Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant mom

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, confession time. I used to be a notorious plant killer. Like, give-me-a-cactus-and-I’d-find-a-way-to-dehydrate-it kind of plant killer. My thumbs were anything but green. Then, something magical happened. I adopted a sad-looking peace lily from the grocery store clearance aisle. It was a total impulse buy, fueled by a potent mix of coffee and the delusional belief that this time would be different.

    And you know what? It was.

    That peace lily, bless its resilient little heart, not only survived but thrived under my care. That’s when I realized that being a plant parent wasn’t just about keeping something green alive—it was about the unexpected joys that came with it.

    plant parent is like that, but on a whole other level. Every new leaf unfurling, every bloom that bursts open, feels like a personal victory.

    And you better believe I document every milestone. My camera roll is basically a plant photoshoot waiting to happen. “Oh, you got a promotion? That’s cool. My monstera just sprouted TWO new leaves!”

    But seriously, there’s something incredibly rewarding about nurturing another living thing and watching it flourish. It’s like having a tiny, silent roommate who communicates solely through growth spurts and the occasional dramatic leaf droop (more on that later).

    Joy #2: Embracing Your Inner Plant Whisperer (and the Occasional Crisis Aversion)

    Before becoming a plant parent, I never thought I’d be the type to have full-blown conversations with inanimate objects. Now? I’m basically fluent in plant.

    • “Hmm, your leaves are looking a little droopy. Thirsty?” Waters generously
    • “Oh, you’re leaning towards the window? You must be craving some sunshine!” Strategically repositions plant for optimal light exposure

    It’s amazing how quickly you learn to read the subtle cues of your plant children. And let me tell you, the sense of accomplishment when you diagnose a problem (is it overwatering? Underwatering? Pest infestation?) and successfully nurse your plant back to health? Pure. Gold.

    Plus, there’s the added bonus of developing a superhuman ability to spot a spider mite from a mile away. Trust me, your non-plant parent friends will be amazed (and slightly terrified) by your newfound skills.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent




    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent


    My Descent into Plant Parenthood (and Chaos)

    It all started innocently enough. A cute little succulent on clearance at the grocery store. “Easy to care for,” the tag promised. I, armed with the unyielding confidence of someone who had never successfully kept a houseplant alive for more than a month, believed it. Oh, sweet summer child, how naive I was.

    Fast forward to today, and my apartment looks like a jungle that threw up. I’ve got plants trailing from shelves, sprawling across windowsills, and even one that’s attempting a hostile takeover of my shower. I’ve become, dare I say it, a “plant parent.” And with this prestigious title comes a whole set of unspoken rules that I’m pretty sure we all secretly follow.

    The Art of Plant Whispering (and Other Delusions)

    Rule number one: you must talk to your plants. I don’t make the rules, folks. It’s just something we do. Whether it’s a gentle pep talk to a struggling seedling or a full-blown therapy session with your prize-winning fiddle leaf fig, communication is key (or so we tell ourselves).

    Of course, this comes with its own set of sub-rules:

    • Always compliment their growth, even if it’s just one pathetic new leaf that looks suspiciously pale.
    • Apologize profusely when you accidentally overwater them (again).
    • And never, ever speak ill of another plant parent’s green babies, no matter how much their monstera is hogging the sunlight.
  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    My Descent into Plant Parenthood

    I’ve never been particularly gifted in the art of keeping things alive. Sure, I’ve managed to keep myself relatively fed and watered (most days), but anything beyond that was always a gamble. So naturally, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a houseplant for my birthday, I accepted it with the same trepidation one might feel holding a ticking time bomb.

    “It’s a ZZ plant,” she’d chirped. “Practically indestructible!”

    Oswald, mostly because it seemed like a name that commanded respect, and promptly set about researching how not to kill him. Turns out, even “indestructible” plants have their limits. Who knew?

    Lesson #1: Patience Is a Virtue (and Essential for Plant Care)

    My first blunder as a plant parent? Overwatering. In my defense, all the plant care blogs made it sound like a life-or-death scenario. “Don’t let the soil dry out!” they screamed. So, I watered Oswald. And then I watered him some more. Just to be safe, you know?

    Spoiler alert: it wasn’t safe. Oswald started to droop, his once-perky leaves turning an alarming shade of yellow. Cue the frantic Googling and the realization that, much like humans, plants need space to breathe (or, in their case, photosynthesize). I learned that sometimes, the best thing you can do is…nothing. Just observe, wait, and let nature do its thing.

    Lesson #2: Embracing the Unexpected Nature of Growth

    After the Great Overwatering Incident of 2023, I decided to adopt a more hands-off approach with Oswald. I watered him sparingly, only when the soil was bone dry, and mostly just tried to stay out of his way. Imagine my surprise when, a few weeks later, I noticed a new shoot unfurling from the soil.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Mom

    Okay, let’s be honest. My journey into the world of plant parenthood started out less “green goddess” and more “serial plant assassin.” I’m talking the kind of track record that could make even a cactus weep. I once managed to kill a succulent. A succulent. You know, those desert-dwelling, practically-immortal champions of drought? Yeah, not even they could survive my questionable nurturing skills.

    But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was hitting my late 20s, or maybe (and most likely) it was a desperate attempt to add some life to my apartment after months of lockdown. Whatever the reason, I brought home a humble snake plant, named him Stanley, and braced myself for another inevitable plant funeral.

    To my utter shock, Stanley thrived. He sprouted new growth, stood tall and proud, and basically laughed in the face of my previous plant-murdering reputation. I was hooked.

    The Thrill of New Growth (No, Seriously)

    Fast forward two years, and my apartment now resembles an urban jungle, complete with hanging vines, leafy friends perched on every surface, and yes, even a couple more succulents (don’t worry, they’re thriving too). And you know what? It’s amazing.

    There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a new leaf unfurl, about witnessing a tiny sprout reach for the sunlight. It’s like a tiny, green testament to your care and attention. Plus, it’s way less messy than raising actual children (or so I’ve heard…).

  • The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices

    The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices




    Do Houseplants Judge Us? The Day My Peace Lily Stared Me Down

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, when you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. No, it isn’t the shame gremlin reminding you about that unfinished to-do list (though he’s probably lurking nearby). It’s your plant. And it’s looking at you with a mixture of pity and disdain that would make even your grandma proud.

    The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    My own journey into the secret world of plant judgment began innocently enough. I, like many others during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a Plant Parent™. I envisioned a peaceful oasis filled with thriving greenery, a testament to my nurturing spirit and excellent taste in ceramic pots.

    Fast forward through several months and a concerning number of Google searches like “Why are my plant’s leaves turning brown?” and “Is overwatering a thing?” and my once-perky peace lily, Phil, was… not thriving. He looked less like a symbol of growth and more like he was about to audition for a horror movie role as “Depressed Houseplant #4.”

    plant-parenting skills to my friend over the phone. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this,” I sighed dramatically, gesturing with a limp piece of Phil’s foliage (don’t worry, I snipped it off after for optimal plant health).

    That’s when I saw it. As I bemoaned my fate, Phil’s remaining leaves seemed to… shift. It was subtle, but I swear he was giving me the side-eye. A slow, deliberate tilt of his pot towards me that screamed, “You call this watering schedule ‘consistent’? Amateur.”

    Plants: Silent Judges of Our Life Choices?

    From that moment on, I couldn’t unsee it. Every time I reached for the takeout menu instead of cooking a nutritious meal, Phil’s leaves seemed to droop a little lower. When I spent an entire Saturday binge-watching true crime documentaries instead of, you know, being a productive member of society, I could practically hear him sigh in exasperation.

    And it wasn’t just Phil. My previously innocuous succulent collection began to resemble a jury of my peers, their spiky exteriors radiating silent judgment with each questionable decision I made.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    Confessions of a Plant Whisperer (Wannabe)

    Let’s be honest, folks. We all have that one friend who seemingly breathes life into any leafy friend they adopt. Their ferns are lush, their succulents are plump, and their air plants…well, they haven’t floated away yet, which feels like a win in itself.

    I, on the other hand, have a history. A slightly embarrassing, brown-thumbed history. I once killed a cactus. A CACTUS! How does that even happen, you ask? I have no logical explanation, but I’m here to tell you, it happens.

    But here’s the thing: I persevered. I learned, I adapted, and I’ve even managed to keep a few green things alive (thriving might be a strong word, but we’re getting there). And through this journey, I’ve stumbled upon some unspoken rules of plant parenthood, rules no one tells you but everyone seems to know. So, buckle up, fellow plant enthusiasts, and let’s dive into the wonderfully weird world of unspoken plant parent etiquette.

    The Art of Plant Pep Talks & Other Ritualistic Behaviors

    Rule number one, and arguably the most important: never underestimate the power of a good pep talk. Yes, you read that right. Plants, like any other living being (allegedly), appreciate a good dose of encouragement.

    I’m not saying you need to launch into a Shakespearean monologue about the importance of photosynthesis (although, if that’s your thing, go for it!). But a simple “You got this, little buddy!” or a whispered “Please don’t die, I beg you” can go a long way.

    And while we’re on the topic of slightly eccentric behavior, let’s talk about rituals. We all have them. Maybe you water your plants with the leftover water from your morning coffee (guilty!), or perhaps you play them your favorite Spotify playlist. Whatever your jam, these little rituals become our way of connecting with our plant babies and, let’s be real, injecting a little magic into the mundane.

    A collection of various houseplants on a sunny windowsill, bathed in warm light.
  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always this way. There was a time when my thumbs were decidedly not green – more like a questionable shade of brown. I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. You know, the plant that thrives on neglect? Yeah, that was me. But then something changed. Maybe it was a global pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, maybe it was just finally being able to afford decent potting soil… whatever it was, I found myself drawn to the allure of houseplants.

    Plant Parent’s Victory

    Fast forward to now, and my apartment looks like a tropical rainforest threw up (in the best way possible). And you know what? I’m weirdly proud of it. Because let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of seeing a new leaf unfurl on that finicky Calathea you’ve been babying for months. It’s a validation of your care, a tiny green victory flag waving in your living room. Suddenly, you understand why those plantfluencers on Instagram are always gushing over their “babies.” (Don’t judge me, you’ll get there too.)

    It’s not just the new growth, though. It’s the entire process. Learning the subtle signs of thirst (droopy leaves? Time for a drink!), deciphering the language of light (direct sun or filtered, oh the drama!), and even the meditative act of repotting (just ignore the dirt under your fingernails, it’s a badge of honor). These are the unexpected joys of plant parenthood, my friends.

    Finding Your Green Therapy: Plants as the Perfect Listeners

    And the best part? Plants are the perfect listeners. Having a bad day? Vent to your Monstera, she won’t judge. Need to celebrate a win? Your ZZ plant will be there, silently cheering you on. They’re the therapists you can’t afford, but with better foliage. Plus, they’ve inspired some truly bizarre conversations in my life. I once spent a solid twenty minutes debating the merits of different fertilizer brands with a stranger at a plant shop. Who even am I?

    Ready to Become a Plant Parent? Embracing the Joys and Challenges

    Look, I get it. Plant parenthood isn’t for everyone. It’s a commitment. It’s messy. It can be downright frustrating at times (I’m looking at you, Peace Lily that just won’t bloom!). But it’s also incredibly rewarding. It’s a connection to nature, a source of calm in a chaotic world, and a constant reminder that even the smallest of things can bring immense joy.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent




    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent


    Confessions of a Budding Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. I became a plant parent for the aesthetic. That lush, verdant Instagram feed? Totally fell for it. Little did I know, my journey into the leafy world would be less “tranquil oasis” and more “daily emotional rollercoaster.”

    It all started with Herbert, my peace lily. I brought him home, placed him by a sunny window, and waited for my home to transform into a tropical paradise. Instead, Herbert just… wilted. Turns out, being a plant parent is less about posing for pictures and more about understanding the silent language of your leafy roommates. So, after a few (dozen) mishaps, I’ve compiled a list of the unspoken rules of plant parenthood. Trust me, your green babies will thank you.

    1. The Thrill of New Growth (and the Agony of Yellow Leaves)

    Rule number one: every new leaf deserves a celebratory dance. Seriously, that tiny sprout signifies growth, resilience, and your undeniable plant whispering skills. Post it on Instagram! Text your mom! You’ve earned those bragging rights.

    On the flip side, a single yellow leaf? Cue the existential dread. Is it overwatering? Underwatering? A rare fungal disease only documented in the Amazon rainforest? Google becomes your best friend (and worst enemy) as you spiral into a research frenzy, convinced you’re one brown spot away from plant homicide.