Little Shop of Horrors

My sad, unresponsive and defiant house plant.

I don't think I have a horrible green thumb, but my plants have never thrived. I can bring them to the brink of death and then back to life, which is sort of psychopathic, if you ask me.

Sometimes I teeter with the thought of just chucking all of my green living things in the trash, but I can't bring myself to do it. It's against my religion. I think. They are alive, even if momentarily.

A little over eight years ago, I embarked on a new adventure. I've blogged about it here . Awhile back, I was given an opportunity to offer a give-away where a lucky reader won a gift certificate so she could get some of her own. She was thrilled. Speaking of that winner, I just ran across her blog awhile back and found out that she has suffered a great tragedy in the last year or so. Please head over to her blog and offer her some sweet hugs.

So, back to my dying-a-slow-death plants. Ahem.

For the past several months I've been thinking about why my plants hate me. Do I give them too much water? Not enough? Should I talk to them more? Am I supposed to feed them some sort of plant food in addition to water? Can't I just open up the blinds so they can eat the sun? Are plants really that complicated?

I've repotted this particular plant (above photo) with new potting soil and moved it around the house so many times trying to find the perfect spot. It's a rather difficult plant to please. In fact, one day, when I had it sitting by the open front door, I swear it tried to reach up and open the door so it could run away. It hates me with as much passion as a plant can have.

So, two months ago I decided to try a new feeding method. I've heard that plants like nitrogen. Like, alot. Then it dawned on me that there is uber amounts of nitrogen in blood and where could I get blood on a regular basis?

This isn't rocket science, people. Without cutting myself and dripping blood onto the leaves of my dying plant, where can I (a woman) get the red stuff?

My menstrual pads, that's where. You aren't shocked, are you?

For those of you still reading, I'll have you know that it's not gross at all. I've lived with my own blood since I was eleven. You would assume I would be used to be it now. I am. I'd also assume that other women should be used to it by now, too. However, I will not jump on my soap box and preach the greatness of thy wonderful cloth menstural pads. No I will not. If you want to stick to paper then so be it. Personally, I prefer to have soft cotton against my girly bits. Cotton velour, sherpa and silky soft micro-fleece beat out sticky, smelly, chemical filled paper at least 100, 000, 000 to 1. Or something like that.

I have never tried the soaking method for my cloth menstrual pads because I wasn't really into saving the water or, you know, dealing with it more than I needed to. Normally, I would just rinse them out as I used them and then throw them in the wash.

This time, instead of doing the whole rinse & wash thing, I grabbed a cute watering can (because cute matters!) and began stuffing my pads into the opening. Then I filled it just enough to cover the pads. The next morning, I poured the murky water onto the unsuspecting plant and then refilled the watering can with fresh agua.

I almost felt a little naughty for doing such a thing. I've heard about it before, but actually trying it wasn't on my "To Do" list. Over the next few days, I watched as my once sad plant, perked up. I figured it was just because I watered it. Plants like water, you know. A week or so later, I noticed my other plants wilting again. Typical. However, I noticed something magical, almost unreal. It would seem that while the naughty plants needed to be refreshed my blood-fed plant was thriving. Boldly standing high, it's leaves deep green and absolutely no dead, dried or yellowing limbs.

Seymour sitting next to my husbands plant (the naughty one). They were once the same size.

I decided to water it a little anyway and within a day my plant looked even more healthy.

Healthier than ever!

Whoa! Did I make that happen? Serious? Not only can I feed my babies "liquid gold" and watch them chunk up before my eyes, but I can also nourish a plant? Amazing!

"Hmm..", I said aloud. Could this be because I fed it my soak water? Should I name this plant Seymour? Was I imagining this bold change or was it for real?

That's when I decided to do a little science project. You know, because I'm all about science projects and doing them for my kids helping my kids with theirs.

Sitting in the same bay window as "Seymour" is another plant, a smaller one, that was given to my husband when his father died in 2005. This plant has struggled greatly, which is why it's still so small, and I've done more than enough to try and keep it alive. I have seriously wanted to throw it out numerous times because it makes me feel like an utter failure. However, knowing my own connection to "Seymour" aka "My dad's plant", I can not bring myself to throw it away.

"I must try and save it, no matter the sacrifice. I will find a way."

::said in thick Scottish accent for effect::

Over the past two menstrual cycle's I have fed each of my plants using only the water from my soaking pot. I have noticed that Seymour really loves my stuff. The other plants are still fighting my love, but it looks as though they are starting to give in and accept their place in my home. I do not have to water as often (though that is most likely due to the weather), but they are more green and seem to be more perky. They just seem more healthy.

My conclusion is that feeding blood meal (or menstrual blood) to house plants really does work. I don't think you get the same result for each plant, but the results are better than just plain H2O. You can purchase blood meal in a bag and I think it's about $6-8 per bag. Most people would use it on their gardens (flower or food) and I've heard that fruit trees like them, too. I'm not much of a gardener (tried and failed several times), so do your research before using blood meal on trees and veggie gardens. Or, you know, save the money and just use what God gave you. Talk about living frugally. Ha!

However, the one thing I got out of this whole experiment is that my body is awesome! God is amazing and He created wonderous people. What a smart God to make it so that we can nourish our own children (for years!!!) and that, as women, we have the ability to feed plants and help them grow healthy and strong.

Are you amazed? You should be!

Hard Habit to Break

You have to click the play button above in order to set the stage for my post. Go ahead, don't be afraid to be transported back to your youth.

First things first. Did you want to marry Peter Cetera, too? His voice made me weak in the knees and if I didn't dedicate every Chicago ballad to one of my boyfriends, I'm sure Richard Marx took up the slack.

Back then we all had big hair and looked really funny. See?

Most of my KCMO peeps will remember me looking like this.

-Me at 15-

I absolutely loved my tail. So much, in fact, that I've kept it in a memory box since the day I cut it off on July 23, 1992. This day also happens to be one of the happiest days of my life, when I married this guy.

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No matter what anyone thinks of nail biting, it's a nervous habit. Don't believe for a second that the nail biter likes what they are doing.

As long as I can remember, I've always been embarassed by how my nails looked and up until a few weeks ago, I still bit them. In fact, within the two weeks before my tooth was to be extracted and braces put on, I bit them worse than I ever had. They bled, stung and ached. No matter how short my nail was, my teeth would always find a tiny sliver to gnaw on. Should any nail begin to grow, I would immediately bite it down. What I couldn't get with my teeth, I would chop off with cuticle snips. When there wasn't any nail to bite, I would start cutting my toenails.

I don't remember when I started the habit, I just know I've tried everything to stop. I closed my hands during every picture (when I remembered) just so my ugly fingers wouldn't be photographed. In fact, you can see my hand placed just so over Rob's shoulder in our wedding invitation photo above. That's not where the photographer placed my hands. I moved them up and over his shoulder. Sneaky, I know.

I even put on acrylic nails just to bite them off, too. My first set of acrylic nails (about 15 years ago) lasted me a whopping three hours. Yeah, that was a total waste of money. Three years ago, I went on this big acrylic nail kick and paid lots of money to have pretty nails. I was embarassed when I had to show details to my clients with my nubby fingernails. I had to point out things to my clients and I always wondered if they were grossed out. I was. Still, not even secretly loathing my nasty habit helped kick it.

A few weeks ago, right before my dental stuff started, my mother, my husband, and I were invited to attend a dinner for the Utah Association for the Deaf (UAD). I was wearing this beautiful dress, my hair was georgous and I knew my husband was going to look amazingly handsome. All I could focus on were my fingers, so I went to a nail school and had acrylic nails put on again. I found the least expensive place in case I bit them off, again. The nail technician had to put a base layer on because I had bit them so short. It's a good thing he did because they didn't even try to pop off, like the other ones.

My attitude changed immediately. I felt beautiful and did my best to keep them out of my mouth. It was hard, but I managed. A week later I got tooth extracted and braces put on. I haven't been able to bite my nails due to the braces, it's just too difficult. Plus, I worry that I will break a bracket if I even try.

I've pulled off my growing out acrylic nails and am going to start taking care of them. I'm excited to see my real nails grow and hopefully they'll be strong enough to at least sit just above my finger tip. I hope biting them hasn't destroyed my nail beds and I'll be left with nubby fingers for the rest of my life. I have sixteen + months to rid myself of this nervous habit, grow beautiful nails and accomplish something I thought I'd never be able to do.

Here they are.....in all their after acrylic nails glory. Well, except for the lonely thumb nail that's taking forever to loosen.

Oh well, it's good to scratch with. Take a look at my left pinky nail. Whoo-hoo! That's the longest I've ever let them grow before biting them off. Where the white starts is where I would bite them down to. Some of the acrylic nails pulled off what grew (so they are shorter) and of course there are several layers of nail that were removed with them.

Nail biting is definately a Hard Habit to Break! Now scroll back up and hit play again...you know you want to.

The road less traveled

For me, it was a life changing moment.

I was eleven years old and had gone to see An American Tail with my best friend, Molly.  I loved the movie so much I ignored how uncomfortable I was feeling.  Well, I tried to.  I knew I had to urinate (badly), but I wasn't about to miss any of the movie, so I just sat there chomping on popcorn and sipping my Dr. Pepper.  Fieval couldn't find his family fast enough as far as my bladder was concerned.

After the movie, I told Molly I had to go really bad.  So bad that I wasn't sure I'd make it down the long corridor to the women's restroom.  It was there I found out why I was uncomfortable. The moment most every little girl longs for, but is probably a little scared of at the same time.  

Menstruation 

I don't remember if I even told Molly that I started my period.  I think I just went home and told my mom.  I don't even remember how that all went, but I'm sure my mom does.  I wasn't afraid because my mom had already explained everything to me, come to think of it, I was even a tad bit excited.  After my mom gave me my very first pad to wear, I remember looking in the mirror to see if something had changed on the outside.  Would my classmates know that I was now a woman?  Did I somehow look older?  More mature?  More sophisticated?  This was a gift I had been given even if my stomach hurt.

As the years went on, my gift was becoming more of  a curse. I had joined the ranks of all the other teenagers I knew and began wearing tampons.  In fact, I would even wear them to bed sometimes because I could not stand to wear pads.  It never failed,  I bloated up like a pufferfish a week before and the cramps set up camp for a five day vacation.  Honestly, I don't remember any terrible mood swings, but that's because I was the one having them.  To those who loved me, I know I was very difficult to live with.  

One of the worst times for me was for the six weeks I had to wear pads after having a baby.  I hated them.  They were sticky and they hurt in a place where things were already a little sore. It's just not right, but I was always happy when the six weeks was up so I could go back to wearing tampons again, even though I was starting to not like them either.

When I was pregnant with Caleb, our final baby, I decided to look into cloth diapers.  A friend of mine loaned me some to try on Chloe and that quickly pushed her into potty training.  I didn't realize that at the time, but they definately helped.  As my due date was nearing, I couldn't imagine going back to weeks and pads...especially after nine whole months of freedom. My friend had told me about "Mama Pads", but I just wasn't so sure I wanted to spend the money on them and not like them.  I hate being wasteful.  I decided to buy just one pad.  You know, I'd give it a try and see how I could handle wearing them.  I bought my very first pad from Pretty Pad's. It was beautiful and felt so soft. I spent a couple weeks experimenting with it and knew I needed more.  Another friend of mine made me a few more that were velour topped with a waterproof backing. It was really nice to have more than one. 

During this time I was also cloth diapering my own son and loved every minute of it.  I wish I had started with my other children, I liked it that much.  Over the next year, I started keeping track of my PMS symptoms.  I noticed a dramatic decrease in my cramps and headaches.  Not only that, but I was no longer protected by sticky paper.  Instead I had cotton fabrics like velour and sherpa next to my skin.  I was hooked! 

Photo from Essence of Eve

I remember the day I decided to never go back to paper.  I actually felt free.  Free of societies views on menstruation and the impact it had on my life each month.  Free from the limited choices that were offered at the local market.  I don't know about you, but I'll take comfort over convienence...especially when it comes to my girly bits.  Thankyouverymuch!  

For about two years I only had twelve pads, but it was enough to get me through a couple days before I had to wash again. I still have those pads, after 7 years, and I still wear them from time to time.  These days, I'm extremely lucky to have a dear friend who sews amazing menstural pads for me. Check out her online store The Essence of Eve.  I love these pads and hope she continues making them...or is at least willing to stock me up for the another decade or so.

If you decide to try them out I suggest the velour or sherpa top with micro fleece back.  I get a medium thickness because my flows are heavy normally.

Do you want to know the best part?  

My nine year old daughter can't wait for me to buy her very first cloth pads. I've made a difference and have succeded in teaching my daughter that she doesn't have to suffer with uncomfortable toxic products from the market.  That's not the only against the flow topic I've had the privelage of teaching her, it's just the one she'll live with the longest.