Ok. Starting from the back. The three on the left with the cage, as explained in me last post, are Roma tomatoes. The one on the right in the black pot is cherry tomatoes.
The two pots immediately in front of the Roma tomatoes are sweet basil. Two plants in each pot.
To the right, immediately in front of the cheery tomatoes is a strawberry plant. It’s baby and might not thrive. And even if it does thrive we’re going to have to fight the skunks and raccoons off.
The final pot there on the right is curly parsley. It’s kind of limp so I cut the worst of it off and it’s hanging up to dry. I’m hoping what’s left will double in size. I want a parsley bush. I’m going to need a parsley bush because the 8yo has declared it a tasty snack.
Sweet BasilCurly ParsleyStrawberries
My rose, named Joy, is in the ground. She has fairly decent soil, lots of worms, and a few handfuls of blood meal. She’s a happy baby. In a few weeks, after the hibiscus is in, I’m going to buy a bag of mulch and cover this bit of earth.
Finally… Sammy went to the garden center with me on one of three trips and made friends.
Meet Sammy’s petunias, Patricia and Lucifer.
She was really good and didn’t beg for a million things. So when she fell in love with the section of petunias, I wasn’t capable of telling my budding gardener no. (Pun intended.)
This post is a few days late. But then, so was my gift.
Since I’m both a mother and a father to the kids, my gift for the year can fall on either holiday. The same goes for the wife*. So I’ve started calling them both Mather’s Day.
Anyway, over the past year we’ve discovered I can’t eat a single tomato product that has been in a can or a jar. Nothing that’s been preserved in the usual methods, which we at this point assume it apple cider vinegar since that falls in like with my known allergies. I have confirmed that I’m not allergic to fresh tomatoes in the slightest. So it has to be in the preservation methods. That said, Robin* can make basically any tomato product you can think of, from scratch. That said, that takes a LOT of tomatoes. So…
*My spouse of 17 years is now officially my wife, they use they/them or she/er pronouns, and their chosen name is Robin.
I was sent to the garden center to buy the means to grow our own tomatoes. Meet my new children!
The three on the left are Roma tomatoes. The big girl on the right is a cherry tomato. We won’t cook with the cherry tomatoes unless we pull them for salads and such. They are meant to be a snack, fresh from the plant, warmed by the sun.
Here is a close up of my cherry tomato baby. I bought her exactly like this so she’d be ready to go asap.
I was lucky enough to find one that is already starting to grow fruit! My cashier was super excited for me when she saw them growing.
Plus, judging by these flowers, there are plenty more tomatoes to come and soon!
Here is a close up of one of my three Roma tomato plants. As you can see, it has a ways to grow. But I found 3 that look super healthy so I have hope for plenty of fresh tomatoes to come!
Now for a confession.
I was sent for tomato plants and pots and such. But in my defense, I was my own and only adult supervision in the garden center. And well, it’s known how I am.
Meet my surprise rose. The true surprise isn’t that I bought her. The true surprise is that I bought only one. Which, fair. I guess I am predictable in my love of plants.
Though the reason I only bought one is that I also have a hibiscus bush and a lilac bush on the way.
In my defense, I’ve been planning and plotting that hibiscus bush for a solid year now, but for some reason keep talking myself out of it. And there was never a good reason to talk myself out of it. It was like 15$ and I know where exactly to put it.
But
When Robin wandered into the room and I told them about the hibiscus, they mused allowed that someday they were going to buy a lilac bush because they have always wanted one. And what was I supposed to do? I’m helpless to the longing of a pretty girl! So I had them pick one out, which was also inexpensive, and I added it to the order and that was all she wrote.
Photos to come, I’m sure. But like my new rose, they are coming in with bare roots. It’ll take them a bit to really grow and flower and flourish.
Pain pills don’t work. Muscle relaxers don’t work unless I’m given enough to keep them in my system at all times. My doctors will only agree to 15 a month to use once the (daily) headaches start. They do nothing once the headaches start but they do work to prevent them. The doctors are worried I’ll become dependent and won’t enable me to live pain-free.
We disagree on whether or not dependence is a bad thing.
These days the bulk of my pain is in my shoulders and neck which then leads to tension headaches. Loosening those muscles and keeping them loose makes the headaches nonexistent.
But alas.
One thing they were willing to do for me is to get me in Physical Therapy which is doing wonders. But only gets me through part of the week. I need to be doing those exercises twice a week, but the set up on the home front makes that hard as there really isn’t a place to tie a therapy band down.
In unrelated news that is going somewhere, Thomas is currently going through pre-season workouts with intent to join the football team in the coming fall. He work-outs with the team Monday-Thursday but goes back over the weekend to work out some more with a buddy.
Yesterday he needed to blow off some steam and asked if I could drive him to the school so he could work out. I threw on some clothes and grabbed my keys and a book, fully intending to read while he worked out.
Then I smelled the smell of a weight room. And I’m telling you, that smell turns me jock every time.
I hate sports and I hate working out, but for some reason, I love to weight lift. I’m not interested in finding the max I can lift. I like a reasonable weight with a few sets of 10. Long and slow. I honestly crave regular access to this type of workout.
So I entered the weight room and immediately forgot about my book. With Thomas’s approval that I lift with him and a promise that I’d ask for help if needed, I started working out alongside him.
Chronic pain means I need to respect my limits. I can lift higher, but I went to a happy medium so I didn’t hurt myself further. I was able to really work my muscles and help take control of my health.
Of course, I woke up Sunday morning regretting life, but it was still a good type of pain. I’d earned the right to hurt like that by actually using my body.
We went back to the gym a few hours after I woke up, and picked up a friend and teammate of Thomas’s. They worked together spotting each other and trying to increase their maximums in various lifts. I tied my therapy band to a solid post and worked out my sore shoulder muscles. It did wonders in relieving the pain in them.
So I think that’s the plan. Saturdays we’ll go and we’ll lift together. Sundays we’ll go and I’ll work on my therapy bands. His friends are invited along so long as there is no fighting and no one makes fun of me for how I exercise.
Thomas assured me he’d punch anyone who did.
And I informed him that broke the no fighting rule.
We got the tax return. As usual, it was a really nice return, but also, as usual, we had to spend the entire thing in like a week because we aren’t allowed to have more than 1k in assets or Pat loses disability. We always have a to-do list and a to-buy list a mile long. First on the list is getting caught up on bills and paying off debts. Then important stuff. But we always make sure we have some fun. We go 11.5 months with no fun money, so we make up for it with the tax return. I start with this explanation so we’re on the same page that this includes spoiling the kids.
I took the kids to Half Priced Books and promised the 4 of them 10$ each (which goes far at a used book store) but made it clear I was also willing to negotiate. This isn’t really about that trip except for the extra non-book Sammy found.
In the music section tucked in with used records and CDs was a ukelele that came with a book and CD that promised it could teach anyone to play. It was 25$ for the entire kit. The ukelele was cheaply made but would at least get someone started. Sammy fell instantly in love and promised to put her two books back if I bought it for her. I reflected back on my own threat to buy myself a cello and lessons with the tax return and knew I was not able to say no so I didn’t even try. (She still got the books.)
We brought it home and she immediately set to mastering it. But I clearly realized we needed more gear. We needed help tuning it. Sammy needed more books to help her learn and to provide sheet music. She needed a means of holding said books open while both hands were busy playing. She quickly learned via youtube videos that she could hold the instrument better (properly) if she had a strap. Clearly this was going to be an investment.
But she really loves playing it. I wouldn’t call her instantly good, but she has a passion. And a fire that burns in her eyes while she puzzles over how to play the thing.
So the first step was a strap so she could hold it. Only, this ukelele is cheap and there is no way to attach a strap. BUT Amazon has a kit with a better uke that comes with a strap, a case, a digital tuner, and extra strings for a decent enough price. Already she’s getting upgraded, it seems. At that point, I realized I might as well throw in a music stand that can hold the book open while she plays. Plus some picks special made (out of felt) for a uke. I added in a wall mount so she could hang her instrument. It’ll all be here in a couple of weeks.
I guess…
Being young is about picking up skills while your brain is still in it’s prime and you’re capable of picking up new knowledge. Yes, learning how to read and do math is important, but she’s already doing both those at a sixth-grade level despite being in 3rd grade. So why not enrich her life with a new skill that can actually be fun and a way to channel her creativity and love of life? All while she’s young enough that she has an advantage when it comes to learning things,
And I refuse to be one of those moms that forces her to practice 2 hours a day. If she practices, she practices. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t. So long as she’s having fun because that is what this is about. As soon as I put pressure on her, it’ll stop being fun. And if it stops being fun anyway? Then I’ll sell it all on craigslist to another 8yo who loves music and needs a good beginner instrument because that’s exactly what a ukelele is.
If she doesn’t stop having fun and gets really good?
Then her aunt has a guitar she bought for 50$ that isn’t getting played to hand over to my girl.
Either way, as long as she’s happy, that’s all the matters.
And in a couple of months, or sooner, if she’s good enough she wants to show off, maybe I’ll post a video of her playing for you all. She has a lot of basics she needs to learn first, but I can already tell she has potential. And, as I said, she has this fire in her eyes while she teaches herself how to play and that fire is something to behold!
So a lot has happened in my professional life over the past few months.
First, we’ll reestablish the canon that the manager I started under in Westerville hated me. I left that first day of work with the impression that she was the type of girl that bullied me in 6th grade. I just also assumed she had grown out of that type of behavior.
I was wrong.
She has never outgrown that behavior and I was clearly an easy target. Working with her was miserable.
Luckily? This past December she got promoted to district manager and another woman was brought in to manage Westerville. The new manager is lovely and I assumed with the bully being promoted, I’d deal less with the bully and more with the new manager.
I was wrong again.
I came back from rescuing Iris to a meeting with the new manager and the new regional manager, aka the bully, to be told I was not nearly good enough at my job for Westerville to want me. Now to clarify, the new manager in no way felt this. She likes me a lot and knows I work really hard. But she did not have a say in any of this. This was the bully, and the bully is officially her boss.
Luckily!
They didn’t want to outright fire me. They wanted to trade front desk help with another store instead.
So I’m now at a location we’ll call west. I’m doing the exact same job, but the office isn’t as busy and there is less pressure on me.
I think, the bully accidentally made a great move in my favor.
The new store likes and appreciates me. I really like my new manager and she likes me.
Further! I’m allowed to go by Max. I don’t have my new scrub tops yet, but my embroidered name on them will be Max instead of my dead name. All the official paperwork and such will still read my legal name, but I’ll be Max around the office at least.
So really, this is a good move. I’m actually happier and less stressed. Plus I’ve cut my travel to and from work in almost half.
Iris is all settled in now. It’s been a month since they got here and that time was well spent.
We’re working on the tricky aspects like getting Iris set up with local doctors so there is no lapse in the prescribed medication they take. Luckily I was able to get Iris in with a therapist (who specializes in trans patients, but also prepared to deal with Iris’s trauma) pretty much right away. It helps that I was making calls before we even reached home. The rest will fall into place over the next couple of months. We are very fortunate that Iris’s mom has decided not to cut them off the insurance. We weren’t expecting to be that lucky.
As far as family dynamics go, Iris fits right in. We’ve all just adopted Iris as a member of the family. I now tell people I have 4 kids. That’s just how we roll.
I’m not sure how much more I can say without grossly invading Iris’s right to privacy.
Just know that Iris is love and I’m doing my best to do right by them. It’s a learning experience, all around, and we are learning as we go. But we’ll make it work.
Long term the goal is to get Iris back to college and then eventually out on their own. But I have some parenting to do in the meantime. There were some serious gaps left in Iris’s life education and they are not prepared to adult. But that’s fine. Together Iris will make an amazing adult and a loving member of society.
Anyway, I’m going to end this for now and take the spotlight off them. I’m sure they will come up in posts, just like any of my kids do, but now that’s they are just a daily part of the household, I’m going to let them fade back and just be.
