A spring, A summer, A fall and now winter.

Hello there. It's been awhile! I've been busy settling into my new home, distracted with writing a book and watching my baby grow into a toddler. Life has been a little hectic. It's Christmas Eve. These last few years a disdain for all things holidays has grown with in my pysche. It makes me sad that I don't like Christmas all that much. This year I thought that I had conquered the beast, that I was actually enjoying the holiday season! It has changed all of a sudden.

Even though this past week has brought a new package in the mail every day, I hate getting the mail. If we get one more medical bill, I do believe we will have to file for bankruptcy. I don't know how people afford to get sick. At the end of this summer, one of my boys broke his leg. On top of the $650 a month we pay in premiums, we had to pay about $1500 out of pocket for services provided. Then one of my kids had a 104 fever and started complaining of stomach pain. I thought he might have appendicitis, so my husband took him to the emergency room to get checked out. It was a virus and we ended up paying $700 to find this out. I'm starting to feel like an idiot. Only an idiot throws away money like that. We live on one income, and it's not like we live high on the horse. I don't think we will ever get out of this hole of medical bills.

The latest development is a dental bill. I took three of the kids to get cleanings to the new dentist in town who replaced the retiring dentist. I made a very wrong assumption that he would have the same coverage as the old dentist. That was a big mistake that will now cost our family $800.

We still have not paid off the hospital and clinic for the birth or our last child. We still owe the clinic about $900 and the hospital about $1500. We pay everyone a little bit each month. Right now though, it looks like all the little bits are going to starve us to death. I am grateful to have food in the house, and the ability to make just about anything from scratch. Eating out is out of the question. I feel like I am turning into a pioneer. I may turn off all the lights and stop using the indoor plumbing just to save money.

Many may read this and say "Why don't you apply for state assistance?" Well, we can't. We don't qualify. My husband makes just enough over the limit where we are out of the income guidelines. If he made just a little bit less, we could live much better. How sick and twisted is that? Instead, we choose to better ourselves and it is crippling us and our children. So I think of our options, perhaps I should start working. But I don't know where I could work, and honestly, it would cost more to have someone watch that kids. I am at a loss as to what I can do from home with the means I have. I want to quilt again, but I don't have a machine and I don't see how the continually downward spiraling economy would support such a notion.

One more medical bill and I think it will be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Packing

I am avoiding packing. I don't want to do it.

As I have been packing, I am wondering if this is a summation of my life. Is this as good as it gets? I've got it pretty darn good right now. I enjoy my family, my husband has a wonderful job. We are healthy and content. For this, I am grateful. We don't have many things of monetary value, but our needs are met, so I'm good with that. The less stuff I have, the less I have to keep track of and the less I have to clean. Although I have these feelings of gratitude and contentment there is still a nag of discontent. Is that possible? To feel content and discontent in the same moment? I have a comfortable life, but there is something lacking. I'm tired. I'm annoyed that it seems as though my kids fight all the time. In reality, they don't, it just feels like it. Even though I know that staying home with my kids is the best thing I can do right now, it is not satisfying enough. I don't feel like I am doing enough. I still feel inadequate. I feel inadequate, but if I were to change something, to do more, I burn out. I'm already exhausted and bored with it all.

What I am saying is that maybe I am the slovenly lazy sack of bones I've been accused of. I don't work, I exsist. The saying goes, there is no reward without effort. I feel like my efforts are for naught. I clean and cook and mend and push and wash and fold and yet I am not seeing rewards. I clean the kitchen and not an hour later it is a full fledged disaster zone. I do load upon load of laundry, I fold it and put it away, only to do it all over again in three days. I exercise every night for a week, only to feel more tired than I did to begin with and just as fat and unhappy. I change diapers, only for them to be filled and changed again. I sew projects just to see how poorly I really sew. There is no reward in that.

Am I not putting forth enough effort to see a reward? Am I merely existing? Am I just flying under the radar?

Right now I am shut in the sewing room. The baby is content in her playpen. The two oldest kids are giggling in the living room over something and the preschooler and the toddler will not stop howling at each other, or me for that matter. I'm tired of being referee.

Perhaps it will be years before I see the results of my efforts. I'm feeling rather burnt out as it is though. I don't think I can do years without results. It is maddening to do this day after day, week after week, month after month. Year after year. This is just downright self imposed insanity.

Moving....again.

Well, here we go again. We sold our house in Wisconsin and found a new one here. Now it is time to pack up, again, and move to our permanent residence. I have 2 weeks. The last week I have been fencing sitting about a lot of things. First off is the New Year's Resolution to loose weight. I think I am the only woman alive who is breastfeeding, chasing 4 kids and can STILL gain weight. All I can come up with is that I am not sleeping much, and it is wreaking havoc on my hormones, triggering the weight gain. And why am I not sleeping? That, my dear friends is the question of the century. I used to not be able to function without my 8 hours of sleep. Now I"m like the energizer bunny. It doesn't matter how much sleep I don't get, I just keep going and going and going. So I guess sleep took a back burner in priorities. What's keeping me up? I dunno. Because the computer died for a good 10 solid days and I STILL was not going to bed at a decent hour. And then once I am asleep, without fail, at least two kids will wake me up for something. Bloody noses, night terrors, bad dreams, super soaked pull-up. You name it! They all wake me up....except the baby. Go figure! The baby is the best sleeper of them all.

Another thing weighing on my mind is my book. I'm writing a book, but I'm not sure I want to continue it. Why? My wonderful sister attempted reading it on the blog, and told me "It's not bad. You're no Hemingway, but it's not bad." Now, this shouldn't bother me, and it doesn't really. She is very well read, and I value her opinion, which is why I asked her to begin with. And I know for myself that it is indeed, no Hemingway. It is consumeristic crap. I am an attention whore. I am writing that book with two simple goals: Make money and be famous. I feel rather shallow for doing it with that purpose. I know I am capable of writing something meaningful and enlightening, but I choose a plot and theme that is marketable. Sellable. Lucrative.

It bothers me to think I just might be as shallow and selfish as people have accused me of for years.

I don't think this is going to work.

Yup - way to kill a goal before I even start, right? Happy New Year! I love the feel of a New Year and the feeling of determination that comes with every resolution. Of course I'm big on resolutions! Why wouldn't I be? I'm the kind of person who dreams big and then fizzles out. At least it's all fun and good until I fizzle, right? Well, one of my resolutions this year was to lose 50 pounds. My post baby body disgusts me at this point. I have never been disgusted with my image before. Sometimes I've been a tad disappointed about my figure, but brushed it aside with a list of excuses. Including bearing 5 children over the course of 7 years. I finally feel FAT. Not just plump, or overweight, or fluffy, but FAT. There is a full length mirror at the end of the hall in this house and it is a daily reminder of how wide my hips have become. I have haunches that don't hold up pants and bubble over into other areas of my life. This sucks. I was never supposed to get fat, ever. But here I am. FAT. And it's disgusting. My 5'11" frame is carrying around 240.5 pounds. I thought that 50 pounds would be a great improvement, and it will be. I did some perusing last night though and it looks as though I really should lose 70 pounds, which makes me feel even fatter. Fatty boom bah latty. When I graduated from highschool I was about 185. I want back there.

There are lots of methods and theories for losing weight. I could subscribe to a service, but I don't believe that will do much unless I am paying them and beating myself into submission to their stringent food and exercise plans. I can't cut back calorie wise a whole lot because I am breastfeeding. My husband says we can't give the baby skim milk, it makes everybody crabby. And I agree. My jugs need to produce the top quality cream, it means happy baby and lots of good sleep. Another theory is to just excercise the bananas out of myself. But I don't have time. Really and truly, with all these kids around, it is near impossible to exercise unless the toddler is sleeping. And there are other things which I have deemed more important than excercise during that time. Like loading the dishwasher and folding clothes. I can't do these things when he is awake because he undoes them 20 times until I give up.

I have an appointment every Sunday afternoon with my mother to check in. I have to weigh myself every morning (thank you Flylady). I need to drink 100 oz. of water everyday (thank you 6 week body makeover) and I'm writing down everything I eat (thank you Mom.) Like I said. OY.

It's 11:30 and here is everything I have eaten today:

1 glass of water
vitamins
Bowl of cheerios with vanilla soy milk
3 skittles
Toast w/ butter
Mouthful of bread dough
5 crackers
33 oz. of water
salted boiled egg
small handful of chex mix

And I'm hungry darn it. HUNGRY. And I have to eat, why? Because my baby is hungry too. OY.

Christmas

Merry Christmas. I love the meaning of Christmas. I love that it is supposed to be a holiday centered around our Saviour. I love the beautiful theme of the season, that a loving Heavenly Father sent his Son here to earth to save us all. I love that about Christmas. That it is supposed to be a time of reflection and gratitude for purpose of our lives. I love how universal a holiday it is. There are many many religions that believe in the same Jesus Christ that I do, and it is nice to have some common ground with them.

With that said, I will now begin my purge. I hate Santa. I like the whole idea of the spirit of giving and the wonderful surprises that come during the holidays, but I hate Santa. I hate the commercialization of him. I hate what the big red suit has come to symbolize and I am having a hard time coming to some sort of peaceful agreement to stay nice during this season. Today I have to tell my seven year old daughter that he is not real. Why? Because the teachers at school think it is cute to perpetuate the lie. They don't take an inactive stance in anything these days. They play up Santa. They use him to coerce children to behave. It's wrong! I don't talk about Santa much, because I don't want them to put so much weight into him. But I have overheard my daughter say more than once "Be good! Santa's watching!" Umm...that's not something I have ever said. Not once.

The other day we were discussing what everyone wanted for Christmas. I asked my daughter and she says "I want an iPod and a three story Barbie house, with furniture." Now, she knows things have been kind of tight around here lately, and has been okay with that. So I tell her "These things cost money, dear, I don't think that you will be getting that." And her response? A Lovely, well thought out, not based on any logic response. "But MOM!" Insert eye roll here. "SANTA is bringing it!" Like DUH! It's not going to cost you anything! That fat guy takes care of it. It was at that moment that I knew that somehow, I was going to have to bring myself to let her in on the secret of Christmas. Later today I am taking her shopping, and she is going to help me pick out stocking goodies. I hope she can connect two and two. I may have to spell it out to her by the time we are done, but at least her heart won't be broken Christmas morning.

Hormonal Hell

Let me tell ya, having a baby messes with your hormones. Not getting enough sleep messes with your hormones. Not eating properly messes with your hormones. Lack of activity messes with 'em. Exercising messes with 'em. Birth control messes with 'em. So in a perfect world, free of mood altering brain chemicals, we would never have babies, always get the perfect amount of sleep, eat like we live in the garden of Eden, and have the perfect balance of physical activity. Right?

So yesterday, I was on the down low. Teary, angry, upset. In general I was not having a good day. Last night I did not sleep well, at all. I went to bed late because I wasn't tired, and had a hard time falling asleep. The baby didn't wake up until 5 AM which helped a lot, but let me tell you, I did a lot of clock peeping between 1:30 and 5.

Then this morning. Everything I have thus stated so far should indicate that I woke up a bear, and I am grumpy as a wet hornet. On the contrary though! I laid in bed nursing my baby until 7:30. When I woke up, I was not groggy. I have been happy, nay, I have been CHEERFUL! It's sick and wrong. I have eaten my breakfast, unloaded the dishwasher, started the laundry and washed my hair. It's only 9:30.

Hormones. Gotta love 'em.

Bah Humbug.

Christmas is coming. And I am far from Christmas cheer. I have a whole list of things to vent about. My cluttered "desk", my poor excuse of a bedroom, the half finished bedroom downstairs to eleviate the space issues we have, the fact that we haven't had grocery money in three weeks, but we don't qualify for food stamps. And after applying for medical assistance, we still have to pay $3000 in medical expenses, which we don't have. I haven't bought a single Christmas present yet. We got a $50 gift card from my husband's work dinner party and we used it for pull-ups and an itty bitty tree. I don't even know if Santa is going to come this year. My daughter told me she wrote a letter to Santa asking for an iPod and a three story barbie house. I told her that these things cost money. "Well that doesn't matter because SANTA is bringing it!!!" She practically chewed me out about it. I am torn between letting her live in her little fantasy world and filling her in on the truth. Although I think she may have an inkling that Santa is not all he's cracked up to be, perhaps that is why she is so defensive about it all.

The Garage

Last Saturday I went out to the garage to find something. I *thought* it was full of stuff that I was missing. I was wrong. It is full of, well, NOTHING!! There is a car in there that doesn't run and some empty cardboard boxes and about 4 boxes/containers of things that we don't have any room for at the moment. And a treadle sewing machine that belonged to my grandmother that I could not leave behind. I had gone out there to find my extra sewing machine. I don't think it's here. I think I accidentally left it behind. I say accidentally because my daughter wants to learn how to sew and now I can't find the darn thing. It was refreshing to go out there and not have to sift through stuff. I opened four boxes, peeked in and said "Nope! Don't have it!"

So where is all my junk? My mother in law so willingly and graciously went through our house after we left and went through EVERY LAST PIECE OF EVERYTHING and catogorized it and labeled it, and is storing it in her shed. She did not throw anything away, she did not give anything away. The thought of having to go through all of it when we go visit, makes me sick to my stomache. I would say at least half of it I don't want or need.

I think this is all very symbolic. I left my junk behind, because I couldn't deal with it at the time. How often do we just leave stuff because we can't deal with it? In this case it was a time crunch. I was not physically able to sort the rest of it. And we HAD to get out of there. We needed to be in our new home before school started.

The moral of the story is? We will all have to deal with our junk at some point. When we deal with it says a lot about where we are in life. If you can deal with your junk head on, in the moment you are in, hats off to you! You must be in an optimal mental state. If you are procrastinating dealing with your junk, there is something going on. You are dealing with stress. Seek help, that's what friends are for. Reach out to your resources. Deal with your junk before it is too late, and people you don't know (and people you do know who you don't want to know about your junk) have to come clean out your junk because it has swallowed you. This all applies to physical, mental and emotional junk. It's not healthy. You deserve better. You are important, you are of value!!! You have a wealth of talent and knowledge that needs to be shared that is being hidden and bogged down by all the unnecessary parts of your life. Giving is getting! Give of yourself and get peace of mind in the process. You will feel better. Instead of insecurity, you will find comfort.

Go forth! Live the life you have imagined! Embrace your dreams! Have vision for yourself! You can DO IT!

Standing on the Brink

My baby is here. She is beautiful. I have spent the last week in new baby bliss being spoiled by my husband and holding a sleeping newborn. It's wonderful. I love being a mom.

I've looked around the house this last week, and realized, without a doubt, we have a lot of kids. A LOT of kids. I'm holding one, watching my toddler destroy anything within reach, listening to my preschooler screech at his kindegarten age brother and older sister to PLAY with him. PLEASE! And it hits me. We have a LOT of kids. It is a lot for me. I think it is all my brain can handle. Actually, I think my brain could only really handle two, but because of my blind faith, I have stepped out into the unknown and very scary prospect of having a large family. Now I know a lot of people with four to five children, but I don't know any that get stressed about things like I do. I don't know any mentally crazed and depression challenged women stepping into the over stimulation and nerve sizzling arena of oodles of children. This is where relying on my Heavenly Father has come into play. And just plain audicity to DARE my head to mess with me! Lots of prayers.

Although I am not feeling the crazy crankiness of post-partum depression just yet, I am waiting for that foot to fall. We have had a lot of changes as a family lately, and I am almost sure, in my head, that the lunacy of post-partum depression is going to return. And I don't know why. I am in a better place than I ever have been. I have friends to call on the phone, I am making new friends here in my new town. I am taking my vitamins religiously. Like medication almost. I'm getting the rest that I need. Yet I feel unsettled and afraid of myself. But it's all in my head. And I have bravely been talking myself out of it. As a reader, you may be shaking your head and saying "Get help you insane woman!" But really, I am happy. I am in a happy place. There is no physical evidence to my being nuts. In the past, I knew I was going crazy because everything drove me to anger. But there is an undercurrent of peace in our home right now. How long will it hold? Will I be able to hold down the ship for the next year without losing my mind?

In a year my baby will be almost walking. The newborn and infant stages will be over. The most heinous sleep deprivation should be in the past. Can I hold on to my sanity that long? Will we make it through?

So what evidence do I have of waiting for the foot to fall? Hhhmmmm....well....I have trouble falling back asleep when waking up to feed the baby. I'm afraid of knives. I'm afraid I'm going to drop the baby. I'm afraid I'm going to trip and fall and break my fragile beautiful precious baby. I'm afraid I'm going to drop her over some stairs. I have a fear of open stairs I think. Is there therapy for that? Open staircases? I'm also afraid I'm going to forget she is in her carseat on the floor one day and my toddler is going to carry her off and drop her down the stairs to the basement just like all his other toys. All these silly things. It's all in me head. It's all in me head. It's all in me head.

But my biggest fear is of the SNAP. It's happened before. And I'm sure it will happen again. I SNAP. Everything is going fine. I'm handling the pressure. I'm in a stressful situation, and so far, so good. And then somebody does something and it triggers something and SNAP. I go beserk. I yell. Very loudly. I spank. I stomp off and slam a door. I get very very very ANGRY. And in 5 minutes, it's over. And the adrenaline is still pumping through my veins. And I'm breathing hard, like I just ran a four minute mile. And I feel guilt. Sooooo much guilt. For yelling. And spanking. And making my kids look at me like I'm a monster, with horror, and fear. The guilt from the snap makes me feel like a load of pooh. And I tell myself that next time I won't snap. If only this were different, or that were different, I wouldn't SNAP like a lunatic. But I do. So maybe I need anger management.

How do I keep from snapping?

Checking in

I haven't checked in for awhile because, frankly, I've been busy! We had a successful move and I have been unpacking ever since. I am also tossing around the idea of either writing a book or opening an online diaper store. Not quite sure which at this point. But I do have a point. We have moved.aqA It is wonderful. True, I have been busy with unpacking and getting settled, and perhaps that has been distracting, but it seems a great weight has been lifted. I am more focused on my young children. I am more focused on my husband. I am also more focused on my own self care. I find myself in a better position to be a better mother. Maybe even a better friend, wife and daughter. I find myself more eager to share my time with others. It is amazing. Even though this is a strange new place, I find myself more comfortable in my own skin than I have in a long long long time. I am me again. Perhaps it is just a junction I have come to coincidentally. Maybe this have happened if I decided to move or not, I don't know. But I do know that I am immensely enjoying myself. I am also enjoying the time I have to spend with my family. I don't feel overwhelmed and I am not looking forward to my "me" time so much. In fact, my "me" time doesn't really exist. There aren't any free days anymore. Grandma is not here to take the kids away. We are really enjoying each other!

Onward to junk. Wow. I like my house, as there is not much junk here. Why? I didn't pack any. Maybe that has something to do with why things are so much more relaxed. Sure, the clothes are stacked high in the living room becuase they don't have a home just yet, but I'm really not worried about it. There is still stuff that can be fling flang flunged, but I'll get there. Soon it will be back to purging, as it is an ongoing process.

Enjoy these last days of summer. I know I am, by making the kids play outside when they can. It won't be warm much longer, and days of green grass are limited.

U-Haul Boxes

Ah, the wonderful sound of silence. I have but a few moments to jot down some thoughts before I embark on packing yet again. I've been out of town on a trip and just got back the night before last. Now I must begin to pack. And packing I am.

This morning as I was loading a box, I noticed on the top some very specific wording. U-Haul has been doing some interesting campaigning to re-use their boxes. Plastered on the side of every size box is "Re-use this box! Don't throw it in the trash! Save a tree!" and lots of other helpful hints about what to do with the boxes when you are done moving. I applaud them in this effort, as re-using their products might mean less profits for them, but much better for the environment. Now, back to the wording. On the top of the boxes there are 4 different little "sections" if you will, that have a little list of where the box should go when you get to your destination. The sections are titled "First Use" and then (here is the interesting part to me) "First Re-use". Not second use, but first re-use. And then Second Re-use and Third Re-use. Why not first, second, third and fourth? Why the conscious effort of the word re-use? Perhaps it is part of their campaign for you to re-use the box. And maybe people just didn't like the idea of being the 4th user of a box. After giving it some thought, I wonder how long a bunch of people sat in a meeting bickering about the wording on top of a box. How much were they paid to do that? Meanwhile, I still get a little confused when I go to write on my boxes. First use or first re-use, they look amazingly similar and are right next to each other. Wish I coulda been in on that meeting.

Clothing

Okay, I couldn't resist. The computer is not packed away and I am working my way through eons of laundry. Yes, I know, eons is a way of measuring time, but it is a very long time and I feel like I have been doing laundry forever. Which brings me to today's topic. Clothing.

I have learned in the past few years, that the least amount of clothes you can get by on is the best number to have. Keep your wardrobe simple and it will in turn simplify all sorts or laundry routines. The fewer clothes you have, the fewer loads of laundry it takes to catch up. Of course, the kids tend to run out of underwear faster, but I think they also might learn how to do their own laundry at a younger age. (Today I went through my 5 year old son's underpants bin. He had 30 pairs of underwear, and that didn't count the basket he had just brought down this morning that was in the wash. What on earth does a boy need THIRTY pairs of underwear for? I really don't know. But he does not value bringing his clothes down, because he has an endless supply of clean underpants.) I am having a very fun time paring down all the clothes to necessities and packing away only my very favorites for younger siblings. Of course it helps to know that there is only one kid I can really save clothes for.


On to amusing observation time. This morning my husband and I were doing a little perusing about a store as we were alone and that doesn't happen too much. We decided to check out a few clearance racks of these ridiculus t-shirts. One shirt had printed on the front "Made in the USA" in big letters. (Oh how cute. I guess if you honeymoon in the virgin Islands and nine months later have a baby, you can't put this shirt on your kid.) Anyhow, curiousity got the best of me. I checked the tag. Huh. Made in Ecuador. I laughed out loud in the store. And then there was the pink camo tee that had the word "Peace" on it. Is this some form of silent protest? Because surely the child wearing it have no clue as to the irony of this. Camoflouge, an invention to help hide and often protect the men and women fighting for our country, often with big guns and bullets flying, is bespeckled with a word such as "Peace". This did not make me laugh. It makes me ponder the meaning of war. So I wonder if this is simply some clothing designers protest to put on my six year old, or some idiot who switched some buttons at the print factory. Either way, it is thought provoking.

Women's Liberation and the Dress

Around here it has been hotter than a hoochie (explain that phrase to a 7 year old! Eeeck!) and I'm 7 months pregnant. One of our air conditioners broke and I'm supposed to be packing. I am one hot mama. And I'm not talking sexy hot. I am HOT. Enter the dress. I honestly have no idea what those Women's liberation girls were thinking when they wanted to wear pants like the big boys. I made myself two dresses from some yardage that I had stowed away in my sewing stuff. They are huge tent dresses, and I love them. I have air circulation built in under my clothes. It's wonderful! Pants? Oh ugh. My goodness, I'm getting to the point where I can't bend over in pants, it pinches me in weird places. I love my dress.

When we go out and I am in my dress I'm sure we get a few looks. There are a few religious sects around here that believe that women should where a dress or skirt all the time. I am not of that belief, but I sure do believe in the power of a dress. Oh my. I am not confined to pants. I am not stifling in pants. It's a heck of a lot easier to pee. And getting dressed in the morning? Oh so easy. Roll out of bed, remove night shirt, contain the twin peaks and throw on a dress. Whew. Done. That sure was easy.

Of course, I do not sing this tune in the winter, but it sure works nice for now. I am also beginning to understand the value of an apron. Those sure probably came in handy when gardening and washing dishes and all sorts of household chores.

I suppose I am old fashioned. Don't get me wrong, the Women's Lib movement did a lot for women in the aspect of just being able to work if necessary and other rights that needed to happen, but I do believe that most (not all) women would be quite content with a domestic lifestyle given the proper support. When I say support I mean financially and emotionally. As in a man who takes his responsibilties seriously as provider. And emotional support, other women. I think every woman needs a good friend and forgiving sound board.

The rat race of society is degenerating at epic proportions and it appears as though it is only going to get worse because we don't support each other as people. A society based on the sole goal of money mongering or attention getting will never thrive. It's all about people. Money will not last forever ever. The cameras will eventually break, but relationships with those we love can be nourished and loved and can grow. And offer a hand of support back in times of need. This is not true of all things.

Now I must sign off for a time, I think we are going to try to pack the desktop computer today, which means I will only be able to use the laptop, and I hate typing on the micro keyboard.

Stay good, choose the better part and love all that surrounds you. (In other words, if you don't love it, purge it. Unless it is a person. Then you gotta work on repairing that relationship if possible.)

Signing out.

Self Help books, BE GONE!

Finally, the decision to move is here. Finally, I am packing for real! Today was the first day of serious up to my neck in packing stuff day. I re-packed a lot of stuff that I packed six months ago. The most fun thing to do was to go through a box labeled "self help books" Sick, isn't it? A whole box of self help books. I'm sure you have one too. It's part of the disease. We never feel like we are good enough and are continually trying to find the perfect system to make ourselves conform to what society believes we should be functioning at. I laughed in the face of conformity today. Good-bye Stephen Covey. Good-Bye Marla Cilley. Good-Bye Julia Morgenstein. The funny thing is, the Julia Morgenstein book I had was a second copy. The first copy I sold in my yard sale last November. The book was titled "Organizing from the Inside Out." Please tell me this is somewhat amusing. I couldn't find my first copy, so ordered a second. Ummm....yah. An organizing book. I lost an organizing book.

The other books I decided appropriate for the yard sale were diet books. This is an inheritance from my mother. She loves a good diet book. My earliest memories of her bedside bookcase were all of diet books and self help books. I decided I've read enough about nutrition and health over the years that really, it all boils down to one thing: eat your vegies, eat them fresh and quit taking the third brownie. Oh, and don't forget to be active. That last part I don't have too much trouble with these days. Playing with the kids is actually getting kind of fun, when I'm not huge pregnant. Good bye diet books! I have my own way of living!

It all comes down to this realization that I can be who I want to be. I don't need a book to help me feel better, I can choose to feel better by asserting my needs and living the way I feel is best. I don't need a book to tell me some strange rules to eat my food. I am at a point where I know what makes my body feel good, and that is what I need to eat. Notice I did not say I know what tastes yummy, because if that were the case, I'd be living off chocolate soft serve smothered in chocolate jimmies (sprinkles for those of you who don't speak New England-ease) all summer and steak and cheesecake all winter. (Can we say constipation for $200 Alex?) No, I'm not stupid. I know how to eat. No, I'm not stupid for letting my house get to be a wreak. It just happened, and even though it was overwhelming at first, as I practiced giving things away and throwing things away, I have gotten much better about it. It's not so overwhelming anymore. Actually, the thought of everything I have to go through AGAIN is starting to overwhelm me. I packed my sewing stuff 3 times since January. So much for thinking I wouldn't have time to sew. And so much for thinking I had gotten rid of everything I didn't need. Would you believe I got rid of MORE stuff? My priorities have shifted, finally. I am living the life I want to live. Hopefully this can continue as I start my new life living in a place that just might drive me to the brink of insanity. We'll leave that for another post, another night.

Do yourself a favor, help yourself and ditch the self help books. You are wonderful just the way you are.

Doing the Dishes

During my teenage years I did my fair share of babysitting. When I would babysit I would get bored, so I would do the dishes. There were two main babysitting jobs that I remember the most and all the dishes I would do while I was there. Niether household had a dishwasher (well of course, except for me, the dual functioning babysitter! Duh!) and I did tons and tons and tons of dishes. Because I was bored. Some of the dishes were caked in food, and moldy. Some were hardly dirty, but I didn't know why they were stacked with the dirty ones, so I would wash them anyway. One woman I babysat for had one toddler, and her husband worked in shipping stuff and was always at sea. It was just her and the toddler. She had more silverware and big plates than my family did. In my family we had four teenagers and two parents. She had a LOT of dishes. And it seemed like they were always dirty. I would babysit a couple times a week, and I was always doing a couple sink loads. I did so many dishes that were stacks deep that I came up with a routine for it. A rhythm of the dishes. It was a beautifully orchestrated dance of dirty to clean and put away. At the time, I never understood why the mothers just LOVED me. Why they would pay me extra to do this mundane chore. I wasn't doing anything else. There was nothing on TV. The kids were being taken care of and happy and content playing. Well, now that I am older, I have dishes spilling off the counter tops and piling high, and my portable dishwasher is no longer allowed in the kitchen (remember the new floors? Yah. No more dishwasher because they don't want it scratching the floor when it is moved) I am realizing just how wonderful that must have felt to come home from work and see all the dishes done. You are welcome.

They are not the only benefactors of this service though. That was my training ground for handwashing dishes. My mother always had a dishwasher, so I never really learned how to do stacks of dishes without one until I did these babysitting jobs. The experience proved helpful these last few months. It makes me want to not have a dishwasher in my new home, so that my kids will be forced to help clean up after meals. I want them to learn how to pick up after themselves. This is a service my mother never really rendered to us. She took it upon herself to clean up after us. There were times as we got older that we were required to help with Saturday morning chores, but that was the extent of it. And it didn't happen regularly. As a result, my housekeeping skills have been atrocious. I'm improving little bit by little bit.

Here is the routine if you have a mile of dishes in your kitchen. Works best with breaks during soaking. Oh, and I forgot to add, this is with a double bowled sink. I believe if you have a single bowl, one of those "wash pans" (the square bucket things) would work for your washing sink.

First: clean out the sink you plan to wash in. Then fill with hot as you can stand it sudsy water. Fill with dishes. The closest dishes you can grab. In no particular order. If you are anal, like myself on occasion, grab all the silver (it needs to soak in super hot if you have crusties dried on there) and fill the top with glasses.

Second: Clean out your rinsing sink while the wash sink is soaking. Clean it out nice. Stack the dishes somewhere else, just don't forget about them.

Third: Wash the dishes in the washing sink and put in the rinsing sink. Put a fresh load of dirty dishes in the washing sink to soak.

Fourth: Clear out the dish drainer/drying area.

Fifth: Rinse off the dishes still sitting in the rinsing sink and place in the drying area.

Sixth: Wash dishes that are soaking, place in rinsing sink. Re-load washing sink.

Seventh: Dry and put away dishes the ones that are clean and rinsed.

Repeat the fifth through seventh steps as many times as necessary until done. Depending on how deep the stacks are and how dirty the dishes are, you may need to change the wash water. I usually take a break for no more than 10 minutes while I have some soaking. The longer you sit, the water will cool off and it is really icky to have to drain cold dirty wash water. Ew.

Good luck with your dishes!!

My Angry Afghan

I think when I am settled into my new home, I am going to start a new afghan. And whenever I feel the need to vent or am worked up about something, I am going to crochet on my angry afghan. Why? Well, there is somethings soothing about twisting yarn about itself in a manner that creates something. And if I have a specific project to take out my frustration on, then I can just give it away when it is done. Then I will not see the memories of angst that I felt while working on it. They will be gone. It will be a way of funneling my frustration into something useful. Of course, this won't work too well if I sit down to crochet and then my 3 year old starts whining about wanting a peanut butter sandwich, and the toddler starts tugging at the yarn (because heaven forbid Mom work on a project uninterrupted, especially one involving cloth or yarn, his two most favorite things in the world). And then in a couple months I'm sure the baby will train herself to wake up and start crying the minute I put my feet up. Because that's the why life is. My angry afghan will turn into a very angry afghan.

Is any one out there? ...and Baby Clothes

Since I have had one comment on this entire blog since, oh, last year sometime, I often wonder if anyone is reading at all. Not that it matters, because heck, if you are reading, then there is the potential hazard of you actually knowing me. So anyway, I guess I am wondering if I have an audience, or this is just an online journal? What difference does it make, not much. Nothing would change. I aspire to write to the masses, truly. Maybe you could leave a comment.....

Now on to the purge topic of the day. Baby clothes. I am pregnant. I believe myself to be pregnant with a girl. The ultrasound was pretty convincing, and I am puffing up like a marshmallow like I did with my first girl. Girls make me swell and boys make my heart do funky stuff. I fully believe it to be hormones. To continue, this is baby number five. I'm also convinced that it is the LAST baby. Why? Well, five kids in seven years is rather draining. I'm done. Really. (I know, you watch, in two years I will be knocked up again. Yes, I've eaten words before and I'm sure it will happen again) So I'm having a girl. I have loads and loads of boy clothes from having three boys in a row. The youngest being only 17 months old right now. I am a saver of clothes because until recently, I have never possesed the ambition or talent for shopping. It is not one of my strong suits and often my wardrobe needs have been filled by someone else who DOES like to shop. I save all the baby clothes. Well, I did until a few months ago. When my last little boy outgrew his itty bitty clothes, I went through them and actually gave some away. I kept only the clothes I loved. All the little outfits and ugly things that people had given to me, I passed on to the next person to love. I did not love them. Notice I didn't say ALL the baby clothes, just the ones I didn't LOVE. I still have a few bins full of baby clothes, that I LOVE. This presents a problem, because I am not moving something I don't need. I do not plan on needing all these little boy clothes, but I LOVE them. I need to pass them on, sell them, something, because I need girl clothes now. I tried saving my first daughter's things, but she is 7 now. And we've moved a few times, and everytime we do, a few more things go. And even if I had saved everything, it's all in the wrong season. And heck, it may not even fit this little girl like it did my first! We have two very different body types in our family.

Well, thanks for listening. I've talked myself through it and I'm ready to send a few more away. I still will be toting little boy clothes around for a little bit, but maybe not as many. But oh to hold an outfit in your hands and remember how small and squirmy they used to be. What a piece of nostalgia. It never lasts.

Misery Loves Company

Just....Monday.

Today is Monday. It feels like a monday. I can't put my finger on it, but it feels mondayish to me. I want to clean the kitchen and bake a cake. I want chocolate in the worst way, but the only form of chocolate in the house is a cake mix. I polished off the cooked pudding on Saturday night. I ate that while I listed stuff on ebay.

Selling stuff on Ebay has become a form of entertainment to me. It really is fun. I love watching my stuff get bids. I stalk my listings at the end to see if there is some last minute bidding war going on. I think it's great. And I love watching the total of what everything is selling for go up. It makes me giddy with anticipation. Right now I have some unopened bottles of gesso on, and there are three people watching it. It cracks me up. It is the only auction I have up with more than one watcher. And it's gesso for pete's sake. Glad I didn't pitch that on my way through the art supplies box! So on Saturday night, my new entertainment is Ebay.

I really need to get my spare room in order. I want to sew diapers in a very bad way, but I can't for all the mess in there. It is rather annoying. I don't know where to start with clearing a space or if I should clear a space at all. Because I"m almost positive that the minute I get in the middle of a project, I won't get to finish because I'll be moving. It's just darn pathetic of me. My sewing stuff is also all in boxes because I keep telling myself I don't have time to sew. It is sad. I have wonderful fabulous ideas floating around in my head and I can't put them into fabric. Oh the angst!

Well I am off to tidy my kitchen and bake a cake. I will have more progress tomorrow because Grandma is coming to take the kids away. YIpeeee!

Progress Report

I spent about 4 hours out in the shed again today. I had one kid home and three at Grandma's house. I pitched 4 bags of trash, sent a large box, a medium box and a bag to Goodwill. Whee! Go me!

I also started an Ebay pile, but I'm not sure I want to do it. I got a scale, so I won't loose my shirt to shipping. I don't know if it is worth the hassle of listing everything. It's all odds and ends, but collectibles as well. Then there are the fees for listing. And the packaging. I just wonder if it is worth it. It's worth a try.

Then there is the stuff that is too big to sell on Ebay, the stuff that would be a pain in the rear to send. Like the skis. And a portable dishwasher, and a drafting table. Do I have a yard sale? Do I post them on craigslist? I don't like having to think about getting rid of stuff. That is the number one reason why I did not want to have another yard sale. It's hard to watch people go through your stuff. It's hard to have to let it go again. I like Goodwill drops for this very reason. Once I have decided it is leaving, there is no hesitation. It goes. There is no second chance, it is gone. There is the occasional pang of guilt and grief that eventually I reason myself out of. How can I justify keeping everything? I can't! It's amazing how much stuff I have, that I was never able to keep up with, that never found a home in my home. I don't like thinking about where it all has to go, I just want it gone so I don't have to go over it again and again in my head. What have I done? How can I abandon all these things? Oh the guilt of it! But they are just things. JUST THINGS. They have no heart, they have no feelings and there are millions more just like them.

Now as for the art work I have created in years past, well that is different. I think I am going to have to address that sooner or later. I am postponing the inevitable for now though, distracting myself with inanimate objects with no life of their own. Art is different. Art was created and in a way nurtured. Art is a form of cataloging my life. Aye. I have a lot left out there.