Persnickity

I stood in the sunny line and as I waited, two different women asked me if I wanted to borrow their jacket to act as shade for the little African Violets. I said no, it was fine. And each time, the women kind of tsk-tsk’d as they walked away.

I didn’t get it.

When I got to the front, the woman taking my $12 asked me if I knew how to care for African Violets…no…water and sun, right?…she pretty much rolled her eyes at me and sighed. In fact, she almost seemed to not want to sell them to me and went on and on about how beautiful and well cared for they were…

Intrigued, I went home to trusty Mr. Google.

Turns out, African Violets are a persnickity little plant.

They need sunlight…but only indirect…they have to be watered daily…but the water has to be room temperature…too cold and they will die…too warm and they will die…the water has to be treated with special African Violet food…and you can’t get any water on the leaves or the flowers, or they will wither up and fall off.

Holy moly.

I seriously considered pulling them out and replanting a less ridiculous plant. But, I bought the special food and followed all the silly little directions.

And my high maintenance plants grew and thrived.

They bloomed and look so sweet in my window.

Every morning I wake up to happy little purple flowers adorning my kitchen and I can’t help but think that the scene looks like something straight out of a magazine.

And it makes me smile.

Because I’m kinda lame like that.

Simple Pleasures.

***

And so goes it with my girls.

Henry was my Sucker Baby.

The kid only ever cried if he was hungry or tired.

Getting him to stop crying was simple. Quick.

I never *ONCE* had to rock him to sleep, shush him up and down the hallway, or do anything else in the middle of the night. He would wake up, I would feed him, put him back down wide awake, and he would go right back to sleep.

Not a peep.

Every. single. time.

Easy baby.

(Okay, aside from the dairy allergy and the heart condition).

So, I wasn’t too stressed about adding a second baby to the brood.

Been there, done that, got the T-Shirt.

Enter in Lucy and Jill.

Persnickity.

They cry a lot more.

And for no apparent reason.

Going to sleep is sometimes Mission: Impossible.

They want to be held.

Always.

Both of them.

Falling asleep in someone’s arms? Guaranteed they will wake up when you set them down.

I’ve been known to wear a path in my hallway in the wee hours of the night.

It’s as if I’ve never done this before.

It’s not so much that I get frustrated with them…that’s not the right word…it’s shocking how much patience I have…considering I don’t have very much in everyday life…but I just get…WEARY.

They wear their mama and daddy out some days.

I find myself falling into bed every night. Asleep before I’ve even hit the pillow.

Yet, as they grow and their little thighs gain darling little rolls and grins can be coaxed out, I fall in love.

And they make me smile.

Simple Pleasures.