Road Trip with a Toddler

Warning: This trip was taken by trained professionals on a planned course and it was still an exercise in patience and tolerance– it is not recommended for anyone regardless of your level of skill.  This information is presented for entertainment purposes only. If you do decide to take a road trip with a toddler, you’re on your own.

So for a lot of reasons I won’t go into, Roger and Echo and I had to go to Lake Worth, Florida to get some business taken care of.   We did a lot of  careful planning (ie: arguing about stuff),  purchased snack foods in bulk to avoid expensive stops at convenience stores, chose the most direct route and set a budget, and packed our things. Well, I packed anyway.  Fate watched us do all this and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Friday, July 12 – Departure Day

We planned to leave at 9am, so I got up at 7 and showered and packed my bathroom things.  Fate giggled.  I woke Roger, who growled at me and went back to sleep. I threw his bag at him and got no response.

8am: My mother in law called to let us know that the nephew who was going to travel with us and let us borrow his car was in the emergency room.   I priced rental cars online, went through the bid process several times, and then required CPR when the results came back.  After some phone calls between 9:30 and 10:30am: it was settled that we could still borrow the car, but would need to get the oil changed before we left.  And have the motor mounts looked at.  And perhaps get a new tire.  Roger starts packing.

 11am: Echo did not want to get in her car seat, so while Roger convinced her that we were going to the beach and it would be fun, I fed the pets, called the pet sitter again, unplugged everything, and walked through the house praying.  When I was done, Echo was still sitting in the driveway screaming.  I pulled out the arm floaties I got her and handed her the bottle (yes, she’s 2 and still has her bottle, don’t judge me until you’ve met her) and blankie and asked her nicely to come with us to the beach.  She finally agreed to let Daddy buckle her in, and we headed to my mother in law’s house.

11:30am: We stopped to find the bottle which she had thrown, I refilled it with milk from the stash that was supposed to last us at least half the actual road trip, and we got back on the road.

12:30pm: we arrive at the mother in laws to discover that the nephew is home from the hospital and would very much like to go with us. He is not packed. Echo tells everyone she is going to the beach over and over and over again.  I secretly hope that the repetition of her little excited voice will open a time portal. 

5pm : We take off in the nephew’s car and head east toward St. Louis.  Fate has the hiccups.

6pm: Just outside of Kansas City, we stop again to refill the bottle (I am now out of milk for the trip), throw away the snack wrappers, change a diaper, and the nephew decides that he is not well enough for the trip after all. 

6:45pm: We drop the nephew and all his stuff off at a friend’s apartment 20 miles back and take off again.  “I go beeeech!” even spoken 1,746,319  times by an adorable toddler is not opening up any sort of time travel option for us.  We are not going to be able to get the oil changed or anything else done at this point today, so I start looking for WalMarts along the route.  I am not disappointed.

10pm: Roger is finally sleepy, Echo has been asleep and so have I, and we stop in O’Fallon, MO.  We spend $12 on milk and coffee and a quart of oil and $40 on gas.  I tell Roger I don’t want to know how fast he’s been driving, and that he should probably just go to sleep and let me drive the way I want to. He warns me that I should at least be heading south before the sun comes up because he didn’t bring a welding hood.  He has a point.  Just as we get back on the road, Echo wakes up.  She is horribly disappointed that a: we are not at the beeeech yet, and 2: there is no video player in the nephew’s car.  We change her diaper on the side of the highway and are very relieved to find out its not poopy.  Plastic sacks don’t have much in the way of smell guard in a small car. 

3:30am: I am praying for signs for I57 south because the sun is already creeping up over the horizon, but blessedly Echo and Roger have slept through the night.  I have to pee and I would love a cup of coffee.  I tell myself that as soon as I hit I57, I will stop.  Fate wakes up. 

5am: I missed I57, apparently in the fog.  Roger is driving and I am recalculating the route.  We have coffee, milk, breakfast sandwiches (not in the budget) and a clean diaper on the baby, who is again lamenting the lack of video equipment.  734 “I watch Mickey?”s  does not open a time portal, either.

9am: We are outside of Lexington, KY, which should only have added 3 hours to the drive time.  Google Maps does not have children.  There is not enough sunscreen in the world to protect us from the UV rays blasting in the windshield at this point.  All I want right now is a portable DVD player and a shower.  We still have not gotten the oil changed.

12pm: Having already stopped six times for various things, we are still not even to Knoxville, TN but are at least heading south. Once we get to Knoxville, we will head southwest on I75 just in time for the sun to start going down.  We are both regretting not buying a portable DVD and prescription sunglasses when we had the chance.  Echo is crying because we are not at the beach yet, and she is having Mickey Mouse Clubhouse withdrawal.   Fate has a stitch in her side from laughing so hard, and she has cried off all her mascara.  I have not been able to sleep, and Roger is tired again.

4:30 pm:  Fate apparently found someone else to torture, because the last few hours have been quite peaceful.  The signs say Atlanta 40 miles, and I wake Roger up because I refuse to drive through Atlanta, even on a Saturday, at this time of day. In Knoxville we got the laptop from the trunk, found a Dora video in Echo’s backpack, and plugged it into the car charger.  It has been balanced precariously on a stack of stuff so that she can see it, and it was an okay substitute for Mickey.  I can just reach the replay button safely, but I resist the third time.  I’m a little tired of Swiper stealing stuff, frankly.

9pm: We are already to Gainesville, I slept the whole time and so did Echo.  We did not turn off the computer, and the fuse in the car charger has blown.  Roger did not deserve the quiet time, and I vow to make him change diapers for the rest of the trip as revenge.  We are sick of beef jerky and cheese sticks so we stop in Gainesville for dinner.  Since we have been careful with fast food and only gotten drinks on our stops to this point, we spring for a truck stop diner.  I have a BLT that is moderately acceptable and Roger has a burger.  When her chicken strips arrive, Echo announces that she wants nuggets instead.  It takes 20 minutes to convince her that she does indeed have nuggets, and she takes one bite.  We get a to-go box. 

1am: We have run out of gas on the side of the highway 10 minutes from our destination.  In my defense, the tank shows 1/8 and the light is not on.  Our hosts come to rescue us and are very kind about it.  I am too tired to even think about standing up for a shower, but Echo won’t settle down so she gets a bath.  I am jealous, but still not enough to stand up that long.

July 14 – The Morning after our arrival

I want to stay here forever rather than drive back. We take Echo to the beach and she has a blast. We left the floaties in the van at my mother in law’s so we go to WalMart to get more, spend $30 on floaties, beach toys, milk and bottles of water, and a swimsuit for me (yep, I forgot to pack it),  I burn my feet on the sand, get 1000 mosquito bites, and decide that home has it’s benefits. Plus I would miss my other kids.  A little. 

July 15 – a day of rest

Our business is pretty much concluded, we go to another beach and pick up shells and find a disgusting sea sponge that Roger wants to keep, and spend the rest of the day napping because it is too hot to do anything else. I miss my own bed.  The pet sitter has left messages saying he is unable to keep coming over as he is having surgery.  I call our neighbors and leave a message asking them to feed the pets. I don’t hear back, but the cats can mouse and the dogs eat road kill anyway, so I hope they will be fine.

July 16  - Departure day

It is raining sideways.  The gym equipment we need to put in the back of the truck for the trip home could potentially get ruined, which means the point of this whole trip is moot.  We load up anyway, wring out our  clothes, and get on the road.  We have to stop hourly to change diapers because Echo is pooping today – she alternates days.  The bright spots in this are getting to see my cousins in Daytona, my aunt in Fort Walton Beach, and of course, getting home. Eventually. At this point death would be okay too.

July 17

After a wonderful night of rest and great conversation and a nice shower in Daytona, we are back on the road.  I10 in Florida is a lot like I70 west through Kansas – snore…  If Roger is in front of me, Echo says, “I see Daddy!” at the top of her little lungs every 14 seconds.  If he is behind me, she says, “I can’t see Daddy!” equally as often.  We stop three times to let her ride with Daddy, then me, then Daddy again.  The snacks are gone, and the budget is shot. Gas is ridiculous down here.  I want to go home.  The neighbors call to ask where the dog food is.  I still have enough heart left to be a little concerned about my dogs.  Well, actually I’m more worried about the condition of my house.

July 18
A wonderful night with my Aunt in Fort Walton Beach and we are back on the road.  I am out of patience and money is short, and I tell Roger that if we do not get to the Missouri state line by the time we both need sleep, I will never change another diaper as long as I live. We make it to Sikeston, MO by 9:30pm.  The Motel 6 is not bad. Echo would like to know when we are going to go the beach. 

July 19 – the Home stretch

I have never been so happy to see familiar gas prices and be able to get UNSWEET tea in my life.  Echo again needs us to stop every hour and change a diaper (it’s another pooping day) and switch cars, but we make it across the state to Joplin, where we pick up my step-son and head home.  The dogs have survived, the cats are disdainful, and the only casualties are a stuffed animal and a board book.  

July 20

We have to drive north to get our van and drop off the car.  None of us want to get in the car.  We argue about who is going to drive.  Echo wants to know if we are going to the beach.  I put her floaties on her and tell her to go play in the puddles in the driveway.  Beach a la Missouri.  She’s perfectly happy. We eventually make it up north and I apologize profusely for not getting the oil changed.   I don’t feel quite so bad however, when Roger comes back in the house and announces that the van won’t start. 

It’s out of gas. The moral of this story is if you can afford to fly - DO IT!

Razors pain you, rivers are damp...

Razors pain you, rivers are damp.
Acids stain you, and drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful, nooses give,
Gas smells awful, you might as well live.
             Resume  by Dorothy Parker


I know where suicidal thoughts come from.  We all, at some point in our lives, have had them.  Most people have them during those tumultuous teenage years when emotions are crazy to begin with and you are POSITIVE you will NEVER GET OVER whatever embarrassment or failure or horrible experience it is. But you do – get over it, I mean – and you wake up the next morning, and the next, and gradually the shameful sting goes away, and you’re fine.  Everything is fine and you get perspective and it’s all fine.

But I’m talking about the thoughts that creep in and just sort of stick around – the ones that never let you get any perspective whatsoever because they keep creeping in.  Let me clarify here – I’m way too much of a control freak to ever actually take my own life.  No one else is capable of raising my kids the way I can, and I certainly don’t trust anyone to deal with all my stuff properly, etc...  So I’m going to stick around.  I don’t want to worry anyone – I just have been thinking about this since one of my favorite weather guys of all time, Don Harman on KC’s Fox station, committed suicide in December 2011.  Don was funny, good looking, smart, and battled depression for years.  I actually cried when I heard the news, and couldn’t bear to watch his fellow morning newscasters slog through the following few days. It was awful even though I don’t know them personally – that’s the way it is with TV, you feel like you do.

Anyway… There are so many levels of depression, and Don Harman had a severe one.  I have a milder one, situational depression, but even situational depression has about a 50% chance of turning into severe/clinical depression, even if the “situation” is dealt with.  Counseling can help, medication can sometimes help, but how many people actually get the right help? Less than a third, according to the WHO, NIMH, and the CDC.  (Yes, I did the research before quoting statistics.)

My situational depression started well before my divorce, which surprised me when I looked back and realized that.  After Ben was born, I was tired and sore and bleah all the time, even after sleeping six plus hours or doing things that used to make me happy.  I knew there was something going on besides just the usual tired, I really knew I wasn’t healthy.  I had a lot of strange symptoms that no one else had – numb fingers and toes for no reason, sharp pains in my rib cage for no reason, tender spots on my legs that ached for days if they got the slightest bump, canker sores and yeast infections all the time, burning flaky itchy patches of skin on my face and scalp, and joints that just sort of quit working and wouldn’t hold my body weight (I fell down once in church because my ankle just froze). Plus I was tired and felt like I had a fever all the time.  THAT’S NOT NORMAL EVEN FOR A MOM OF THREE LITTLE ONES. Right? Right.

I saw four different doctors who all said the same thing: ‘You have three kids under the age of five, of course you’re tired.’

You know how you can hear the words and know the meaning of the words, but FEEL something very different when they settle into you? They all said pretty much the same thing (see above) but this is what I FELT them say: 

Doctor #1: “I understand that you are tired, and I’m not surprised, as the kids get older you will probably feel better, try to enjoy this time with your children. Your symptoms are probably just your body reacting to stuff your kids bring stuff home. You should get a flu shot.”

Doctor #2: “Of course you’re tired, you had three children in less than six years, what did you expect to happen? I’m sure your symptoms don’t mean anything other than the normal colds and aches and pains of aging, I can’t do much for you. Do you want a flu shot?”

Doctor #3: “Um, really? You’re wasting my time with tired? Did you get a flu shot? You just said you have kids, all parents are tired. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Doctor #4: “Yeah, you are a hypochondriac freak, and I feel sorry for your kids.  Flu shot. ‘Bye.”

Why I went ahead and tried Doctor #5 is a mystery to me, but I’m glad I did – Dr. Amit Mohan in Raymore listened to my list of symptoms (without a smirk, I might add) and suggested I see a rheumatologist.  I went to see Dr. Mark Box at Kansas City Internal Medicine, and finally someone didn’t think I was crazy.  I cried with relief in his office and he didn’t think that was crazy either.  I have nine of the eleven common symptoms of Systemic Lupus Erythematosus.  YAY! A diagnosis! Oh, wait – it’s not a disease that has a happy cure.   Lifelong symptoms include arthritis, general inflammation (that feverish feeling), organ damage, increased risk for multiple sclerosis, and decreased life expectancy. OH, AND DEPRESSION.  Awesome.

Okay, so how does one manage all these symptoms? The usual stuff that you do to stay healthy: eat right, moderate exercise that doesn’t hurt, get enough rest, avoid stress.

                 (cue maniacal laugh track )

Since that diagnosis, I’m not exactly batting a thousand in any of those categories.  Divorce, dead relatives, an unexpected pregnancy and another marriage, new husband’s physical disabilities, a step child (which brings the total kid count to 5), dead pets, chronic unemployment and rejection despite my skills and education, bills that I can’t keep up with, house falling apart a little bit every day, commitments I can’t give the same energy I used to, vehicle maintenance, my own physical limitations… It seems like something sharp pokes at my life bubble every day, and for a control freak, I’m having some serious issues. Simple stuff seems to come with a boatload of crap these days. 

Take car insurance for example.  Most people shop around for the best deal with the best service, right? Yeah, I’m struggling to get anyone to cover me at all, and here’s why: I’m married.  Yep, I can’t get car insurance JUST FOR MYSELF because I’m married, and my husband’s ex-girlfriend filed for child support in two different states on the child that we actually have custody of and his license got suspended because she gave them a false address (she doesn’t have a license to suspend, so they took his). I found out about the suspension when I went to renew the insurance. We still haven’t been officially notified of a suspension from either state – one state claims we have moved and left no forwarding address.  Ummmmm, no – we responded to the LETTER YOU MAILED US.   We’ve been trying to unravel this for several months, during which time I have been without car insurance and praying every time I leave the house.

So this is why I’m saying I know where suicidal thoughts come from.  I do have those moments when I understand why someone would think it would be nice to just not have to deal with it all anymore.  Since the world didn’t end and I haven’t seen any zombies, I will continue to deal with it, but when someone says they don’t understand how someone can take their own life, I will say honestly that I do. I do understand.

And I will give them the same advice I’m going to take myself. Instead of just moping around asking WHY??? I’m going to choose Y instead.

Yogurt – sweet, creamy, comforting and packed with nutrition - protein, probiotics, and calcium all have health benefits. It’s the ultimate food – eat it anytime of the day without seeming weird (like spaghetti for breakfast), and some flavors taste sort of like pie or cake.

Yoga – gentle stretches and balancing exercises can be done anywhere anytime, and really help relieve a lot of the physical pains that come from stress.

Yawn – the minute I feel myself yawning, I will take that as a sign and snuggle with one of my kids for a quick story/nap/cartoon/whatever break – the quiet time will do us all some good.  I can yawn on command.

Yell – there are times when I feel like yelling - at a bill collector who is not listening despite my attempts to be nice, at my car or my house for falling apart at just the wrong time, at my kids for leaving their dishes on the table (after all, it’s only been a rule for a few years), or at my husband because sometimes you feel like yelling at your spouse.  Well, I’m going to take some of those opportunities and yell.  Nothing specific, no profanity, just a good old Tarzan Yell to blow off some steam.  Come on, bank, call me.

Yes – I’m going to say yes the next time someone asks if they can help me. I may not know what I need or how they can help, but I’m going to say YES – I NEED HELP! Accepting help can be a huge relief, even for a control freak like me.

So I do understand where the thoughts come from, and even though I will not let them get out of control in myself, I absolutely understand how they do get out of control. Life is painful sometimes, and the social nature of today’s life makes the differences between people seem that much more obvious sometimes.  I have facebook friend who is beautiful, thin, healthy, happily married to a great guy who happens to be very wealthy, went from one amazing job to another in the past year, operates a charity and a small business… Yeah, I hate her sometimes.  Great things just seem to flow her way, and I feel like just the opposite, but I’m happy for her too.  She is making the most of the things she was given in life, and at one time in my life I was able to do that also.  No one knows what the future may hold for her, either.  I didn’t ask for or do anything bad to get this disease, I didn’t want to be divorced, and I certainly never thought I’d be unemployable.  I’m trying to make the most of the things I’ve been given too, and not pine over the things that have been taken away.  (And I blocked her from my newsfeed because her chipper-ness wasn’t helping J - sometimes making the most of what you’ve been given means knowing when to say no.)

If you are struggling with any form of depression, say Y, get help, and know that I really genuinely DO know exactly how you feel.

Love, Natalie

Encouraging myself...

Super busy last week and next.  I've been trying to encourage myself with reminders that I'm busy because:
1. People need me
2. People need me
3. People need me

It's nice to be needed, but it's also nice to be able to curl up in a chair with the remote and a bag of popcorn for even just one show...  At this point it's little moments like that I need to refresh and recharge.  And I watch Hoarders so I don't feel quite so bad about my house.  Whew.

Fit or Fat? Yep, fat still...again...

I  woke up the other day and decided I didn’t want to be fat anymore. 
Okay that was more for the dramatic effect – I wake up every morning, see myself in store mirrors (not on purpose, just when I accidentally have to walk by) and… well basically every time I move I’m reminded of how unbelievably FAT I got with this last baby.  And getting married again (happy apparently equals FAT), and oh well yeah sure I suppose the macaroni and cheese and tater tots as side dishes multiple times a week aren't really HELPING.  Fine.

                (we eat broccoli and green beans, just not every night…)

But I don’t want to be fat anymore, so I ordered a book, and I’m scribbling down all the good stuff out of it so I can send it back. And order this other one that sounds even better now that I ordered the first one.

 Whatever – desperate times and all that.  Walk a mile in my belly fat then judge me, okay? Okay.

 So it says “Firm up in just weeks! Lose your belly and burn fat all the time!”  The promo material made it seem so wonderful: even with a busy family, you can make time for the exercises that really work! Normal food your whole family will love! Customizable plan to fit your schedule and family needs! Blah blah blah, all while promising I’d be svelte by summer.

Bullarkey.

 Yep, I just made that up because while it feels good to let loose with a time-honored cuss word this is a family show.

When am I going to learn that marketing is marketing whether it comes from a trusted source or not? [strike southern belle fainting pose here, except do not fall because there’s no one in this house strong enough to catch me] [sigh]

So I’m already falling for the world’s second oldest profession - sales, where did your mind go? -  and I open up the book and the author, an editor for a magazine I like and trust,  - get this… her opening line in the acknowledgements? “I didn’t realize how hard it is to write a book.”  I really hope she's smarter about getting me in shape.
Uh, apparently NOT – the last credit is a thanks to her hubby for making sure she had lots of takeout while writing the book.  WHAT????? I can’t walk by a restaurant without gaining six pounds.  What is this woman possibly going to know about being fat in the first place or losing the fat or hating her body? Yeah, she says that after her baby was born she lost the weight (HOW?????) but, oh, so sad… the shape of her body changed.  She says she had to go up a size in clothing.  Boo f hoo. (not a typo, I'm really hating this woman at this point)
But I have the book, so let’s give it a chance. Okay, so inside the book it gets a little more realistic – saying yep, you’ll lose a whopping 3-6 pounds in these first three weeks – but stick with the program, baby, and you’ll go places.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  The workout schedule involves walking, (love to walk but wth is interval walking? If it involves running, jogging, skipping we’re going to need to go bra shopping). The other part of the workout is weights, and I have some hand weights, so okay. 

Oh, here we go, margin notes about interval training: it means you should workout at one level then pick it up to another level.   She describes the highest level as sprinting for a bus you realize you left your purse on.  Yeah, no clue what that feels like, so I guess we’re even – I hate fat she's never had and she's stupid enough to leave her purse on a bus. Cool.

The grocery lists I can handle, but I don’t like the idea of a book telling me “it’s snack time! You WANT microwaved unbuttered unsalted unleavened ghost popcorn that is completely indistinguishable in taste from the bag it comes in!”  Uh, no – I might be in the mood for a spoonful of chocolate frosting.  Crap, that’s not on the list.  Oh yeah… that’s why I’m FAT.

Where are the treats in this diet? Where's the mood food?  Flipping pages quickly through diet section, if she says 'hang in there' even once the book is going back in the mail immediately... ok here we go, I just saw the word candy... Yep here it is: the grocery list for week two includes a fun sized candy bar.  A.    ONE.  FOR THE WEEK.

Yeah, that would barely make it out of the parking lot. That's like a snack for the ride home to congratulate myself for not handcuffing one of my children to someone elses' cart and walking quickly away.

So I’m researching some other diets to jump start the weight loss and maybe make me less dependent on my appetite and able to make smart choices about what I eat… WAKE UP! I dozed off for a second there, sorry. Yeah, there are no safe effective diets that do that, remember the grapefruit/rice/vinegar diets? I even found this crazy three day chemical breakdown diet thing that was either really old or really from a foreign country: it used the word frankfurter. 

    A hot dog was considered a diet food.  When was that? Ever? 

If it was still Lent I could fast and try to kill the carb/sugar/fat/tastyfoodingeneral cravings, but gee since Lent is over is there really a good reason to starve myself even for a day? See, I can’t find one either. Really.

Guilt, though, there’s maybe a motivator – show me pictures of our soldiers in Afghanistan who don’t get to make a choice about what’s served to them day after day.  Show me pictures of starving children in Africa…

Yeah, that stops working the second my stomach growls and I walk into my own fairly-well stocked kitchen.  I don't take what I have for granted, I really really enjoy it.  I really do.  Oh, I have frozen Chinese dumplings.  They were on sale and I had a coupon. Shut up.

Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels? I’ve never been thin, but I know Chinese dumplings are gooooooood.  Maybe I’ll try the frankfurter diet, there is peanut butter on toast for one of the meals. When I’m out of dumplings.    

TO DO: Write blog entry...

     I made a new year’s resolution, like a lot of people.  And mine is to stop doing something, like most resolutions.  However where most people want to stop biting their fingernails, stop overeating, or stop drinking soda, I resolved to stop doing something that’s actually common and useful and good: making To Do lists.

I realized one day, as I was making such a list, that in the time it took to write the list, I could have accomplished two things on it.  Here it is:

Clean bathroom
Order Sunday school books
Kid’s calendar
Laundry
Badges for scouts
Hem Elliott’s pants
Clean out fridge
Grocery shopping – price match list

First of all, as I said, in the time it took to write that, I could have started a load of laundry and ordered the books.  Then I realized I had effectively put “make another list” on the list, which seemed ridiculous.  I have to remind myself to make another list? Really?  Did I need that much affirmation that I am busy? Or is making a list making me feel busier than I really am?

One of the key points in Anthony Robbins’ book Personal Power is the difference between successful people and unsuccessful people.  THEY DO THINGS.  I know, right? It’s so simple it’s a smack to the back of the head but then half the people who read it, myself included, go right back to NOT doing things that will make them successful.  I procrastinate, make excuses, mess up my own priorities, and do things that make me feel like I’m getting things done when I’m really not, like making lists.  I heard an interview with filmmaker Kevin Smith a few months back.  When he was young, he told his family he was thinking about making movies.  His sister told him, “Don’t think about making movies.  Just make them.”  And of course, the best line from all the Star Wars movies is Yoda telling Luke, "Do or do not.  There is no try."

Oh, I know there are things that I have to write down in order to make sure I don’t forget them.  I have a calendar for all the appointments and kid activities, and I write notes to myself when I hear a good plot line or have a good idea for a character. But a To Do list suddenly felt like exactly what it was – an excuse to avoid those chores for a while longer. 

     
        I’m all in favor of writing things down, really.  I will continue to jot down quotes I find inspirational and tack them up on a bulletin board or the fridge.  I will definitely write down ideas I have for stories, and I’m sure I will make notes to myself in meetings about things I have agreed to do. But I’m going to stop allowing myself the excuse of a making a To Do list for ‘chores’ around the house and just DO the chores.

I will focus on my I-Beam results.  This is the I-Beam exercise they teach at Franklin-Covey seminars.  The teacher chooses someone from the audience who has small children.  She tells them to imagine they are on the roof of a very tall building on a very windy day and there is a narrow steel beam that forms a bridge between that building and the one across the street.  There is someone on the roof of the other building.

          “What would you cross the I-beam for?” the instructor asks.  “The other person has a bag of money, say… $100. No? What about a million dollars?”  Most people say they would probably go across the beam for a million. “What about one of your children?” she asks.  “They threaten to toss your child off the roof if you don’t cross the beam.  Would you go then?”  Of course, the answer is yes.

The teacher then breaks the tension in the room by saying she has to choose someone with a young child because parents of teenagers sometimes hesitate…

The exercise helps you figure out your priorities – what would you cross the beam for? Those things are your biggest priorities, and should get the most of your time and energy. My I Beam things are family, faith, friends, and finances.  I affectionately call them my F Words.   

Everything on my list is, in some way, related to my priorities.  But really – why didn’t I just put Elliott’s pants next to my bed with the sewing kit on top and work on it before I go to bed every night? Why did I need a written reminder to do this small thing for my son?  And cleaning the bathroom is something I should do not just because it needs to be done, but because my husband deserves a clean bathroom, too.  Even if he does make his share of the mess. 

The more I thought about it, the more silly it became to write down something like clean out the fridge.  Did I really need a reminder that no one was going to eat those leftovers and the next time I opened the door I should just toss it?  I used twice as much time and energy writing it down, throwing it out, and crossing it off as I would have just doing it.

Yes, I know – believe me, I know – how satisfying it is to cross things off that list. But again – is that necessary for my emotional well-being or is it another excuse to avoid doing one more thing?  It sure feels like an excuse to me now. 

So, no more To Do lists.  If I have my priorities straight, it will get done. If I forget anything, I know several people I can count on to remind me.  And they will – Elliott asked me every day about his pants until I finished them. Every day...

So I've been looking for a job.  Again.   I was employed but it was a long way from home and weekend overnights which took a horrible toll on my family.  So I got a day job with the same company but it was still a 50 minute commute, not the hours that were promised to me when I accepted the job, and no pay increase. I asked for a raise and the HR person tried to hide the laughter without success.  I was told that since I don't supervise anyone I wasn't really eligible for a pay increase outside the normal annual raise, still eight months away.  Nevermind all the extra projects I'd taken on, the fact that it took less than one day to train me, and the fact that I needed no supervision at all... After putting more than half a paycheck into my gas tank and asking again for even a small pay increase, I've been unemployed (again) since April.

Searching for a job has been... interesting.  I have a bachelor's degree and about a hundred years' experience managing everything from a convenience store to a million-dollar office, but I have only gotten one phone call from all the applications I have filled out.  It was for a $7.25 an hour part-time position in a town 90 minutes away.  I didn't even mark that store on the "Where would you like to start your career with us?" list.
The job market is really tough these days, despite the media's insistence that companies are adding jobs and the economy is turning around.  There are so many people looking for jobs and I don't make the first cut for most of them.  I think I know why - here's the list of strikes against me:

•  Being a stay-home mom for 12 years left a huge gap in my paid employment history
•  I have a rather generic bachelor's degree - English and Political Science - and no additional education
•  I have a degree
•  I have no food-service or medical experience
•  99% of all application processes start on-line, which means they never get a chance to meet me face-to-face

I have current applications at WalMart, Target, CVS, Walgreen's, QuikTrip, Casey's, Flying J, FedEx, UPS, all the grocery stores and city offices within a 40 mile radius, the county, the state of Missouri, and the post office - all of which I am apparently over-qualified for because of the bachelor's degree.  I also apply regularly at the hospitals and all the big industries here in town  (Bayer, Sprint, Cerner, Yellow Trucking, Black & Veatch), and all the smaller office jobs that come through on CareerBuilder, most of which I'm underqualified for due to lack of an associate's degree and/or specific industry experience.  On average, I submit six applications a week.   If I could get past the online process and have an actual interview, I could win the job - I interview really well.  But alas...

So I'm trying to decide what I want to do when I grow up.  I've read the parachute books and taken some quizzes online, and I've tried to come up with a list of things I love to do so I'd never work a day in my life, all that stuff.  What it really comes down to is that I should marry someone really wealthy, because I love being a stay home mom. 

Yeah, well... let's work on plan B. 

I love to write, and that's something that occasionally people do make money at.  I'm submitting short stories to literary journals, writing in my blog again to get my skills back, and I'm polishing up a novel and will continue the search for an agent.  I wrote a screenplay about my experience at a large discount retail store, got some great feedback from my friend Jennifer about fixing it up, so I'm working on that and hope I can figure out what to do with it once it's done.  I would love to write for a living - I could be home with my kids and never have to worry that the HR girls are making fun of my thrift-store jeans and the shirt I've had since 2002 (which probably also came from a thrift store).

I also had an idea for a good use for old abandoned grocery store sites, an idea that would require money, time and sweat in large measure.  I don't know if it would ever make money, don't know if I'm even qualified to think about something on that scale, don't know if I would be setting myself up for a gigantic failure.  I thought and thought about this idea, and almost had myself talked out of even looking into it, and then this was posted on my Facebook home page by a fan page I like, it's a quote by Gary Vaynerchuk. 

"I beg you to take a shot.  Roll up on that hot chick in the bar and ask her out.  Roll up on that good-looking dude and ask him to coffee.  Roll up on your business idea and make it happen. Because being 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 and having regrets that you didn't swing the bat is the worst of them all. Our "at bat" is in front of us. Take a swing."

After I stopped editing this quote to fix the grammar, I signed up for a one day seminar at the community college for entrepreneurs.   Then I searched some of the job sites for editing jobs.  I have enough regrets.  Sa-wing batter...

Catching Up

I realize that a blog, in order to be successful, must be treated somewhat like a houseplant and tended to regularly.  I realize this is the first entry in over a year, if it was a schefflera it would be long dead, and for those of you who were the least bit interested, I am sorry.  I will do better.  I have a new computer, which helps tremendously.  The gerbils from the old one were tired and gray, and the little man with the abacus died last year.  The new one has an i5 processor and a 1T hard drive.  I did not buy this computer from the woman who condescendingly told me that with kids I probably needed  “a system with at least a tibbabite of memory because kids download so much stuff.” 

 Ummmm, no... 

I am not all that techno-savvy, but I do know that children should not be downloading anything without the express permission and extremely close supervision of an adult, and its terabyte. 

Sigh … What I wanted to share with you is my baby.  My second daughter, my last baby, my “I’m WHAT??? I can’t be, we… no, I just can’t be” baby.  My ‘starting-over second-chance’ baby.  My “hey, I can still change a diaper in 4.7 seconds and keep her asleep!” baby.  Here is her first year of life.

Presenting Echo Haydin Ardrey.    

May 26, 2011

June 2011

July 2011

August 2011

September 2011

October 2011

November 2011

December 2011

January 2012

February 2012

March 2012

April 2012

May 2012

May 26, 2012