Rough Draft

The Bottom Line

I planted a garden this year for a few reasons.

One, I enjoy the art of gardening.  I find total peace and relaxation among my plants, the dirt, and an occasional bee (just keep your distance, thankyouverymuch).  I love watering and tending to my garden.  I love watching the progress and spending hours out there under the gorgeous blue skies of Idaho.  And I love that my garden is far enough away from the house that I can't hear anything out there but birds and the buzzing of bees.  Glorious.

Two, I was itching to get back into gardening since 2008 was a horrible growing year for me, 2009 was spent moving across the country and across town, and 2010 was spent moving it all back to Idaho. 

Three, eating fresh foods.  I have this thing about food that is getting more and more passionate with each passing day.  I love being able to go out to the garden with a bowl and pick fresh herbs for a homemade pizza or collard greens for dinner that night.  It makes me almost wish I could put a greenhouse out there and garden all year long.

Four, saving money.  The good ole bottom line.  A couple of months ago we toyed with Larry moving back, sans job, and going to school full-time which would have meant some serious cutbacks in the finance department.  I felt that if I had a summer garden it would shed at least a few bucks off our monthly grocery expenses.  I am amazed at just how much I am saving.  Every month I usually buy at least $10-15 dollars worth of frozen vegetables.  Now, despite the obvious lack of variety, I have not needed to do that. I was also spending at least $12-15 a month on lettuces.  Plus, I am freezing as much as I possibly can and hopefully will continue to do that plus some canning (if I can figure it all out without killing anyone) over the next couple of months which will guarantee future savings all through winter.  I plan meals around the produce I am growing and therefore cut back on the need to buy other ingredients for other recipes.  So, I am probably saving at least $40-50 a month, total.  Now, that may not sound like much, and maybe it isn't for some people, but for me it is a big chunk out of what I normally spend every month...AND we are eating healthier.

I realized a little something along the way.  I was talking to my mom who mentioned that I should send the kids to the corner and sell some of our produce and my initial reaction was, "oh, yeah, I guess we could sell them..."

After I hung up the phone it hit me.  My God.  I don't want to SELL anything.  Having an overabundant garden means two things to me:

1.  I can give away fresh produce to people who don't have gardens.  And, with the people who do have gardens bartering has been SO MUCH FUN! I love that I get to taste other peoples harvest on items that I haven't planted in my own garden like lavender, carrots, and cherries! Win-Win.

2.  I can freeze/can/jar/pickle/dry the fresh produce and use all winter long (there is a little bit of a fascination with nineteenth century living, I admit).  Not only will I save a few bucks but we will be guaranteed eating fresh, healthy foods from our own garden for many months and well after the heater replaces the air conditioning.  I'm not so much into making money as I am about saving money.

The bottom line for me is that having a garden makes sense for my pocketbook as well as my mental well-being.  I'm more interested in giving produce to people who will enjoy it and who are not currently growing a garden than to sell it and make a few bucks.  I am totally interested and excited to be not only eating fresh produce now in the heat of the summer, but also all through winter.

But I Like Being Home

This morning I set up a "playdate" (God, I HATE using that awful phrase) for Jennifer to scrapbook and have lunch with a friend in the neighborhood.  As I was talking to her mom she said to me, "now, go somewhere by yourself!!"

For starters, I still have the boys at home and leaving them together is like, well, adding a sprinkling of gasoline on a fire.  They're brothers who have a serious love-hate relationship and it seems when I am not around the hate is more than the love.

But, more importantly, I don't really wanna go anywhere.  I actually prefer to be home.  I know I have said this before in past posts, but I am a homebody by nature and someone who truly enjoys being at home.  I don't NEED to go anywhere and fill some shopaholic void in my life that good ole "retail therapy" will never cure, and I most certainly don't need anything.  I go out only when absolutely necessary and I almost always group my "errands" (another awful word I hate using) together and get them all done at once.

My friend looked kinda surprised when I told her I planned to go back home, finish my coffee, make another batch of zucchini bread, and work in my office a little bit.

"What?! No bookstore? No window shopping?"
"Nope."

I just like being home.

Chasin' The Dream

I get that some mom's need to work.  I still believe that in a lot of situations it costs more for daycare, wear and tear on your car, gas, clothing, lunches out, etc. than it is worth when you really examine the bottom line of the dollars that actually make it home, all in one piece.

But, that is neither here nor there.  Everyone makes their choices and that isn't the point of this post anyway.

I am thankful that I don't have to work.  Sure, if I did we would I guess have...more...but the more isn't a driving force for me.  The more may provide certain freedoms but that is all it does.  And, God knows I'm not out searching for more shit to buy nor do I need to maintain close ties with those greedy/pompous/over-the-top Jone's.  More is simply not important to me.

I think "society" has it all wrong.  They dis daycare and talk about how important it is to be home with your baby.  The baby needs you! Your toddler needs you!  Your preschooler needs you! And then suddenly those babies and toddlers and preschoolers are all in school full-time so society says, "oh, you must go and work! Do something!"  When in fact, it is during THOSE years, I believe, those kids need you MOST. 

I was recently talking to a neighbor who works at a middle school and she was saying that she is looking for work somewhere else because the pay is horrible.  Yeah, you certainly can't "provide much" if you are banking only on some dollars you make at a school.  But, I also assume that her husband makes a decent living and they seem to be "surviving" the summer months when there is no school and therefore no paycheck.

So, why find other work? She said it was hard enough trying to balance it all while working at the school a few hours a day.  I don't mind taking my kids to school everyday or picking them up.  I like being HOME when they are home during the afternoons.  I like sitting down at the table every single night to eat dinner together instead of rushing around endlessly (providing kids MORE, naturally).

I guess I should interject here and say that I am blessed with a husband who doesn't "insist" or "suggest" or "demand" or "guilt me into" getting a job outside the home.  What cracks me up about "those" types of husbands...they are the first ones to start complaining because dinner isn't ready (and, hello, let's spend MORE money on going out because now I am too tired to cook...where is the reasoning?!?) or the laundry isn't done or the house is a mess.  Because, it all naturally falls on the woman's shoulders, right?  My husband and I are still fairly equally split...I cook, he does dishes, I do the laundry and he puts them all away, I work the garden, he works the rest of the yard (and so on). 

More importantly, however, is this: the amount either of us does to contribute to OUR family does not, nor has it ever, resulted from who brings home MONEY, as if MONEY is what makes one better than another or more entitled or even more worthy/important.  Thank God my husband does not ever feel more than because he is the one literally providing a roof over our head.  We are a team and a partnership and we have felt this way since the very beginning.  More and more when I listen to other women talk do I feel over the top blessed that I married someone who values me, values my dreams, values my role as wife/mother, and values my contribution to our family and marriage without the topic of money ever coming into the equation.  God may bless others with wealth, but I got something way more important and a million times more valuable.

I gingerly asked my neighbor...why? Why would she feel she needs to get a job at some random store to make a few extra bucks they most likely don't really need?  For what?  So the husband feels you are "participating"? (Is that just a sign that the guy is insecure?)  Especially when she has more than one kid and they are all in school and sports and busy! How will she juggle it all and maintain the house and everything else?

Now.  Here is my exception to all this.  I feel that a job is important in two instances:

1.  If you simply must work to make the ends meet.  Hello, you do what you gotta do.  In fact, I was fully prepared to find myself a job if it meant Larry coming home and going to school full-time.  Or, if he finds himself in a similar situation (I am far from naive to think it will not happen again and that we are "safe" in any job in today's unsettled world!!) I am more than prepared to do the daily grind if it means keeping our family TOGETHER and afloat.  Amen.

2.  If you are doing something that is all about following your dream.  Working at Rite Aid is not following your dream, I'm sorry, I don't care how you spin it.  But, if you dream of being an actor and you are out at auditions every day, then GO FOR IT. This is sort of where I fall.  I have always wanted to write since I was a third grader and I am thankful that I have a husband who supports that, even though it has brought in close to nothing.  BUT, here is the thing: IT MAKES ME HAPPY.  I write every single day.  I use the blog as my warm-up but I work on many other projects during the day/night that most people (including my hubby) know very little about because I don't always talk about all my immediate projects.  It isn't even all about publishing and/or making money it is about satisfying my dream...doing what I LOVE to do.  And I get to every single day.  Win-Win.

We may not be rich in the traditional sense but I have never been happier than I am TODAY.  Right now.  We certainly have less in our bank account after all that went on these past three years and yet I am overly grateful and happy and CONTENT.  More money is just more money.  It doesn't bring love or happiness or joy.  I really don't care about the Jone's and I don't care about pretenses...my kids are healthy and well-adjusted...my husband is HOME...we are finding joy in the simple things in life...I have happiness in what I "do"...my husband loves what he does...It's all good.

Mean

 I get that we all have bad days.  We have moments we wish we could erase.  Conversations that we wish we could do over.  Comments made that were made in fun but ended up hurting another person.  I am guilty as the next guy of doing this, especially with this ole blog of mine and my fingers sometimes type faster than I can realize what I'm saying is hurtful.

I am currently on an emotional roller coaster.  I woke up this morning not feeling my best but not really under the weather either.  With Larry finally home I have slowly begun to feel this release of joy, pent up stress, and everything that I have been holding in (in order to hold it together) is finally beginning to bubble over and I find myself being overly sensitive at the moment.

Unfortunately in a world of texting/emailing it is sometimes hard to read the message correctly without taking offense by what may be an innocent statement.

Sometimes I wonder why I get so much shit.  Am I an easy target? Do I rub people the wrong way? Do they just not care?  It is most definitely a hard fall from grace, that's for sure.

Normally I try and let the little things go.  Those little jabs via a text or Facebook or in an email that you open and then sit there fuming because all you want to do is write something horrible back but you force yourself to put the phone down before you end up saying something to make it all worse.  I try and remember that my husband and my kids love me and that is surely more than enough...but I guess we are always (maybe it's just me) seeking the approval of others (parents, siblings, friends, etc.) all our lives.

I guess at the end of the day the mean-ness must make them feel better about themselves some how and that's alright...putting me down or making me feel bad about something is a way for them to feel superior and better.  Okay.  I get it.  I just wish I didn't take it all so personally because it hurts me.

*****Note: I wrote this post a couple of weekends ago and after reading it I decided to sit on it and not publish it right away so I saved it for later, forgetting that I picked a random date to have it pubish automatically.  I wrote this because I was hurt and when I was finished typing I felt better and then the situation cleared itself up.  However, I read the post again this morning with the intention of deleting it altogether and realized that I wouldn't do that because that goes against why I write this blog in the first place: to share all the good, bad, and in between, even when life isn't always grand. So, I decided to keep it up.  Read it with a grain of salt, but don't over-obsess.

The First Holiday With Larry Home

Granted, it was just the fourth, but still...

 WHAT A MELLOW and RELAXING START to the day...just hanging out! Later, family came over for a BBQ...it was truly a great day!! (Okay, Bridget freaking out over the fireworks was NOT great.)

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Six Feet

And who knows if he is finished growing yet! 

Suddenly, my sixteen year-old has sprouted not only slightly above me but WAY above me! It wasn't until Larry came home a couple of weeks ago that we realized just how tall my firstborn has become!  And, the funny part is that he was such a little guy...always in the 25th percentile (and boy did we worry back then! Ah, the joys of first time parenthood)...and among the shortest of everyone in his class from preschool through middle school. 

This past year he has truly shot up and is about as tall, if not taller, than his 6ft. tall father.

  Now to be absolutely fair, Josh was wearing shoes while Larry was barefoot.

The (Fantastic) Card Project

It began with an idea I had to do something special for my soon to be sixteen year old son.  I put an update on facebook requesting birthday cards be mailed to him for his birthday in July.

For weeks I went to the mailbox and grabbed cards and hid them in a cabinet.  On his birthday I tied all the cards up with ribbon and gave him the stack.  Initially he was confused.  Then I explained that a bunch of family friends, family members, and my old high school friends sent him birthday cards!

He was thrilled.  He read each and every card and we laughed and joked and giggled and I explained, when necessary, who these people were.

I love, love, love that people took the time to find a card (not always cheap), address them, and actually mail the cards! I can't tell you how touched I am at this simple and yet meaningful act that people...some I haven't seen in decades...decided to do for my firstborn.  What a FUN MEMORY we made for his 16th birthday!!

In a nutshell: it was a HUGE success.  And, I love that it was such a simple enjoyment...that he could get nothing more than a bunch of greeting cards for his birthday and he was obviously happy and thought the idea was very cool (he even asked for me to do it again next year!).  It was also successful in my attempts to keep our lives and birthdays from getting out of hand...and I love when we can have fun while keeping it all simple...and not making his birthday all about the things.  In fact, his birthday was very low-key.  I made him all his requested meals: french toast for breakfast; chicken quesidillas for lunch; and hamburgers and fried rice for dinner.  For dessert he wanted peanut butter pie.  We invited our family over for dessert and coffee and we sat back and enjoyed the day.  And, I think he genuinely enjoyed his birthday.

 Balloons in his room, our yearly tradition

 Hi requested, albeit strange combination, dinner

 Peanut butter pie...yummy!

 And the cards begin...

 The bundle...

 Opening all those cards took quite awhile and we made Josh read every single word...aloud (I asked him to sign but he was embarrassed!)

 We laughed and laughed at some of those cards! FUN!

 More reading...(p.s. Karri, your handmade card was AMAZING! Everyone LOVED it!!!)

 Josh and his cards...so, so, so fun...and a great way to celebrate a birthday!!! (I realize his eyes are closed, but oh well, I only took one with my camera!)

All I can hope for in raising my children that I provide them with memories that don't focus solely on stuff (if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time I'm fairly certain you know this about me!!) because that is not what I want them to remember as they head out into the world...I hope they will remember simple fun, happy moments, silly laughs.  And this birthday was a total win.

Sixteen Years

Sixteen years ago I gave birth to my firstborn.  Days before my baby shower, days before his dad's birthday, and a month before he was supposed to be here.  I remember meeting with a gal from the yellow pages (this was 1995, remember) to put an ad for my resume service in the yellow pages.  After that I worked on some games for my shower and decided to take a nap only to be snapped awake by my water breaking.  My little impatient son...

Today he has an Ipod in his ear, loves to watch WWE, teases his younger brother and sister endlessly, wants to be a pastry chef, is about to enter his junior year of high school, mows our yard happily, loves Chinese food, is a bit taller than his 6ft. father, and is still my (big) impatient son.

Happy "sweet 16" to my oldest child.  I love you more than words can say.  You were the one that made us a family and we are SO PROUD of you!

When I asked him what he wanted for dinner he said he wants hamburgers and my fried rice (I know! He is a crazy kid!) and homemade peanut butter pie for dessert.

Happy Birthday, Josh! You are an amazing kid!!

 

The Epitome Of Family

If one picture can speak volumes, this would be that picture.  It illustrates what we were missing before Larry arrived back home.  It demonstrates that it TRULY is the SIMPLE things in life that matter most.  It warms my heart and allows me to breathe again.  It is, in a word, what FAMILY is all about.  This picture isn't some expensive, professional photograph that forces everyone to smile and dress in matching colors.  It isn't a posed shot or even that great of a picture, really, but in it is what we are all about...Larry playing frisbee with the boys and Jennifer simply carefree doing cartwheels among the boys.  Even the dog gets in the mix.

Bliss.  Truly.  And found on a warm summer day in July when our world was made just a wee bit better.

 

Not Getting Too Much Pass Me

I think this is how mother's get the reputation for having eyes in the back of our heads.

This morning Harrison went looking for our GPS so everyone can go geocaching soon. I advised him to begin searching in the laundry room island cabinets as that seems to be the most logical place.  Meanwhile, Larry and I sat at the nook table drinking coffee and talking.  After a little while I called out to Harrison if he had had any luck finding it?

No answer.

We got up and went into the laundry room but Harrison wasn't in there.  Larry opened the garage door but it was dark, he wasn't in there.

I called his name.  He had apparently went upstairs.

Harrison comes downstairs and I ask him if he took something out of the laundry room....

H:  "No"
Me: "Really? What's in your pockets?"
H:  "Okay, well, I did take a pack of gum"
Me: "What else did you take?"
H:  "Nothing..."
Me:  "I will give you one minute to go upstairs and bring down what else you took before I ground you"

Which was when he ran upstairs and grabbed another two packs of gum.

Larry looked at me and said, "how in the hell did you know he took something?"  Because he seemed to leave quickly and obviously sneaky since neither of us saw him walk out of the laundry room nor heard him go upstairs.

And because I have eyes all over my head and in every room of the house.