A New Hope (not Star-Wars-related)

I'd really forgotten a lot.

It was likely a self-preservation tactic my subconscious exercised on my behalf.

In preparing for an interview, I went back and for the first time read through the blog posts I made during 2010-2012. 

I have a few thoughts, and they're all over the place. So in no particular order:

1) Holy cow, I cringed so hard so many times. The things I said as a youngster (pre-40s, but barely)! Your girl has changed A LOT in 15 years, and that's, to borrow a probably-copyrighted phrase from Martha Stewart, a good thing. If you read my blog back then, and you rolled your eyes or gasped at anything I said ("Thanks, Feminism," I'm looking at you), WE ARE IN AGREEMENT. And I'm so sorry. It's bad. It was very, very bad and re-exposing myself to... myself (not in a dirty way, perverts) created quite a rip in the time-space continuum of who I know myself to be.

2) It's easy to believe the people can't or won't change. Good gravy, have I ever changed in the past decade. I like to think it's for the better. I do probably cuss more than I used to. But getting off of social media was a huge improvement. I feel like I am much more accepting and less judgmental than I was back in the day. I definitely don't obsess over my body or my hair or anything the way that I did 14-15 years ago. I'm pretty sure I am NOT maturing, though, so don't worry about that.

3) It was a complete surprise to me to learn that I kept two concurrent blogs during 2011-2012??! I had "Trailer Trash and Proud" for fun stuff like reviews, things we did, stuff I baked, etc. and I kept my older one for all of my angst and preaching and Deep Thoughts™. That one is very barfy and I only read it to make sure that I was remembering timelines and events correctly. But it was a painful read. Bleh. The stuff about my cool pancakes and all of the chocolate I bought in Dallas was a lot more on-brand and enjoyable.

4) After all of the stuff happened in the early 2010s, it was like I was running out of a burning building and didn't have the energy or desire to look back. Now that I have, I feel a lot less... well, just a lot less about it. The feelings aren't a big deal. I'm over it. Things didn't go the way they would have if they'd happened the way I wanted, and apart from my self-esteem taking a huge hit (but refusing to stay down, which actually would have made it easier), it was all really fine. Better in the long run, in fact. Much better.

5) Things I should have done differently: a) Immediately left my church. b) Moved to Austin a year before I did. c) Been more proactive in helping D deal with the huge changes I, too, was finding difficult. It SUCKS as a parent to be barely treading water and therefore not fully notice that your kid is struggling probably worse than you are. A lot of the issues D has had are because I was not thinking properly and didn't notice or realize things I should have noticed and realized. We both have a lot more perspective on this as adults, but it doesn't change that I messed up. I missed a lot. And I can't redo any of it.

6) That said, reading about where I was back then really makes me more hopeful in this part of my life! I was worried about the same things: finding a job, having enough money to make it, where would I end up if I couldn't afford where I was living anymore? Etc. At the time, I had a friend who compared it to swinging on a trapeze and how, for the trapeze to work, sometimes you have to let go and fly and trust that the other trapeze will be there to meet you when you get there. Right now, I have a whole other adult in this with me, and we have more resources than I did at the time. So it helped kind of jolt me out of some doldrums and I appreciate that a lot!

In 12 years, none of us has aged, including the kid. Which is weird. ;)

I always used to say...

 ... Back when I was married to someone else, that if my ex-husband ever died, I would get fat, and I'd get an RV. Over time, I added that I'd also get another tattoo. 

Well, apparently, it didn't take a death. It only took a decoupling. 

The first thing I did was to get an RV. And I LOVED it!

Me loving my RV so hard.
(Thanks, Gabrielle, for the photoshoot...
14 years ago!)

As you can tell by that older photo above, I'm also bigger than I was back in that day. It took a long time for me to get comfortable with my body, but it has helped to have a partner who is very comfortable with it. I mean, if I'd remained single, I probably would have been fine with it, as well... it's just that being married to someone who views your body with suspicion and expects it to disappoint if you're not constantly managing it makes just living a normal life pretty impossible. In the words of Madeye Moody, "Constant vigilance" and all that. It's exhausting. (Also: JK Rowling, p-tooey.)

Then, not only did I get another tattoo; I've gotten three more, including 2 since I turned 50! And I got my nose pierced!

To my complementarian/"servant leader head of the family" ladies, I will say: Bodily autonomy is incredible, and you should really try it.

I've been thinking about this a lot as we consider our financial future in the days of massive layoffs across the country, and the seemingly decreasing likelihood of James finding a "career-level" job in tech (which he's honestly fine with; but it seems like the Leander Independent School District doesn't want a tech bro as a night janitor, either).

We're looking at selling the house and moving out of the country. We're looking at selling the house, getting an RV, and moving across the Rural Market road. Or out of Texas, as James thinks if we're going to get rid of the house, we should GO.

Mal loves the idea of living in an RV. James is okay with it, too. In other words, I don't have to wait for him to die before considering things I'd enjoy... 

... Although, if James weren't around, I might consider cutting my hair a lot shorter. He has said that it's my hair and I can do whatever I want with it, of course; but I also know he likes longer hair (on everyone, not just me) so I'm keeping it. For now. 

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.

Time Travel Day, Hormonal Parent Version

Hey, I forgot to tell you about something I saw yesterday. For real. In a person's house. This is a button on a real microwave. Maybe you have one, but I'd never seen this before.

"Is it done?" "Nope." "How much longer?" "I don't know. I just need to cook it a bit more." Beep.

Okay, so we "fell back" in the wee hours of this morning. It meant nothing, of course, to my younger child, who was up at 6:10 AM. I'm just glad it wasn't earlier. Last week, he was waking up that early on Daylight Saving Time, so I was scared today would be a 5 AM start. Grateful we dodged that bullet.

We had some breakfast and I was trying to make sure James got to sleep in, so we took off pretty early. We usually go to the later church service, but we were too early even for early service, so I stopped by the office to get something out of the mail hold, and Mal played in the on-demand yoga room. (Yeah, I know. Fancy.)

Then we went to early church, and I got to look through the left-overs from the holiday bazaar I missed yesterday becasue we were out having adventures. We made it through about 2/3 of the service before Mal was walking out the door (literally), so we got to the gym just as it was opening.

By the way, until you've lived with this kid for, oh, two years or so, let's not talk to me about "What do you mean, he just left church? You make him stay. You're the parent." Tell you what, YOU make him stay, and I'll be super grateful.

Anyhoo, he played at the gym for an hour and a half, and I had to keep forcing him to take breaks because he was crazy tired, wearing himself out, and having an absolute ball, but I was afraid he was going to hurt himself.

When we got home, I was tired and I had some chores I needed to get done (vacuuming up, cleaning out the litter boxes, and getting the trash ready for pick-up). Also, I was exhausted. So I did what any sane person would do and pulled out of the closet the four legs and giant, heavy, solid wood top of the amazing Crate and Barrell dining room table someone gave us several months ago. Hyper toddler and a chance of rain? Seemed like a perfect time to spray-paint stuff out on the patio, right?

My sweet husband jumped right in, trading spray-painting with kid-wrangling, and we got two coats on that puppy, then brought it in, put the legs on, and I got one coat of the chalkboard paint put on the top of it. It's supposed to dry for 4 hours before I put a second (and final) coat of the chalkboard paint, but I just read that that time is based on 50% humidity, and it's 95% humidity here now, so I have to wait until tomorrow. When James isn't here.

Oh, and we have a giant dining room table (leaf inserted, because we have to paint the whole thing, of course) in our entry way. Like, we have to crawl under it to get out of the apartment. I'll probably move it into the dining area (we don't use as a dining area) when I'm confident it's dry, after moving Mal's slide out onto the patio with the Sit-and-Spin, the sand box, and the water table.

Ugh.

But did I mention that the table was free?

Okay, so here's the deal. I need some inspiration or something. I've been doing this "monitoring caloric intake" since my birthday week, or just over 2 months. I know I've lost weight because my clothes fit better and some other personal stuff I'm not telling you. I don't have a scale. I don't care about that.

What I'm finding, though, is that I'm bored with counting the calories, and I'm eating very weird because of it. Like I typically have all of my calories taken by about 4 PM (which was 3 PM today). It's stupid. Once I can't have any more food, I can tell myself, "Sorry, you're done," and not eat. Mostly. But when I think, "I only have 350 calories left? But I'm hungry and that's not a lot of food! What can I eat? Oh. I'll eat this thing. Ugh. I'm just going to eat it now and get it over with so I can stop thinking about it."

That sounds ridiculous, but it's what I'm doing. I hate this whole thing, but I don't want to lose the progress I've made, and I wouldn't mind losing a bit more. But I am slowly eating more because I feel like I have to or I'm just grumpy and blehh. And I don't like how I'm obsessing over when I can eat next, and what I can fit in. I hate this being an on and off companion in my life, big time.

Finally, here's another thing. Most of today's mania was brought on by hormones. I forgot to mention that I did vacuum, including putting on the pet attachment and going after a bunch of chairs. And the cat condo. Plus the trash, litter box, sweeping, etc. Also my lethargy about and resentment of the calorie-counting. I really hope I'm about to go through menopause because this is getting exhausting. I have this thing now where I kind of start my "girl time" three days before I *really* start it, but that results in ten days of... dealing with this garbage. And this time, it's like I did the "get ready" start, then the real thing, then it tapered off, and now today it's a second real start, so who knows how long it will last (today makes it a week so far). Ugh.

Um. Hope you all had a great Sunday.

Ponderings at the PO

Yesterday, I was sitting on the concrete at the postal house for our apartment complex while Mal tried confidently to open several mailboxes with our van key.

First of all, he knows which mail box is ours. He runs right up to it as soon as we get down the hill. Secondly, I hand him the key ring with the correct key in position, and without fail, he looks around until he finds the van key and tries that. Thirdly, he gets angry when I finally "help" him by putting the correct key in.

So I was giving him time to try out his theory on as many of the other boxes as he wanted. I'm getting over being sick, and feeling better yesterday was great, but it also allowed me to truly realize how exhausted I am. I didn't mind at all taking a seat and letting him have fun. We usually spend fifteen minutes or so down and the mail house, anyway. More, if lots of people come to check mail. Mal's like the welcome wagon down there.

As I was looking into the woods beside the post boxes, I considered my daughter, a quarter mile away, in her room, possibly still asleep, though I'd awakened her as she requested earlier in the day. And it hit me: Mal will not remember that we used to spend almost an hour a day walking down to the mailbox, looking at dogs, trying to learn not to touch cars that don't belong to us, happily opening empty parcel boxes that have already been unlocked and playing with the spring in the door.

He won't remember the hours I spend sitting in his floor reading to him, playing the air organ, making up silly games, generating the kinds of noises that usually have Daphne closing her door so she doesn't have to try to listen to her music over our nonsense.

He will have no recollection that he cracked open an egg yesterday, and it got all over the counter, so I put the mixing bowl under the lip of the counter and scooped it in; or that I let him try again, and managed to shove the shell over the bowl just as the egg spilled out that time. Or that I was trying to rush him out the door to get my meds because I could not breathe, just as he grabbed the coffee decanter and spilled (fortunately cold) coffee all down his front, and over the counter, cabinet doors, and floor. OR that I was trying to do something he wanted to and hadn't realized he'd shaken my drink, so it exploded all over his bedroom floor when I tried to catch a quick gulp before we did his thing. Or that, unlike many many other times, I actually remained calm and in good humor for each of those incidents, cleaning quickly and moving on without drama.

When Mal's Daphne's age, he might not know that I used to sit in the car with him for five or ten minutes each time before we went anywhere, just to let him play around in the car and decide for himself to get into the car seat. Daphne doesn't remember it. I could tell her, but it wouldn't matter to her today.

So why do I do it?

Why do I kiss Mal and tell him I love him every time he wakes me up because he wants to nurse? Why do I stop and let him take his time even when I'm cold or I really want to sit down or I genuinely have to go to the bathroom? Why do I let him try things that stress me out and make more work for myself? Why do I try any harder than I absolutely have to to keep him alive and functional?

The most simple answer is that I love my kids and genuinely enjoy being around them. I can't think of a way I'd rather spend my time... well, usually, anyway.

But beyond that, I think it's because I want to lay a foundation for them that the world is an interesting place, and that the way that they are in that world is good. Thinking about it over the long term, I'm not always the best at this. I want my kids to grow up believing that they're exactly who they're supposed to be, and that it's a delightful thing. I know I've come short on many occasions. But I hope that's their foundation.

Also, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to hoping that it will have a long-term payoff in good relationships with both of them as they grow up and become whoever it is they're supposed to be. That'd be great. Even if neither of them remembers how exhausted I was and just assume that I've always had the life of leisure they'll notice when they're older and I don't have to be quite as hands-on.

Will Mal remember this?

Probably about as much as D remembers this (which is to say not at all).