A day or two late — I know.
My kids made me feel like a queen on Sunday. They brought food for a wonderful meal, gifts, and a dozen of the most beautiful roses. They said I was the best mother on earth. They repaired things, re-staked a tree that keeps falling in the AZ winds, and grilled.
Yesterday, I woke up and felt like the worst mother on earth as I gazed longingly at the beautiful cream colored roses. Almost a blush color – just a hint of pink. Lovely to look at. Lovely to smell. Wilting before my eyes.
Instead of plucking out the two that looked the worst, I decided to help them all. I took them out of the vase, cut the stems (under water) at an angle so they could absorb more moisture. One site I read said roses are mostly water. Place them in the bathtub and let them rest under water for an hour and they will perk up. Put them in the refrigerator when you’re going to be away. Add a concoction of sugar, vinegar, bleach — you name it!
So I did…
I came home a few hours later to find all of them distressed and unhappy. I had to move all of the food in the refrigerator and remove two shelves in order for them to fit. I placed them into the cool dark space and removed them a few hours later. Not looking any better!
This morning, I removed three, changed the water, and cut their stems one last time. I put sugar into the water (I could not figure out the bleach or vinegar suggestion). I placed a rubber band around the remaining 9 roses, and they are on the kitchen counter – still looking sad but hanging in there.
Murderer, I said to myself. Butcher. Bad mother. Can’t even keep flowers alive for 3 or 4 days. I do not deserve roses. And I can’t tell the kids. So the picture I’m adding here is of their first day in my house, shortly after arriving in what would become their dungeon of death.
Next year, please bring chocolate instead!