Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Gardening. It's what we do.

Growing up, there were... things.... we did not talk about. Some of these items include, but are certainly not limited to:

That stuff that comes out of your nose.
That noise that comes out of your other end.
Wedding night activities.
Anything unpleasant.

While Catholic, we are very WASPy. It makes for great holidays and all things wonderful and I have ZERO complaints (hear that, Mom?) as my parents and brother are wonderful. Okay, disclaimers out of the way. But, let me be as clear as one can be: No One Talks About Gardening. We don't even say the word t-o-i-l-e-t. It's the bathroom, it's the WC, it's anything but t-o-i-l-e-t.

Not in my childhood home
Not in my mother's childhood home
And certainly not in the home of my grandfather- his sister's were the very definition of ladies. And there were a lot of 'em.

Gardening was no one's business but the one doing the gardening.

And it is a very, very private matter. Much like breast feeding, finances, and coitus. Maybe not just like that, but close enough for these examples.

Me talking about daisies is me moving lightyears forward. I still blush when I type about it, but at least I can type about it. My daughter though... my beautiful, blessing, shameless daughter... sometimes, I wonder if she really is the fruit of my loins. In some regards, she is 110% her father's child.

Gardening is her favorite topic. She tells An-Ew all about her successes. She talks about it at dinner (and lunch, and breakfast, and snack time) She even has a dance, a crown, and "PPCs" to go with her successes and failures. PPCs, you ask? That would be the Pansy Planting Chronicles. I am not foolish enough to forward out the daily videos we take of the PPCs when she says things like, "Ma-Mee, big ole' snake p..[daisies].. sssssssss" with her finger waggling to further show me in case I was unsure.

Or, when she says, "Hey An-Ew, I made MOON [daisies] on the [garden]!" It's these things that make me embarrassed and proud all at once. She makes "Mountain [daisies] and banana [daisies] and grape [daisies] and the list goes on and on, but the bottom line she is very interested in gardening.

Too bad she can't do it by herself yet. She has to get medicine. Remember "Stop Medicine, make dirt?" Since the Cialis Thinking, laid back Husband got involved, she won't unless made by medicine from either end. She is to the point that we are still all talk and no show. Those prize winning knock out roses only knock out when least expected.

Take for instance last night at dinner. Husband was discussing his gardening activities with LMC and LMC was, in turn, asking her mother about her gardening. Turning beet red and cursing quietly in my brain, the conversation I try to steer away just drifts right back to "Big ole' Snake [daisy]" sssssss... with that waggling finger of hers.

"Ma-mee, do you make mountain [daisies]?"
Honey, this is not polite conversation.
"but, daddy does. do you?"
A pipe-up from the man seated at the head of the table, "Yeah, Wife- do you make mountain [daisies]?"
Honestly, guys. This is not polite dinnertime conversation. LMC, what was your favorite part about today? (our standard question to each other at dinner)
"I made BIG [daisies] morning on Ma-Mee's [garden]."

I am at a loss. Just, absolutely, without a doubt, lost. Like on some highway in Virginia lost.

Maybe she was switched at birth?

1 comment:

Carla said...

I can assure you, she was NOT switched at birth...they all have a little too much Daddy some days :)