Yesterday, at work, walking down the hall, a co-worker passed me, stopped in her tracks, turned around and said, "Michelle, you have that glow. I mean you really look happy!"
My happiness is apparently written all over my face, and I am glad about that. Feeling this good is something I want to share with the world.
There were years when I was constantly asking, "what is wrong with me? why can't I be happy?" No matter what I did, I couldn't find a balance in life where I felt like I was happy more days than not.
I kept thinking, "if only this, then I would be happy." But this wasn't going to change on its own, and even when I did muster up the effort to change one thing, there were still all these other things looming at me.
And then I finally figured out that I had some changes to make on multiple levels of my life. If I wanted to be happy, then I was going to have to dial it up in the doing stuff department. Getting on my blog and whining wasn't fixin' nothin'.
One of the biggest things to change was that I came out of last year no longer needing to ask, "what is wrong with me?" because the answer is: nothing. I'm human, and I had some mistakes to make and lessons to learn and some changes to implement and some medications to adjust. And that is exactly what I have spent the last two years doing.
I was in an unhappy marriage. I got out of it.
I was fighting constant anxiety and depression. I got professional help.
I didn't like my body. I lost weight.
I didn't like the way I presented myself in public. I started making an effort.
I felt like a failure as a parent. I got counseling and, well, we'll call this a work in progress. But I can assure you it is worlds better than it was 2 years ago.
I was not financially stable. Ok, another work in progress. But it is in progress, and I am feeling positive about the progress being made and the plans in the works to pay off bills and cut costs where I can. Those plans seem solid and sustainable long term, and just the fact that I am focusing on it and trying to do something about it in itself helps me sleep better at night.
I think I'm always going to be someone who is hard on herself (most of us are naturally our own worst critics. Well, unless we are named Kanye - the man works my nerves. I digress.) and anxiety prone and guilt prone. As far as I can tell, I'm just hard wired that way.
But I think I have also come to realize that there are degrees of those things. I was living in such a way as to put so much pressure on myself not to fail (again) or hurt or disappoint anyone that I craaaaaaaaaaaaacked under that pressure, and I was a horrible, horrible mess of a human being.
And then somehow something or someone or (most likely) a collection of someones finally got through to me that not only do I not have to be perfect, I will never be perfect no matter how hard I try, so I may as well just figure out how to be happy. I had to sit down and really assess my life and refuse to allow myself to make anymore excuses. I was full of : "I can't go to therapy/the gym/the doctor because I don't have the time or money."
I found the time and the money and, voila, my life began to improve. The entire time Michael and I were going through our divorce, he was so irritated with me for choosing that time to change. For choosing then to finally work on all the things that had made me so unhappy. And that is fair. It was a large contributing factor to our split. But maybe the split was the catalyst. Maybe being stuck with myself with no one to blame my misery on but myself was the wake up call I needed.
Whatever it was, I literally cannot think back to the very beginning of having memories and remember a time in my life where I was this happy. Truly, deep down, get up in the morning grateful for my life every day happy.
So, how can I not also be incredibly thankful? For that happiness, for my two beautiful, incredible, healthy sons, for my daughter who is on the way, for a family who loves me and bends over backward to help me, for friends who are loyal and loving and full of laughter, for a boyfriend who showed up and just turned into family like he belonged there all along, for a job where I feel valued and appreciated and wanted, for a home that feels truly like my home, and for all the moments and mistakes and choices and lessons that led to having all of this.
I hope all of you who read this either have this kind of happiness or are on your way to figuring out how to have it because I want nothing less for all the people I love.
Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Monday, November 25, 2013
My Jeep should be ironically named lucky
Oh my lord, y'all, I dodged a serious bullet today. The forecast was calling for "stuck in the house" weather. As in, a third day stuck indoors with two very over-the-indoors children. I was worried for all of us.
When Jimmy mumbled "news says roads are fine" at 5 am, I did a little happy dance in my head.
So, everyone is in their respective weekday location getting a much needed break from the house (and, frankly, each other).
Once again, I have no idea how you SAHMs do it. I'm positive I would be in an institution by now if I didn't get to come to work every day. As Miranda says, "it takes all kinds of kinds." Amen, sister. Sure does.
Friday evening my Jeep swapped paint with yet another driver determined to ruin my day. It being the third time in less than a year that I have been hit, I was less than patient with this driver. My kids were both in the car, I'm 7 months pregnant, it was freezing outside and raining, and what's the resale value on my vehicle got to be at this point? $45? I'm probably already upside down by, like, $12,000 (I'm being dramatic, but I really am in a bad position with the equity) without all the added damage this crap is doing, so thanks for that come January, jerks.
Immediately after he hit me, he acted like he was going to pull away. I glared and shook my finger at him. So, he stopped in the middle of a very busy road. I got out and yelled at him in my mom voice to pull up into the gas station out of the rush hour traffic.
He gave me his insurance information and continuously repeated, "I thought you were going to at least pull up a little further." Well, I didn't, sir, so that was your cue to sit there and wait your turn instead of pulling out and plowing into my bumper. Honking at me would have been preferable to the way you handled it, so I really don't want your crappy attitude.
I got home and Jimmy told me I needed to call the other driver's insurance company, and I just flatly refused. I continued to refuse all weekend. They get ugly, y'all, and after dealing with their rude customer, I just took on Silas' stance as a three year old every time you told him to do something, "so I don't!" .
I feel like I've endured my fair share of hateful claims reps this year. I just want to scream, "IT ISN'T MY FAULT THAT YOUR CUSTOMER HIT ME SO STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE!" but instead I am polite and do everything I can to treat them in a way that I'd like to be treated in hopes that they will calm the eff down and be civil. Mostly they are still assholes. (Maybe no one taught them the golden rule?)
So, let me just give a shout out to Michelle (well, that should have been my first clue) at State Farm for being pleasant to me when I finally called this morning. She seemed to get that it's just a business transaction. The money to repair my vehicle isn't coming out of her personal checking account. I don't want to be dealing with this hassle and am just doing so out of necessity.
I am always honest and don't ever try to claim anymore than the actual damage. I don't fake injuries or try to defraud the company into paying me more than what I actually need to cover my losses. So, I appreciate having the hope that I may not have to spiral off into an anxiety attack every time I have to speak to this woman. Fingers crossed anyway.
If not, I'll be back here to bitch and put her on blast shortly.
Happy Monday of Thanksgiving week!
When Jimmy mumbled "news says roads are fine" at 5 am, I did a little happy dance in my head.
So, everyone is in their respective weekday location getting a much needed break from the house (and, frankly, each other).
Once again, I have no idea how you SAHMs do it. I'm positive I would be in an institution by now if I didn't get to come to work every day. As Miranda says, "it takes all kinds of kinds." Amen, sister. Sure does.
Friday evening my Jeep swapped paint with yet another driver determined to ruin my day. It being the third time in less than a year that I have been hit, I was less than patient with this driver. My kids were both in the car, I'm 7 months pregnant, it was freezing outside and raining, and what's the resale value on my vehicle got to be at this point? $45? I'm probably already upside down by, like, $12,000 (I'm being dramatic, but I really am in a bad position with the equity) without all the added damage this crap is doing, so thanks for that come January, jerks.
Immediately after he hit me, he acted like he was going to pull away. I glared and shook my finger at him. So, he stopped in the middle of a very busy road. I got out and yelled at him in my mom voice to pull up into the gas station out of the rush hour traffic.
He gave me his insurance information and continuously repeated, "I thought you were going to at least pull up a little further." Well, I didn't, sir, so that was your cue to sit there and wait your turn instead of pulling out and plowing into my bumper. Honking at me would have been preferable to the way you handled it, so I really don't want your crappy attitude.
I got home and Jimmy told me I needed to call the other driver's insurance company, and I just flatly refused. I continued to refuse all weekend. They get ugly, y'all, and after dealing with their rude customer, I just took on Silas' stance as a three year old every time you told him to do something, "so I don't!" .
I feel like I've endured my fair share of hateful claims reps this year. I just want to scream, "IT ISN'T MY FAULT THAT YOUR CUSTOMER HIT ME SO STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE!" but instead I am polite and do everything I can to treat them in a way that I'd like to be treated in hopes that they will calm the eff down and be civil. Mostly they are still assholes. (Maybe no one taught them the golden rule?)
So, let me just give a shout out to Michelle (well, that should have been my first clue) at State Farm for being pleasant to me when I finally called this morning. She seemed to get that it's just a business transaction. The money to repair my vehicle isn't coming out of her personal checking account. I don't want to be dealing with this hassle and am just doing so out of necessity.
I am always honest and don't ever try to claim anymore than the actual damage. I don't fake injuries or try to defraud the company into paying me more than what I actually need to cover my losses. So, I appreciate having the hope that I may not have to spiral off into an anxiety attack every time I have to speak to this woman. Fingers crossed anyway.
If not, I'll be back here to bitch and put her on blast shortly.
Happy Monday of Thanksgiving week!
Friday, November 22, 2013
They all lie
When I was pregnant with Gavin, Mr. Hottie Doctor lied to me about scheduling my c-section and pushed Gavin's birth back by a day. I was kinda really seriously irritated by that.
Well, this time, my doctor changed her mind about delivering at 37 weeks, which, honestly, is fine with me. It was very worrisome to me to deliver that early. I cried on Jimmy's shoulder just last week worrying that they'd take her to the nursery right after delivery and keep her from me for eight hours like they did Si, and no thank you to that.
So, what's my issue, right? Well, since she decided to push it back, I can't schedule my c-section for two more weeks. (Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!) I know two weeks isn't that big a deal (oh, we are at the every two weeks visits now, weird). I'm just getting very excited and anxious to know exactly when the big day will be! I had a sonogram today, and I can just see how adorable she is already, and I cannot wait to meet her.
Anyway, because Jimmy's job is not being particularly cooperative about the birth of his child (I'm trying not to bitch because it really is a great job with a great company, but I mean, it's the birth of his child, people!), we have to schedule the birth for as late as possible on a Friday (yes, so he can try to leave work early as they don't want to give him the day off - see my point?).
That leaves possible birthdays for Vivi as Friday, February 7th and Friday, February 14th.
Frankly, I'm not particularly interested in my poor daughter having to share her birthday with Valentine's day. No one is ever going to want to come to her parties because 1. let's face it, taking your kids to other kids' parties is somewhat of a pain (picking out the present for someone else's child and hoping they like it, scheduling your kid's nap around it, dealing with the sugar overload and eventual crash once you get home) and 2. people have other things on their agenda on Valentine's day. Plus, she's totally going to have the whole wrapping up the two separate occasions into one thing happen to her, and she's going to be overshadowed by cupid! So, on behalf of my sweet daughter, NO.
That means, we are all willing my doctor (who I adore) to schedule this girl's birthday for February 7th (I'll be 38 weeks, 3 days, so I'm comfortable with that). Start willing people. Start willing!
Well, this time, my doctor changed her mind about delivering at 37 weeks, which, honestly, is fine with me. It was very worrisome to me to deliver that early. I cried on Jimmy's shoulder just last week worrying that they'd take her to the nursery right after delivery and keep her from me for eight hours like they did Si, and no thank you to that.
So, what's my issue, right? Well, since she decided to push it back, I can't schedule my c-section for two more weeks. (Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!) I know two weeks isn't that big a deal (oh, we are at the every two weeks visits now, weird). I'm just getting very excited and anxious to know exactly when the big day will be! I had a sonogram today, and I can just see how adorable she is already, and I cannot wait to meet her.
Anyway, because Jimmy's job is not being particularly cooperative about the birth of his child (I'm trying not to bitch because it really is a great job with a great company, but I mean, it's the birth of his child, people!), we have to schedule the birth for as late as possible on a Friday (yes, so he can try to leave work early as they don't want to give him the day off - see my point?).
That leaves possible birthdays for Vivi as Friday, February 7th and Friday, February 14th.
Frankly, I'm not particularly interested in my poor daughter having to share her birthday with Valentine's day. No one is ever going to want to come to her parties because 1. let's face it, taking your kids to other kids' parties is somewhat of a pain (picking out the present for someone else's child and hoping they like it, scheduling your kid's nap around it, dealing with the sugar overload and eventual crash once you get home) and 2. people have other things on their agenda on Valentine's day. Plus, she's totally going to have the whole wrapping up the two separate occasions into one thing happen to her, and she's going to be overshadowed by cupid! So, on behalf of my sweet daughter, NO.
That means, we are all willing my doctor (who I adore) to schedule this girl's birthday for February 7th (I'll be 38 weeks, 3 days, so I'm comfortable with that). Start willing people. Start willing!
Thursday, November 21, 2013
My sweet boys went into mom mode
On the way home last night, I began to feel very bad.
I got home, got the kids in the house, fed them, cleaned them up, and then threw down toys and curled up in the fetal position on the couch.
Jimmy came in and saw me and went into caretaker mode.
Jimmy: "Do you want some soup? I'm going to make you some soup."
Me: "No thank you. I don't think I can keep it down."
Silas: "Mom, if you will just eat a little bit of soup, you will feel better."
How could I refuse once my four year old spit my own words back at me?
So, Jimmy set about making me soup.
After a bit I heard,
Silas: "Jimmy, can I go upstairs and get a blanket?"
Jimmy: "I don't care, buddy."
Clomping up the stairs. Clomping back down.
And then a sweet boy materialized with his Cars blanket (the only acceptable blanket when he feels bad) and a pillow and began to cover me up and check me for fever and kiss my cheeks and bring me "medicine" in little cups.
It warmed my heart to see that 1. there is a man in my life who sets the example that taking care of people and being kind to them is a manly thing to do and 2. that my son is turning into a person who is loving and kind and caring.
That is what I want for my children. I want so badly for them to grow into people who love other people and treat them with kindness, and I am so grateful that it looks like they are on the right track.
I worry so much about them picking up and taking on all of my bad traits and shortcomings, so it was a relief to see evidence that they are internalizing some of my positive attributes as well.
It melted my heart, and I just wanted to share it.
I got home, got the kids in the house, fed them, cleaned them up, and then threw down toys and curled up in the fetal position on the couch.
Jimmy came in and saw me and went into caretaker mode.
Jimmy: "Do you want some soup? I'm going to make you some soup."
Me: "No thank you. I don't think I can keep it down."
Silas: "Mom, if you will just eat a little bit of soup, you will feel better."
How could I refuse once my four year old spit my own words back at me?
So, Jimmy set about making me soup.
After a bit I heard,
Silas: "Jimmy, can I go upstairs and get a blanket?"
Jimmy: "I don't care, buddy."
Clomping up the stairs. Clomping back down.
And then a sweet boy materialized with his Cars blanket (the only acceptable blanket when he feels bad) and a pillow and began to cover me up and check me for fever and kiss my cheeks and bring me "medicine" in little cups.
It warmed my heart to see that 1. there is a man in my life who sets the example that taking care of people and being kind to them is a manly thing to do and 2. that my son is turning into a person who is loving and kind and caring.
That is what I want for my children. I want so badly for them to grow into people who love other people and treat them with kindness, and I am so grateful that it looks like they are on the right track.
I worry so much about them picking up and taking on all of my bad traits and shortcomings, so it was a relief to see evidence that they are internalizing some of my positive attributes as well.
It melted my heart, and I just wanted to share it.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Friday sort of starts the countdown
Do you guys know what Friday is? I mean other than Friday?
It's the day I go to my doctor and pick my daughter's birthday off a calendar.
My mom keeps showing up at my house with pink things - reminding me that I have a new little bundle of joy closing in on me, and I keep pretending I have plenty of time to get everything ready for Vivian. And, in theory, I guess I do.
Except that I have Thanksgiving (at my house), my anniversary with Jimmy, Christmas (probably at my house), and New Years (at my house) to get through. That means family gatherings, presents, school functions, gift wrapping, shopping, parties, decorating, you know - general festiveness and merriment for the next 6 weeks. That's in addition to the job and the raising of the children and the taking care of the (what feels like) enormous house and laundry Everest.
So, assuming my doctor is serious about this 37 weeks business, I'm going to be focused on taking care of one or all of those things from now until, like, the month she is going to be born. Just writing that makes me hyper-ventilatey.
I had planned to finish painting her room this weekend, but Gavin had a virus, and Michael didn't take him for his weekend, and, well, there is no painting getting done with my sweet baby Gavin around. As much as I love him, he isn't particularly helpful when I'm trying to be productive in any form or fashion.
And the next six weeks aren't looking good for me either. So, you know, last minute mom as usual.
And I'm not as enormous at this juncture as I usually am. I mean, you can definitely tell I'm pregnant, but I'm not swelling and feeling miserable and unable to sleep. So, I'm not all, GET THIS KID OUT OF ME! just yet. I'm sort of more like, "hey, girl, if you could keep that foot out of that rib, it'll be totally fine if you just hang out in there for another 6 months until I'm anywhere near ready for taking on another newborn. K, thanks."
Maybe by week 34 I'll be a little more ready to evict, but right now, I am just not.
That brings me to another thing I have to at least attempt to do before I have Vivian. That is, procure a vehicle large enough to fit 3 chillins and 2 adults into. My Jeep was purchased for me. As in, it's not in my name. (Although I totally make the payments every month - let us not get that twisted). So, in the divorce paperwork, a clause was added giving me a year to pay it down and get rid of it. The year is about to expire. And the Jeep isn't big enough for everyone anyway, so it's really a good time. (I admit that grudgingly because it was a major point of contention in January.)
What's left of my youth is screaming at me to buy a bigger SUV or a king cab truck or even an extra large sedan. My practicality is saying, just hang it up and buy the damn minivan already. (Sigh.) Jimmy and I both have friends who work for car dealerships, so maybe it won't come to that. (I'm really sorry if you drive a minivan and I am offending you right now. Truly, truly sorry. I know they are great for all kinds of reasons. I just don't wanna!)
What all of this boils down to is that I'm nervous, you guys. All of this change barreling toward me, and I'm not sure I'm ready. Worse, I'm not sure my kids are ready.
And then, on the flip side, how much have I wanted a daughter for the last 6.5 years?
You have no idea how much I adore raising boys. It is so special to have sons. I feel truly grateful to have Silas and Gavin, and I cherish every moment with them. I literally wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. If I had never had another girl, I would have still known that I was blessed beyond measure.
But to be given a second chance at raising a daughter in addition to having two healthy sons? I am at a loss for words.
The path my life has taken is incredible. Had I handpicked the outcome of the events of my life, I couldn't have brought myself to a more perfect, beautiful place. I would have chosen everything wrong in an effort to avoid heartache and loss and pain. But out of all of those things came perfection. Looking at my life right now, I cannot complain about a single thing. I have more than everything I have ever wanted, and Vivian's birth will be the icing on the cake.
So, I know the nerves will subside, and she will be born, and we will bring her home, and the boys will adjust to her and fall in love with her, and our family will be a little bigger and full of just that much more love.
I know it will all fall into place. Even if it falls into place from the driver's seat of a minivan.
It's the day I go to my doctor and pick my daughter's birthday off a calendar.
My mom keeps showing up at my house with pink things - reminding me that I have a new little bundle of joy closing in on me, and I keep pretending I have plenty of time to get everything ready for Vivian. And, in theory, I guess I do.
Except that I have Thanksgiving (at my house), my anniversary with Jimmy, Christmas (probably at my house), and New Years (at my house) to get through. That means family gatherings, presents, school functions, gift wrapping, shopping, parties, decorating, you know - general festiveness and merriment for the next 6 weeks. That's in addition to the job and the raising of the children and the taking care of the (what feels like) enormous house and laundry Everest.
So, assuming my doctor is serious about this 37 weeks business, I'm going to be focused on taking care of one or all of those things from now until, like, the month she is going to be born. Just writing that makes me hyper-ventilatey.
I had planned to finish painting her room this weekend, but Gavin had a virus, and Michael didn't take him for his weekend, and, well, there is no painting getting done with my sweet baby Gavin around. As much as I love him, he isn't particularly helpful when I'm trying to be productive in any form or fashion.
And the next six weeks aren't looking good for me either. So, you know, last minute mom as usual.
And I'm not as enormous at this juncture as I usually am. I mean, you can definitely tell I'm pregnant, but I'm not swelling and feeling miserable and unable to sleep. So, I'm not all, GET THIS KID OUT OF ME! just yet. I'm sort of more like, "hey, girl, if you could keep that foot out of that rib, it'll be totally fine if you just hang out in there for another 6 months until I'm anywhere near ready for taking on another newborn. K, thanks."
Maybe by week 34 I'll be a little more ready to evict, but right now, I am just not.
That brings me to another thing I have to at least attempt to do before I have Vivian. That is, procure a vehicle large enough to fit 3 chillins and 2 adults into. My Jeep was purchased for me. As in, it's not in my name. (Although I totally make the payments every month - let us not get that twisted). So, in the divorce paperwork, a clause was added giving me a year to pay it down and get rid of it. The year is about to expire. And the Jeep isn't big enough for everyone anyway, so it's really a good time. (I admit that grudgingly because it was a major point of contention in January.)
What's left of my youth is screaming at me to buy a bigger SUV or a king cab truck or even an extra large sedan. My practicality is saying, just hang it up and buy the damn minivan already. (Sigh.) Jimmy and I both have friends who work for car dealerships, so maybe it won't come to that. (I'm really sorry if you drive a minivan and I am offending you right now. Truly, truly sorry. I know they are great for all kinds of reasons. I just don't wanna!)
What all of this boils down to is that I'm nervous, you guys. All of this change barreling toward me, and I'm not sure I'm ready. Worse, I'm not sure my kids are ready.
And then, on the flip side, how much have I wanted a daughter for the last 6.5 years?
You have no idea how much I adore raising boys. It is so special to have sons. I feel truly grateful to have Silas and Gavin, and I cherish every moment with them. I literally wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. If I had never had another girl, I would have still known that I was blessed beyond measure.
But to be given a second chance at raising a daughter in addition to having two healthy sons? I am at a loss for words.
The path my life has taken is incredible. Had I handpicked the outcome of the events of my life, I couldn't have brought myself to a more perfect, beautiful place. I would have chosen everything wrong in an effort to avoid heartache and loss and pain. But out of all of those things came perfection. Looking at my life right now, I cannot complain about a single thing. I have more than everything I have ever wanted, and Vivian's birth will be the icing on the cake.
So, I know the nerves will subside, and she will be born, and we will bring her home, and the boys will adjust to her and fall in love with her, and our family will be a little bigger and full of just that much more love.
I know it will all fall into place. Even if it falls into place from the driver's seat of a minivan.
Monday, November 18, 2013
My kids are beautiful!
So, Michael and I have had a few, um, words lately. It happens (less than when we were married, so there's that).
Anyway, I was not exactly thrilled with him when he showed up to drop Silas off last night.
He handed me a flash drive and told me he had had pictures of the boys made and that he had put copies on a flash drive for me.
I checked them out this morning, and I have to say they went pretty far in making me less annoyed. If ever you find yourself in a similar situation, do things like this. I assure you it makes it a helluva lot easier to deal with the hard stuff.
Anyway, I was not exactly thrilled with him when he showed up to drop Silas off last night.
He handed me a flash drive and told me he had had pictures of the boys made and that he had put copies on a flash drive for me.
I checked them out this morning, and I have to say they went pretty far in making me less annoyed. If ever you find yourself in a similar situation, do things like this. I assure you it makes it a helluva lot easier to deal with the hard stuff.
Going extreme update
Let me just start by saying that starting this whole couponing process is 1. a lot of friggin work and 2. scarily addictive.
I have been told it gets easier after you get it started and learn how to get faster, and that makes sense. It's reasonable to expect a learning curve. Plus I am starting from scratch. So, I had nothing. No supplies, no coupons, no knowledge, no nothing. This week won't be like that. Plus, I have already learned a few tricks to make the process easier. And so I can see how it isn't going to be quite so time-consuming. I hope. Honestly, I don't care if it is because I have already seen the benefit of it.
This weekend was my first big foray into putting all my work into action and seeing how it is truly going to benefit my family.
I stuck to three stores. And while I did not get $500 worth of groceries for $30, I did save 48% across the stores combined.
For $147, I came away with : all of the things Jimmy and I were assigned for Thanksgiving (the turkey, desserts, potatoes and sweet potato casserole); 6 steaks, 9 pork chops, 6 chicken breasts, all the veggies and sides we needed to make it through two weeks, name brand diapers, dog food, drinks for Silas' class party (35 kids), 4 twelve-packs of soda., lunch stuff for Jimmy and me for the next two weeks, 24 k-cups, 64 ozs. of coffee creamer, deodorant, and baby food to last for two weeks for the bottomless pit (aka Gavin). I saved a total of $135 on what I normally would have spent buying those things.
I stuck to three stores. And while I did not get $500 worth of groceries for $30, I did save 48% across the stores combined.
For $147, I came away with : all of the things Jimmy and I were assigned for Thanksgiving (the turkey, desserts, potatoes and sweet potato casserole); 6 steaks, 9 pork chops, 6 chicken breasts, all the veggies and sides we needed to make it through two weeks, name brand diapers, dog food, drinks for Silas' class party (35 kids), 4 twelve-packs of soda., lunch stuff for Jimmy and me for the next two weeks, 24 k-cups, 64 ozs. of coffee creamer, deodorant, and baby food to last for two weeks for the bottomless pit (aka Gavin). I saved a total of $135 on what I normally would have spent buying those things.
Now, I promise you I am not turning this into a blog about couponing. Swear. I just know that several of the people who read this are in the exact same situation as I am. You are working your butts off to take care of your family and making every penny stretch. You are not putting near as much into savings as you want. You sacrifice things you'd like to do for your family because your kids need shoes and clothes and five hundred other things that absolutely cannot be foregone, and you all still have to eat every week. I don't know about you, but $135 extra dollars makes a difference in my house, especially since we're, like, five minutes away from having another mouth to feed and another butt to diaper.
So, yes, it is work. I'm not going to lie and say it is the easiest thing I have ever done. But to save $135 my very first week tells me that it is very much worth it.
Once again, if you want to do this for your family, I highly suggest starting here:
http://thekrazycouponlady.com/
So, yes, it is work. I'm not going to lie and say it is the easiest thing I have ever done. But to save $135 my very first week tells me that it is very much worth it.
Once again, if you want to do this for your family, I highly suggest starting here:
http://thekrazycouponlady.com/
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Going Extreme
For whatever odd reason (maybe he was trying to use subliminal messaging), my boyfriend paused an episode of Extreme Couponing last week and made me watch it. He does this with all kinds of things that he thinks I'll find interesting or entertaining once I finally wrangle and feed the children.
Of course I had previously heard about people who did this. I had even seen evidence of it on Facebook back when I had it.
But there was no way I was going to take the time and effort to figure it out. I mean I'm already tired all the time and do everything in my power to avoid putting forth effort in any areas that do not absolutely require it.
So, no. I would not be spending my Sundays clipping coupons.
And then I watched a lady buy $500 worth of groceries for $30.
When Jimmy and I sat down and looked at our finances a couple of weeks ago, it became readily apparent that what we aren't spending on bills, we are spending on food and gas. A household of four with two people making one hour-plus commutes and a one year old who never stops eating tends to spend an exorbitant amount of money on food and fuel.
Okay, maybe couponing might be worth investigating.
I mentioned it to my friend/babysitter, Candice, last week and learned that she is already deeply immersed in the couponing world. When I told her that there was no way I was devoting 35 hours a week (where would I even find 35 hours in a week?) to do this (as the lady on the show claims she does), Candice advised that I start on a much smaller scale and just do it for items I use all the time.
My first venture into couponing was to go to Kroger.com and load digital coupons straight onto my Kroger card. I took it for a test drive on Saturday and turned a $70 grocery bill into a $56 grocery bill and earned points toward money off gas (every 100 points = 10 cents off per gallon). I did not even understand what I was doing yet and had already managed to save $14 and get more than halfway to 10 cents off a gallon.
I reported this to Candice. She gave me praise. She was fast becoming my couponing mentor.
Later that night I went in search of couponing apps for my iPhone. I went to the App Store, typed "coupon" into the search box, and downloaded the ones with high ratings that looked user-friendly.
I reported this to Candice. She came to the conclusion that I was serious about this.
And so she directed me to the extreme couponers starter manual (link to web address below) where I officially became obsessed.
Actual conversation:
Jimmy: I think I want to invent some sort of chicken chili this weekend (he is an amazing cook. I tried to talk him into going to culinary school. He declined after learning the average salary of the graduates).So, that is where I stand. I've dipped my toes into the couponing waters and been completely sucked into the madness of it. I'll give you guys an update after I get a grasp on it and see the kind of impact it makes for someone who doesn't have a 40 hour work week to devote to it.
Me: Ok. I'm going to be organizing this coupon madness I've started.
Jimmy: Lmao (he's at work. I get a lot of this.)
Me: I am sorry, but I am going to be subscribing us to the Sunday paper. And you are no longer allowed to throw away coupons, ads, or circulars that come in the mail. Oh, and we have a couponing binder now.
Jimmy: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL (this translates to I cannot stop laughing at what you just said)
Me: I feel crazy. It took hold. It's bad.
If you're interested in starting this yourself, Candice advised me (and now I advise you) to check out The Krazy Coupon Lady. I started at the "beginner" tab as it seemed the most logical place to start.
Good luck and please feel free to share any tips you have!
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Is this happening to you too? Please say it is.
Excuse me, thirty-something friends? Is it just me, or can you see yourself changing? No, not what size jeans you wear or those fine lines starting to mysteriously grace your forehead or the fact that now when you color your hair, there are a few gray strands you are trying to hide.
What I'm talking about is things like:
Last week a young man came through our parking garage blaring his music and causing pillars to shake, and I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck that way. If my 24 year old co-worker hadn't been standing next to me, there is a very real chance I would have started shaking my fist.
Yesterday afternoon, that same co-worker was sitting in my office playing some rap song on her iPod, and I just wanted it to end. He was just talking about nonsense. Cars and jewelry and money and calling women derogatory names. OMG, what is happening to me?! I love terrible rap music. Or maybe I don't anymore...
Last night, it was 9:45, and I looked at Jimmy and said, "Good lord, what time does this show end?" and when he told me 10:30, I seriously considered asking him to hit record so I could abandon Sons of Anarchy mid-episode in favor of my bed. (And it's not like last night was a boring episode by any stretch of the imagination. Holy Crap, Jax is about to come unhinged, right?)
A month ago, we had people over to hang out on a Friday night when we didn't have the kids. Everyone was laughing and having a great time. And then it was 11:30, and they were still there, and I started willing them to GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. I should have been in bed an hour ago!
Saturdays used to be for sleeping until noon and then traipsing around town shopping and having lunch. These days I cannot force myself to stay in bed past 9:30 anymore, and that is when I don't have the kids and I am forced to stay up until 1 am entertaining guests. I'd say 8 am is the norm, and then I get up, go downstairs, and start mopping my kitchen and scrubbing toilets. I'm turning into my mother! WTF?!
And Saturday nights? (when I'm not pregnant) The idea of one rolling around and me spending two hours getting dressed and then going to a bar and spending my money and dealing with people is beyond me. I cannot wrap my brain around why that was ever appealing to me. Girls night? Can we just rent movies and eat cookies and wear our sweats?
This past Saturday Jimmy and I had planned to go see a 5 o'clock movie but fell asleep on the couch. We woke up and had dinner, and I joked that I guessed we weren't going to make the movie. He looked at his phone and said, "Well, we can still make the 9:35 if you want to go" to which I responded, "Are you crazy? I'm not leaving the house at 9 o'clock at night!"
I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I saw the incredible amusement play across his face, and I knew what was coming.
"Yeah, you wouldn't want to be out too late to get up at 4 am to read the paper and eat your oatmeal, grandma."
(Sigh.)
What I'm talking about is things like:
Last week a young man came through our parking garage blaring his music and causing pillars to shake, and I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck that way. If my 24 year old co-worker hadn't been standing next to me, there is a very real chance I would have started shaking my fist.
Yesterday afternoon, that same co-worker was sitting in my office playing some rap song on her iPod, and I just wanted it to end. He was just talking about nonsense. Cars and jewelry and money and calling women derogatory names. OMG, what is happening to me?! I love terrible rap music. Or maybe I don't anymore...
Last night, it was 9:45, and I looked at Jimmy and said, "Good lord, what time does this show end?" and when he told me 10:30, I seriously considered asking him to hit record so I could abandon Sons of Anarchy mid-episode in favor of my bed. (And it's not like last night was a boring episode by any stretch of the imagination. Holy Crap, Jax is about to come unhinged, right?)
A month ago, we had people over to hang out on a Friday night when we didn't have the kids. Everyone was laughing and having a great time. And then it was 11:30, and they were still there, and I started willing them to GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. I should have been in bed an hour ago!
Saturdays used to be for sleeping until noon and then traipsing around town shopping and having lunch. These days I cannot force myself to stay in bed past 9:30 anymore, and that is when I don't have the kids and I am forced to stay up until 1 am entertaining guests. I'd say 8 am is the norm, and then I get up, go downstairs, and start mopping my kitchen and scrubbing toilets. I'm turning into my mother! WTF?!
And Saturday nights? (when I'm not pregnant) The idea of one rolling around and me spending two hours getting dressed and then going to a bar and spending my money and dealing with people is beyond me. I cannot wrap my brain around why that was ever appealing to me. Girls night? Can we just rent movies and eat cookies and wear our sweats?
This past Saturday Jimmy and I had planned to go see a 5 o'clock movie but fell asleep on the couch. We woke up and had dinner, and I joked that I guessed we weren't going to make the movie. He looked at his phone and said, "Well, we can still make the 9:35 if you want to go" to which I responded, "Are you crazy? I'm not leaving the house at 9 o'clock at night!"
I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I saw the incredible amusement play across his face, and I knew what was coming.
"Yeah, you wouldn't want to be out too late to get up at 4 am to read the paper and eat your oatmeal, grandma."
(Sigh.)
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Happy First Birthday, Gavin!
I'm not sure how or why the year flew by like it did, but I do know that Gavin's first year was truly great.
I left work early Friday and spent the next eight hours shopping, cleaning, and decorating for his party. It was Michael's weekend, so it was a rather convenient time to have left everything to the last minute - as I do.
I decided weeks ago that I was doing a circus theme. What I had envisioned and what transpired were two different things. The important part is that I think everyone genuinely had a good time. And that is quite a feat considering that this time last year a brawl would have ensued if you'd thrown the guest list into the same space for two hours. Oh the difference a year makes.
Since a picture is worth a thousand words, see below.
I left work early Friday and spent the next eight hours shopping, cleaning, and decorating for his party. It was Michael's weekend, so it was a rather convenient time to have left everything to the last minute - as I do.
I decided weeks ago that I was doing a circus theme. What I had envisioned and what transpired were two different things. The important part is that I think everyone genuinely had a good time. And that is quite a feat considering that this time last year a brawl would have ensued if you'd thrown the guest list into the same space for two hours. Oh the difference a year makes.
Since a picture is worth a thousand words, see below.
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