Flip-Flops, Lost & Found

It's been a great week. The weather has been conducive to being outside almost every single day. We have been to the park multiple times, the splash pad twice and today, finally, "wake beach."

I have discovered that I am allergic to the sun. This is news to me, as I typically don't have any issues with being in the sun. As of this week, every time I'm in the sun at all, I break out in hives. It is isolated to my forearms. It itches and burns and makes my skin look awful. I do not want to have to see the doctor but I don't want to have red, splotchy, itchy arms all summer. So that's a bummer. 

I will say, though, that this weather has been amazing for my spirits. I had a downturn mid-week. I didn't tell anyone because I hate telling people. I hate being that friend, the one who has itense bouts of insecurity and darkness. It makes me crazy to be that friend. 

So I kept it to myself. 

In other news, I have been reaping the benefits of not spending money. I found a pair of flip-flops at the bottom of the entryway closet. I don't have any beach shoes for the summer. I mostly have been wearing my sneakers, but it sucks at the splash pad. 

I have been seeing a blue flip-flop, part of a pair I got last summer, floating around the house. I hadn't been able to find it's mate, though, and didn't really have the extra money to get new flip-flops. 

On the morning we were going to the splash pad, I made a last-ditch effort to find Ms Blue's mate. I dug deep in the closet and while I came up empty, I uncovered a pair of black flip-flops. Score!! They are in great shape, hardly worn. Yay for being persistent. 

Then, last night, I was trying to find PJs for Doug. His room, unfortunately, is a catch-all for all storage overflow. There was a box of shoes sitting there that I had forgotten about. I started digging through and lo and behold, I found a pair of sandals just Doug's size. I had completely forgotten about them. 

He just started wearing SMOs, something thankfully covered by early intervention. He wears a special sneaker to accommodate the SMOs, but again, at the splash pad I worry that they're going to get ruined. 

I wanted to get him some sandals and normally I shop resale shops, but my kids have wide feet and it's nearly impossible to find them shoes secondhand. Now he's got a pair of sandals and I didn't have to spend a dime. 

I'm not trying to garner sympathy for my situation. I actually have a pretty decent savings account going right now. I am strapped but it's because I'm trying so hard to live with margins. 

It sucks to not just be able to go out and get things when I want to. At the same time, the answer is not always instant gratification. The answer is sometimes to wait and see. 

And there's the blessing. I could have broken down and spent $15 on new flip flops. An argument could be made that one cannot have too many pairs of flip flops. This may be true. It's a little geeky to wear sneakers and socks to the splash pad. This is pretty true. 

The reality is, I survived wearing sneakers to the splash pad. I could have gone on wearing them, if it meant I could save a few dollars to do something else that's fun for my kids. Really, though, it was fantastic to wear flip flops that I bought years ago and had forgotten about. 

I think sometimes that's the gift of being strapped, that I understand the value of stuff. I try to take better care of the stuff I have. I make things stretch. I ask for help. It's uncomfortable but it's helping me grow. 

Really, that's a gift money can't buy. 

Holiday

I know I said I wasn't going to post today, but I'll be brief. I find myself in the rare position of having a quiet house at 7:50 and being in front of the PC.

As expected, my insomnia threw a bit of a wrench into our plans. No "wake beach" for us. The weather also didn't help. When we woke up, it looked ominous and the weather report indicated a 40% chance of rain. I ate breakfast and stole away for a nap.

Upon waking up, it was sunny and gorgeous but then too late to make a trek to Three Oaks. I also saw on FB that they were pretty busy today. I prefer to go when it's not wall-to-wall people. It makes it easier to keep an eye on the kids and it's just nice to not get jostled so much.

Doug's speech has been exploding lately. On the way to church yesterday, he kept saying "snack" over and over again. It is cute to start to hear him talk. He also told me (with prompting) the other night, "nigh-nigh momma." It was a big deal because he doesn't really call anyone any name except for Brian, whom he calls daddy pretty regularly. The rest of us have no name, really.

Jeremy is a bit bummed to be going back to school tomorrow. Bekah is done with preschool and I think he's feeling the end-of-the-year itch. I have a meeting with the team next week to discuss IEP, which is a bit intimidating but also a relief. I love our school and school district. I am confident that he will get the services he needs.

I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday. I am glad Brian is home one more day and am hoping to continue to get a lot of work done around the house.

Long Weekend Blues

This was going to be a simple FB status griping about insomnia. Then I figured, "hey, you're not sleeping and you haven't posted in more than 24 hours....go for it."

So I am. 

Saturday was a beautiful day. Brian and I had a rare opportunity to be outside the house, without children, together, in the city. Those four things never happen at the same time. I think the last time we did that for more than like 3 hours was....maybe last year? 

So the story is that a co-worker (and friend) gifted Brian a pair of tickets to the White Sox game. They were playing the Yankees. I have never seen the Yankees play. It's Derek Jeter's last season with the Yankees. It's Paul Konerko's last season with the the White Sox. Brian asked who I thought he should take. The cheaper answer would have been one of the kids. The problem was that they would not, in any way, understand the significance of the game. I decided I was the answer to the question. 

It's our anniversary next week and so we decided to treat ourselves. My sister-in-law graciously watched the kids for 3 hours and then our regular babysitter (who lives next door) stayed for the last 3 hours. 

Thinking about the money we were spending hurt my head. At the same time, it was an opportunity we didn't think we could pass up. 

It was a beautiful day for a game and I'll admit that stepping onto the midway inside the park made my throat catch and eyes tear up. I don't know why I have this reaction. I am not a huge fan of sports in general but I love going to sporting events. I have never seen the Bulls or Hawks play because I am not independently wealthy and don't have that kind of free time. Mostly I've been to baseball games and I enjoy being inside a baseball stadium. There's something about the energy, I don't know. 

We had a really nice time together. I still love my husband after 9 years of marriage and we still laugh and enjoy our time together. It was pleasant to not spend most of the day being peppered by a million inane questions (though that resumed immediately upon arriving home). I liked listening to XRT, to having conversations that didn't have repeating themes ("when are we going to go to 'wake beach'?" "Is 'wake beach' open yet?" "Will you make a picnic for us when we go to 'wake beach'?" "Should I bring my goggles to 'wake beach'?"). As an aside, there is a man-made lake near us with a splash pad, Culver's, paddleboats, canoes, fishing, etc. The official name is Three Oaks Recreation Center. My kids call it "lake beach"but Jeremy still mispronounces "l" and so it comes out "wake beach." 

I knew we would be doing stuff with the kids the rest of the weekend and so I didn't feel guilty about being away from them. I checked my phone compulsively, though. I should say that both my SIL and my babysitter are incredibly competent women. My concern is always that my kids have somehow harmed the caretaker and said caretaker is about to lose their mind. I received no texts and therefore was able to enjoy our time away. 

Today was a good day but didn't go as planned. The plan was to go to church (we've been visiting a church on the north side of town), go to a local park (near church) that has a splash pad, go to the store to return a movie and get milk and hoagie rolls, go home. 

We are, however, not used to going to church in our hometown and we got thrown off. To start, I forgot the sunscreen at home. Meanwhile, the day was heating up quite a bit and both Brian and I were wearing pants. We also hadn't eaten breakfast, so we were both ready to start gnawing on the first tree we came across. 

So home we went, but before that I decided to punish myself by going to Jewel. I should explain that I do not shop on the weekend. I loathe being among throngs of people. It stresses me out quite a bit. Dummy that I am, I was at Jewel Saturday night and completely forgot hoagie rolls and milk. 

Into the breach I went and by the end of my trip, I was ready to pull all of my hair out by the roots. 

First, I didn't grab a shopping cart. No need, I thought, since I only need a few things. So I ended up walking around the store in uncomfortable shoes (because I have no comfortable and attractive summer shoes) carrying two gallons of milk, two small bags of Cheetos, a bag containing three donuts and a bag of hoagie rolls. 

Then...checkout. Self-checkout, to be specific. There were lines everywhere and I tried to pick the shortest. I then proceeded to pick the shortest line with the slowest....checkout...ever. It was as if the people had never done self-checkout before. They had a bunch of unique produce items that had no PLU code stickers. Each rack of ribs was in a separate produce bag and they had to peel back the bag each time they tried to scan it. Then the mom went to get a PLU code for the teeny, tiny cucumbers and the scale wasn't working properly. Then the mom said, "I'll pay" and proceeds to regard the electronic payment apparatus as if it were some strange device from outer space. There are only four options for payment and it seemed to take her 5 minutes to read them all. 

Meanwhile, the line is growing behind me and my patience is shrinking. Finally it's my turn to check out. The self-checkout doubts that I've put the gallon of milk on the belt....both gallons. The hoagie rolls won't scan. I hurry and enter the PLU code for the donuts. 

Then it's time to pay. 

If you recall, dear readers, in December I started using cash only for all of my transactions. I will only use the debit card if I have discussed the use of the card with Brian and I have deposited money to cover the charge. I carry around a small accordion coupon organizer that has envelopes with "groceries," "gas," "Kate," etc., written on them. I also have started to accumulate change. In some instances, I have used $3 worth of change to pay my total. (I have never read Dave Ramsay's books or attended his seminars--I heard a lot about it and took a stab at an approximation of what he talks about.)

Of course today, all of the coins were suddenly refusing to come out of my accordion thing. I've transformed into that annoying old lady who uses 85 pennies to pay because she doesn't want any extra change. 

To top it off, the child of the customer in line behind me was creeping on me. Normally I don't think I would mind but I was flustered because a 5-minute trip to the store had taken 15 (even though I confessed to the customer that had been ahead of me I had nowhere to go...I freaking had someplace to go). I was flustered that we were now going to be at the splash pad during Doug's nap instead of before his nap. I was frustrated that the pair of shoes I was wearing was hurting my feet. I was frustrated that 15 freaking cents could not be pried out of my accordion organizer. 

I am proud to report that I didn't snap at him to back the eff up, though I wanted to. The 15 cents and 9 dollars finally found there way to the correct receptacle and out I went. 

I. Hate. Shopping. On. Weekends. 

There's no two ways about it. Not only does grocery shopping stress me out because the cost of everything is skyrocketing, I hate shopping in general. I am not fond of window shopping, I avoid major centers of shopping, I do everything in my power to bypass the task altogether. 

So as I'm walking out to the van, my blood pressure and frustration level are through the roof. I open the van door (after having to bark at my husband that the sliding door won't open if the van is not in park) to a wall of questions from my kids. "Aren't we going to the splash pad?" "Did you get us donuts?" And on and on. 

This frustration isn't even hormonal. Normally the irritability would be a clear sign of an impending visit but today it was just one tiny thing after another. I was just a woman on the brink and that 15 minutes of hell was enough to send me over the edge. Luckily, it didn't include a YouTube worthy video entitled "heavyweight lady freaks out at grocery store," or something close to that. 

I did not have a Jerry Maguire moment. 

Now I can't sleep and have already intercepted Jeremy twice as he's tried to crawl in bed with us. The headache isn't helping the cause, nor is the iced coffee I had a nagging suspicion was consumed too late in the day. Maybe someday I'll learn. 

The splash pad was fun and the kids were out by 8:30. Considering the fact that bargaining and stalling usually means the noise dies down as late as 10:00,  I consider the outing a success. 

Dear God, I am hoping going to "wake beach" has a similar such effect, as I suspect I'll be falling asleep on the way home (it's a 5-minute drive). I also suspect my next post won't be until Tuesday. 

Until then. 

Transformation

What I wanted to do today was nothing. I woke up at 630 AM, feeling overheated and gross. Our bedroom is impossible to cool. As soon as the heat starts outside, it gets nasty hot in our room. I cannot stand being hot when I sleep--I wake up feeling even more exhausted. 

Additionally, those that know me know that 630 AM and I are not compatible. There's really never a good reason to be up at that time. I've tested this theory several times and it always bears out to be true. 

Today is Wednesday. I weigh myself every Wednesday morning. I am pretty disciplined about this. I do *not* weigh myself more than once a week. I have fallen into that trap and it's tough to claw one's way out of it. Even if I am feeling antsy on Monday, I wait until Wednesday. I don't normally follow rules that closely, but this one I have. 

Let me preface what's about to happen by saying I didn't think I did poorly this past week vis a vis food consumption. At the same time, I ate McDonald's for breakfast two mornings (I usually eat at home) and I had a couple of their iced coffees. I adhered to my two-dessert-a-week rule. 

All in all, while I was not perfect I didn't feel like I went too far afield. 

Imagine my surprise and dismay, then, when the animated Wii balance board informed me happily that I had gained 2.5 pounds. Impossible, I thought, and restarted the system. Checking it for the second and third time yielded the same results. 

I would love to report that I took this all in stride, that my year and a half long journey has made me calm and reasonable. I wish I could say what followed was a zen-like state, where I shrugged and said with a flick of my hand, "no biggie, I'll get it next time."

Dear reader, if you are my Facebook friend you know that my reaction was far less calm than that. The status update was a scathing indictment on my abilities to complete a goal and ended with the words "I hate myself."

I cried in the shower and used the "f" word to punctuate an angry prayer to God. I was angry that my family can't seem to catch a break, that my husband can't find a job that's more satisfying and pays better, etc., etc. I locked the door to my bedroom and to the bathroom just to ensure that my kids wouldn't hear it. 

Meanwhile, I was short with my kids (because they were there and easy targets), stomped around the house and was generally grumpy. I didn't want to drop Bekah off at school because I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to have to fake that I was having a good day or that I felt good. 

Luckily, it was my last day of work at my church (I watch the kids while women do Bible study). I had texted my beautiful friend Jen last night to confirm that today was our last day. "Yes!!," she replied, "I'm excited to catch up with you." That was kind of neat because I'm always excited but no one really wants to see a 36-year-old woman jumping around all the time. 

When I walked into the nursery, she could tell right away that everything wasn't okay. I told her about the weight gain and we talked about it. 

Meanwhile, all sorts of kind words, words of encouragement, songs of praise and worship and similar beautiful sentiment were being weaved into the comments section of my ugly status update. One person, an acquaintance from middle and high school, said he'd love to chat on Messenger about some things I could do. A dear friend from college reminded me that I have a beautiful family who loves me. Another friend from MOPS wanted to know if I wanted to meet with her and another friend next week to encourage one another and help each other meet our goals. 

I was blessed by a message from another friend, whom I've known well for 10 plus years, who told me that even though we don't talk all the time, she considers me a very dear friend and would walk through fire for me. 

My BFF (who recently had a beautiful baby boy, her third) sent me a text with a prayer asking God to be with me. I have been trying to give her space but I miss her bunches. I am hoping to take her up on her offer to come and hang out with her and that precious baby. 

I had a chance to play with the parachute at church. Doug (my youngest) and the other two youngest kids were laughing hysterically as I kept letting the parachute fall over them. I tried to let that displace the ugly feelings I had for myself. 

The truth is, I did end up getting lunch from Wendy's. I don't feel guilty about it because it happens so infrequently. I realize it feels disingenuous to complain about weight gain and then eat crappy food, but it was the only toe I put over the line. I'm currently sipping a strawberry-blueberry smoothie that has no additional sweeteners and am planning a sensible dinner of my homemade spaghetti sauce and quinoa meatballs. 

I am exhausted by the emotion I spent this morning. I don't feel bad about dropping the f-bomb with the man upstairs because at least it was honest. I have more work to do on projects tonight that are not entirely enjoyable, but I'm going to force myself to do it. I am running a load of laundry. I am cooking dinner. I went to get Jeremy even though I just wanted him to walk home on his own. It ended up paying off with a great conversation with another mom. 

I wish I could report to my readers that years of recovery and therapy and medication would offset the ugly self-talk. Instead, I'll report to you that even a day that begins with ugly self-talk can be redeemed. Vulnerability can lead to people ministering to you, which is great because school-aged and preschool-aged kids can't (and I wouldn't expect them to). 

Namaste. 

Late at Night

I don't really want to post tonight. I am tired, it's midnight, I've misplaced something important (actually, a more accurate statement is something important has vanished from the spot where I was keeping it and staring at it and cleaning around it for a month), I'm frustrated by my family's continued ability to just barely make ends meet and I'm just fed-up in general.

It's been an eventful month and a half or so. Jeremy was doing really well in school for a long time. That changed a couple of weeks ago. I started getting calls from his Vice Principal. He started getting more frustrated and short-tempered at home and at school. He had dark circles under his eyes.

I had, for the short-term, solved the problem of him and Bekah coming into our bed to sleep--every night. It had been going on for quite a few months. I had tried everything to remedy it. I started playing the ocean again, gave specific rules about bed and waking times, tried to be more purposeful about spending time with the kids every day. This was all to no avail. They were in bed with us every single night and I thought I was going to lose my mind.

It was Ami, Doug's occupational therapist, who helped me see that it was actually just habit. If I had resolved all the other sensory issues, then it boiled down to a habit. Great, I thought, I will make a reward chart for both of them and get this taken care of.

During the time the chart was being filled with stickers, it was bliss. I was going to bed and waking up without feet, arms, hands, butts and/or torsos blocking any and all access to my king-sized bed. The kids were excited about staying in bed all night. They were excited about the prospect of going to the dollar store (a place I loathe) as a reward.

Fantastic.

Except that after the chart was full, my bed started getting invaded again. Cranky mommy reappeared. I tried to help them understand that mommy needed a break from them. I am their mommy 24/7 but I can't be "on" 24/7. I have to be able to recharge my batteries.

Meanwhile, Jeremy told me last Monday morning that his tummy hurt from eating paper the night before. He typically only eats paper when he's anemic. The psychiatrist told us in December that he wasn't anemic, so I hadn't seen him eat paper or heard from his sister that he was eating paper. Pish, posh, I told him. I would not allow him to stay home from school.

I got a call from the Vice Principal again that day. He had an appointment with his occupational therapist that afternoon. I was exasperated because he had scratched a fellow classmate (they had been playing Minecraft and the classmate was "attacking" him and so Jeremy "defended" himself--he was a cougar at the time--by scratching his friend).

It wasn't until the next morning, though, when I dropped him off at school and caught him about to put a piece of paper in his mouth, that I realized what was happening.

A trip to the doctor confirmed that he was, in fact, anemic. And of course, because he hardly eats red meat (or any kind of grain/legume/green leafy veggie) that helps him produce iron, he has to take an iron supplement. Of course this meant I had to have an immediate increase of compassion and understanding for Jeremy.

The problem was and is that I'm tired. There's a good chance that I've got sleep apnea. There is no way that we can afford for me to get tested or get the equipment. I accept this. I do my best to cope with the fact that I am exhausted most of the time. I try to get to bed earlier, not take so many naps, etc., etc. The bottom line is, I'm fairly sleep-deprived and it's tough for me to have compassion for anyone to whom I've given birth.

Meanwhile, the Earth doesn't stand still for a sleep-deprived momma with an anemic son. I still have a bevy of responsibilities (like keeping track of a memory stick that was sitting in the same place for a month and disappeared) and I'm supposed to be keeping on top of them.

Quite frankly, the house is a pit right now. I am literally the worst housekeeper ever. Really. I vacuumed today for Ami and realized afterwards that the canister that's supposed to catch the stuff wasn't attached correctly and was missing a piece. There is a constant layer of dog hair over everything because my dogs are shedding at rates I've not seen since I adopted them. Almost every single toy is out on the floor over the entire first floor of my house. No matter what I say or do, my kids do not respect their belongings enough to clean them up. (Eventually I get pissed off, start screaming, turn green and clean the toys up myself. It lasts for approximately two minutes, which just pisses me off more.)

I am really struggling to be content with things right now. It has been six years of fighting and clawing just to survive. I'm exhausted. I don't know what to do. I spent the better part of today and yesterday feeling depressed, though I can't put my finger on it or explain it in any good way. I am almost in tears as I write this.

And I'm fighting the urge to a) wake my kids up and demand that they tell me where they put the memory stick or b) spend two hours scouring and cleaning downstairs to try to find it myself.

The only thing stopping me is that I'm dog-tired. (I will admit that I'm going to go look one last time, though.)

The Quicksand of Consumption

So I've been reading this book. (FYI, any good blog entry begins with that sentence. Writers need to be readers.) It's called 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker. I am reading it because we are having book group at MOPS tomorrow morning. I read part of it a few weeks ago, but like any busy mom I read the bulk of it tonight.

This is a much different blog entry than the one I wanted to write last night. It is the week of payday. I usually get very glum the week of payday. It seems like a paradox, I know. Payday, when I was much younger, held much promise and hope. Now it seems to hold a sense of impending dread.

The week of payday is tricky emotionally. I rejoice in the fact that I will be able to tithe. We don't do a full 10% tithe. I know opinions are split on this, but we spoke with our pastor and we agreed that right now we can't do that. We do, however, want to acknowledge God as our provider, so we write a check for $10 every payday. Seems like not a lot but it's an act of obedience. I am hopeful that one day we will place a true 10% tithe in the basket and have a party (probably not in the same week, though, as this would cause a financial burden we probably couldn't bear, lol).

Don't think I'm being disingenuous because I'm not. It feels good to be doing something small to further the kingdom of God. We have already received several blessings, albeit small, that I am directly attributing to this practice. Call me crazy--you wouldn't be the first one in line.

I also get discouraged about payday. We have been living like this, from paycheck to paycheck, for quite some time. There was a time, shortly after we moved into our house, when we were able to buy some new things. The new things are now not-new and need replacing.

I'll give you a for example.

Brian and I lived together before we were married. (Gasp, shock, hand to mouth, faint) We lived in a 2-bedroom condo. After bringing Jeremy back home from the hospital, we were acutely aware of how loud everything was. We decided to start playing the sound of ocean waves on a continuous loop, so that we could watch some TV after depositing Jeremy in bed and not having to instead act like ninjas all the time.

We continued the practice at our house once we moved in. We played the ocean, every day, all day, continuously, for almost 6 years. In that span of time, we trashed several CD players. I don't believe they were meant to be used like that.

Back in December, I switched to using all cash. I felt very spiritually convicted to do so. I was spending irresponsibly and without regard. It was a painful transition and I'm still ironing out the kinks. It has, however, allowed me to save $300. I have not saved that much money for a long time. It's kind of an amazing feat, honestly.

In any case, now every dollar has an envelope. I don't have any "extra" money, per se. Once I have spent the money allotted for eating out, I don't eat out. Simple. Once I've spent the grocery money...well, you get the idea.

I developed a category called "all the things." This is the catch-all for replacing things, for birthday presents, for shoes for the kids, for everything and anything that isn't a consumable item (say, food, diapers, shampoo, etc.). That category gets $30 a pay period. If I want something that is more than $30, I have to save over multiple pay periods. This pay period, that money will be used to buy two $15 Target gift cards. That is my standard birthday party gift. Everyone, regardless of gender or closeness, gets a $15 Target gift card. We have two birthday parties this weekend, hence the 2 gift cards.

It has made me very mindful of the cost of things. I shopped long and hard (online) for new sneakers for the kids. Normally I would take them to Stride Rite during the "Buy One, Get One 1/2 Off" sale. I like buying shoes in person because I never know the kids' shoe size. I have tried buying secondhand but my kids have wide feet. I have yet to find the right-sized shoe for them in a consignment/thrift store. It's frustrating but at least I know I tried.

In any case, I even went so far as to print off a sizing chart I found online. I hoped it would be correct. I ordered the shoes. I used my debit card but made sure I had deposited the correct amount in cash I would need to cover the charge.

I had to push back the purchase of shoes because other purchases kept springing up. I started to get discouraged, looking at how worn-out my kid's old shoes were. Really, they were bought last year around this time. And they have one pair of sneakers. No joke. One pair per kid. That's it. No dress shoes for Jeremy, Bekah's dress shoes are hand-me-downs. So I was hoping and praying that their shoes would hold out until I was able to order new ones.

Guess what, they did!! It was a shoe miracle. I did make a rookie online shopping mistake. I picked shoes with shoelaces rather than velcro. So now I'm stuck in shoe-tying hell. My dad did, however, help me out by purchasing a new pair of velcro shoes for Jeremy. So now he has two pairs of sneakers. Tres fancy.

Meanwhile, sometime back in January our latest version of the CD player gave out. It would play the CD fine but it would skip every few minutes. It didn't drive me crazy until Jeremy pointed it out--then it drove me bonkers. I tried re-burning the CD, cleaning the CD, cleaning the CD player. Nothing.

Needless to say, a new CD player is $20. Now you know my "all the things" budget. You know this is the bulk of that budget. I used last paycheck's "all the things" budget to buy a DVD of Frozen. It was well worth it, as it has provided hundreds of hours of entertainment for both me and my kids. At the same time, we are without a CD player and also without the ocean. It would be okay except that Jeremy, who has sensory issues, is very sensitive to sound. Like dolphin sensitive. I didn't realize that listening to the ocean helped cover a lot of the sounds that bug him, sounds that I've just internalized, like the furnace kicking in or the wind blowing or a car alarm or fireworks.

This has actually translated into stress for Brian and me. We have had to deal with a lot of him coming to us and telling us he's afraid of a loud noise. We have to remind ourselves that they are, to him, loud noises that they do seem scary, that they are disruptive to him. It's tough to remember that after a long day. Buying at $20 CD player would alleviate the stress. I would love to make the purchase, but the list of things eating the "all the things" category seems to never end.

In the period of time I've been desiring a CD player, (and I'm sure some of you will file this in the TMI category), my bras have been failing me, one by one. I last bought new bras two years ago. You read that correctly, two years. In that period of time I stopped breastfeeding and lost 50 pounds. I wore them every single day, almost 24 hours a day, for two years.

The underwires have been snapping and one by one, four went down to three, then two, then none. I have a sports bra left. That's it.

Bras are expensive. I can't buy cheap ones because I'm 100 pounds overweight. The material alone costs more, but then extra stuff is needed to keep things in place. I can go to Target and try to buy one cheaply, but it will not last, it will not be comfortable and it will not work well. I spent about $100 two years ago; I'd say I got my money's worth out of that investment.

Here's the problem. It's going to take me about a month and half to save $100. Meanwhile, I have one bra. I have to pray daily that it holds out, literally (well, literally would be hold "up," but I digress). And, still no CD player, meaning Jeremy still freaking out about the loud noises.

Enter this book by Jen Hatmaker. She is a Christian author based in Austin and decided to take seven months and, in each of these seven months, attack a different area of excess in her life. Her goal was to grow herself and grow closer to God by denying herself things.

It's kind of comical because I feel like the last almost 4 years of our life have been a forced practice of this principle. One by one, we peeled away and tossed aside things that we couldn't afford. First it was our maid, then Oberweis delivery, then our lawn guy (that one we did need because Brian was fighting cancer and I was pregnant and with child, so I couldn't keep up with the lawn), then we got rid of the Odyssey for a Town & Country, etc., etc.

Jen starts with eating, then deals with clothing, spending, waste, possessions, media and stress. I will say, we are pretty nimble on spending, possessions and clothing. I own one pair of jeans that fits me appropriately. One. I bought them at a consignment shop back in December. The previous pair of jeans I bought at the same consignment shop don't fit me to the point that I'm afraid I'll end up with them around my ankles in public. Literally.

However, I'm still holding on to the other pairs of jeans. I think I'm mostly doing so for emergency purposes, but also they are pretty worn out and not even really Savers/Goodwill worthy. That's the thing--I buy clothes secondhand and I wear the crap out of them. I am still wearing t-shirts I bought when I got pregnant with Jeremy. Not joking about that either.

And yet, my closet is full. I have a lot of t-shirts that will fit me shortly, so I refuse to let go of them. I have started to let go of other stuff, shirts I don't like, stuff that is out of style, but I am a t-shirt hoarder, I'll readily admit it.

So Jen's observations are so on point to where I am. I feel like God has done for me what I could not do for myself and that's to strip the noise away. It has been painful and uncomfortable and embarrassing sometimes, but I believe it has definitely drawn me closer to God. Yet I'm still living in excess--I still have too much. Nothing of value, though, all that stuff is gone. Even still, I live in clutter each and every day. It's definitely paradoxical for me to complain about barely making ends meet and then in the same sentence, admit that my house is full of stuff.

And here's where the title to this entry comes in. Yesterday I was in a funk, thinking about all the ways that the money we have is not enough. We have medical bills stacked knee high. I started working part-time at my church and have been picking one off the pile and slowly paying it off. We have medical bills dating back to 2011 (not joking or exaggerating).

Our house needs windows. Not in a our-next-door-neighbors-just-got-windows-so-we-need-windows-way, but in a way where we can feel every breeze blow through certain windows in the house.

Brian is driving a car that is 17-years-old and has over 200k miles on it. He drives it back and forth to Northbrook every day and we pray and cross our fingers that it doesn't die, because we really can't afford a new(er) car.

I started thinking yesterday that our troubles would be solved if there was more money coming in. I have several friends whose pitch to get me to do direct marketing is "wouldn't it be nice to have extra money to pay bills, go on vacation, tithe, etc.?" I have heavily considered starting to work for one of these companies.

Here's the problem. There will never be enough money. Ever. There will always be something clamoring for money to be thrown at it. I have a list on my cabinet of things I'd like to buy. It has little things (storage bins, to store the kids' clothing, about $15), to medium things (an ottoman for in front of our couch) to big things (a new grill). That list could be infinitely long.

One thing I discovered was that when we had money, it wasn't enough. We racked up the credit card bills. Not on extravagant vacations or upgrades to our house but on diapers and food and essentials (really, essentials). Now we have less money and no credit cards and it still doesn't seem like enough, but we aren't as hungry for more.

I am not salivating over the latest Smart TV because, quite frankly, it would take me two years to save up the cash for one. It's impractical and foolish to even consider buying one. I spend little time shopping because all that does is seem to create a craving for more things. The less time I spend in stores, the less I ache for new bedding, or new lamps or that perfect piece of decor for my living room. Having less money has actually quelled the thirst I used to have for new things.

I own one pair of new shoes--my running shoes. Other than that, the most recently purchased pair of shoes I own was purchased for me by my mother in December of the year Jeremy was born (2007). I am not worried about having leather boots because they would look dumb with the one pair of jeans I own that fit me. I don't spend hours pouring over shoe websites because there's no need. The shoes I have are enough for the clothes I have. Don't need more than a few pairs of shoes when don't have more than a few pairs of bottoms to wear.

We have a Wii but the kids don't play it a lot. I am not worried about them having a DS or LeapPad or any other gizmo. We were blessed by a generous gift of a first generation iPad. It is almost 5 years old and holding up just fine. We would love to have a newer one but at $300-400 (used), I need to buy new bras before I buy a new iPad. I have glanced at websites like www.newegg.com, but our one PC works just fine, inconvenient as it may seem.

My point is that not having extra has stopped me from thinking about extra and has helped me focus on how there's really enough. My bedding is getting a bit threadbare but it covers me just fine at night. There are no holes in it, no major stains, etc. It's perfectly adequate. I don't need new bedding, I want it. Okay, so it sucks to have to stare at the same bedspread for nine years but some people have no bedspread. It's still serving it's purpose and therefore it never even occurs to me to search for new bedding.

Brian and I, when we had money, never talked about money. We never had a plan, we never discussed financial decisions. We now talk about it a lot. We know where every penny is going. We agonize over all the things we wish we could do. It has brought us closer. We pray together more. We fight less. I worry less about Brian chastising me for spending too much (that hasn't happened since December, I'm not kidding).

There is an incredible amount of freedom in not having money. I don't have to be anxious that I can't buy the newest toy for my kid. I'm not wasting money on myself versus spending it on them. Instead, it just isn't there. I have money put into categories. Once that category is spent, it's spent. I can buy Frozen, but then that means we can't go to open gym at Elite Kids. I'm not neglecting them by not taking them to Elite Kids. I've given them Frozen and we can enjoy that as a family, but the money can't be spent twice. I'm not going to use grocery money to take them to Elite Kids, that would be foolish. There is no worry that I'm misappropriating the money because I'm not. I am teaching my kids the valuable lesson that money is finite. Planning is not evil or constricting but gives much freedom.

I don't want to work for a direct marketing company because I would have to convince people that their lives would be better if they spent money on the stuff I'm selling. Some of it is better than others, but ultimately it's still stuff, noise as Ms. Hatmaker would categorize it. A lot of these companies offer all-expense paid trips if you hit a sales incentive. Fantastic, except I have three kids and two dogs. I don't have anyone to watch everyone. I'm okay with that. The alternative to the trip? More stuff from the company. No thanks, I have enough of that already.

It's a noble idea to think that I could get into one of these companies, make enough money to say, pay off 2011's medical bills and just walk away. The problem is, I know myself well enough to know it would be agony all the way. I am a type-A personality. I am driven and get obsessed. I would get a taste of "more" and want what? You guessed it, more. I might earn a new car but then I would have to be consumed selling what, yes MORE in order to keep said car. The pitches I have heard never talk about ENOUGH, about when it's okay to just sit back and enjoy what you've earned. Nope, it's all about the next level, the next incentive, the next you name it. I think it works for some people but for me it's a thirst that could never be quenched.

I don't mean to paint all of these companies or people who are representatives of these companies poorly. I know some of them have used it well and been good stewards of the money they've earned. More often than not, though, I hear stories of "oh, I used to sell that and now I have all of this stuff that I want to get rid of." It is not scientific but anecdotal, so I'm sure I will have people telling me I'm wrong. I could be, but I have to follow my heart on this one. I have spent a long time getting to know myself and God has helped me tremendously toward that end.

In the end, the answer for me is not more. Not more stuff, not more money, not more (fill in the blank). It's putting my hands up and saying, "God, you're enough. You are my portion." If I'm looking at him, I'm not so worried about what people think when they see me in the same pair of jeans everyday, or the same tired t-shirt, or the ill-fitting t-shirt, or the ill-fitting maternity clothes. It's not really what I want, but it's okay for right now. If I have to live with less to feel like I am richly blessed, bring it on.

This is not a plea for money or gift cards. This is not a wish list of things. This is my reality. It's not pretty and I'm sure most are tired of me talking about it, but it's where we are. The interesting thing is that Brian and I talk about having a little more, just enough to maybe order out once in a while. I always point out that I think it would be tough to draw the line. How many times a week would be okay? Really, ordering out? We don't tolerate takeout well. We eat so cleanly that eating away from home usually ends poorly. Which brings us back to, we have enough. It's kind of boring to eat at home every day, but we feel better, we both have lost weight, our blood pressure is better, etc., etc. Again, more may help but it's not really the right answer.

I'm of the opinion that the medical bills will be paid off when they are paid off. I don't get anxious about bill collectors calling to harass us because I know we are being honest. We are not walking around living a flashy lifestyle and shirking our bills. We live a meager existence and we are doing what we can to satisfy our outstanding debt.

Brian has a different sense about our financial struggles, but that's because as a man his sense of self-worth is directly tied to his ability to provide heartily for his family. I have no compunction about it because I believe it's God's job to provide heartily for our family and I've seen him do it faithfully, month after month. I don't love my husband less because we struggle; that would be ridiculous.

Finally, living a meager lifestyle has made me pretty creative. I have bartered my homemade bread for veggies from someone's garden and for clothes for Bekah. I sold cinnamon rolls over Thanksgiving and Christmas. I know how to navigate my way through medical debt--I never pay the bill that's sent. I know the tricks--call and ask for a discount, for charity, for whatever. We have had thousands of dollars removed from bills just by making a few phone calls.

I have used Freecycle heavily. Our nightstands are hideous and not my taste but they are functional and were free. We made our headboard using borrowed materials and tools. We have two TVs in the house and we paid for neither--one was a gift from my brother and one was given to us by a high-school acquaintance who lives in the area and was getting rid of it.

I cook from scratch. A lot. I didn't grow up knowing how to cook. I've learned a lot about cooking by reading books and blogs and listening to speakers and asking friends. We have pared down our grocery bill by eliminating processed foods. If we weren't broke, I never would have made that change. Pain is the great motivator, or it has been for me.

We have always had enough, and that's really what God promises us. I haven't been able to keep up with the neighbors and it's such a relaxing thing!!

I don't know, I'm feeling a lot happier today than I was yesterday and the situation really hasn't changed. It's payday tomorrow. Our refrigerator is bare. I don't mean first-world bare, I mean bare. There are one and half slices of lunch meat, just enough to make Jeremy's sandwich tomorrow, two bags of mostly empty shredded cheese, some garlic and peppers, milk, and lots of condiments. My freezer? Same story. No meat to speak of, no soup, nothing. That's how it always is the Wednesday night before payday. There is always just enough to get us by, about which I feel strangely proud. There is not food spoiling in my refrigerator and that's quite a feat.

I crafted a meal yesterday using a pound of ground beef, a can of mushroom soup (that had been sitting in my cabinet for at least a year and a half), a can of green beans (that's at least three years old) and jasmine rice. It's not a meal I would repeat, but it sustained Brian and me. Tonight? Pancakes, made with flour I milled here at home and using the last three eggs we had. I used my savings to buy the milk and I will replenish the money tomorrow when I head to the bank and withdraw the money I'm given by Brian every two weeks.

Not glamorous but joyful, and for that I'm truly grateful.

Unstoppable force, Immovable Object

I had an interesting afternoon today. Mondays are tricky because we see Jeremy's occupational therapist every other week. It makes Doug's nap either truncated or non-existent. I was kind of unstoppable today. I came home from dropping Bekah off at preschool and did the circuit Kate prescribed for me. I took a shower and headed back to preschool.

I made lunch for both myself and Bekah and then got inspired about our backyard. See, we have two dogs, Scout and Rascal. Each weighs about 50 pounds and we have not picked up after them in our backyard since late fall. You figure we let them out at least 3 times a day...do the math. The backyard was an absolute wreck.

The weather around here has still not decided to make a transition to spring. It's been cold on the weekends, the perfect yard-cleaning time. I decided that today was the day. I was going to perform a frontal assault on the yard, no-holds barred.

I can't work on the yard with Doug running about. He's a mess. I would be worried about him sneaking away to the neighbor's house (he's done this before) or into the street (also this). We have a gate on the side of our yard but it's been broken since last summer. It's on a long laundry list of things that need to be fixed around the house when we get "extra" money. So far, the only money we've had has been spoken for and then some.

I tried, last summer, to prop up the gate against the fence but Doug broke through that right away. Really, then, the only solution is yardwork is to perform it when he's napping. I put him down for a nap and then got to work, armed with two empty dog food bags (32 pound bags), a garbage can, a shovel and a rake. There was no way a pooper scooper was going to do the trick.

Two hours later, the yard looked one thousand times better. My hands will have blisters and my shoulders, abs and feet were aching, but the two bags and garbage can were full of feces and yard debris.

Off we went to pick Jeremy up from school and take him to his OT appointment. En route, Jeremy got a bloody nose. We were on time (a rarity for us), but delayed trying to stop his nose from bleeding. Typically, the therapist lets Bekah and Doug play with Jeremy for the last 5 minutes of the session. The nosebleed meant that wasn't going to happen. Perhaps Bekah was pissed about it, I don't know. What followed was a series of acts of defiance. There are some toys and books in the waiting room. Bekah decided that, instead, she wanted to climb all over the chairs. I asked her, quietly but firmly, to sit on the chairs and/or play with the toys. I told her she shouldn't be climbing on the furniture.

Meanwhile, Doug discovered that if he pushes hard enough, the door leading outside opens and he can escape. Great fun for him, not so much for me. I alternated between scolding Bekah and preventing Doug from leaving. It was hectic. After the second time scolding Bekah, I told her that if she continued to disobey she would end up going to bed early when we got home.

Jeremy's achilles heel is the iPad. Threaten loss of the iPad and 9 times out of 10, the desired outcome is achieved--bad behavior is quashed. Bekah, on the other hand, is tough to motivate. She doesn't care if you say she can't watch Frozen. "That's okay," she'll say, "I didn't want to watch it anyway." Threaten to give away her toys? "Fine, go ahead," she'll say, arms crossed.

Talk about an immovable object.

I have tried almost everything with her, though I admit not consistently and not with great results. It's frustrating to mother Bekah sometimes. Today I decided that I wasn't going to wait for the reaction that would mean I found a pressure point. I was simply going to follow through.

Enter the unstoppable force.

Upon reaching home, I very calmly told her to put on her pajamas and go upstairs. I actually gave her two choices. She could go upstairs on her own or I could help her. I assured her that the latter was going to be far less enjoyable. She screamed and yelled and through a fit. Very calmly I said not making a choice was allowing me to make a choice for her.

She finally decided on option A and headed upstairs.

Of course, that's not the end of the story.

She came back down (I can't remember why) and I had to chase her (all the while trying not to laugh at the idea that she thought she had it over on me) around our kitchen to get her to go back upstairs. I followed her up into her room and let her know, in no uncertain terms, that it was she who had made the decisions leading to her isolation upstairs. I try to help her understand that though I come up with the consequences, I don't hand them out willy-nilly. They are bestowed upon those who make really poor choices.

Back downstairs I went to make dinner. For the next half an hour, I heard a steady chant from her about how she was going to listen to me. Literally, "mommy, I'm going to listen to you" for almost 30 minutes, nonstop. After that she alternated between "I'm bored being upstairs by myself" and "I'm going to listen."

I didn't engage with her at all. I played on my phone, I checked on dinner, I talked with Doug and Jeremy. Oh, and I watched the clock. It was one of those nights, when I couldn't wait for Brian to walk in the door. After a while, though, I did hear the noise seem to draw closer. I went to check and sure enough, she was sitting on the stairs. I told her to get to her room. She claimed that she was going to listen, but here she was not listening. 

Mercifully, Brian walked in about 10 minutes later. I brought him up to speed on the afternoon's events. I called Bekah down for dinner and meanwhile she started in on Brian. She wanted a chance to plead her case but we have agreed to stand behind whatever consequence the other doles out. She wasn't going to get what she wanted.

Even after I ran an errand and came back, she was still pleading with us to let her come back downstairs. I am happy to report that I didn't raise my voice, I didn't lose my cool, I didn't scream, shout, stomp my feet or throw anything. I simply didn't give in to any of her pleas. She is currently snoozing away and I'm letting the world know she's a little bit crazy.

Now who's the immovable object?