What can I say? Nothing much...

The "school year" is almost over, which affects us as homeschoolers more than I would have thought before I started doing it. 

Mal's one-day-a-week school and homeschool open gym both break for the summer. I'm looking into other things to keep him busy... but hopefully low-cost/free things because it's now been a whole freaking year since James got laid off, and he doesn't seem much closer to finding a job than he did a year ago. Difference now is we've obviously blown through the severance package, and his unemployment ran out quite some time ago.

I'm doing some mystery shopping again, and that's been kind of fun. This weekend, James got to go to this fancy barber shop and have a bunch of cool treatments. 

If you're wondering, "Hey, is that paraffin wax on his hands?" Yes. Yes, it is.

Mal and I did a trampoline shop a couple of weeks ago, I ate at a nostalgic restaurant with D last weekend, and I've done some visits to places like day cares and dog kennels that have paid pretty well. It's not a lot of money, but it's more than nothing.

Today is Mal's annual well checkup, so we're getting ready to go see if he's still on the growth arc he's consistently followed since his first checkup. Allegedly, he's on course to be 6 feet tall!

Speaking of Mal growing up... He posted his first animated video the other day! I'm not embedding it here (you have to click this link) because if you see it, we want it to "count" as a view, and it only does that on YouTube. I think it's pretty great!

Today was weird

First, James's company laid off 15% of their staff. Then James went in for an emergency dentist's visit because one of his fillings was loose and instead of it just coming out, his whole tooth crumbled. He was going to take my car because his needed gas, but he couldn't get it into gear. We've known the transmission was going out for a while and I had planned to take it in this morning, before we had to make a last-minute appointment at the dentist's office.

However, I was able to get the car into gear, so Mal and I dropped it off and walked to a nearby McDonald's to hang out and play until James got done with his three-hour tooth ordeal and picked us up on the way home.

Also, I'd made a late lunch and when we left, I accidentally left the stovetop on. D noticed and turned it off, which is a life-saver. I'd thought to move the beans off of the burner, so they weren't ruined/didn't start a fire.

Furthermore, I have an HEB order on the way right now and decided that since we were across the street form HEB at McD's that I'd just pick it up. I called and learned that delivery isn't always the closest store, where we do curbside.

I don't know. It's just felt weird. James kept his job (for now) and we're grateful. But it's sad to see people go; he's hearing all kinds of stories about people who were just about to put in for maternity leave or have just come back from disability leave or who just closed on a house. I hate it. This economy sucks.

This has been your ray of sunshine for the day. Bleh.

A Bump in the Road

James and I have been "together" for more than ten years now.

Waiting for the bats to come out, September 2012

When we first started dating, and for a couple of years after we got married, we had a lot of differences and issues that we had to work through in order to have a functional relationship. We always liked each other, and we always loved each other, but that didn't mean it was easy. We just wanted it to work enough that we were willing to work.

After that, though, we just had a rhythm. Yes, we had minor disagreements and misunderstandings. But those were just blips in what was otherwise a pretty protracted honeymoon period.

This summer, everything changed. Like a complete shifting of the ground beneath our feet. We still love each other. We still like each other. We still want it to work, so we're putting in the work. But, dang, it is hard. It's been hard for months. It's going to continue to be hard for months.

I hurt James, and knowing that I've done anything other than bring him joy and happiness is absolutely gut-wrenching. His struggle to love me even while being extremely angry is both admirable and hard to watch. At the same time, I'm hurting and mad because I feel like what I did was the only thing I *could* do, and there doesn't seem to be any room for me to be cared for in my own hurt because I'm not grieving and James is. And I love him, and I know it's just a season so I'm not building up any resentments... but what I'm telling you is that it's rough, and sitting in discomfort isn't my strong suit.

Where this becomes different from any other major life shake-up I've had before is this: James and I have an otherwise healthy relationship. I've had huge overhauls in my reality before, but it was typically after months or years of toxicity and estrangement. When something devastating happened, it was easy enough to "paper over" is because there wasn't much to fix and I had turned off caring long before that as a means of protecting myself.

Fighting to love someone and stay present when they're also the source of your pain is a huge undertaking. We both know our family is worth it. It continues to be a daily battle.

Here's what I know, on my side: I love James with all of my heart. I want to see our kids up and out of the house together. I want to empty nest with him. I want to go on long, aimless road trips together and notice silly out-of-the-way things that make us smile. I want us to be able to go out to a restaurant in the middle of the day and not have to worry about getting back to work or finishing up because our kid is getting bored. I want a future where we look back on this time and can see that we're somehow better and stronger for it. This is what keeps me getting out of bed and trying again every morning.

At Mal's friend's birthday party, August 2022

Ennui

In the past year or so, I've had several short bouts with what I think is depression. It comes and goes. (Memo to me: check out Delta-8 gummies.)

Mal has been SUPER into swinging lately. That comes and goes, too... like in his life. It does seem like this time of the year, when it's mostly nice a lot of the day, he wants to spend a lot of time on the swing set. Problem is, he does not know how to swing himself. So there is much asking and begging and cajoling of grown-ups for assistance. Since James works most days, that typically falls to me. One day last week, he was asking me to keep pushing him (even though I already had twice, including the time we were finishing up because I needed to go inside and start on dinner), and I said something that made him cry. It almost made me cry, too, actually. 

I said, "Mal, I love you, and I love to help you do what you want to do. But sometimes I have other things I HAVE to get done. I also have things that I myself want to do, and you know when I get to do them? Never. I don't have any time to do what I want." Now, this was a little exaggeration, and a little mean, though unintentionally. Fact is, I had him because I WANTED a kid, and I wanted to take care of him. Same with the dog. Same with being the designated "homemaker." But in terms of just deciding to do a thing that makes me happy, and then doing that... my life doesn't really allow for much more of that than maybe eating a really good cookie, or watching a television show while I do something else, too.

In thinking about that, I realized that I don't even know what I like to do, or what I'd want to do with free time. Again, I can spend time on my phone throughout the day while I'm sitting with the dog so he'll calm down a bit. I can find pockets of time that randomly show up to do some volunteer work on the computer. But a pottery class? No way. In-person book club? Nope. Even a night out at the movies with a friend? It's just not feasible given how our lives are structured.

Besides, I don't know that, if I had free time, I'd want to do any of those things.

Several people have asked me lately, "What do you like to do in your spare time?" or "What are your hobbies?" And I genuinely don't know. I used to like to write. Now, ehh. I used to like to eat in restaurants. We really haven't done much of that since Mal was born, because he's not a huge "sit in one place for an hour" kind of person. Also, now that I'm out of diet culture, food is not the end-all/be-all it used to be.

All of this might be because it's possible I've entered into perimenopause. 

For the first time since I had Mal, last month, my period was late. Like 2-3 weeks late. I was hoping that I'd just never have another one, but, alas, that is not what happened. When it arrived, it made up for the time it lost, for sure. So maybe also it was heavy on the hormones.

I'm feeling much more balanced this week.

Oh, and we have some cool news coming soon. Maybe even today? Just seemed like it should go in a separate post from this downer. :) So stay tuned!

The Continuing Saga of Money Anxiety

In December 2019, I posted about my "hemorrhaging money" concerns of the day. It's been better since then, but the past few months have been a lot.

First, we had our porches and trim painted early in the year. It wasn't cheap, but it was necessary. 

Then there was the thing with the freeze where everyone had to make preparations and repairs. Fortunately, as far as we know, our only issues were a broken hose bib line (and do-it-myself drywall repairs) and the 500L's windshield. However, we're noticing now that our second-biggest tree in the front yard probably mostly died, as only a few leaves have popped out near the main trunk. The tree was already a hot mess, dropping giant branches every time the wind blew, ever since we lived here. Apparently, that's what chinaberry trees do. But there's a smaller one in the back yard that looks pretty dead-ish, as well. I could cut that one down myself over time; the one in the front yard is going to be expensive to remove. And we might have to pay $100 just to get a building permit to remove it! A DEAD TREE!

--Sidebar: The chinaberry also drops TONS of messy berries all over the yard and roof all seasons of the year. It rained several inches last weekend, and James and I had noticed the time before when it rained that there was water pouring out of the end of one of the gutters. This weekend, I noticed that NONE was coming out of the downspout. We decided to clear it out mid-rain because it was was supposed to continue to storm all weekend. When we work on the gutters, it's my job to clear them out, and James's to hold the ladder so I don't pull a Pappy (as me about this inside joke, if you're not familiar). I reached down and found a big muddy ball of chinaberries damming up the downspout. I pulled them out, and ALL of the water that had filled the entire gutter SHOT OUT of the downspout... slamming right into my ladder anchor, AKA James. We were in the rain anyway, but he got it a lot worse than I did. Not having that problem would be a balm to losing a mature tree from the front yard.--

James has a new hobby and has been buying tools and material for that. This is a good thing! He never had time to pursue an activity with regularity when he had to commute. Like, he could brew a beer or make some cheese every year or two, but he's getting to hone his woodworking skills most days, and that's pretty cool for him.

I bought a bunch of supplies for our future dog. Rudy had to get mouth surgery. Now Aish has some weird scabby things and is going to the vet tomorrow.

Then my camera broke. I decided not to spend too much to replace it because, geez with the spending money. I bought a much less expensive replacement. And the pictures sucked. So I bought a more expensive replacement, only soothing myself that for $300, I get a 5-year no-questions-asked replacement warranty (if I'd had one with my old camera, I could have replaced it at no cost; I had it just over 4 years when I dropped it and it landed at an awkward angle, cracking the housing... but already the LCD screen had stopped working, and there was some lining coming loose in the lens).

We had to add a rider to our homeowners insurance when I realized that our solar panels were not covered by our general policy. Our property taxes are set to go up quite a bit this year because the valuations are so much higher now that the real estate market is bonkers. It's entirely possible that our insurance is going to go up because the cost for construction materials has tripled over the past year. That means our house is likely under-insured and the provider will notice that soon, especially if the mortgage-holder points it out to them.

So.

I decided to try to be more conservative in my spending, and cut back. I informed James of the situation. I've even talked to Mal about it, because he always wants more stuff.

We were all on the same page.

Then D wanted to get a twin bed, downsizing from a queen to have more floor space. I was fortunate to find a frame and box spring on Buy Nothing, but still bought the top mattress and bedding. Last night, D requested a new desk and office chair. D has been using the computer mostly in bed for the past couple of years, and I think this will really help alleviate some neck pain. So, of course, I went out today and got those things.

The frustrating part is that I feel like James makes "enough" money that I shouldn't feel this much uncertainty. But it definitely seems like it's always something, and I wonder what we'd do if James didn't have the job he has now.

I also wonder if my preoccupation has to do with a scarcity mentality left over from genuinely not having enough to make ends meet. Regardless, I hate the feeling that money flies away, out of our control.

I've thought about money a LOT this past year, especially as the pandemic revealed and worsened the financial gaps in our society. We were definitely one of the lucky families who kept up employment and were able to stay in our house. There's no reason for this. There's no moral explanation for why a computer programmer's job is safe during a global outbreak, and a bunch of servers' jobs aren't.

When we had the porch painted, I was talking to some people from church about it, and how it was a maintenance item that ignoring would have lead to the need for more significant interventions down the road, but how guilty I felt spending what we did when some people don't have anywhere to live. Our ministry intern basically said, "The problem is a society where individuals fall through the cracks and can't get help. It's not one person's keeping up their property that means someone else gets evicted, but there's definitely something wrong when you as an individual feel like any money you spend is threatening someone else's safety."

And he's right, but he's also wrong. Money is a zero-sum game. The money I have is necessarily not had by someone else. We try to be generous, and I often struggle with feelings both that we're not doing enough to help other people, and that we really can't do any more without jeopardizing our own ability to live and react to unplanned expenses. 

This week, I've heard several things that make me realize, "Oh, yeah, we are NOT the rich people."

There was a story on Code Switch about a demand sent out by some black Vermonters last year telling their white neighbors to go ahead and start on some reparations by sending money directly to individuals' CashApp accounts (which I completely support, by the way). I loved how the notice was worded. It boiled down to, "You might think you can give $50 and not feel it, but you need to feel it. You should give enough that it impacts your own financial status." I mean, that's what wealth distribution is all about. And some people really took this seriously. One couple immediately gave away $1000 each to four different people. Then they discussed, "What does it look like if we give $20,000? Or $200,000?"

What?! One of them was in a post-graduate program! And they have $200,000 cash AT ALL, much less that they might be able to give away? Okay, no, we're NOT rich.

We couldn't afford a second home, not for vacations and not even for rental investment. Heck, we couldn't even afford another property. In fact, if we had to buy our own home today, we could not!

Oh, then I had a gentleman (the generous guy who gave me the twin box spring and frame) tell me off-handedly, "I've spent quite a bit of time in Asia, and..."

Well, unless James got transferred, we couldn't afford to spend "quite a bit of time" in Asia (though I'd certainly love to!).

A couple who is in a community group to which I belong recently sent out a picture of a trip he and his wife had taken to Botswana where you can book this experience where they set up a bed for you in the middle of the desert so you can star-gaze all night. Like they put a brass bed out there, make it up, put rugs on both sides, and cart you out there. It sounds amazing. I can't imagine how much the whole trip must cost. We're just not at a place to be able to do that, either.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Basically, I guess, living is expensive, and we're lucky that we can scrape by, and it's not fair that some people can't while others have $150 billion. I heard someone on the radio say that they didn't believe in an all-powerful god because if there were one, it was the worst planner ever: "You get a Tesla, you get a tumor." I feel that, and I don't know what to do about it, and I guess sometimes you just have to sit with the discomfort of it.

Unambitious

Every once in a while, I jump onto LinkedIn to see if a person I no longer have access to through other social media has an account there so that I can check in with them. Today, I happened to notice that an old friend of mine had founded a new business, called Beyond Motherhood. Amy's a very neat person, and it's super cool that she's helping women figure out what they want to do with their lives. But a lot of things I have realized about myself recently have helped me know that this site isn't for me. 

For one, there's this quote: "Motherhood is holy work, but the hands-on, active phase only lasts 20-25 years for most women. If you still have half your life left when the kids leave home, doesn’t that make you think you have a purpose beyond motherhood?" When Mal is 25, I will be 67. I will not have half of my life left, unless medicine progresses ridiculously rapidly over the next couple of decades. (I know this is one reason she said "most" and not "all." Then there's the moms of special needs kids. And the ones who become grandmas raising grandkids. Etc.)

Beyond that, though... I have this pattern of basically not caring about jobs. I mean, I'm an over-achiever and if I have a job, I'll do what I need to do, and I will try to do it very well. I will probably even do more than is strictly necessary. But I've never had ambitions, or fantasies about a dream career.

Well, I wanted to be an astronaut until I realized that you had to have uncorrected 20/20 vision (at the time; this has changed) and it broke my heart. Then I wanted to be an actor until I was in college and saw what some people had to do to get jobs. Then I realized, "Oh, I don't want it *that* bad." And I'm not talking about anything super shady, just the networking and knowing who to know and interrupting someone's dinner plans to insist on an audition.

My first job, at age 16, was at a Kentucky Fried Chicken, or KFC for you young 'uns. I was very bad at being able to tell the chicken breasts from the chicken thighs, and I got so stressed working the drive-through. I could not focus on a conversation with the person in front of me while also taking an order over the headphones. And I could NOT upsell. "Would you like a hot buttered corn-on-the-cob with that?" If they wanted it, I'm sure they would have ordered it. Fortunately, I got strep and my doctor told my mom it was probably from the filthy environment there, so I got to quit after six weeks.

Next, I worked at a grocery store. I did bagging at first, then went to (I kid you not) checker's school. I learned the codes for 200 different produce items, how to count up change in case something went wrong with the register's calculations, and also that I had to call someone to help me when someone bought alcohol, because I was too young to sell it. I worked with a good friend, and that was fun. 

Then I got what I felt was an upgrade and worked at TCBY for the remainder of my high school years. I adored that job. People who are going out for frozen yogurt are rarely in a bad mood. And we got to eat as much yogurt as we wanted, for free.

When I was in college, I worked at a baby and pregnancy clothing boutique, then a day care, and finally at Sonic. I LOVED working at Sonic. I was a carhop, so I got to be outside. I learned that if you're really nice and they're having a good day, sometimes people will tip you a generous amount. Man, what a wake-up call that was, and I apologize to every carhop I had as a teen because I genuinely had no idea.

After I graduated college (with a BA in theater, so that was a lucrative choice), people seemed shocked that I didn't immediately quit Sonic. I got tired of being asked, "When are you going to get a 'real' job?" so I applied for a starter position with the local newspaper, which was owned by the media group for which my dad worked as their HR director. In my interview, my boss told me, "I'm going to be honest with you: you're getting this job because of your maiden name."

So I was working in an office... but because of the Sonic tips, I was making LESS money. I felt like I'd been duped by the idea that somehow office work was more mature or honorable than running food.

The next job I had was because we moved, and I quit the newspaper. I signed up as a substitute teacher in the then-small town of Siloam Springs. It was irregular and stressful, and after one day subbing at a junior high, I called the office and told them I'd do elementary or high school but NEVER jr. high ever again.

Then we moved to Las Vegas, and I got a job working at Sam's Club. I was at the registers first, then worked freezer/cooler for couple of years. When the company decided that I was too much trouble and wanted me out (I had a problematic coworker and kept reporting him for creating a hostile work environment with his incessant sex talk), they moved me to electronics with no training, and let me flounder answering questions about computers about which I had no specialized experience. Then they wrote me up when I wasn't "the same employee" I'd been when I was helping customers locate the frozen chicken I'd just stocked an hour beforehand.

The job I got after this was the one I had the longest: I started in a temp-to-hire position as a receptionist for Terra West Property Management. I got fully hired, served as the receptionist for a few years, took a blip of time off to work as an "expediter" for one of our tech vendors (I had to call the lead tech up every morning and make sure he was awake and out of bed to be on time for his appointments). Then I returned to Terra West as a property manager. I got my real estate license, and enjoyed the work enough... but I didn't take it nearly seriously enough for one of our biggest clients. He insisted at one point that the company fire me, which they did not. But they did bury me far away from him in a completely different department. I worked as the main internal tech person at the company for almost a year, before I had D and quit work entirely.

Kind of.

The idea was that I would stay home and D's dad would find a job to make up for our shortfall, as I was the primary bread-winner at the time. That didn't really pan out, so we got a job together working as house parents for Girls and Boys Town of Nevada. Staring a job like that with a 2-month-old was stupid. We lasted half a year.

I was mostly home for 9 years. When we moved to Texas, I signed up to do some mystery shopping. Over time, I signed with more companies and typically had at least 6 jobs a week. I loved it because D could come with me, and I could accept jobs as I willed. I often didn't do the jobs that didn't seem worth it, and I relished the jobs that included things like spending a night at Great Wolf Lodge; or having dinner at Rainforest Cafe, then doing their internal Build-a-Bear. We got to go to Ripley's Believe It or Not! and Mme. Toussaud's Wax Museum. I did a battery of mystery shops at Six Flags once. I'd pack a bunch of fast food jobs in a big old circle around north Texas, and D and I would get food and listen to the Harry Potter audiobooks.

And then something kind of unbelievable happened. I'd been writing skits and things for church for years, and from that ended up with the opportunity to write for commercials and even a television trailer for a reality show called "The Shot" that was to feature former athletes who'd almost made it, and were competing for a second chance. 

But something interesting happened during that time: 1) I didn't really enjoy the writing when I was getting paid. It wasn't as fun as, say, writing this blog. 2) When the paid gigs came, that was cool... but when they didn't I wasn't upset. I'd written some for "Travel Weekly" when I lived in Las Vegas. That was very lucrative. It was infrequent, and I just never thought, "This writing thing is great. I could totally freelance for a living."

When I got divorced, I needed to work. I didn't want D to have to go to school amidst all of the other upheaval, so first I just had friends hire me to do cleaning and organizing. That was going pretty well, and then I got the call from the insurance agency offering me a job as... a receptionist (again!), and with an empty adjoining office for my kiddo. It was perfect.

After I'd been there a while, my boss started encouraging me to get my insurance license. I couldn't legally sign people up for policies unless I had my license, even though I was doing most of the practical work up to actually starting the policy for auto insurance at the time. Eventually, I dragged my feet enough that he gave me a deadline. I studied, and I passed the test on my first try. Minimum score to pass: 70. My score: 70.

They were kind enough to retain me when I moved to Austin, which, as you might imagine, put a dent in my "reception" abilities. I did customer service, virtual filing, and some newsletter and website stuff remotely. My boss again encouraged me to try to sell here in Austin, and he'd move me to commission, and I had the potential to make a lot more money. But I was satisfied with my reliable pay and familiar work.

Once again, I just didn't have higher aspirations. I was content.

I quit that job shortly before I had Mal, and have been full-time mumming ever since.

Then over the past few months, a friend of mine who is a copyeditor has been dropping hints about throwing some work my way. Finally, she told me that she had a book she thought I could help a guy with. I thought about it and talked it over with James, and realized that I had some editing baggage left over from another situation. But when I talked about this with my friend, she took it upon herself to decide that she'd pressured me too much (she hadn't) and that she wasn't going to mention it again.

I was *so* relieved. I wanted to want to do it. I thought the extra money might be nice. I wasn't confident I could commit any more than about 2 hours per day to it, and even then I wasn't sure where I was going to find those 2 hours. 

But I am just pretty satisfied with the pace of my life, and my responsibilities, and don't have any kind of drive to add anything new.

I have another friend who was very frustrated about having been put on light duty with a fire department where she worked after she'd had a baby. She could have stayed home on leave, but she wanted to get back into the action. She told me, "I am not the kind of person who can be satisfied with having gotten a load of dishes done during the day. I need something more." She ended up moving to another fire department so she could do actual fire stuff instead of just dispatch. And I'm glad she's getting the workouts and professional socializing that are so important to her.

I don't have that. I don't have the drive, or the need, or whatever it is that makes people antsy about being home.

When (if) my kids are up and out, I'm not particularly worried about what I'll do. I won't feel "aimless." I can think of MONTHS worth of stuff I could do if my time were strictly my own. I don't feel overwhelmed by the possibilities, or the unknown, and I am not worried that I need to be "more" than I am. I'd say that maybe I'm just lazy, except I'm not. I work hard every day. I guess I'm just not entrepreneurial or ambitious. I don't care what job I have, much, as long as it's not soul-sucking. If we need money, I'll go out and do something where I can work for a day, and come home and do whatever I want. If not, I can volunteer, and to out and take pictures, and maybe live in an RV again. 

I don't think that all people are called to be parents. I am glad that some people have work that they absolutely love so much that it's a big part of who they are. I definitely want my services and food and healthcare and everything else delivered by people who can't imagine what they'd do without their jobs. I appreciate that in the folks who have it. I'm just not one of them.

Speaking of taking photographs, I wanted to share this one because I love it so much. These are a trio of young ladies at a homeschool hangout. I love how "Texan" it looks. And I love how it shows that you can do mostly nothing and have a great time doing it. 

The Other Side of That Coin

I'm well aware that my last post, though full of thrilling twists and turns, was also extremely whiny and self-serving. So please allow me to put here another truth I know to be equal to my own feelings of loneliness in terms of keeping the house and the people in it: I do not pay for it. And THAT responsibility lies solely on the shoulders of my husband.

Simply: I do not possess the earning ability to maintain our current living arrangements, and in that way, James is our only hope of staying here in this place that we love (when there isn't machine-operated construction going on both across the street and across the other street, many days simultaneously, resulting in it sounding like it is IN our front rooms). I cannot imagine the weight of that stress.

If James does not like his job, that is unfortunately not the only thing he has to think about. He can't get fed up and just quit. And if he does ever seek out another job, it has to be a certain type of job, mainly exactly what he's doing now and has done since we got married, in one form or another. I think he'd be an amazing educator, but unfortunately, he simply could not bring home the kind of money we need to pay for our relatively inexpensive (for the Austin area) home on a teacher's salary.

Fortunately, he really likes the company he works for now. I definitely want him to be happy with where he spends so much of his time! They feed him two meals a day, too, which actually takes some of the burden off of me in terms of meal prep. Shortly after Mal was born, I was still making breakfast, packing James lunch, and then putting dinner together. I can't imagine doing that now (much less when Mal was SOOooo much... and I was so frazzled).

I've never been a good "business" person. I've been a "show up and try to do more than they expect" person at any job I've ever had, but I've never worked somewhere that I developed a deep passion for what might become a career for me... except maybe TCBY when I was in high school, but a different shop turned me sour on it when a bunch of weird stuff happened, like my being framed for stealing money, which I quickly disproved by having the manager look on the counter and see that I hadn't even taken the key home and someone else closed up after I left. And NOW, most TCBYs are self-serve, so... well, I'd still probably work there if I needed to make some extra bank. Again, though, that'd be a minimum wage job. I'm basically worthless.

I appreciate James's work ethic, and that he's good at something that lets me stay home with the kids and do what I love to do. I guess it'd just be nice to have an au pair or something who would only come out of their hidey-hole a couple of times a week, and who would work for free.

Now I have to go finish watching them install this septic tank. It's truly fascinating stuff.

How My Frugality Now Looks Different Than a Decade Ago

Right about the time our Instacart came up for renewal, Walmart Grocery started offering delivery to our address (which isn't exactly out in the boonies, but seems like it is to townies). I have no particular affection for the WM, which I partially blame for destroying my first marriage, but... their apps are so reliably functional and the product prices are so much less than Instacart's partner stores'. As what I'm certain is an intentional dig at the grocery delivering giant, Walmart also placed their annual delivery membership at exactly one dollar less than Instacart's.

All of this means that I have not gone to the store to buy ingredients for our cook-at-home meals (5 a week, more or less) in at least a year. It's probably even less, because I was doing Walmart Pickup or HEB Curbside and awful lot before that.

When D was little, I LOVED going grocery shopping. Whereas now, I pick meals from eMeals' offerings and get that stuff, supplementing with snacks and cereal, etc. back then, grocery shopping was a game that I played with great relish.

I clipped every coupon from the Sunday paper, even if I didn't think I'd use it. That was actually pretty cool, because if I were in line behind someone who was getting, say, a particular brand of cat food when I didn't have a cat, I could pass the savings on to them.  People knew I couponed (though I was never an "extreme couponer"), and often gave me extra inserts.

When the grocery sales papers came out on Tuesday, I'd look through and choose which store to visit. We had an Albertson's and a Kroger in Sherman, and I almost always chose Kroger. It was not as "nice," but it was a lot less expensive. Also, Kroger doubled coupons up to $.50 and tripled coupons up to $.35.

I'd look at what items were advertised as on sale that corresponded to my coupons. I'd make a list on the outside of an envelope, and stick the coupons that I definitely planned to use in there, taking the other coupons with me in case I found something in the store that wasn't advertised.

I headed to the store with an open mind, sure that if I found, say, hamburger on sale, I could find some cheap tomato sauce and pasta, and supplement that with a head of lettuce and some boiled eggs as a side salad.

Using this method, I went years without paying for toothbrushes, deodorant, salad dressing, or yogurt. For some reason, those were often both on sale and had coupons that meant I could stock up on several at a time.

I never shied away from perishable clearance items: meat, dairy, prepared produce. If it looked okay in the store, I knew we'd use it before it went south.

At the time, I had an "allowance" of about $400 a month for groceries. I'd try to spend $75 or less during any grocery run, and then have some left over in case we wanted to grab a soda or eat out sometime when I didn't have a mystery shopping job.

When I'd arrive home with a giant haul for just $75, I was proud. I wanted to tell everyone how I'd gotten 4 2-liters of soda for $.50. I know no one really cared, but it was exciting to me.

The main differences between then and now is that, first of all, stores (including my beloved Kroger) stopped bumping the value of coupons. That made the somewhat labor-intensive process of couponing -- some parents got absorbed in their phones when their kids were playing; I often used the down time to go through my accordion wallet of coupons, extracting the expired ones and fronting the ones that were about to run out -- less valuable.

Secondly, I started working, and really had to choose between couponing and mystery shopping. I still wanted to take my kiddo out to a restaurant on a single-parent budget, and got more mileage out of the shops than the coupons.

Thirdly, and most importantly now that I have nothing but leisure time anymore (have you noticed this is the fourth blog post this year??), going to the grocery store with Mal, with the intent of buying a lot of specific products off of a list, is just not fun. When he was little, he was just fussy. Now, he wants to look at toys... and, actually, he's at the age when I could just tell him to look at toys and I'd find him when I was done, which is what I did with D, but substitute "books" for "toys."

However, spending an entire hour in a store with a to-do list and that child is not the leisurely romp it was when I had a more compliant and self-entertaining child. Oh, memories are coming back. I distinctly remember listening to "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" on my Walkman, using a splitter and two pair of headphones, when D was much too old to be sitting in the cart but was, anyway, and laughing so hard at Hermione sputtering through happy tears, "You boys... are so... STUPID!" What's funny about how memories work is that I know I was reaching into the freezer for veggies when that happened. (I was in the produce section solo, listening to "Forrest Gump" once, and blushed, grateful that other shoppers couldn't hear what I was hearing. The book is way grittier and more sexual than the movie!)

Mal and I went to Walmart last night, and all I needed to get was some make-up remover and a couple of frozen meals for D. We can handle that. We spend about 20 minutes looking at toys, and he's content to ride "like a trash man" on the cart so he can jump off when something catches his eye. Short trips without a strict agenda, we can do. Otherwise, I'm grateful for grocery delivery. I'm not engaging in hyperbole when I tell you that it's changed my life.

Hey, Friend Who Lost Weight and Gained It Back... You Look Amazing!

Friend, I've wanted to affirm you for months, but wasn't sure how to bring this up. It's an awkward subject in our society because Diet Culture has so brainwashed us with the ideas of what is "good" and what is "bad." What is "virtuous" and what is "shameful." I don't buy into any of that anymore, but most people still do.

So how to tell you that I see you, and I am super proud of you?

I'll bet back when you were losing weight, you got a lot of positive feedback. "Looking good!" "Wow, you're so dedicated!" "Your hard work is paying off!"

An aside -- "paying off"? How? Because you're thinner than you used to be? Is that a reward? Being skinnier is the payment you get for obsessing over food and exercise? Um. Pass. Anyway...

It seems like such a big, loud deal when you lose weight. It's full of accolades and appreciation and maybe even some jealousy thrown your way. Then, over time, you realize something. Maybe it's a year or two. Maybe it's more than five. My longest was more than seven years (and, yes, I've had at least three major weight cycling events, with other fits and starts in the midst).

But eventually, you realize that one of the biggest lies of Diet Culture is the "maintenance phase." Dieting to lose weight isn't easy, no. But it is a walk in the park compared to maintaining an artificially low body weight. Once you hit your goal weight, you have to eat less and/or exercise more to keep the weight off. Not for a while. For the rest of your life.

Maybe you didn't realize it until the weight started slowly creeping back on. Maybe you realized it when you hit a plateau from which your body would not budge. Maybe it's just dawning on you.

And whereas your weight came off with visible work and "discipline" and praise, it can creep back on in silence and shame. Maybe you think people are wondering why you would "let yourself go" after working so hard. Maybe you feel like a failure. Maybe you're just waiting for a life season to pass before you buckle down and have another go at taking the weight back off.

Might I encourage you not to do that? Any of it?

Unless there is a 1-to-1 medical reason for you to lose weight, fighting your body's "natural" weight is not a battle you can win unless you're willing to wrestle mightily with it for the rest of your life. So, seriously, if imminent death or disease is not on the line, maybe think about why you're willing to devote such a large chunk of your emotional and physical energy to the pursuit.

(And, to me, even if you're a "yeah, but my knees" person... I'd encourage you to find out what you can do to build strength in your legs. Go positive and strong instead of negative and "less.")

I just wanted you to know that I see you, and I'm proud of you, and I am cheering you on.

I'm so thrilled that you can go to Texas Roadhouse with your family without having to spend half an hour perusing the menu online first to see what is "safe" for you to order. I'm ecstatic that you don't have to write down everything you eat, or to measure every portion before you can sit down to a meal. I'm happy that you have the time you used to devote to a specific, repeatable, boring gym routine to do things you love and that make your body happy.

I'm glad you're not fighting your body. I'm glad you're not sucked into the trap of spending valuable time, talent, energy, and money on something as vapid as "thinness" and are instead able to channel those amazing resources to bigger and better things. It looks amazing on you.

Baby Steps

It's the day after Memorial Day, schools are getting out, and we're well into at least a week of 100+ temperatures.

James worked from home today, so Mal and I headed out just before James's 11 AM "meeting." We spent a couple of hours at Little Land, and it hit me how much easier it is going now that Mal will just use the restroom of his own volition (rather than my having to ask and ask and ask and finally basically insist).

I was a little high-strung today, though, because I don't deal well with having work hanging over my head. Well, we had a couple of things today.

First, we're finally replacing the insulation above D's room where the water damage guy had to take a bunch of it out because it was soaked and ruined. I went to The Home Depot after Little Land and got a 25 foot roll, then got home to measure so we could cut it... and did I mention the temperature? Because just standing in the opening to the attic measuring was miserable. It's the first time probably in my life that I've been tempted to play the "poor, feeble wife" card. All I could think was, "I do NOT want to suit up and lay this fiberglass." Fortunately, I was able to play the asthma card (I know, fiberglass insulation doesn't cause asthma, but I do have stress- and exercise-induced asthma, and there are ALWAYS allergens around -- like all 3 cats, plus whatever visitor droppings are in the attic from previous visitors -- so it's likely) and I have an awesome husband who's going to get up and do it tomorrow morning. Because he loves me.

Second, D woke me up at 5 the other morning to help trap and release a 3-inch roach she'd found in the bathroom. Last night, I found another one on the wall in the hallway. D and I have both caught scorpions (small ones; not like the 4-incher I saw in the back yard the day after Mother's Day). So I called Terminix to add general pest control to our termite contract, and they're coming out tomorrow. I needed to get into D's room to help clean, get everything off of the floor so they can spray, and that meant doing the laundry first as D mentioned needed to wash the linens on the bed. So it was a whole thing, and D is a day sleeper, and by about 4, I pretty much just made a bunch of noise and insisted it was time.

Anyway, everything's done that can be done now, and that's cool. But I anticipate having to do boring or hard stuff more than I should. None of it was that bad. Especially since I'm not actually the one who has to cut and place the insulation. I did prepare 2 meals, did 3 loads of laundry, took out the trash and recycling, vacuumed the whole house, installed some under-cabinet lighting, and cleaned out the litter boxes, if that makes you feel better about our division of labor.

Oh! Also, a big deal happened today when we were cleaning out D's room!

On October 26, 2013, D and I (up there) stood in line for the grand opening of Tiff's Treats in North Austin somewhere. One of the cool freebies we got was an XL burnt orange T-shirt. D wore it a lot, and because we have "affectionate" cats, it ended up torn. We sewed the holes, and once a big part ripped, so we sewed that and joked about the "scar." At some point, I brought up trashing it, but D said it had sentimental value to it. Before we moved away from the Nuthaus, I went over to see if they had any more T-shirts, and they did not.

Eventually, the collar wore out or got ripped out or something, so the shirt would fall off at the shoulders. There was finally more tear and hole than shirt material. Now that D knows how to sew, my repair responsibilities were no more, but the shirt has probably been doctored at least half a dozen times.

So, tonight, while we were cleaning up, D put three T-shirts, this one included, on the bed and said, "These can probably go away now." I said, "You can just go put them in the trash. Or do I need to?" "Probably you." So I did. Gladly. Proudly.

This might not seem like cause for noting or celebrating if you don't deal with OCD or hoarding, but, let me tell you, it's HUGE. I played it cool so as not to ruin it, but I'm just so excited that we were finally in a place where we could let those old rags go!

Onward and upward!

Fish Gotta Swim and Birds Gotta Fly

I had an epiphany last week. It's about fishing. I've never gone fishing. I like being on a boat, but I don't have any urges to fish, especially not catch-and-release. I can actually understand the draw of fishing for dinner, but the other? Well, I didn't really get it. Until last week.

In the past couple of years, since having put out bird feeders, I have become increasingly interested in birds. Since moving into this house, I actually joined the Facebook group Birds of Texas, where there are more experienced birders than I who are happy to identify birds when I am unable to do so. In our yard here, I have seen: House sparrows, house finches, Carolina wrens, Carolina chickadees, doves, cardinals, red-bellied woodpecker, painted bunting, black-chinned hummingbirds, and turkey vultures. It's interesting: I haven't seen nor heard any Mexican scrub jays, which were all over the place at the apartment in Oak Hill. I also haven't seen a roadrunner in our yard, though I've seen them in the area, including one that walked past our house in the street every day for a week or two. I felt like he was going to work, then coming back home with a lizard for the family.

Anyway, my parents moved to Temple earlier this year, and they live in an area with so much new construction that there aren't any mature trees. They put out a feeder, though, and are being inundated with visitors. When we were up there last week, I went to sit outside to see what birds I could see. Also, it was 100 degrees and about 70% humidity.

At any rate. I pretty quickly saw a dove sitting on their next-door neighbor's roof.

Weird-o.

Then, I saw a couple of pairs of house sparrows and house finches.

Bathing.

You rang?

I also saw some grackles flying around in the area, but they never landed in my parents' yard.

If you've never watched birds before, they do this thing where they'll end up trickling into the same area, they'll all hang out for a while, then every single one of them gets a telepathic memo or something, and they all take off.

At one point, I was sitting there, staring off into space, waiting for the birds to come back. I thought, "Ha. I'm sitting out here in the heat, waiting to see more birds. Common birds. And I'm not sure when they'll be back..." Then I realized: I WAS BASICALLY FISHING. Just without the water. And I under no circumstances intended to eat any of these for dinner. My cats might have a different take on that.

But I felt a camaraderie with people who enjoy fishing just for the sport of seeing what you can catch, and enjoying the still silences (boredom) between active moments.

Also, bird-watching probably means I'm getting old, a fact that next month's birthday would tend to confirm.

Some cool stuff (and a sneak peek at my birthday present!)

I'm not sure how smart it is that we bought Mal a second sandbox at a time where we are coming close to breaking heat records, but... we did. And he loves it.

The first day we got it.

The next morning.

Later that same day, and gosh, it was hot.

He played with it today, too. I think he might have missed Sunday, maybe? But that's the only day so far.

It was on sale, and when we've had a couple of kids over, the first sandbox has gotten pretty claustrophobic, so we'd planned to "expand," anyway. It's a hit!

James has this week off, and planned it at the last minute, so we don't have any plans. We're just enjoying time together. Today, for instance, we had his oil changed... which is apparently a "deal" with the Fiat 500s, as some places don't carry the oil and/or air filters, so we had to do some coordination.

Saturday, I asked James what he'd want to eat this week, and he smiled at the first thing that came into his mind. "I was thinking, 'Something Mediterranean, you know, like with artichoke hearts and pineapple.' Why did I think of that combination?" Well, of course I Googled it, and the internets did not disappoint me. Tonight, I made this Robert Irvine dish for dinner. Just know that that picture is NOT of this dish. I'm not sure how it ended up on there. But this was a fabulous summer pasta! It tastes bright and light, and we both recommend it. Mal does not. He preferred mac and cheese and a doughnut. D is asleep and hasn't tried it.

We got a phone call today, informing us about the IRRRL associated with VA loans, which basically says that as long as you've made at least 6 payments on your mortgage, you can refinance at a lower rate. Our lender (not the original one, the one that bought it) is "absorbing" (read: bumping the interest up a little above baseline) the costs, so all we have to do is pay our escrow for the month's payment we'll "skip" as the new loan goes into effect.

Some neat things about the new loan:

1) It is a 29.5 year term. We were told we could do 30 years, but we plan to pay it off sooner, anyway, and didn't want to tack on an extra half year.
2) It is about .4% lower than our old loan, and the interest rate has held firm, so I'm guessing the only reason we can do it is that our credit scores no longer come into play (if you're new, there's this whole thing about not using credit, paying a card off each month, etc. that really counts against you).
3) Our monthly payments will only be $62 less a month, but even with that, $20 more per payment will go to principal than before. Also, that's $744 a year. If we kept the loan for 30 years (again, not our plan), it would save us almost $22,000! Yikes! INTEREST!
4) The "extra" in-our-pocket money from the skipped month's payment is going to purchase my very own birthday present from James!

Okay, so here's what it is...



Squee!!

I've had a ZTE Zmax for just over 2 years and I like it a lot. I can't update the OS, though, without rooting it (trying to accomplish that lately, but unsuccessfully), and so can't run some apps I'd like to utilize. Also, it's just a little too big. I love the "big" for watching videos, but I can't take a picture with one hand. I can't text with one hand. And I have a tablet now, rather than a bulky laptop, so video-watching on the fly is much easier now.

One cool thing about this new phone is that it's Daydream-ready, so if I ever want to do some VR, it can handle it.

But I LOVE the idea of Dolby stereo speakers! I like to listen to the radio, to podcasts, etc. and most phones just sound tinny. I'm excited to hear this one!

I had more stuff, but it will have to wait It's July 4 already, and I need to get some sleep! Happy holiday, friends!

It's a Magical World (or There's Treasure Everywhere, whichever title you prefer I steal)

I have smiled and laughed a lot this week. Amazing things have happened. Not win-a-new-car-and-a-trip-to-Hawaii-level stuff, but just things that remind me the there are sparkly moments to be had even in the tedium of otherwise unremarkable life.

So, in no particular order:

1) Our new dog jumped up onto my car.

2) A 9-ish-year-old girl walking into the grocery store with her dad. She was wearing a bubblegum pink poodle skirt, a bright primary-colored tie-dye shirt, and a straw cowboy hat. She felt beautiful, and she was.

3) Mal and I were in the back yard, and I heard what I thought was a breeze kicking up, but didn't feel it and didn't see any trees blowing. Mal pointed into the sky above my head and said, "Birdies!" I looked up and probably 75 small birds were flying over, low enough and populous enough that we could hear the "whoosh" of their collective wings cutting through the air.

4) There is a fishing tournament at the lake this weekend, and this morning, I got to see (and hear) the boats heading out.

5) Mal is getting super demonstrative, and several times after my having been gone for a few minutes, jumps into my arms, wraps his legs around my waist, puts his head on my shoulder, and squeezes me.

6) So. many. butterflies.

7) Spending time out in the grotto with James, Mal, and Shelby, taking only the kind of pictures Jim and Pam took at their wedding. Shelby loved it and was running around scaring me to death.

There is more, but one of the other joys of my life calls... :) I'll add more later.

A No-Longer-Foregone Conclusion

A friend of mine had posted something on social media about how expensive child care is, sharing an article about how it costs more than college tuition (not this article, but this one has a lot of information that's interesting and crazy). After several people commiserated about it, including that high child care costs are why they don't have a second child, someone else popped in with "That's why everyone should get a college degree" or something to that extent.

What I thought was, "Seriously?! That's elitist BS." What I said was something about how my husband who does not have a college degree has exponentially more earning power than I do, and she congratulated me but she wants her kids to go to college, blah blah life experience and mind expanding, goal, complete something big, yadda yadda.

Many of you know that my ideas about education, and specifically institutionalized education, are far from mainstream. Mike Rowe has actually done a lot to move this conversation into the forefront, with lots of practical information and research to back up what I've intuited for years. (By the way, bookmark that page. There's a ton of good stuff on there.)

I distinctly remember having the "life experience" conversation with another homeschool mom when D was very young, maybe even preschool-aged. Our family paradigm is not "school, college, career." I am sure some people genuinely have transformative experiences in college, but is that the only way to have those experiences? I'm almost certain that if you gave a 20-year-old as much money (or had them work to earn it, whatever you're planning to do for your kid's schooling) as a year in college would cost and told them to pick a foreign country and go live there, travel, meet people, learn the language, they'd grow even more than they would in classes at a university.

Kids coming out of their teens and into their young adult lives are like butterflies emerging from a chrysalis (note: I just realized a couple of weeks ago that "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" is not biologically correct, as it refers to a "cocoon," which is a moth home, not a butterfly one), so I don't think the college setting is magical. I think it's the age and the being away from home.

Here's the thing: I'm not anti-college! It's super important to get a degree if you're going to be a teacher or lawyer or doctor or any of those things that you have to study very specific coursework, especially as a foundation for more difficult coursework in graduate or law or medical school or whatever. For me, I have a theater degree, and, gosh, I had some good times, but I could have learned the exact same things volunteering with a robust community theater.

But here's where I bristle at a lot of the ideas about college, degrees, and "getting a better job": If you look up online, "Is a college degree worth it?" the main answers you're going to see are in terms of salaries. They compare salaries among the same jobs for people who have a college degree and who don't. Or jobs people without a college degree "can" get compared to ones that have the degree as a requirement. This whole system makes some assumptions that make me uncomfortable because they're limiting and, again, elitist.

There is this thought process that goes: school, pick a potential career/major, go to college, graduate, more school and/or get a job and start making a living. Like this is how life is meant to work. Like this is how life has always worked.

Do you know when I think my husband had the most fun and really enjoyed himself and freedom? When he was living in his car in the Seattle area. He'd do day labor when he wanted to and needed or wanted money, but if he didn't want to work, he didn't. He had a dog. He had friends. When we visited a couple of years ago, I saw some genuine nostalgia there.

According to articles and numbers, his story would be a sad one. Homeless (although his "homelessness" was not the same genre as the forced homelessness that's often fueled by mental illness or drug dependency; it was voluntary). Day labor. Not much money. Dang it. He should have gone to college.

This spin presumes that a high salary is the arbiter of happiness.

Now, let me say that I understand there is a difference between having tight margins and between the genuine struggle and inability to make ends meet. So I'm not trying to minimize the troubles some people have.

However, having "more money" versus "a little less money" might not matter to some people. Might not matter to a lot of people.

One of James' friends (maybe an old girlfriend?) told him that a college degree was important because it proved you can jump through the necessary hoops. Ugh. I can't even talk about that.

There are some thoughts I love in this summary of a survey of grown unschoolers. Namely this one: "The great majority of respondents were gainfully employed at the time of the survey.  Exceptions were some of the full-time students and some mothers with young children.  Of those who responded to the follow-up questionnaire, 78% said they were financially self-sufficient, though a number of these added that their income was modest and they were financially independent in part because of their frugal lifestyle.  Several of them described frugality as a value and said they would far rather do work they enjoyed and found meaningful than other work that would be more lucrative."

Is there room for discussing job/life satisfaction as we ponder the "necessity" of a college education?

I'm one of those "college educated" people who is considered a "short termer" in the job market, as I have mostly stayed home. I get paid nothing, and I absolutely love what I'm doing (though I would like it even more if it included more sleep).

I'm not even talking about education inflation or the high level of student loan debt from undergraduate degrees alone, the fact that a degree does NOT guarantee a job like it used to, or the reality that when it came time for me to be professionally credentialed (as a Real Estate Agent, and then later as an Insurance Agent), I had to learn everything I needed to know on my own. Nothing relevant to any job I've ever had was present in my college education.

I just wish people could break out of the kindergarten-to-job-track mindset. There are so many viable options today: military, Job/Peace Corps, starting a job as a teen and working your way up (seriously; in retail and food service, there is a lot of turn-over, and advancement opportunities for someone showing up and kicking butt are plentiful), creating your own job (teaching tennis or walking dogs or mobile auto detailing), opening an Etsy shop or a Patreon account or something like that (yeah, maybe not a living wage, but it also might be), trade school, apprenticeships, etc.

There's room for all sorts of opportunities.

Along with the "school, school, school, school, job" paradigm is a very "standard" life that includes having a fairly nice house where you can be proud to entertain and have plenty of room to spread out. That's cool if it's what you want because it's really what you want (not just your conditioning), but it's not necessary.

When I was a single parent, my daughter and I lived in an RV because doing that was both how I met some priorities I had, but also because it had always been a dream of mine. Except that it got very hot and very cold (lesson learned: get all-weather insulation if you're going to full-time it), I loved living there. It took 5 minutes to clean, we spent lots of time together, there was no yard work, and I'd live in an RV with my family right this moment if it weren't for the fact that a certain teenager and a certain introverted husband would lose their stuffin' from the lack of private space.

However, when D and I lived there, we never felt cramped. You know what else? I never once felt self-conscious. I had people over, we had dinners and game days and D had sleep-overs. Everyone (except for one person, and, whatever) thought it was so cool. D's dad was worried about the "stigma" associated with living in an RV, but I think her friends all left saying they wished they could live in a camper.

This is kind of along the lines of the unschooling survey: frugality (even to what most people would think is to the extreme) leads to not necessarily having to have the highest-paying jobs. It's all a matter of what makes a person happy, and if they can be happy working 37 hours a week at Sam's Club to facilitate not having to take work home, and being truly free on their off time, then good for them.

Feeling like the folks who "flip burgers" or clean the restrooms at the fair or dig ditches are somehow inferior or more pathetic or probably not as happy is what I meant by elitist BS.

A photographer I follow on Instagram really hated his M-F 8-7 life and wanted to be as happy as he was taking pictures on weekends. So he quit his job, lived in his Subaru, and visited state and National Parks. He recently bought a really nice camper van (one of those that looks like a van on the outside and can park in a regular parking space, similar to this, but not exactly like it... also: droool). He is not in the "high-paying job" category anymore, but he is happy. He is free.

I could go on with the anecdotes for a long time, but just wanted to dangle this out there, in case anyone cares. College is great when necessary, and there is tons that can be done to mitigate the cost. But just the idea of "you have to get a college education to get a good job" needs to go away. We need to ask the question, "What do I (or my kids) need to do to have a good life?"

Ever have one of those days?

Yesterday, someone posted a set of pictures on a radical unschooling board of which I am a part. It was their "school" day (they call it "freeschooling," which I love because I feel like it is a much more realistic and colorful description of how everybody learns). It had a picture of an about-five-year-old outside on this very bucolic rural property, complete with a little pond and a barn. The first thing I noticed was that it didn't seem to be 515 degrees with 4000% humidity wherever they were. The second thing was that when this person asked, "What did your day look like?" I didn't want to share! Not pictures, anyway. We stayed home all day and basically did chores and nothing. I guess we did get out on the patio a bit in the afternoon, when it was shaded, but it was still pretty hot. The cicadas in the trees out back were cacophonous, though, so that was neat.

I'm in the middle of reading "How to Raise a Wild Child" and it's becoming ever more clear to me that if I'm going to foster a love of nature with my younger kid like I did with the older, we're going to have to end up somewhere that I can stand to be outside more than four months a year. I'm starting to have guilt pangs every time he wants to go outside and my first thought is "heatstroke and mosquito bites."

Anyway, my point is that most of our days don't look bucolic. Most of them look something like today, which was on the "grrr" side of normal, I'll admit, but still fairly typical.

Here it goes:

Mal got up and woke ME up by purposefully swan-diving over my lower legs onto the bed (from the bed). I was unprepared for such a game, but tried to shake off the sleep quickly so as to avoid his injuring himself.

We got up and I got pancakes ready. Mal ate some blueberries and played around, then after breakfast, was trying to climb back up onto the bar stool, lost his footing, and fell forward, smacking his temple on the side of our granite counter tops. Ouch!

After he settled from that, he told his daddy "goodbye" and we went into Mal's room to wave out the window and then to read some books. I hooked up a horse that walks with his pull dog toy so the horse could take the dog for a walk. This infuriated Mal, who screamed and tried to pull them apart until I unknotted the leash from the horse.

I was trying to get Mal ready to go to be at the library by 10, when it opens. We were planning to try story time for the first time. It's at 10:15, but you need a ticket and apparently they do get full. During preparations, I found a Texas redheaded centipede on the floor, thankfully dead, and after the scorpion I found in D's floor earlier this week, I called the office to request inside spraying when the pest control people come Friday. I think that's what made us "too" late.

We got into the car and left in time to get to the library by 10:05. Five minutes after the library opened. And the regular lot was full. There was a police officer directing cars to the roundabout by the book drop-off, and people were parking on the inside of it, where there isn't a red curb. Okay. I drove around it, but it was full by then, so the police officer directed me to one of the four "electric only" parking spots. Obviously, my 1997 Chevy Astro is not electric, but since she told me I could...

As an aside, I doubt there are ever four electric vehicles charging at that library ever. And I'm willing to bet that 99.5% of the time, there isn't even one.

Anyhoo, by the time I got parked, the lot was officially full, and the police office was having to tell people basically "I don't care where you park, but you can't park here." It was 10:11. Eleven minutes after the library had opened. As annoyed as I am that they'll be closing down for MONTHS in October, it looks like they definitely need some infrastructure work.

We got inside to be told, "Sorry, story time is full." Ugh. Fortunately, Mal didn't know what I was telling him would happen since he's never been, and he had fun running the aisles and messing with the catalog, which I let him. There were about half a dozen people who came in after me, and they got into story time. This means that their friends got tickets for their kids, which I think stinks. If you're going to cut people off, it should be first come/first served. You only get tickets for the kids with you. So I didn't feel too bad that Mal kept repeatedly adding the library search page to the browser's short cut bar. Have I mentioned how hot it is, and what a pain in my sweat glands it is to get out at all, much less on a pointless errand?

After that, I took him to the gym so he could get some energy out. He had fun, and got to do all of the things he wanted to, and didn't poop even once, much less twice like he has the past two times we've been to the gym. So that was good for everyone. Then suddenly, the place was PACKED. We made a quick exit for Chick-fil-A.

I usually park at the strip mall next to Chick-fil-A because their parking lot is bonkers. But for some reason (we'll see why), it was full. I parked at CFA, and fortunately got under a tree. While Mal played around in the van, rather than rushing him to get out, I decided to order from the newish app. I'm glad I did! My food was ready when I got inside, and I had forgotten that today is Dress Like a Cow Day, so that place was JAMMED WITH COWPEOPLE.

Mal and I sat down to eat, then he decided to go play in the playground. I watched him go in (it was on the other side of the restaurant; all of the tables near the door were taken, natch), then decided to head in there with him to free up our table. The line was just not stopping.

By the time I gathered up his book, his fries, his chicken nuggets, and both of our drinks (I was okay with them accidentally giving Mal a large soda, but it was a lot to carry) and got into the playground, Mal was scream/crying. He had partially climbed up on the lowest landing of the playground, then was trying to get back down, but couldn't feel the floor. His feet were dangling approximately 2 inches from the padded mat, but he wouldn't listen to me when I assured him he could drop.

So I laid down our drinks, the fries, the nuggets, the napkins, et. al., and grabbed him. By then, parents were giving me the "where were you?" stink eye. He's fast. Sorry. Can't do much about that.

Poor kid had tears streaming, but was calmer once he realized I was there. Sitting on the floor, I started getting claustrophobic. More and more people just kept coming, and there were at least 50 people in this little (smaller than standard) play area. I easily convinced Mal that it was time to go, picked up the nuggets, drinks, blah blah everything in the world, and we headed out.

Kids at two tables had spilled drinks, so there were mop buckets, chairs pushed back, and employees mopping both ways we needed to walk to get to an exit. People were gathered, waiting to get their tables back. People had high chairs in the same aisles, and had put regular chairs on the end of booth tables to allow for an extra kid. Somehow, we got out of there and into the parking lot, which was jammed.

I wanted to drop all of our stuff in the van before we walked across to Walmart to get D a few things, but there was one car at the front of the lot, parallel with the drive-through, who was holding up about 8 cars as it waited for a parking space. I would have felt bad exciting a parking space vulture, but also could not have backed out at that point, since there were cars behind my van... so we just walked over to the store.

Believe it or not, Walmart was kind of the highlight of the morning. Easy-peasy, we got chocolate milk, gummy worms, clear tape, and sugar, and were on our way.

Mal requests to see the fans now any time we go to Walmart. I think it's part of his air conditioning obsession. He signs "light" kind of when he means "fan" and says, "hot." I know what he means. One thing he has learned in the past two days is "off." He's always said "hot" for "on" or "off." Now he says "hot" and "oaffff." It's cute for real, guys!

On the way to the fans, though, I noticed that his finger was bleeding. No, it wasn't. His nose was bleeding. So my kid is Ralph Wiggums now.

When we got back out, I had to carry Mal and the groceries to the van in one trip, then go back to the buggy for our sodas. I have 25 bags in the van, but didn't want to stop to get them on our way because, you know, that situation up there.

FINALLY we were ready to come home, and were we ever. Mal stayed awake on the drive, which is always good when I have a load of stuff to get upstairs. He was sleepy, though, and wanted immediately to lay down and nurse. I put the milk in the fridge, which took too long for him, and needed to use the restroom. THAT was beyond the pale, and he required snuggles the whole time I was... busy. *sigh*

Nap time! We headed to the bed, and on the way, Mal noticed two quarters on the floor. He bent over to pick one up, smacking his forehead on the frame of our bed. And thus, he fell to sleep quickly but sadly.

I hope our afternoon is less eventful!

A couple of other things: My bike got stolen on Saturday! I'd unlocked it to get Mal's tricycle to go down to the pool at 5:20, and had left the chain unlatched. We've never had any problems here. Well, when I came back at 7:15, the bike (and ibert baby seat) were gone! Grr. People.

Here's an interesting (and a little gross, if you're sensitive) article on nose-picking, and eating boogers specifically. I was thinking about this this morning, before the nosebleed incident (which I think was because I can't seem to get the edges of Mal's nails smooth, so he's constantly nicking his facial region with his fingers, and I hate it!), that I don't smack Mal's hand away or tell him "no!" when I see him picking his nose. I'm GLAD he can do it. He has some serious production capabilities, he doesn't understand how to blow his nose yet, and I hate it when he's stopped up. So it's a relief to me. I've asked him not to wipe boogers on things, because they're very difficult to clean, not to mention disgusting. But I was wondering what I'd do if some other well-meaning adult told him not to pick his nose, or that it was gross. So I started warning him, and will remind him often, "That's fine. I don't care. It's not bad. Some people think it's gross and might tell you, or might stare at you, so you might want to do it in private." (Which, come to think of it, is the same advice I'll give when he's... you know... exploring another socially sensitive bodily region.)

Okay. I have a project I want to try to get done during Mal's nap, and I've already used up an hour! It probably won't happen, but a girl's gotta try!