The confessions of a recovering chaos plant mum
🌱 Chapter One: The Great Basil Disaster
Let me paint you a picture: it’s 2019, I’ve just moved into a new flat, and I’m absolutely certain I’m about to become that person. You know, the effortlessly chic urban jungle dweller. Terracotta pots everywhere, fiddle leaf fig in the corner, and a basil plant growing proudly on the kitchen windowsill.
I buy said basil plant from the supermarket (you know the one — droopy, crammed into a plastic sleeve, full of ambition and false hope). I name it “Barry.” I love Barry. I water Barry. And then I water Barry again. And again. Until one day Barry smells… off. And begins to melt.
Turns out: basil hates soggy roots, steam, and indirect gaslighting in the form of too much affection. I killed Barry with kindness, and a complete lack of drainage. I tried to repot him. He disintegrated in my hands. I held a private service. The windowsill remained bare for months.
🪴 Chapter Two: My Fiddle Leaf Fig Phase
The next phase of my delusion? The fiddle leaf fig. Because I thought, “How hard can it be?”
Reader: very.
Figs are basically houseplant divas. They hate being moved. They hate cold air. They hate being breathed on wrong. Mine dropped a leaf every time I blinked.
I kept it alive for six months. During this time, I became obsessed with misting it, rotating it, and googling “how to make my fiddle leaf fig happy” at 2 a.m.
Eventually, it staged a slow dramatic exit. It’s now in plant heaven, where the lighting is perfect and no one plays with the thermostat.
💪 Chapter Three: Survivors of the Great Plant Massacre
When I was ready to give up entirely, two absolute legends entered my life:
- The Snake Plant (a.k.a. Mother-in-Law’s Tongue)
- The ZZ Plant
These are not plants. These are warriors. I forgot to water them for a month and they said nothing. I moved them around and they shrugged. They sat in the dark corner of my living room and thrived.
When my toddler knocked one of them off a shelf, it broke in half… and then grew a new leaf. I started tearing up. These plants are the real MVPs of plant parenting.
Buy one if you’re busy, chaotic, and prone to giving things too much love, then forgetting they exist.
☕ Chapter Four: How It’s Going Now
I’m not saying I’m a plant expert now — far from it. But I have stopped crying in garden centres. I’ve started actually learning what the plants need, instead of assuming they all want to sit in my kitchen and be watered daily like house guests.
I have a shelf that isn’t just a plant ICU anymore. My monstera has three new leaves. My pothos is trailing like it’s starring in a shampoo commercial. And yes, I have a second basil. His name is Basil 2.0, and he’s currently thriving in a self-watering pot (progress!).
Most importantly: I’m learning that houseplants aren’t about perfection — they’re about growth. Yours and theirs.
🪴 Final Thoughts
So if you’re just starting out and you’ve already overwatered three things and possibly scorched a fourth — you are my people. Grab yourself a snake plant, invest in a proper pot, and remember: we all start somewhere. The point isn’t to be perfect. It’s to keep growing.
Even if you’re growing slowly.