The Gardeners Anonymous Blog

Memories of Mom

Mother’s Day is bittersweet for me.

On the one hand, I get to hang out with the three men that I love most in my life.

On the other hand I don’t get to hang out with my mom because she passed away several years ago. I miss her terribly and I miss the fact that she can’t see my sons grow up. I have a feeling she’s kind of pissed about that, too.

There is a place where her ashes are buried but I don’t go there anymore. I used to bring fresh cut roses there and feel sad and cry.

Now I go to her house and tend her roses because it makes me feel happy and close to her. Then I cut some roses and bring them back to my house.

It’s like bringing a little piece of her home with me and my family.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Oh Christmas Tree Farm, Oh Christmas Tree Farm

On Dashiell on Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen,
on Comet, on Cupid, on Donner, on Blitzen.

On Dashiell?

Wait a minute; you’re not a reindeer.

Even though I’m an avid gardener, I still take my kids out to
One of the many Christmas tree farms in my neighborhood to cut down a tree instead on using a live tree. Or buying one cut two weeks ago at a big-box lot.

First, I think it’s a fun tradition.

Second, we go to little family-run farms that only sell a few trees per year.

Third, we always cut our trees so that we leave a ring of branches at the base where a new tree can sprout.

This year my son found a chunk of trunk that some one had trimmed and left on the ground. My husband told him that we could grow a tree from it. So my son picked it up and hauled it back to the car.
When we came home, we put it in a big saucer of water.
My son has been checking its progress everyday since.

Another great thing about the little Christmas tree farms we go to is they give away bulbs. Yippee—bonus!

Merry Christmas everyone from Gardeners Anonymous.

Stumble It!

How to Get Your Kids to Do Their Homework.

I know now why my mother said I gave her grey hair—and why I used to call her a nag.

Homework.

I read this great book the other day called The Case Against Homework. I’m convinced that the person who invented homework never had 3rd and 5th grade boys.

I am sick of dealing with the nightly tantrums. There have been many, many nights when my 8-year-old has spent 4 ½ hours or more sitting at my kitchen table staring at his math facts—one 8 ½ by 11 inch sheet with 100 multiplication problems. Is he lazy? Is he stupid? Is he stubborn? Well let’s see—he IQ is upward of 130. He is in the gifted and talented program at school. He knows his schoolwork forward and backward.

I can understand that kids who had been held captive in school for seven hours don’t want to spend any more time chained to a desk. I imagine they would rather find an outlet for the energy. Maybe they just want to unwind, decompress, and do something that they are in control of. Even though I don’t like to hear the whining, I do understand the reason for it: He just needs a break from school.

One study shows that having dinner with their families is way better for kids—and a better predictor of educational success—than is doing homework.

My husband always tells his friends that if there were no women “men would still be living in caves.” Then he loves to add, “And we’d be happy.”

A week or so ago I was trying to prepare myself mentally for the nightly homework tantrum when an idea came to me.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day Dad.
Thank you for the tree house.
You're the best.
Love,
Liam and Dash