, my palm tree: 12 feet tall and gorgeous, my builder hooked me up with this one in January.  I only had to pay for the landscaping crew to bring it to me and plant it wherever I pointed.  As my grandmother would say, “You can’t beat that with a stick!!”

photo

The palm tree before any other plants…January 2013

Future plans include a vegetable garden in the new backyard, as well as a butterfly garden where I want to grow jasmine and honeysuckle and maybe some knock-out roses just outside of Victoria’s bedroom window.  And I’m also going to attempt to keep a terrarium in my large fish tank on the patio.  (Wish me luck!)  All in good time, I know.  To garden is to practice patience, and we all know I could use the practice.

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This House

18 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Growing My Garden, Life, Reflections, Sad Stuff, Welcome to My World, What-Not

≈ 2 Comments

This House…

…has watched our family grow.
May it now smile on you and all you hold dear.

…has hosted celebrations from baptisms to birthdays.
May the special events of your life store their memories within these walls.

…has been our shelter from the storm.
May it now be your safe haven.

…has provided us with quiet rest.
May you know the gift of true comfort here.

…has watched us work.
May the fruits of your labor be prosperity and peace.

…has echoed our music and felt our dancing.
May your song now be its anthem.

…has heard coffee brewing and laughter ringing.
May your cup of joy run over.

…has so much to share with you.
Welcome home.

[I left this on the kitchen counter for the new owners who will take possession of the house this afternoon. Then I shed a few tears, Dom said a little prayer, and we walked through that old familiar door for the last time. I just wanted to preserve the memory here. God bless this house and all who enter.]

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Guess Who Finally Showed Up…

06 Sunday May 2012

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Growing My Garden, Things, Welcome to My World, What-Not

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Tags

flower bed, gladiola, plants

Just when I was about to give up on everything floral, and was outside whacking away on the bloomless bulbs that had limped over the side of my flower bed, I noticed this: the first bloom of my gladiolas.  They are a deep burgundy red, and would have been striking against the orange impatiens and green boxwoods that are somehow surviving my neglect.  If more than one gladiola would bloom, that is…

Every blooming year (pardon the pun) my bulbs produce mass amounts of greenery, but seldom any flowers.  My tulips, daylilies and glads spend the springtime clothed in only their leaves.  My hyacinth blooms early, and then the bare leaves lay down and sprawl about as if someone stampeded across my beds.  Today I ventured outside to trim away the leaves that held no promise for the rest of the season, when I noticed the gladiola blooms barely peeking out to say hi.

The Galds have arrived…better late than never…

It’s gonna look stupid with this one stalk of glads hanging out in my flowerbed, but oh well.  I’m so giddy over the darn thing producing flowers that I can’t bear to cut it down before its prime.

Happy Spring.

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Time Stamps

18 Thursday Aug 2011

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Aaron, Education Station, Growing My Garden, Life, Middle School, Munchkins, Parenting, Reflections, Welcome to My World

≈ 2 Comments

I knew this was going to be a tough morning.  After the morning I had yesterday and the realization that I was anxious about today, I knew it would be a rough ride to school.

To middle school.

Aaron, our first-born, walked into 6th Grade today alongside about 1,000 other kids.  No lie.  He handled the experience with extreme class and calm.

I, however, did not.

You knew I wouldn’t.

—

I took his picture this morning in order to text my mom with his “look” for today so that she can spot him in afternoon carpool.  Her reply text caught me off-guard, as she commented how grown-up he looked, and how proud she is.  Then she quoted Aaron’s baby phrase and wrote, “’But I crying’ tears of joy.”

Let me just say that This. Completely. Did. Me. In.

Thanks, Mom.  😉

So there I was, at a red light just a block off the interstate stifling sobs over what little I read of the pop-up on my phone, and we still had several blocks to go.  I tried to calm my voice and casually comment that I hoped Aaron had a great day at school.

“I will.”

“Oh, I know you will, sweetie.  Just know that I will be [sniff] thinking of [sniff, sniff] you [sniff] all day [sniff, sniff].

“I know.”

He knows so much.  But does he know that when I think of him, I still see this?

And this…

And this…

Those are my timestamps.  My mental slide-show of his life so far.   My slideshow that now includes this…

As we caravanned into the carpool drop-off line at the school, I shoved eight bucks at him “just in case” and told him that I love him.  He said he loved me too.  All I could see as he opened the door was the back of his little head over that huge backpack, stuffed to the gills with 2” binders in assorted colors.  I asked if he had his lunchbox.

“Yes.  Bye.”  And with that, he disappeared into a swarming sea of middle school children.  No longer could I see my baby boy walk into the school building and know that he was safe.  I couldn’t even see his head bobbing through the crowd.  Just a steadily-changing stream of  kids I’d never seen before.

I pulled through the rest of the carpool line, made the turn and cried like a baby.  And this played in my head:

A co-worker who saw her youngest of six ride off to high school today profoundly stated that it’s not the firsts that do her in anymore.  It’s the lasts.

I cannot even go there yet.

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Too Fast

30 Thursday Jun 2011

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Aaron, Growing My Garden, Life, Munchkins, Parenting, Welcome to My World

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Last night as Dom and I carried on a discussion in the den, we heard Aaron rummaging around in the kitchen. “He’s getting a bowl,” Dom explained to me.

I craned to look into the kitchen, worried that Aaron would need help reaching the bowls. You never know when SuperMom is going to have to reach the unreachable for her little babies.  I wondered out loud if he would need our assistance.

As I looked into the kitchen, aiming my gaze right above the countertop, Aaron emerged into view, his chest towering over the countertop where I expected to see his face. And then it hit me. He’s getting taller. He will be in Middle School in a few short months. My baby boy is growing up. I vividly recall when the top of his head just baaaaaarely reached the countertop, and we cheered and danced because he was getting “soooooooo big!”

I wasn’t cheering last night, though. As soon as the memory of my baby boy in his overalls, turtleneck onesie and Timberland boots tiptoed through my head, the tears spilled out of my eyes. My conversation came to a screeching halt, and Dom looked at me with mild curiosity.

“Are…are you crying?”

[sniffling] “Mmmmm-hmmmmm…”

“Over him getting taller?”

“Yes! I can remember when…” and I just stopped right there, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yeah…I know,” came the understanding reply from my better half.

We sat for just a moment in silence, then we both sucked it up and continued the previous conversation, forcing us to put aside our marvel and wonder and temporary melancholy in favor of something that does not remind us of how quickly time passes.  This life – this Grow-A-Kid carnival ride – is going too fast. Slow it down, please. SuperMom is a SuperWimp.

Somebody get the woman some Kleenex.

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Bloom Quest

12 Monday Apr 2010

Posted by Lori Mainiero in Growing My Garden, Life, Things, What-Not

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The azaleas are in bloom.  WOW! Are they ever in bloom!!  I love them at this time of year, when all the pretty pinks and whites are so showy all over Shreveport.  You can’t look in any single direction without seeing them.  They are so fluffy and impressive! The problem is, I hate them for the rest of the year.  I find that when they are not blooming, they look scraggly and unkept.  Some owners prune them into hedges and such, but then they look too confined when they do bloom.  I love their messiness in bloom, but can’t stand it otherwise.  Perhaps if they could just bloom for, say, 3 or 4 months at a time rather than 3 to 4 weeks a year.  And they only stay really pretty if the spring rains stay away.  A good hard storm can kill the beauty of the azaleas overnight. 

The one remaining azalea in my yard blooms on approximately one-third of its branches, which means I get about three flowers in the spring.  The rest of the year it looks like the stepchild of yard ornaments.  I so need to cut it down, but I feel just a tad, well, disloyal in doing so.  I am a true-blue home-grown Southerner, shamefully despising my poor little azalea bush. 

My grandmother recently told me that she had purchased the Encore Azalea, which is supposed to bloom repeatedly throughout the season.  I was thrilled at the news of this hybrid, and excitedly asked if they really did bloom as advertised.  “Well, no.  Azalea blooms aren’t supposed to last very long, you know.”  I felt so deflated.    

I bought an Endless Summer Hydrangea yesterday.  Their large happy leaves look good even when they don’t have many blooms.  I hope it can curb my azaleas-in-bloom lust and ultimately redeem me as a Southern garden enthusiast.  Even though I know that’s a lot to ask of a plant… 

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