Do Not Trust a Good Mother with Your Pets or Plants (Shout Out to Shanghai)

I have a friend and coworker who recently moved to Shanghai and will spend about a year there working for our company. We used to sit right next to one another so we got to know each other fairly well.

When she left, wanting to do something nice for her, I volunteered to care for her plant while she was gone. What was I thinking? Deep down, I knew better. When the plant was left in my charge, it was beautiful. Vibrant healthy. At a minimum, it had leaves.

Today, this plant is barely a shadow of its former self. I have failed miserably. This would not be blogworthy if it weren't for the fact that I used to have such a remarkable green thumb. Before I was married, I had a great number of beautiful plants and herbs in my home. They were all thriving. Today I get one plant (that I really wanted to take good care of) and within a few months, it's at death's door. So I've been thinking about this. And I have a theory.

The theory says this: Once a woman becomes a mother, her desire (and even possibly her ability) to care for any beings other than her children decreases significantly. This applies most certainly to plants, dogs, and cats and could also apply to other common pets, flora, and fauna. I have taken an informal poll and at least among the mothers in my circle, it always holds true. The consensus seems to be that when one spends all one's energy all day long taking care of other smaller humans, and to varying degrees a spouse, and finally (and it seems always lastly) oneself, plants and pets are officially kicked to the curb.

In a nutshell, next to a baby, that dog is just not as cute anymore. Next to a toddler, that cat really cannot compete. Who has the patience to throw sticks and pick up hairballs when they've already been running around a playground and wiping butts and noses all day? Plants don't have a chance.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend was here for a visit from Shanghai. The plant just sat there on my desk. A giant matzah ball. Just hanging out there. And neither one of us said anything about it. We stood at my cube. We talked. We laughed. We went to lunch.

The plant mustered what energy he has left in his single brown and nearly lifeless vine. He loomed on my desk, screaming at her every time she walked by. "Save me!" Give me to someone else! Take me to Shanghai, for the love of God!" But my friend, graceful as she is, ignored his pleas. Clearly, her intention is to let the plant die in deference to my dignity. Thank God.

That's one big green leafy matzah ball.