The Rugged Maniac



As you will have noticed with this post, I did in fact survive the 5K obstacle course that all of my training posts were in reference to...

High on Aspiration...Low on Ability

High on Aspiration...Low on Ability - Part 2

High on Aspiration...Low on Ability - Part 3

High on Aspiration...Low on Ability - Part 4

High on Aspiration...Low on Ability - Part 5

I have to admit, I had really psyched myself out about this Rugged Maniac race...and it wasn't that bad. 

I don't mean that I was some total badass that dominated every obstacle and sprinted the whole course.  Not even close.  I did TRY every obstacle and only failed at two; but there was definitely more than one challenge that required teamwork and a helping hand (or two). 

What impressed me thoroughly about the whole thing, however, was the whole atmosphere of the "race."  All of the super competitive, every-man-for-himself types must have been in the first few waves of runners; because, by my 10:45am heat, the whole attitude was one of FUN, "go at your own pace," and "we're all in this together." 

I had a blast, and told my brother-in-law when we finished, "I feel like I could climb a mountain right now!  I CAN'T!  But I FEEL like I could!"

And since my dedicated readers seem to remain loyal, despite the fact that I constantly remind you what a crazy person I am, I will share my 3 HUGE pre-race fears with you:

1. My contacts...because if I lose one, then I can't see (duh).  Like (-7/20) Rx can't see.

2. My hair...yeah, yeah, I might not spend a lot of time on it, but I do try to make sure I won't be mortally embarrassed if I see someone I know when I leave the house.  What if I lose my headband?!  What if my bobby pins come out and my bangs end up standing straight up with mud?!  These are valid female concerns.

And speaking of female concerns...

3. My lady parts...I am sooooo sorry right now for my male readers, but let's get real - no lady wants her undies full of mud.  And for those that were worried about it, I did remember to wear undies - you're welcome (Freaky Friday).

I am happy to report that none of  my fears were realized; and I was a well-sighted, mostly comfortable person with respectable enough looking hair - including my headband - at the end of the race.

The course itself was 3.1 miles long and had the following obstacles:

1. Small Walls  - After a decent trail run over pretty clumsy-person-dangerous terrain, we arrived at two pieces of plywood that we were supposed to jump over.  Yeah, I climbed over them.  Carefully.

2. A-frames - A huge wooden A-frame ladder...only the "rungs" were like 3 feet or more apart.  These were my favorite because I actually climbed up, over, and down like a spider monkey and that made me feel super cool.  I did take a kick to the throat by an excited guy next to me, but he said, "Sorry," so I forgave him.

3. Mud Crawl - Crawling in mud...under BARBED WIRE?!  Um, no thanks on getting sliced up.  I went a little overboard on staying low here, because I have been known to miscalculate the size of my derriere and bump into things.  Not that big of a deal if it's like, a table, but a super huge deal if it's like, BARBED WIRE.  So I stayed almost totally flat in a push-up position and drug myself through the mud by my arms.  A good workout, to say the least (but my bum stayed safe).

4. Jump Trench - When I got to these huge pits in the ground, I thought, "Crap."  I have NO confidence in my ability to jump over things.  I clench up in the air and drop like a rock.  My landings are terrible, even if they are on my feet.  I got a running start, held my breath, and made it over about three or four of the pits before I got to one that was like, 5 FEET across and I screeched to a halt immediately.  I am not Batman - I will not pretend that I can jump that far.  That is the one and only thing I refused to do all day, and I walked around it.  I finished jumping over the rest of the totally reasonable, albeit terrifying, 3-4 foot wide pits and carried on.

5. Crawling Trenches - MORE BARBED WIRE!?  Back on my stomach, but this time I frog kicked/army crawled through the mud, under that danged barbed wire.  I am positive that THIS will be the ONE thing that they got a picture of all day.

6. Mud Pit - It was a pit...of mud.  Naturally, I got stuck and had to hold onto to a super sweet girl who took pity on me, and pulled myself out of the quicksand-ish mud.  At this point, I am already starting to be annoyed by all of the MUD.  Really unfortunate considering I had 19 more obstacles to go through.

7. Buoys - Huge pit of muddy water lined with buoys.  People were swimming under them.  They obviously didn't wear contacts.  I climbed over them all (very gracefully, I might add).

8. Tall Walls - These were huge plywood "walls" that you were supposedly going to be able to pull yourself up and over.  What am I, a Navy Seal?!  Basically, my brother-in-law boosted me as high as he could and I grabbed the top and pulled myself up onto my stomach, slowly did a 180, and fell over the other side. Then, I got my entire right leg stuck in mud up to my thigh and the trusty brother-in-law had to hold my arm while I horse-kicked my leg out of the mud (very UNgracefully, I might add).

9. Ladder Walls - Basically a repeat of #2.

10.  Show Catcher - Appropriately named, this involved wading through muddy water that dropped off in random places and varied from knee-depth to chest-depth mayhem.  Then, you got to a straight up wall of slick mud....that you were expected to climb up.  The ONLY reason I made it over was because of some awesome people that took it upon themselves to lay across the top and hold their hands down to help.  I really hope they were from out-of-state (and that I never see them again) because once I had run-climbed the wall as high as I could, they helped haul me over the top - but I landed like, ON them...and rolled down the other side. 

11. Bag Carry - This one made me laugh.  You had to throw a weighted sack across your shoulders and run to the next stop.  Please.  I carry one 30-lb. kid AND one 40-lb. kid on my shoulders/back/hips on a regular basis - at the same time.  These people should be ashamed to tell any mom that this was an "obstacle."

12. Tube Crawl - You slid down a tube, landed in mud, waded through it, and climbed up another tube.  It was harder than it sounds.

13. Pole Hop - This is an inaccuracy on their itinerary - THERE WAS MORE BARBED WIRE!  This time I just lay down in front of it and log-rolled under the whole she-bang.  Great plan, except I had no sense of time and space when I stood up on the other side.  I had to climb the mud hill on the other side at a diagonal angle because I was so dizzy, I wasn't sure where the ground was.

14. Ring Cross - These were rings that you had to swing from one to the other across a pit of muddy water.  This was the first EPIC fail I had.  My hands were so muddy that as soon as I jumped off of the platform and went to swing from one ring to the next, my hands slipped, and I went swimming.  I had to do the climb of shame out of the water hole. 

15. Mulch Climb - This was a GIGANTIC mountain of mulch that you had to literally run up and then down.  I want to know what they did with it afterwards, because my front yard is looking kind of shabby right now...

16. Balance Beam - Literally a balance beam (across a pit of muddy water, of course).  I rocked this.  All you had to do was walk...quickly and carefully.  Score.

17. Twin Peaks - I dunno what this name is supposed to mean, but what it was - in real life - was a scarily forever-long, mud tunnel under the ground that you were SUPPOSED to crawl through; but my knees and shins were so shredded at this point that I couldn't.  Instead, I crouched/squatted and used my fingertips to walk through the tunnel Orangutan-style.  Luckily it was dark, so no one could see this.  Another stupendous workout.

18. Seesaw - You had to run up a huge seesaw and then down the other side.  It looked really scary, but was easy enough to boost my confidence and lead me to believe I could try the next thing...

19. Ninja - Four boards, set at an angle, diagonally from each other, over a pit - you are SUPPOSED to "Ninja-leap" from one to the other.  I ran, jumped, and after hitting the first board, my confidence died an immediate death - I called it quits mid-air and dropped into the pit.  Epic fail #2.

20. Mount Maniac - Another appropriately named obstacle.  This was the one that I NEVER would have done, nor probably EVER could do, without help.  There was an insanely high wooden wall you had to get to the top of...then a rope wall to climb across AND up...then a slide to go down.  The wooden wall you had to "climb" was ridiculous, and if my brother-in-law hadn't pushed me while another guy pulled me, I wouldn't have made it.  I needed the guy at the top because my hands were covered in mud and and even though I could jump and grab the top of the wall, I kept slipping.  He grabbed my arm after my hands slipped the last time and ended up completely pulling me over the top of the wall.  At one point he asked me, "Are you Ok? Do you have a grip?" and I told him, "NO!  If you let go, I will fall and take down all of the people under me!!!"  He yanked me over the top and I thanked him (again, hoping he was from out-of-state).  After that, the rope floor/wall was no problem.  BUT - the slide scared the crap out of me.  Sitting at the top of it and looking down was intense.  I almost climbed back down the wall.  A girl offered to push me...but that freaked me out even more, so I just closed my eyes and did it.  Phew!

21. Superhero - We swam through....you guessed it!  Muddy water.

22. Crawl Under - MUD.

23. Pit - MUD.

24. Cargo climb - Running up...and then down...a mountain of...MUD.

25. Fire Jump - Running and jumping over three separate rows of burning logs.  Terrifying stuff for a clumsy jumper, by the way.

And then...THE FINISH LINE!  1 hour and 45 minutes after leaving the starting line, we were DONE!  It felt...insanely euphoric.  Enough so that people were actually getting ENGAGED at the finish line.  I couldn't see well enough to tell if there was a ring, and it was actually planned, or they were just CRAZY high off of the race and acting on endorphins.  My brother-in-law and I watched that madness, celebrated with a respectably brief hug and then then bee-lined to the truck to grab our phones and snap pics of each other to send to our spouses.  We're definitely bonded for life after this, but not in a Jerry Springer kind of way.  (I live in a small town, I have to state these things, sorry.)

Because I was so invincible after my race, I decided I would take advantage of my "free beer" wristband that came with my race registration.  I have been through college (including being a sorority girl) and have NEVER been able to drink a beer.  But I was a Rugged Maniac now!  Surely I could drink a beer!?  Phew - I tried.  I ended up sipping on it for 30 minutes and then had to pass it off on my brother-in-law.  Apparently, I am not THAT rugged yet.  *Gag!*

Did I enjoy it?  YES.  Will I do it again? YES.  Am I insane?  YES.

The fact that the whole thing was like a personal challenge rolled into a team-building exercise was awesome.  Hopefully, next year we can talk some people into joining us and make a whole team!  The sense of accomplishment when you cross that finish line - it's like no other!

"You are never late to live."

♥M

Jump Into Your Purpose

First let me apologize to my readers for completely abandoning you for a SOLID WEEK!  I promise that I haven't been twiddling my thumbs, though; and I hope that my excitement over why I have been absent will help you to forgive me...

Last week, I got a message out of the blue from an old co-worker at the bank.  It was one of those innocent things that can start an avalanche in your life...and this did, for sure.  The message was basically this: We (the bank) own a building that has been renovated to be a daycare.  We heard you are staying home next year, and thought you might be interested."

Psssssh!  Yeah, right.  I had made it clear to the 278 people that had previously suggested it - I was NOT opening a daycare.  That was one of those life's dreams of mine, and I was all too aware of what the venture would entail.  It would mean giving up everything (and every dollar) to strike out on my own, risk my family's security, and all just to become a small-business statistic concerning failure in the first 3 years. 

So on Friday, I went and checked out the building with the bank's V.P. 

It took my breath away.  It was so perfect, it hurt my insides.  The set-up is such that we could actually live upstairs and run the daycare downstairs.  I could live at work.  (Which is great, because I need any help I can get with my genetic predisposition to being 5 minutes late...or more...everywhere I go.)  I started dreaming on the spot...and that made me nervous.  I didn't deserve this!  I couldn't pull this off!  I didn't have start-up money for a business!  Every concern I had was waved away, only making me more hopeful...which made me REALLY nervous.  "What do you need from me?  What are you looking for?" I asked my tour guide.  The short answer?  Someone with a passion for children, who will commit to this project 100%.  Someone who will put the blood, sweat, and tears into this place to get it where it should be, and offer this community what it needs.

She described me.

I lost all control of my dreams, hopes, and "what if's." 

She handed me the key and told me to think about it over the weekend.  I spent the whole weekend obsessing, researching, and sharing my meanderings with my family.  I took the hubs to the building and showed him around.  He was immediately in love.  "M!  This is what we've been waiting for!  We can do this TOGETHER and BE TOGETHER like we always dreamed!"  I tried to talk him down.  "It's going to be our whole life!  It's all we'll do, all we'll think about, all we'll have time for!" 

"But we'll be TOGETHER.  We'll do this TOGETHER." he says.

And that was the end of my will power to say "No." 

I spent the weekend with my nose buried in business manuals, social services standards, and zoning and building code requirements.  I made lists and crunched numbers.  I called every contact I have that I thought could possibly offer me advice...or talk me out of it.  I consulted with a realtor, two social workers, a previous daycare manager, the principal of the school across from the building, someone on the county's board of supervisors, an insurance agent, a loan officer, and my pastor.  I spent hours on the Internet searching for helpful articles about starting a business, how-to blogs, and procedural manuals. 

I was a woman on a mission.

The most productive part of of it all?  Finding out exactly what people thought of me, and my potential business prowess:

"Sometimes, your plan isn't God's plan."

"Once your fire is lit on something, NO ONE can stop you - you WILL make this happen.  I know it."

"Life is like a puzzle, but you don't have the box cover with the picture, so you don't know what it's supposed to look like when you're done.  You just have to let Him fit the pieces together."

"If there was anyone that could succeed at this...it's you."

"Maybe this is what God's been preparing you for all along.  You've been through things and had experiences that, without them, you might not have been prepared to climb this hill."

"It's going to be a lot of work, but you can do it.  There isn't anyone who won't believe in you."

Wow.  As I'm sure you can imagine - hearing words like that...to your face...when you're feeling totally NOT confident...I cried.  (By the way - this stuff is documented now, y'all, so don't try to take it back when I fail miserably! Haha!)  I knew that I had super awesome friends, and that my family loved me... but to have that amount of support when you are doubting yourself?  Well, obviously, I was super awkward and said something to ruin the moment every time, but STILL - I heard their words, and it made my heart swell.

So what have I been doing this week?  Well, I have read enough state and federal material to probably fill three novels.  I have begun working on a budget and a schedule, researched and decided on a business structure, registered my business with both the state and federal government, secured my official certificate from the State Corporation Commission for my business... I've been busy. 

The to-do list is endless.  I still have to finish my research on all of the costs for start-up equipment and supplies, recruit top-notch potential employees, set up training and certification classes for said employees, get business and zoning and licensing through my town/county/state, and work my way through grants/loans. 

I should be overwhelmed. 

I'm not.  I'm enjoying the challenge.  I'm embracing the sense of accomplishment that each item checked off of the to-do list brings me.  That also worries me.  Why am I not freaking out?  Is six days just not enough time to fully realize what I am doing?  Will it sink in next week, or next month?  Or am I just actually on the path that I am meant to be on?  Am I FINALLY realizing a purpose, and a mission, and fulfilling some part of my destiny that's been waiting for me to catch up?  (Whoa, getting kind of touchy-feely again...)

Right now everything is in the "dream phase."  At any moment something could rear it's head and snatch all of my dreams away.  THAT is what my life's experience tells me.  THAT is what leaves me feeling skeptical at the conclusion of each daydream. 

But why let that stop me?  Why live waiting for the other shoe to drop? 

I can't.  I will never realize this dream unless I push through all of the self-doubt, ignore the people who aren't as supportive as my real friends and family, and take the biggest risk I've ever taken in my whole life.

Which leads me to what I decided to name my preschool.

I have faced many obstacles in my life.  Many things that I could have chosen to stumble over and not get back up from.  We all have.  Our children need to be prepared for the same thing.  If there is anything that I am passionate about, it is children...and their education beyond standardized tests and letter grades. 

Stumbling blocks in life are only stepping stones, but only for those who have been prepared to be strong, tenacious, adventuresome, and independent.

Which is why I am pleased to announce that I am the official owner and director of Stepping Stone Academy, LLC.

"Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall."  - Ray Bradbury

♥M



IKEA for Dummies

Last night, I was entirely too weak of mind, body, and spirit to write a blog post.  I had to concentrate on my recovery before I could put it into words...

Yesterday, I took my children to IKEA.

If you are unfamiliar with this magical wonderland that is a home store, then please, PLEASE, take the time to go there.  The whole place is a maze of furniture showrooms, a home decor marketplace, and has just enough of life's practical items (light bulbs, band-aids, umbrellas, chocolate...) stuck in random places to make it absolutely necessary to explore the entire store each time you go...lest you miss any magical bargain that you cannot possibly be expected to continue living without, but didn't even know you needed.  There is also a cafeteria on the second floor, should you need nourishment in order to continue shopping.  Do you hear what I am telling you?  A store that provides a refueling station for power shoppers = an A+ establishment in my book. (OR an oasis for when you get so lost that you can't carry on looking for a way out until you get your blood-sugar back up...whichever, really.)   You will love it - unless you absolutely hate it.

My hubs WANTED to hate it.  You see, he is a custom woodworker; and in previous years I was not allowed to even consider making a "fake furniture" purchase from such a wicked place.  I changed his mind by making him go there with me - holding a list of things I wanted him to build for me.  I added up how much it would cost me to buy the "fake" furniture.  He added up how much it would cost him to make me the "real" furniture (materials plus time away from actual paying jobs... apparently my undying love does not translate to cash).

We left the store with several flat packs, and he didn't even complain about putting any of it together with fine print, Swedish directions.

Back to yesterday:

Plan A was for me and the 4-year-old to go to IKEA, retrieve a "big girl bed" for the 2-year-old, and have Nana (my mother-in-law) keep little sister while we were gone.  We scrapped Plan A for Plan B - all four of us going together.  "It will be fun," we said.

I should have taken heed of the many warnings that morning - the day would NOT go according to any type of plan.

1. The hubs decided that I was to drive his truck.

2. The hubs decided that his truck needed a dozen different fluids AND air in the tires in order to be considered suitable for me to drive.

3. The hubs decided to drive his truck to work, then have me pick it up on the way, so he could be especially sure that it was indeed performing no less than was his standard for my trip that day...whatever that was.

4. I went into the girls' room to wake them up and get them ready.  I discovered that the 2-year-old had taken her diaper off during the night, and the entire bed was soaked with pee.

5. I gave both kids a bath...while they screamed (and I think cursed) about the injustice of being transferred from the bed to the bathtub.  ME waking THEM in an unpleasant manner?  The nerve.

6. I washed the girls' pajamas, sheets, blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and mattress cover.  So much for getting all the laundry done the day before (The Life Cycle of Laundry).

Fast forward: we overcame the odds, we're in the car, we're going to IKEA.  It should have taken an hour and a half.  It took 3+ hours.

1. There was traffic.

2. My GPS kindly offered to reroute us around the traffic. "Yes, please!" It took us many interesting places....and then attempted to put us BACK into the traffic.

3. I caught sight of the still-backed-up traffic, said "Oh, Heeelllll no," whipped the truck around, and got the heck out of there.  It was way less "007" and way more "You can't make me go back there!" than I probably realized.  I can't really be sure, however, because I was extremely distracted by my mother-in-law screaming, "We're going to die!" and  "I see the light!"

4. The kids slept ZERO on the way there...and we arrived promptly at what WOULD have been naptime.

And yet we entered the store anyway.  I thought I was prepared with coloring supplies, snacks, toys, drinks... They got bored with the snacks, wanted different drinks, hated the toys, and were disgusted with my coloring supplies.  They DID want to run, jump, climb, argue, cry, make insane demands ("Buy me this office chair!")...and expected ice cream on the way out.

I think I mostly kept my cool.  By that I mean I didn't beat anyone, I didn't yell, I ignored most of the little stuff, and we all came out alive.  I'm not entirely sure why I thought taking my 2-year-old that likes to scale tall dressers, balance on one foot on the seat of exercise bikes, and dance on kitchen counters to a huge furniture showroom store was anything less than asking for it, so really, I blame myself.

The ride home was another 3+ hours. More traffic, more wonky GPS directions, more crying, more bickering, more insane demands ("I want to blow bubbles!") and lots of rain to boot.  It wasn't ALL terrible though.  I got to hang out with my mother-in-law (although she probably needs counseling after the day we had combined with 6+ hours of my driving).  I got to listen to my babies sing their ABC's and count their 123's in the backseat (even if my helpful suggestions of including certain omitted numbers or letters was rejected - "I am counting MY numbers, it is not your business.")  We talked and laughed and played a silly game of how many different funny voices we could say "I love you" in (I think we were getting delirious at that point). 

Getting home was still a sweet relief, however.  Well, until I realized that the 4-year old had fallen asleep and had an accident in her car seat, the 2-year-old had a fever....and I had a headache.

More baths, more laundry, and then sweet, glorious bedtime.

God made Moscato for days like this.  Amen.

♥M

The Life Cycle of Laundry

We have an established pattern around this castle with our laundry system.  It goes as follows:

1) I wash everything in the whole house that can be balled up to a size smaller than the circumference of the washing machine door.
2) I keep up with regular, follow-up loads for a period of time. 
3) One terrible day, I wake up and discover that the dirty laundry has bred during the night and there is a Mount Clothes-erest in my laundry room. 
4) I spend a whole day doing laundry, thus starting the cycle all over again.

Today was the end of a cycle, meaning that I spent from sunup until now (well, whenever that last load finishes...) washing every textile in this house.  This day in the laundry sequence always makes me extremely grouchy - not BECAUSE I'm doing laundry, but because of what I FIND in the laundry.  Today's treasures included Dora the Explorer knee pads, 4 stuffed animals, a set of sheets that I had washed, dried, folded and set out to be put on the kids' bed, but had been returned to the hamper instead, and best of all: an entire bag of clean clothes that the kids had left at my mom's house, and she had washed and returned.  An. Entire. Bag. Of. Clean. Clothes.

It doesn't matter if it WAS clean, it just sat in the laundry room for a week in a pile of dirty clothes and now I have to wash it all AGAIN. 

The best part about spending the whole day doing laundry is that you have no evidence of anything being accomplished when you are done.  All of your hard work is folded up and put away in drawers or hung up in the closets.  Today, the rest of the house looked like a disaster response team should be called in because I pretty much ignored all of the other messes the kids were making all day while I was folding clothes.  I surveyed the remnants of a blanket fort, the knee deep pile of toys in the kids' room, the stickers all over the couch, and the trail of crushed pretzel dust from Jace driving her tricycle repeatedly over a rogue pretzel in the kitchen floor that had missed the dustpan in a maintenance sweep earlier.  Hmmm...I decided to call and prepare the hubs for this before he got home.  I wanted to save him from himself, and eliminate the risk that he may walk in and say something really stupid like, "Hey, this place is a wreck - what did you DO all day?!" 

"Hey babe, FYI the house is a wreck, but I got ALL of that laundry done!"
"That's cool... Wait, the house is so bad you called me?!  Do I need a hazmat suit or something?"
"Not quite."  (I described the scene.)
"Oh, well I'm not going to be home for like, an hour so...."
"Stop.talking.now.I.don't.want.to.have.to.kill.you.in.your.sleep...Ok.love.you.byeee!"

Phew.  Good thing I called him.

There's another phone call I need to make, though.  I need to call MY mom.  The woman who did MY laundry (and four other people's too) for 17 years.

I need to tell her THANK YOU for the following:

-every stain she removed.

-every tube of chapstick, balled up piece of paper, and handful of change that she rescued from our pants pockets (or rocks, dandelions, Barbie shoes, chunks of dried Play-doh...).

-every shirt that she turned right-side out to fold (especially the long-sleeved ones).

-every clean item that she probably washed about 3 times before we actually put it away or wore it.

-every wet towel she found in the floor...or on the bed...or behind the door...

-alllll of the socks that she ever unballed before putting them in the washer.

-every missing sock she found in a random place around the house while cleaning, and returned to it's home - clean - without anyone even noticing.

-actually, for just even allowing us to wear socks....because I'm seriously thinking about banning them altogether in this crash pad.

-anything she ever had to "sniff-check" to see if it was really dirty, or just got thrown in the floor.


Ok, the last load is done!  Now it is time for me to make my traditional declaration - the avowal that I make at this juncture of the laundry cycle each and every time:

I will NEVER let this pile get this big again. (HA!)

Also, I hung a sign on each of the dressers that says "If you unfold/remove any of the items in these drawers for any reason other than to put it onto your body and wear it for an entire day - I will cut you."


♥M

Financial Fools No More

 

 

4.5 years...that's how long the hubs and I have been waiting for TODAY. 

As of today, we are 100% credit card debt free.

I am not sharing this because I think we deserve praise for digging our way back to the surface of our debt; I am sharing this because I think that it's important for people know it can be done. 

Neither of us were unsuspecting or naive about how revolving credit worked; so we can't plead any kind of ignorance about getting into the situation that we found ourselves in.  We whole-heartedly agreed from the beginning that credit cards were dangerous, not to be toyed with, and had no place in our lives as a financial crutch.

Then life got a little more real.  I left home my junior year of college.  I had student loans to pay for my tuition and books, but there were a lot of "extra" expenses that weren't in the shiny university pamphlet....like a laptop, lab fees, student activity fees, etc., etc. etc.  I kept my part-time job as a bank teller (just transferred branches); but now I had full-time living expenses as well.  I had always paid for my own car, car insurance, and cell phone...now there was an apartment (with running water, electricity, AND cable), A LOT more gas being burned in my car, and I had to actually feed myself at least once a day.   Being an "independent" adult turned out to be a real drag.

At first I kept a budget and did okay.  Gradually, however, as my feelings of independence grew, I loosened my grip on the "NO" word with myself.  I was in charge of me now, and I didn't need approval for every little thing I wanted.  There was no one chanting "can't afford that can't afford that can't afford that" every time I wanted to spend money.  It was empowering to want something...and then buy it.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't going on shopping sprees or buying "designer" anything.  I WAS buying a new pair of jeans at Old Navy for a party that weekend, ordering pizza when friends came over instead of cooking, and buying stuff for my apartment that I definitely didn't need to survive.  I was also charging my "living expenses" and justifying it by paying the full balance every month...until I WASN'T paying the full balance every month. 

I still had a loose handle on my spending...until I got engaged.  Then I lost my damn mind.  I was going to have the wedding I wanted, and I would pay for it later.  A lot later.  Like, until yesterday. 

What I hadn't really thought long and hard enough about was the fact that I wouldn't be gainfully employed for quite a while after we got married.  I had to give up my super awesome job as a bank teller (for real, I loved that job) to student teach.  And you don't get paid to student teach.  Quite the opposite, actually - you pay them quite handsomely to complete your student teaching requirements (and to take the umpteen tests required for your license...and secure your actual state license...)  And complete mine I did - in DECEMBER.  Not a lot of teaching jobs laying around in the middle of the school year.  We limped along, though, with me substituting the rest of that year; but by the time the student loan statements started showing up, the numbers on the credit card were almost rubbed smooth.

In 2009, the Credit CARD Act went into effect.  This credit card reform law required credit card companies to play a little more fairly - and be a little more honest about their fine print.  The jerks at the credit companies were no longer allowed to hike interest rates without advance notice, sneak attack you with due dates that bounced around every month (or had cutoff times of the day for payments), charge outrageous late fees ($25 cap now), or charge you "over the limit" fees unless you "opted-in" to that service.  All of those things were nice, but what got my attention was the new box on every statement that broke down for you exactly how long it would take you to pay your card off if you continued to make your monthly minimum payments....and how much you would have actually paid them. 

After noticing that horrifyingly eye-opening little box on our statements, we made an appointment with a local Clearpoint counselor.  We had made a lot of really bad decisions, and trust me, I'm sure we aren't done doing that, but THIS was an AWESOME one.  Clearpoint's Debt Management Program was the kick in the butt that we needed to get on track.  Basically, they took over all of our cards and negotiated lower interest rates, higher principal payments, and fast-tracked us towards paying everything off.  Luckily, we had never missed any payments or been late on anything, so our credit was still good.... but we did have to cut up all of our cards and weren't eligible to secure any loans or credit accounts while on the program. 

For the first few months, you may as well have cut off  my arm.  It was a serious reality check to not be able to stop at the store and pick up something because I didn't have the cash for it, or to have to turn down friends' invitations to go out because the funds were non-existent.  Shortly after signing up for the program, life changed even more drastically; and we survived two maternity leaves and multiple instances of the hubs being out of work due to injury or lack of business.  We survived medical bills, student loans, buying baby formula for two out those four years, and buying diapers for all four of them.  We made tough decisions about what to spend our last $20.00 on some weeks.  We ate dinner at my parents house...and took home leftovers...A LOT. 

It took serious adjustments to our way of thinking and to our lifestyle, but it was all worth it for TODAY.  Up until now, I was embarrassed about the fact that we were on a debt management program.  I was embarrassed that I had managed to graduate college magna cum laude AND be a victim of something as stupid as credit cards at the same time.  But not today.  Today, I am proud of how hard we worked to leave that debt behind us.  I am proud of my husband for all of the extra work he did to make the money we needed to provide for our family.  I am proud of how savvy I turned out to be with random food in the cabinet at dinner time.  I am proud of the juggling skills I learned when it came to making the credits and debits of our checking account work out JUST right each month.

More than proud, however, I am GRATEFUL.  I am grateful that we had awesome friends who didn't ditch us because we couldn't afford to go out.  I am grateful that we had loving parents who slipped us gas money when we were living on one income while paying medical bills, or invited us to dinner then sent us home with "extra" food...sometimes once a week.  I am grateful that we had trustworthy, affordable babysitters for our children so that we could go to work.  I am grateful that I learned how to be empathetic to those who have to make decisions based on living paycheck to paycheck, or not having a paycheck at all.

And - at the risk of this starting to sound like an award acceptance speech ("First and foremost, I would like to thank God...") - I AM grateful that, as a Christian, I have been able to recognize the fact that sometimes, some weeks, some months....things did not make sense on paper, they shouldn't have worked out according to the numbers...but they did.  We never missed a house payment, our kids always had food to eat, and no one disowned us for getting really crappy Christmas presents a few of those years.  (Thanks, guys!) 

We did it.

Watch out student loans - you're next.

♥M

Spring Party Planning Madness

 

The girls' birthday party is in 6 days, and I'm NOT my usual stressball of party planning....which leads me believe that I am overlooking something major.  Or, maybe I'm just getting better at going with the birthday party flow....

I am a notorious birthday party planning freaker-outer.  It all started with the oldest's first birthday.  She was the first and the only, so when Jace turned one, I had to have every detail just so.  I had a Fancy Nancy-themed party, complete with Jace's picture on a personalized birthday banner, every decoration/balloon/serving tray in the right place, and custom invitations from Etsy.  My sister-in-law made a cake that could have been for a wedding.  My brother-in-law practically broke out a level to hang the streamers.  My cousin took pictures, my husband took video, and I almost had a stroke making sure everything was perfect.

I really intended to turn things down a notch with the second birthday.  Except I was pregnant with daughter #2, and if you remember from A Second Love, I was going a little crazy trying to prove to myself that I could still give the same amount of attention to Jace as always.  Which resulted in an extreme Lalaloopsy-themed party...before they made Lalaloopsy themed party decorations.  I made my own invitations, scoured the internet for party favor ideas, and labored over the decorations.  I stressed over each of the 5 seperately-themed tables I set up.  Each one was based on a different doll with appropriate colors and themed items for that character.  Jace had the perfect party outfit, a huge cake, and of course, lots of pictures were taken.

By the third birthday, I was stretching myself a little thin.  I had to pull off the perfect Tinkerbell party for Jace, and then follow up with a one-of-a-kind Strawberry Shortcake themed first birthday for Daire a few weeks later.  They each had the right banners, balloons, tablecloths, themed party food and drinks, and of course - the personalized invitations from the cute little Etsy shop.  I had to do all of this while throwing a baby shower for one friend, a bachelorette party for another, and be the matron-of-honor in the wedding while sweating over my three-year-old being the flower girl at the same time.  I did it.  It almost killed me, but I did it. 

Maybe I have party-planning PTSD, but this year I am not allowing myself to reach any of my previous levels of hysteria.  For one thing, they don't give a rip about all of the decorations or the handmade, themed crap that I slave over. I knew this all along, but kept telling myself "one day they'll look back at the pictures and be so impressed." Yeah, right.  Get over yourself, lady.

For the sake of helping to reform any of my bretheren party-planner crazies out there - here are some of the things I have learned from my party-planning-zilla moments over the past few years:

1. If you work 45 hours a week and have two small children, it's Ok to not have time to hot glue stuff, teach yourself how to make cake pops, and whip up 3 tons of finger food for an event.

2. If you hate baking and kind of suck at it anyway, there are people out there who do such for a living and will gladly accept cash payment for taking over the burden of creating edible masterpieces that people will actually want to eat at your party.  If you're really worried about it, just throw it all on your own serving dishes and let people think you made it all.  *Warning: Your guests could potentially ask for the recipe or try to get you to bring said items to a future event.  Not that I've done that....I'm just saying, it could happen.

3. If you're a big fan of taking money out of your wallet and lighting it on fire, then please, by all means, spend tons of it on balloons and streamers.  You will only have to sit and pop $45 worth of helium balloons exactly 3 hours after filling them ONE TIME for that lesson to stick.  Also, the physical anguish of ripping down streamers that you spent hours putting up is almost unbearable.

4.  Children are not impressed with your organized activities.  Attempt to entertain them with well-thought out party games and they will yawn right before they run outside to play tag or roll around in the floor playing with balloons. 

5. No one cares if your party food fits the theme.  They just want to be fed.  Your tea cakes and fruit kabobs are cute, but order some pizza and everyone is happy.  They will also be grateful that you compensated them with an adequate food suply in exchange for having to spend their afternoon at a kid's birthday party as opposed to the 4 million other things they could do on a Saturday.

6. The birthday invitations and party favors ultimately end up in the same place: the trash can.  It causes me a lot less pain to imagine you throwing away the flyers I got printed at Staples, than the cute Etsy invite I had printed with the kids' names and pictures on them.  I gave up completely on stressing over favor bags.  I save money and you don't have to step on little plastic toys in your living room floor.  You're welcome!

7. Delegate.  I have had to relax greatly over the years as far as accepting help goes.  I used to be a "must do everything myself or it won't be done right" person.  Now I'm a "someone else offered to do it, THANK GOD I can take something off of my to-do list" person.  Someone offers to bring food?  Sure!  My mom offers to pick up the cakes?  Yes ma'am!  My sister wants to help decorate or a lady from church offers to do the centerpieces?  YES, YES, YES, and THANK YOU!

This year both girls wanted the same theme (Sofia the First).  Jackpot.  ONE party, ONE set of invitations to make, ONE day of freaking out about putting up decorations, and ONE load of party food to buy.  I felt guilty they weren't each getting their own party...for like 5 minutes, then I rented a bounce house and called the whole party planned.  Aaaaand DONE.

♥M

Freaky Friday

Today was one of those "Awkward Anonymous" kind of days that made me question being allowed in public. 

I was relatively well-behaved at work; but after leaving there, things just kind of went to crazy, quick.  I had my six-month skin cancer body-screen at the Dermatologist's office and was patting myself on the back for being so well-prepared for it.  I wore my sunscreen all summer, was only 5 minutes late (a real accomplishment for me when going to the doctor straight from work), and had even shaved my legs that morning. 

Normal chit-chat with the nurse, she hands me my gown, she tells me, "Ok, just take everything off except your bra and underwear."  I was all, "Okaaaa....*GAAAAASP!*

"What's wrong?!"
"OMG...I don't have any underwear on."
"Why?!"
"I got dressed really fast this morning...?"

She just kind of stuttered for a few minutes...and then offered me DEPENDS (that was "all she had").  I died laughing and told her I'd rather her see my naked butt than wear a diaper, but I sincerely appreciated her offer. 

In my overzealous effort to tuck the paper lap gown around myself, I tore it in about 4 different places.  I just gave up after that.  "You've had two children, for God's sake," I tell myself.  "HOW could this be worse than being naked in an operating room with a dozen people?!'

I survived that embarrassment just in time to make it to my sorority dinner....and go for broke in the Awkward Games. 

We played a fun game while we waited for our food - one woman called out letters of the alphabet and whoever could produce an item from their purse that started with that letter FIRST, got a point.  Being first meant being quick.  Being quick meant blurting things out.  Being encouraged to blurt things out is NOT ideal for an awkward person, such as myself.  It's like offering an alcoholic a drink, or inviting someone with a gambling problem to go to a casino.  It will not play out well.

I got too excited in the beginning and shouted "Examples!" for 'E' - but what I produced was a SAMPLE of eczema cream from the dermatologist's office.  (No, M. No.)  Other people were pulling out cool stuff, like a leprechaun ('L') and a tazer (T') and an iPad ('I').  I feel like they had played this game before.

I pulled it together and produced deodorant for 'D' and Mickey Mouse bubbles for 'M' (I KNEW those bubbles would come in handy).  I got some weird looks when I produced a chunk of Twizzler from the depths of my bag for 'T', but things reached a really new level when everyone was stumped by the letter 'X'....until I found some Xanax in a side pocket.  I attempted to play that off by announcing there would be an after party in the parking lot with that and the bubbles.  Polite laughter.  Ouch.  (Hey, next time you get nervous on an airplane or break out in hives over a dreadful event you're being forced to attend - you'll think of me and how wise I am to stash the stuff.)  Just stay home, M.  Just stay home.

Well, either they're as crazy as I am or the Xanax compartment of my purse didn't scare anyone too badly, because I was asked to consider being President Elect for next year.  That's what you want, ladies - an awkward president who forgets to wear underwear.  Maybe that will be my campaign slogan...

♥M

A Second Love

I've mentioned before that Baby #2 is more than just a bomb in your marriage, they are a major upheaval of all that is normal for your whole family-of-three's dynamic.  With the first baby you worry about being a good parent and being "ready" for all the things that a baby brings.  With the second baby, you worry about the first baby.  A lot.

I was totally unprepared, and had never heard anyone talk about, the overwhelming amount of guilt I felt towards the end of my second pregnancy.  I was terrified of what this second child would mean to my relationship with my first daughter.  I was excited about the baby, couldn't wait to meet her, hold her, and love her....and that made me feel guilty.

My daughter was a relatively easy toddler....because she was used to the whole world revolving around her.  She played what she wanted, when she wanted.  Her stuff stayed where she put it.  If she wanted a snack or a drink, she got it within a reasonable period of time.  She was our whole world because she was our one and only.  That was about to change - and she had no clue it was coming.  I did know...and it made me feel guilty.

Snuggles on demand were no problem when there was only one kid to snuggle.  Sharing our bed wasn't really a big deal because when she crawled in between us in the middle of the night, there wasn't anyone to be jealous of her doing it.  Stopping what I was doing to do what she wanted was a habit because whatever else I had been doing was only something for me anyway, and she was more important.  There was going to be another person to divide my attention away from her now...and that made me feel guilty.

The last few weeks of my pregnancy, I actually cried sometimes from the overwhelming feeling of change that just felt as if it were swallowing me up.  Jace was only 2 years old - she wasn't going to understand what she was feeling once the baby came and I wouldn't be able to explain it to her in any way that she could understand at such a young age.  My biggest fear was that my sweet baby girl would think Mommy didn't love her anymore.  (Now I'm crying just remembering it, ugh!)

The night before my Cesarean, we left her with my parents and I cried like I would never see her again.  It was ridiculous.  I was being torn in half between how excited I was to finally meet my new baby and how awful I felt about "abandoning" my oldest child to go do it.  Don't judge my irrational behavior - pregnancy hormones are a real B.

The other thing I wasn't prepared for was the next morning when they held that wrinkled up little mess of a strawberry-blonde that is my second child up to my face, and I got to kiss her little fingers and stroke her soft cheek before they whisked her off to the hospital nursery.  "Oh my God...I just fell in love again,"  I told James. 

I was wrong about my heart being split in two for two babies.  I was wrong about having to give up some of my love for Jace so that I would have enough for Daire.  I was wrong to ever doubt that my heart couldn't hold them both at the same time.

My heart got bigger.

Now I feel incomplete without them both in my arms.  My world is not divided, it is more complete.  I have more love, get more snuggles, and make or buy two of everything.  The first year was far from smooth and nothing if not a learning experience, but we made it.  For every time my heart broke for having to tell Jace "hold on" or "not right this second" because of the baby, it has swelled ten times over when I see them hug, snuggle, share, and love each other beyond words. 

I will always remember that first love, but I couldn't imagine life without my second.

♥M

High on Aspiration, Low on Ability...Part 2


So when we last left off (High on Aspiration, Low on Ability), I had begun "training" for the Rugged Maniac coming up this Spring.  I am proud to say that Week #1 was as close to a smashing success as it gets for me.  I logged a running total of 7.1 miles for the week and only hurt  myself ONCE doing it!  7.1 miles in one week is a total joke to you marathoners, but I'm fairly certain that if you totaled the number of miles I've ever run in my entire life before last week....it probably wouldn't be much more than that.

Then it snowed.  I was tough about the 5:30am crap, the cold weather, and I even got right up and kept running when I fell and scraped my knees, but snow?!  My level of dedication is not, nor will probably ever be, THERE.  So I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill.  It was awful.  Do you know how freakin' coordinated you have to be to run in place while the ground is moving beneath you?!  I almost ate it when I tried to drink some water while still slow-jogging!  Seriously, it gave me nightmares. 

In other words, Week #2 was a whopping misfortune as far as "training" went.  I logged a wee total of 2 miles running and even managed to injure myself again.  I got excited when I fell last week - not because I did it with all the grace of a drunken gazelle, but because I thought "Oh, Thank God! I got the obligatory injury out of the way and it was only as bad as some scrapes!" 

Apparently, I'm striving to make this a weekly tradition, however.  Today, I pulled a muscle in my right shoulder blade....trying to work out my abs.  I really can't give you any explanation that would help you make sense out of that.  I'm still trying to pan out for myself what happened.  That's just what becomes of you when you get fancy and attempt adding stuff to your routine.  Jillian Michaels, I am NOT.

So that's my real inspiration of an update.  I'm still running low on the ability scale, but maintaining a good amount of the aspiration.  Assuming that I don't end up in a body cast, I'll be sure to keep you apprised of my calisthenic catastrophes.  At least I have people who love me and support me enough to send me helpful links like this (I kid you not, my friend text me this and I LOST it):

See how easy it is?  You only have to remember to do TWELVE things at one time while you're running?!  *Sigh*  Regardless, I am determined to train myself to KEEP GOING, even when it's hard.  If I can apply this to every other area in life, then why not apply it to running?

♥M

What Getting Greedy Gets You

 

Today, I did something that I know better than to do.  It all started with a check-up at the pediatrician's office for the youngest...then turned into a lunch date with the hubs on his break....and then we needed a new faucet in the kitchen because ours busted this morning...and then I couldn't go home without new throw pillows for the couch.  The kids were just behaving so beautifully, that I temporarily lost my mind.  I got greedy.  Parents know what all good gamblers know:  When it's going good, get out before it goes bad.  I know this rule.  I try to follow this rule.  I'm just really bad at gambling.

I was surprised at how smoothly the doctor's appointment went.  This made me cocky, so the kids brought me down a notch at lunch with all the standard restaurant shenanigans.  There was nothing that I couldn't wield a distraction or a bribe at though, so I'm still feeling pretty sure of myself at this point.  Mistake #1 went down here, though.  I let the oldest order lemonade at lunch.  She only gets milk or water usually, so NATURALLY she guzzled the stuff like they were going to quit making it any second. 

On her third "I gotta pee!!!" trip, we were in Home Depot and walked past rugs.  Rugs made me remember that we bought a new rug for the living room.  Which made me remember that we bought the rug because I had bought new curtains.  Which made me remember that both the rug and the curtains were in a a closet because I refused to use them until I had throw pillows to match.  Since I only go shopping about once every other month I still don't have throw pillows.  I need throw pillows.  Right now.

At the next store, I am informed by the sales clerk that the color I want is not "in" right now.  Now I have been challenged.  No matter that I have already bribed my small children with lemonade (resulting in two more trips to the bathroom at this point).  I am now buying them a chocolate chip cookie because I promised them popcorn if they behaved... and the blessed popcorn machine is broken, BUT they have cookies right there, eye-level at the stinkin' counter.

The girls were still being GOOD, though.  THIS is when I should have quit while the quitting was good.  THIS is when I got greedy.  "I think we should go home now, y'all haven't had a nap and we've been out a long time," is what I said.  "We're not tired, Mom.  We promise to be good," is what the oldest kid says.  So because I'm an awesome parent, and take advice from my 3 1/2 yr. old, I went to "one more store." 

The phrase "one more store" is synonymous with "the kiss of shopping death."  Horrible things happened in that last store.  We made it out, however, and with me still feeling like I had a good grip on things...and myself.  The bags are in the car (no pillows - I don't even want pillows anymore), the kids are buckled into their seats, and then I hear..."I gotta pee!"

You'll be relieved to know that all of us made it home.  I thought I had suffered enough to keep me from repeating my mistake for a while, but karma saw fit to continue punishing me...lest I forget my sins.  I mean, what did I expect?  They have not had a nap.  I did this to myself. 

I survived dinner by grinding my teeth and playing classical music in my head.  Even when I was simultaneously being shouted at by the hubs to "Come hold this faucet in place while I tighten it!" and by the kids "I'm too tired to feed myself!  Mooooooom! Come feed me!"  (What?!)  I kept my grip on sanity.  The second they finished eating, though, I stuck them in the bathtub, told the hubs "Don't let them drown," and went outside to sit on the porch.  I needed a time-out.

I was outside for nearly an entire 3 minutes when James flung the door open, announced "Daire pooped in the tub," and walked away.  This is when I lost it... I started laughing - hysterically.  Of course she pooped in the tub!  Why in the hell WOULDN'T she poop in the tub right now?! 

After I finished scooping poop out of the drain, scrubbing the bathtub, and re-bathing the kids, my phone rang.  I'm off tomorrow for a snow day.  Apparently, my debt to karma has been paid.  Thank you, baby Jesus.

♥M

High on Aspiration, Low on Ability

The story goes like this...

Brother-in-law: "Let's do a 5K."
Me: "Ok."

Well, the conversation was actually a little longer than that, but that's the gist of what happened.  It may seem like a short story...but let's focus on my line - "Ok."  ...WHY would I say that?! 

The obvious answer would be because I am runner.  Oh, wait - no.  No, I am not.  I hate running.  I firmly believe that running is something you do when there are things exploding behind you...or a man with a knife is chasing you...or a dam has burst open, and the water is rushing towards you.

Before you think I'm all "anti-exercise," let me assure you that my beliefs are based on a calculated analysis of my experiences.  I would try to glam it up a bit more, but the basic, ugly truth is this - I'm a total klutz when I run.  I have attempted to be a "runner" multiple times for multiple reasons.  There was the time I wanted to be healthy (just that once).  There was the time I wanted to lose post-baby weight.  And, ok, FINE - there was the time I was drawn to running like a moth to a flame, solely  based on the lure of having an excuse to be alone for more than 2 blessed minutes.  In the end, however, it always turns out the same kind of way...me limping, a trip to the orthopedic, maybe a cortisone shot or two...you get the idea. 

In an effort to begin "training," however, I ran 1.7 miles this morning.  (FYI - NOT the same as doing it on the elliptical.)  I got up 5:30am.  (I don't believe in beginning my day before 6:00am...ever).  I went outside in the cold.  (I despise the cold).  It was dark.  (I can't see in the dark...not because I'm not a cat, but because I have astigmatism).  I ran.  (I actually didn't run - I fat-kid jogged, stopped to walk 3 times, and then crawled the last 5 feet to my front door.)  I finished my so-called training by doing some stretches in the living room floor and assuring my husband that I didn't need an ambulance.

So back to the question at hand....why would I agree to run a 5K? And not "just" a 5K...a 5K obstacle course! I can draw only one conclusion: I am obviously completely high off of all the "New Year, New You" crap that inundates you at every turn, throughout the month of January. "It's a new year! You can achieve ridiculous goals that you didn't even know you had!" Ugh.

Despite all of that, I have unfortunately become obsessed with doing this ridiculous thing.  Maybe for shock value?  I don't know... I HAVE enjoyed the looks on people's faces when I've told them I am "training for a race in the Spring."  That alone is kind of worth it. 

♥M