Ladies & Gentlemen . . . May I Have Your Attention Please

I'm not sure if it's genetics or something else entirely, but I have never been a self-motivated person. I am creative and talented and all this other stuff, but my lack of will power and ambition has lead me into a life of, well, mediocrity.

I am a good parent, but not a remarkable one, though I know that I could be. I love to write and have started several projects, but apparently I need a publisher shoving deadlines down my throat before I could ever complete something. Sad thing is, no one will publish someone who has never been published, therefore I have to finish something, publish it, then get a publisher . . . hmmmmm. Before Bonnie was born, I was very happy with how I looked. While I was pregnant with Bonnie, I was even happier. I was one of those lucky ladies that's absolutely adorable when pregnant. After I had little miss B, however, my body revolted and I suddenly started gaining weight in places I've never had an ounce of fat before. Two and a half years and thirty pounds later, I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror. But have I done anything about it? Of course not. That would require a commitment to diet and exercise. That would mean I would have to set goals and strive to achieve them ALL BY MYSELF . . . who does that?! Certainly not me.

This is not me making excuses for myself, this is me admitting that I have a problem. After all, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem in the first place, right? My problem is that I depend on others for my motivation. And now, as I rapidly approach some major changes in my life (turning 30, leaving the military, etc.) I look back and see all this time well wasted.

What's the point of all the rambling, you ask? Well, my very first post was about my Rita Project. As I'm sure you've guessed by now, I haven't exactly made any head-way on it. I sat down and made a list of things I wanted to get out of my project, but I built the whole thing around the unrealistic idea that other people in my life would want to shift their focus from what they want, to what I want. But now I've come to realize that I can't depend on anyone else to help me accomplish my little goals. And I've also come to realize that all my reasons for NOT doing what I want to do aren't reasons at all, just excuses. So, rather than hoping my kids will stick to the schedules I've made all by themselves, I'm going to stick to my own schedule, which will force them to do what I want them to, when I want them to (I <3 the power of motherhood). Rather than expecting my husband to rise before the sun and drag my fat behind out of bed to work out, I'm just gonna do it myself.

Before now, I convinced myself that working towards my own goals was selfish. Take this blog for example. It's not that I'm short on subjects to write about, it's just that taking time out of every day to write meant I was taking time away from my kids and/or my husband. What are they doing now? They're reading. Do they need me for that? Of course not. And what about Bonnie? She's perfectly content with NickJr at the moment. Yes, shame on me for turning the television on, but they claim it's pre-school on TV. And she can say "hello" in Chinese. So from this day forward, when Luke and Annabelle retreat to their room to read and work on independent study projects, I will turn on educational, commercial free programing for Bonnie so that I can write. And I will NOT feel guilty about it.

From this day forward, we won't eat out when I've had a horribly long day and don't feel like cooking. There will also be no more quick trips to the store for snacks and soda's. I'll suck it up and cook, or I'll make someone else suck it up and cook. If I need a snack, I'll have an apple or granola bar or whatever else I always force the kids to eat but never eat them myself. When it's nice out, we'll go for a walk . . . with Bonnie in the backpack on my back. The kids will learn the value of exercise when I do. If it's not nice out, I'll go to the gym. If that means everyone has to hang out at the house sulking until mom gets home, then so be it. Or they can join me. They may gripe and moan, but again, I will not feel guilty. Because after all, if I like myself a little more, I may just like them a little more, too.

From this day forward, I clean the house on MY schedule. Brace yourselves kids, because this is going to mean that mom may be vacuuming at 8am Saturday. It also means that I may be in my room putting away laundry or dusting when I would have, in the past, been parked on the couch watching one of our many "shows".



So here's to a little selfishness. And to taking a couple hours out of every day for myself, to make myself happier, and maybe making everyone else a little happier in the process.

SCREAM

So a few weeks ago I was cast in the role of Charlie Brown's school teacher in Peanuts. I've been playing the role daily. Unfortunately, no one told me this. I've been talking and talking and talking and all that's been coming out is "Wha wha wha wha.... wha wha wha." I feel honored to have been given the opportunity to play this iconic character, but it would have been much less frustrating if someone had informed me before dubbing the wha wha's over my actual words.

When I decided to add the title of "homeschooler" to my long list of domestic responsibilities, I had no idea it would be so exhausting. Difficult . . . . yes. Time consuming . . . . very much so. I fully expected there to be bad days and good. I was completely aware that I would be taking what little "me time" I had and chucking it out the window. I also knew that having a two year old around wasn't going to simplify anything. I worked very hard at being realistic from the start. While I was excited about the prospect of teaching my children what, how, when and where I wanted to, I did my best to keep my feet firmly planted in the idea that homeschool definitely means freedom, but it also ties you down. And I was totally okay with that.

However, I was completely unprepared for the day when my kids would master the ability to block out everything I say. And it's not just ignoring, because that's something I can deal with. If I tell someone to pick up their shoes and ten minutes later I trip over said shoes, that's okay. Shoes can be hidden in undisclosed locations until the aforementioned child desperately needs them in order to play with friends or attend a scout meeting. Don't feel like picking up your toys when I ask? That's okay, too! Toys like to go on adventures. Sadly, they often wonder into the uncharted waters of the Bermuda Triangle (aka the garage sale box in the shed). But this new type of blockade I'm fighting is perplexing. If you want to get done with your math so that you can do art or read, why not just listen to good ole' Mom and do it how she showed you? Why sit there and stare at the page, accomplishing absolutely nothing all because the three times I explained it, you chose not to listen. You know that every day at 2:45 the other neighborhood kids are coming home from school. You know that at 3, you're allowed (if it's not STILL raining) to go outside and play with the other neighborhood kids. So why, may I ask, are you still sulking at 2:15 about having to do your botany project when you've had all day to finish it? In fact, if you hadn't ignored me when I was physically showing you how to do it, and if you hadn't ignored me when I was telling you an hour had passed and you hadn't made progress, and if you hadn't ignored me when I told you that you wouldn't be getting lunch until you at least TRIED to finish, you'd be on your way out the door right now! AUGH!

Don't get me wrong, I know that my kids won't understand everything all the time. As a mom, I've been blessed with the ability to know the difference between when they genuinely don't understand something and when they're stonewalling me. When they really don't get it, I am very patient (even though sometimes it's hard to be with an incredibly stubborn 9 year old girl), and I do everything in my power to make it easier for them to understand what it is that they need to be doing. Contrary to how most of this post sounds, they've actually been doing very well with homeschooling. Luke is blazing through every subject and usually finishes an entire days work in just a couple hours. Annabelle is getting there, but like me, she has a hard time with math. It takes her a little longer to grasp new ideas and she has a hard time with memorization of things like multiplication tables. I'm trying to be creative and come up with new ways to help her learn, but the ugly truth is that basics are basics and if she ever wants to attend college, she'll have to take the SAT and college algebra. So we soldier on . . . .

But this new behavior is wearing me out. I don't mind repeating myself because you didn't quite fully comprehend when I explained it the first time, but having to say the same things over and over and over because you chose not to hear me is something else all together. I blame the weather. The rain is my enemy at this point. It's been raining for months on end and the kids (and frankly myself, too) are getting cabin fever. We would all gladly walk over hot coals if it meant getting out of the house for a few days. The sun finally came out last Friday and stayed for about 24 hours. We soaked up every possible minute of it. But much to every one's dismay, it retreated and the rain returned and the forecast for the rest of the week is dark and damp.

The best thing about homeschooling is that it doesn't have to have much structure. You don't have to sit in a desk all day. Learning can be an adventure! But the most difficult thing about homeschooling kids who have been chained to a desk for the first four years of their educational lives is helping them realize that you don't have to go to a school building or work out of books all day in order to learn. Truthfully, it's hard to teach this to adults, too. Kids need to experience life, not just learn about it.

One day, my kids will understand that anyone, including their mother, can teach. That a fancy degree from fancy college doesn't make you a good teacher, nor does the absence of a fancy degree make you a bad one . . . or not one at all. They'll understand that making pancakes, working in the garden, going to the art museum and playing football are all educational. When someone asks them why they're at the grocery store instead of in school, they'll reply, "This is math class." Until then, we'll battle and butt heads, and I'll continue to do my best to shrug off the nay-sayers when my kids respond to the question about what they did that day with, "Nothing. Mom made us run errands."

I'm Goin' Down to the St. James Infirmary.....

Last week, I honestly thought I wasn't going to make it to Friday. As each day passed and the federal budget crisis reached it's climax with the near certain government shutdown looming, I lost more and more sleep. I started every day by taking two Excedrin with about four cups of coffee. And not that weak Folgers stuff either, but good ole' Dunkin' Dark.
A couple weeks back, I planned a surprise date night for Chris and I. We hadn't done anything special in, well, probably since the last time we saw the Nutcracker in Amarillo which was over nine years ago. Yes, we've been on date nights since then (I'm not THAT bad a wife), but it's always been the stereotypical dinner and a movie. If you're married, you know the kind of evening that becomes.
(As you're climbing in the car, kid free for the first time in months)
"Soooo, where would you like to eat?"
"I don't care, I'm just starving. Wherever you want, babe."
"Ugh... I really don't care either. (short pause) Is there anything in particular you DON'T want?"
"No, not really. Like I said, I'm just starving. I could eat anything."
(long pause while each one hopes the other just suddenly gets a VERY specific craving)
"Chinese?"
"Ummm... anything else?"
"Italian?"
"Ehh"
"Seafood?"
"No, that doesn't really sound good tonight."     So much for not caring.......
"Well I don't know. I really don't care so you pick since I gave you options and you shot them down."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No.... just trying to figure out what it is that you DO want."
"I don't care."     AAAUGHHH!!!!!

After about ten minutes of driving around aimlessly, trying to not get too frustrated and ruin the only night you've had away from the kids in about seven months, you give in and go to an old stand by, somewhere lame that has something for everyone, like Chili's or TGIFriday's for instance.

An hour later you've started chewing on your mediocre steak, you're still waiting on that refill but your waitress is too distracted by the table full of frat boys who are so loud you can't hear yourself chew much less hear your spouse, when the next "date killer" question rears its ugly head.
"So, what do you want to do after this?" is yelled across the table.
"I don't know, what do you want to do?"

This, of course, is a lie. You know exactly what you want to do. You want to go hear an amazing band play live in an equally amazing little dive downtown. You want to escape to the waterfront and just sit in silence, listening to the waves lap up on the shore. You want to run as fast as you can from that sorry excuse for a restaurant and go somewhere trendy... or quiet... or not quiet but not obnoxious and just all-around dripping with awesomeness. But, sadly enough, you don't get out much. Between kids and work and the house and everything else that goes on every day, you have no time to sit in coffee bars and chat about the last show at Engine House No. 9, or research food blogs all day to find out precisely which little French restaurant in the Pearl District has the most "to DIE for" pots de creme. It's pathetic, really, especially living in the cultural mecca that is the I-5 corridor.

"Want to see a movie?"     Do I? No. Do you? Probably not, but I got nothin'.
"Sure!" (said with surprise at your sudden decisiveness)

And of course, as you pull out your smart phone (an oxymoron in my opinion), the frustration mounts.

"Here are our options: Saw XXVIIIIIIIIII, talking animals, another Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy that just makes me feel really sorry for her, some movie about sex, and several movies with B actors shooting each other and blowing stuff up."

By the end of the evening, all you want to do is go home. Of course it has nothing to do with the time you were able to spend with each other, but more about spending $100 (or more if you have three kids at $5 per hour EACH) when staying home and cooking steaks on the grill and settling down to an old classic like Tombstone or Bad Boys 2 or even Sweet Home Alabama would have been much more satisfying.

This is exactly the situation I wanted to avoid. I wanted a "for real" date night. The kind that requires thought and planning. So I thought....and I researched....and I thought more... and did even more research until I finally settled on an evening at the historic Pantages Theater in downtown (hip, trendy) Tacoma. I purchased tickets for the most popularly reviewed live music/dance show, "Ma Maison", by the Trey McIntyre Project featuring the pentacle of New Orleans jazz, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. I googled them, I downloaded their music, I was hooked. I could not wait for April 8th to get here.

Until April 6th got here, then April 7th. The stooges up on Capitol Hill still hadn't gotten over themselves and figured out a budget that would include pay checks for soldiers. I kept telling myself (and ALL my friends and family that were calling) that everything was going to be ok. We'd make it work. God would provide. But as it came down to the wire, April 8th was looking more bad than good. I was afraid to get my nails done like I wanted because what if we didn't get paid. I had Chris cut my hair (he did an excellent job by the way) instead of going to my usual place because what if we didn't get paid. I really wanted to get a new dress or (more like and) shoes, but didn't because what if we didn't get paid.

I was laying awake staring at my phone on the nightstand when its alarm went off at 6:30 the morning of April 8th. I so wanted to bounce out of bed in excitement, but I couldn't. I rolled out, quietly found my way to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. That entire morning, my stomach was in knots. The tickets were non-refundable, but maybe they'd make an exception for poor military folk. Or maybe I could sell them on Craigslist. But I really didn't want to. I REALLY wanted to go! The whole situation was only made worse when someone somewhere remembered that soldiers pay checks have to be cut by noon on the 8th of every month and hopped online to check their LES (that's Leave and Earnings Statement for all you non-military folks) only to discover that the midnight deadline the feds had given themselves didn't really matter. We had already lost half our pay. Chris texted me this awesome news as soon as he found out and within minutes my facebook page was splattered with angry posts from Army friends.

I stood in my kitchen with a decision to make. Let this situation continue to literally make me sick and exhausted, or listen to my own advice and let go and let God. I took a deep breath, prayed a short prayer asking God to bless us and our friends during this difficult time, then gathered up the kids and happily delivered lunch to Chris. Everything was going to be ok. When we got to the hospital to drop off the food, even better news arrived! If I didn't mind hanging out for a few minutes, Chris could come with us. Of course I didn't mind! For one, Bonnie was asleep which hardly ever happens and secondly, I'd never pass up an opportunity to spend time together as a whole family (or pass up help at the grocery store). We ran our errands, came home and got ourselves all spiffy, fixed dinner for the sitter and all the kids, then headed out the door on our date.

Surprisingly, it was the least stressed I'd felt in a very long time. I didn't tell Chris where we were going or what we were doing. I programed my GPS to give directions to the parking garage, but that was it. I do believe he was genuinely surprised and excited when he realized we were going to the Pantages. Since the tickets were already purchased, he had no idea what we were going to see until I spilled the beans right as the house lights were signaling that it was time for everyone to take their seats.

We were up in the nose bleed section because I could only afford the $40 tickets and not the $80 ones, and we were squeezed between two groups of old people and could barely breath much less stretch out... but none of that mattered because it was everything I hoped it would be. The music was probably the best live performance I've heard and the dancers were phenomenal. The sounds, the colors, the movement..... finally, all-around dripping with awesomeness : )

We sat together holding hands while everyone else left for intermission. As I was about to consider getting out my phone to check the news, Chris' went off. A friend had texted him to let him know a budget had been passed. We'd be getting paid!

We came home to a very happy Ingrid (our sitter, whose husband is currently in Germany waiting on his orders to bring her and the kids over). She had heard the good news as well, so we adults partook in a good old fashioned rum and coke, completely oblivious to the chaos of five kids who were not supposed to be awake. Ingrid and the kids crashed on the couch that night and when my alarm went off at 6:30 Saturday morning, I don't even remember shutting it off. We ALL slept great : )

If "Ma Maison" is ever in your backyard, take the time to go see it. Even if you might not get paid.

Things I've Learned So Far....

This is an ever-changing post. As I conquer life's obstacles, I plan on sharing the things I learn along the way. Newest posts will be added to the top : )

Everything, all the time . . . it's too much for even me.

Sometimes it's perfectly acceptable to shoot the messenger 
I've come to realize that the saying "If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy" doesn't mean that everyone needs to go out of their way to make Momma happy, but rather Momma needs to work hard to keep herself good and happy, that way everyone around her will be good and happy too

There's literally a song for everything, and life is so much more enjoyable when you dance to it

The world just might end if there were no more Excedrin Migraine

My husband does an excellent Grover

You get what you give

Always smile

In an argument, the 2 year old always wins

Do what makes you feel good, the rest will fall into place

Starting and ending the day with prayer really does help

It's the little, every day things that matter, not the big, once-in-a-while things

"I'm bored" means "Mom, get off the computer/out of the kitchen and do something with me."

You can't mold your children into what YOU want them to be, but you can help them become the best THEY can be

Don't call it a "family vacation" because the word vacation implies rest and relaxation, which is something mom's never get when the whole family is involved. Instead, call it a "family adventure," that way you're prepared for anything, including the fatigue that will overwhelm you when you finally return home.

What's black & white & red all over?

"A newspaper."
I assume my past experience as a K-5er is working in my favor on this one.
"A zebra that's been mauled by a LION! Hahaha! April Fools!"

Maybe it's the fact that I spent ALL of April Fools Day with a nine and ten year old, or that I've spent every day of the last four cold, cloudy, wet months couped up in the house with said nine and ten year old, but the jokes are actually starting to get funny! Even though they're the same Laffy Taffy wrapper jokes you and I told as little kids.
By 8:30am on April 1st, I was ready to officially declare it April 2nd. I had been told that the new Harry Potter movie was releasing early.... April Fools! That someone clogged the toilet..... April Fools! That Mary Pope Osborne was doing a spin off of the Magic Tree House books..... April Fools! And the list goes on and on and on. I kept repeating over and over in my head, "Be a good parent. Laugh and say, 'You got me!'" But it was really starting to annoy the ever lovin' crap out of me.
Then I noticed something. As I banged around in the kitchen trying to get breakfast ready and forcing myself to laugh at jokes that, honestly, I wasn't even listening to, the kids were getting even more giggly. So giggly in fact, that they could hardly tell their jokes or play their "pranks" without busting up laughing before they even reached the punch line. Then Bonnie, my two year old, got in on the action. She had no idea why they were laughing but she was cracking up right along with them. So now they're all laughing at each other, which inevitably leads to making funny faces and the hiccups. My hope that I could get them to sit down and do their math went straight out the window, but I didn't really care, because now I was laughing right along with them. And not fake laughing, but real laughing.
So maybe that's it..... maybe THAT'S the secret to finding joy in an already happy life. Just fake it until you find it. Smiles are contagious, right? So just maybe if you fake a smile, a real smile will come back around to you : )