Changing Times...Changing Me....

I have two children in college now and only four at home.  It stills feels weirdly small and empty around here.

This past weekend I only had two children home, because two were in college and another two were at a church retreat.  Weird.  Weird.  Weird.  One of those children worked Saturday from about 4:30 to midnight,  and Rainman worked until 9:00 or so, so I was home alone with one child.  One.  Crazy.

I feel a bit like I am coming out the other side of a mid-life crisis that I didn't even know I was having.

You have seen me on here for a few years.  I had gained weight....a lot of weight.  I had let myself go.  I had given up.  I was sort of living life for the people that I was surrounded with...which is something all moms do....but, somehow I got lost in there, in a completely unintentional way.  I was quiet, subdued and really fat.

Things have changed.  I have started trying again and don't plan to give up anymore.  I am trying to say yes to stuff for me.  Just me.  Without feeling selfish and like I am the worst mom/wife/Christian in the world.

The first thing that has changed is I have given up sugar and flour and have lost 20 pounds thus far.  I still have a whole person yet to lose, but it feels weirdly doable....and not as horrific as I had imagined it would.

There is a sculpture of a woman chipping away at her fat self to reveal the thin person underneath....that is what it sort of feels like for me.  I will go see if I can find it.


(By Brazilian sculptor, Gabriel D. Orazio)

Other changes around here are that my extra little people that I have been watching for 3 years now, don't need me as much because their mom has been able to go to part-time work (a long time desire of hers!).  I am thrilled for her to get to be with her babies, but sad that I am not such a large part of their lives anymore.  It left a hole physically and financially for me.

Enter my friend, T.....first a little background.  When we first moved to Georgia, we moved in next door to a single mom, named T, with two kids a little older than ours.  I am sure she was shocked when this clan of Minnesota speaking blond haired people moved in to her nice, quiet neighborhood!  But, she was so sweet and actually had 5 of the kids over to her house so Rainman and I (and tiny baby V-girl) could celebrate our anniversary with Chinese take-out at home the first year we lived here.  That was huge.  Because one of the hardest parts of the move was not having grandparents/aunts/uncles to handle the babysitting duties for these kinds of things.

If you have been reading my blog or know me in real life, you know we obviously moved away from T, but she and I kept in touch - mostly via Facebook.  She and her husband (she got remarried while we were still living next door to sweet, quiet J)....and recently decided to buy a new business.  The kids and I helped them unpack boxes and get inventory on the shelves and then wished them good luck and went back to our lives. 

About a month ago, I saw a Facebook ad for a job at her company and I gave her a call. She and I talked it over and found a lot of it can be done remotely and she hired me!  I can still homeschool, watch my extra kids, go to doctor/dentist appointments and still help ease T's load a bit.  So far, I think it has been a win/win.

Here it is, if you want to take a look:  www.dirtcheapchristianwear.com

Seriously, cute stuff and...ahem....dirt cheap!

It has been a weird mixed bag of blessings for me.  The financial rewards are super helpful as we have to dig out from some debt....again.  Ugg.  I will admit it was scary at first....dealing with things when I hardly had a clue of what I was supposed to be doing.  But, I think I have done quite well.  It reminded me that I used to be a very good Executive Secretary back before babies.

One of the things that I think gets lost when moms stay home with their kids....is that sense of accomplishment that we are actually good at something.  I can't really explain it, but it feels good.  I will admit that working 30+ hours a week at this job is somewhat stressful.  I am also still working for my old Minnesota company doing minutes for Council meetings too.  So, I am working well over 40 hours a week, but both jobs are flexible enough for me to be here at home (my favorite place to be) and teach the kids.

I have done two other things just for me this fall.  I joined a band.  Two of my musician friends from church joined this band last January and have been asking me to join on and off since then.  But, I could never make the rehearsals work with all the stuff going on with the kids lives.  So, I kept saying no.  They asked again at the end of August/early September and had changed rehearsal to one of my "easier" nights to be away from everyone.  So, I said yes.  I am mostly a back-up singer because the other female singer (single, no kids) actually joined the band last January.  It is a super fun and talented group.  We even have a horn section!  We do a bit of soul and rhythm and blues.  I am hoping to get out of the back-up singer box and do a little swing/standard type stuff (Rosemary Clooney, old Doris Day, Peggy Lee) one of these days.

I will admit to having a little mental health struggle with being the old, middle aged fat mom, singing back-up for the young girl with the nose ring (who is super sweet and not a diva - it would be a little easier if I could hate her....but I can't!  Ha!).  One of the wives of the band members came up to me at our first concert and said, "You must be the new backup singer!"  My heart sort of dropped.  I wanted to be considered one of the singers, but I am not.

It is a total ego thing.

I know I need to let go of it, but if I am honest it really sort of stinks.  I am feeling insecure in my talent and don't feel like I have shown the rest of the band what I am capable of....partly because I am coming to the game late and they had already picked all the songs....and the keys.....but partly because it is something that I have always struggled with.  It is a total roller coaster ride and I realize how whiny I may be sounding, but ever since I was little, I would get lots of compliments and people telling me I should be on the radio and make a living with my voice.  I sent out demo tapes and auditioned for a few things in my early 20's, but there were no takers....so, I thought maybe those people were wrong.  But, I still get some of those kinds of compliments today when I sing in church.  So, in my head, I thought maybe this was finally going to be "it" and I was going to get to answer those people from my past that ask what I am up to by legitimately being able to say ...."I sing in a band!".  "I sing back-up in a band", just doesn't sound as good, you know?  LOL.  But, I am not giving up.  I am going to keep singing.  Keep showing up.  Keep trying and, hopefully show them a song that is perfect for my voice and move out of the back-up box and into co-lead singer.

One other thing I have done is auditioned for some voice over work.  I have made the second round of auditions and had to submit a recording of one of their scripts.  If I get this job (which I can also do from home), I will be recording the voice over scripts for tutorials on their website.  I think I would be really good at this and even told the kids after I listened to myself, that I would hire me.  I think I sound friendly, approachable and professional.  So, we shall see.  I am proud of myself for trying and not talking myself out of it or downgrading my possible talent in this area.  (Michelle B. I am ...thanking you or blaming you.... because whenever I read in Sunday School, you always compliment me on my voice and say you could listen to me all day!)

Let's see...what else?  Oh, I went back to my natural blond hair.  Red was WAAAAAAY too hard to keep up with and I am not high maintenance enough to make a go of it.  I definitely feel more like myself now and like I belong with my little tow-headed offspring.

Here is a picture of me with my new hair right before my band's gig.  (See how cool I sound?  We had a gig! LOL)

And, yes....I totally look like the mother of the bride, but it was the best I could do.  I don't have a lot of call for performance clothing in my life.  Maybe that will change, but for now this is what I had that I could dig out from the back of the closet.

Okay, that is it.  That is my update on me.  I will fill you on on kid stuff soon.

Thinker

It may or may not surprise those of you who know me in real life, and, I guess, those of you who know me via my blog, that I am a thinker.  Some may call me a deep thinker, but I suspect more would refer to me as an over thinker.

"Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes, I just sits." - A.A. Milne (muttered by Winnie the Pooh)



This image © The Walt Disney Studios

I really can't turn my brain off.  Even when I am quiet, my mind is mulling over something or the other.  Looking back, I am pretty sure both of my parents were also thinkers.  I can remember my dad just sitting back and watching when the whole family would get together.  He didn't talk much (unless you got him to talk about God or politics).  But, he would just sort of sit there, looking over his brood, every now and then we would get a smirk, or the ever elusive and rare smile....with teeth.  If you could get my dad to actually laugh out loud, it would give you an ego boost for years to come.

My mom is more of a quiet planner. She doesn't like to make moves or do anything until she is done thinking it over.  Top to bottom.  Left to right.  Backwards and frontwards.  She doesn't like to make a move on anything until she has thought it through and is ready.  She talks more than my dad did and we can get her to laugh quite a bit.  But, she will also be content just sitting and thinking, like my dad was.

I seem to have gotten both of their thinking proclivities.  Depending on who you ask, that may or may not be a good thing.  I have totally found myself sitting back and looking at my brood (plus my little extras that I watch) with that secret little smile on face, that I can totally remember seeing on his face and wondering what was going on in his mind.  For me, it is a sense of peace and contentment.  A sense that really as long as I have these people surrounding me, all will be right in the world.  I wonder if he was thinking some of those same thoughts?  I also do not like to make any moves until I am done thinking it through.  (I don't even like to hang pictures in the house until I have thought through every possible place they could go and picked the best one.  I don't want unnecessary nail holes, you know.)

The problem with my thinking comes in when you marry me off to Rainman.  You have heard me say that he is one of the smartest people I know.  He is.  But, the man is not a big thinker.  He is impulsive. He is a risk taker and likes to jump in.  No thinking.  No measuring.  No pros and cons list.  Gulp.  He plans a trip and before that one has even gotten here, he is working on planning our next two.  He spews dates, plans and hotels at me.  My eyes glaze over.  My upper lip breaks out in sweat.  My ears totally tune him out.  I do tell him that I can't think about it yet.  But, he is so caught up in his excitement, that he can't contain himself.

I can't do it.  I can't think about that until I am done with the most immediate thing, whether it be a work assignment, or an event at church.  I have to finish that up.  Put it behind me.  Then I can move onto thinking about the next thing.  This is sometimes where I wonder if I do actually have a waffle portion of my brain and that it isn't all spaghetti.

I assume it is because my brain is such a thorough thinker that it is trying to save me by not having me have too much information and too many things to be processing at once.  I know Rainman finds it annoying that I can't get excited about the next five trips he has planned, or even the next one, if he talks about it at the wrong time, but the very thought of it truly overwhelms me.  Again, it is not that I don't enjoy traveling.  It is not that I am incapable of letting loose and having fun.  I do and I can.

I find myself now, just sitting and drinking my coffee and looking outside.  Just like I used to see my mom do.  I also find myself sitting outside reading.  I can feel the sun on my face, the breeze on my skin and be able to hear the world around me.  Just like I used to see my dad do.

Am I the best of both of them....or the worse of them?  I guess it depends on who you ask. Ha!

I do know that I am not changing.  Rainman still doesn't understand me.  I can't seem to figure out a way to tell him  that his incessant trip planning and planning and planning truly overwhelms my heart and soul.  But, I assume that his planning and planning is just who he is also and he won't be changing anytime soon either.

We need to figure out a way for us both to be able to do our thing and not get in the others way.  Wonder if that is possible?

My thinking has also been the thing that has stopped me from blogging more often.  I actually have lots of stuff I would like to share with you guys.  But, then, I start thinking.....will this or that hurt the kids feelings?  Will this embarrass them?  Will they misunderstand my motives?  Will people think I am weird?  Will trolls be mean to me?

So, I end up in a never ending thinking loop that I can't get out of.  I am mentally paralyzed and don't do anything.  My friend Kristy, though, actually sent me a message and said she had missed my writing and asked if I was going to start up again.

I know you will be shocked to know that I thought about it....and decided to try to jump in again. Even though there really is a piece of me that thinks,  "Why would anybody care to spend time reading about my life, my thoughts, or my opinions?"

Honestly, this was way easier when my kids were younger. (That is not a sentence you hear very often, is it?)  They were just my little people...not really their own just yet.  Does that make sense?

I absolutely have thoughts, feelings and opinions on teenagers and the world around us, but because they are older now, I hesitate to share our stories for the world to see.  So, I am stuck.  I am not a food blogger or a home improvement blogger.  I am not even a homeschool blogger anymore, even though I am still 100% behind homeschooling.

If you have stuck with me and continued reading this, I will end with saying, I am going to try not to overthink and blog a little bit more.  It truly is a fun way to document our lives and the funny things the kids have said or done.  Sometimes, I will go back and read some of my old posts and had totally forgotten some of the stories and cute things the kids did.  It is fun.  Makes me feel bad that I am not doing as good of a job for my younger three as I did for the older three.  (just like with their actual scrapbooks....those poor children!)

I am going to try to do better.  That is all.

Changes That Didn't Happen

I alluded to some possible upcoming changes in one of my last posts.  One of them was the hopeful move to a new house, which I touched on in my last post about my life being paused.

I think the words I used were something like "potentially awesome and exciting, but nothing I could talk about yet."

But, I can talk about them now.

I am sure most of you know that Rainman and I have always been open to more kids, either biologically or by adoption.  The biological pathway seems to have expired with my advanced age.  LOL (although sometimes it doesn't seem so funny!)  Anyway, we have always said we were open to adoption possibilities, but wouldn't seek them out because of the expense involved in most adoptions. (seriously, it can cost between $20,000 and $50,000)

We have often joked about being totally okay if someone would drop a baby off on our doorstep, you know?

Over the years, we have had discreet inquiries from some of our friends about our willingness to adopt a baby from their young acquaintances.  We have always said an emphatic, "Absolutely!"  But, in the end, none of them have ever actually needed us.

The day we put our house on the market, I got another one of those calls from a friend asking if we would be at all interested in adopting twin little boys.  This time, I did not say my usual, "Absolutely!"  I asked if I could call her back after we talked as a family.  Twins are a bigger commitment from the whole family and would involve buy-in, and sacrifices, from everyone, not just Rainman and I.

The discussions between Rainman and I involved the difficulty of taking on twins in our "older" age and the financial burden of adding two more mouths to feed.

We have been taking care of twins for 2 days a week for friends of ours for the last 2 years or so. It is not like having our own set of twins 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, but it gave us a taste of some of the blessings and challenges of dealing with two little people, and two sets of stuff, instead of just one at a time.

Ultimately,  Rainman and I decided that we would say yes, because we couldn't just be pro-life when it was easy, convenient and not scary.  We had a meeting with the kids and explained the phone call I had gotten.  There were various levels of excitement about the possibility of adding twin babies to our family.

Even those that weren't completely 100% excited about the possibility understood our reasons for wanting to say yes.

I called my friend back and said that our answer was, in fact, "Absolutely!"  Then, we waited....and waited.....and waited.

Nothing.

Somehow, this time had felt like it was going to be different.  I thought that the timing of getting the phone call the exact day our house was put on the market couldn't possibly be considered a coincidence.

When we were looking at the new house, we started planning for nursery space and how to baby proof the living areas.  The timing felt like it was meant to be.

I told my friend, that my "mommy switch" had gotten turned on and I couldn't stop thinking about those baby boys.  I knew that they were premature and in the hospital and if was going to be their mommy,  I wanted to be there holding them.  But, she hadn't heard anything more after she had passed along our information and told the family a little about our family.

Still nothing.

As time has passed, it has become clear that we were not needed to be the family of those little boys.  I will admit that even though it sounds crazy, I have grieved and cried that I wasn't going to get to be their mom.

My three youngest have been disappointed alongside me.  They love taking care of our little extras during the week, but were really looking forward to having babies around full time again.  V-girl REALLY wants to be a big sister.

Even though the thought of interrupted sleep and rear facing car seats made me pause a bit, I really wanted to love on those baby boys.

I had pictured our new family starting fresh in the new house on the lake.  But, then the second phone call about the babies never came and the phone call came from the realtor telling us that we had lost the lake house.  I was sad.  Deep down....sad.

Some of my "people" that I had shared the possibility of the adoption with understood, but some thought I should feel relieved that we hadn't adopted those babies.  I understood what they were saying and understood their hearts looking out for me, but, I will still admit to being sad.....whether it made sense or not.

It has been a hard winter/spring for me....mental health-wise.  Again though, I know a LOT of people have had it worse than me, but, it has been a tough one  with regard to maintaining my joy.  If that makes sense?

While all my sadness has been looming (under the surface most of the time) A-man, S-girl and V-girl have become obsessed with a song that plays on Christian radio here in Georgia.  It is a very catchy song and I would sing along to the chorus because I just couldn't help myself.  But, I didn't really listen to the words, if you know what I mean.  But, when I say the kids are obsessed, I mean, they listen to it all the time.  When they are having computer time and playing their various games or taking Sporcle quizzes, I would walk by and hear this song coming out of the speakers...or just hear them singing along to it.  They have figured out how to get the song to play on Spotify and they play it over and over.

So, one day I decided to find the official lyric video and see what exactly we were all singing along to.

I sat there amazed and feeling like God had once again used my kids to bring me blessings and speak to my heart.  I needed to hear this message this winter/spring...and maybe even summer.  I thought maybe you would too....

Life.....Paused......

I have become one of those infrequent bloggers this year, haven't I?

For the ten of you out there that care, sorry.

It has honestly been so long since I posted, that I had to go back and read my blog to see what I had talked about last time I updated you.

I had told you about accidentally buying a house.

That has changed.  When we were on spring break, we got a call from our realtor that the house we had a contract on, had received another non-contingent offer.    We couldn't remove the contingency from our offer without selling our house.  So, we were done.

I will admit that losing that house definitely put a pall on my enjoyment of our vacation.  Rainman and I though talked things over and decided to just take out a loan and make changes to our house, including putting in a pool that Rainman and the kids have been wanting for the last 4 years (and I will admit that I have also missed having).

When we got home, I went crazy on Pinterest.  I mean, I really let myself dream big.  I pinned design ideas, new cabinet ideas, pools, pool houses, farm tables.  Ooooh, it was fun.  After about a week of dreaming, I mentioned to Rainman that he should call the bank and make sure we could actually get a home improvement loan to do the projects we were interested in doing.  We both sort of chuckled and said something like, "of course they will.....they were going to give us a huge mortgage..."

How naive we were.

The bank said that they could certainly help us out, but we would have to piece together 3 or 4 loans to get to about 50% of what our projected costs were going to be.  We both said, forget that.

That weekend, I headed back over to the MLS listings and started looking again.  One house and its land stood out to me.  The pictures looked pretty good (but we all know how misleading they can be), the price really stood out to me (about $70,000 cheaper than the lake house).  I sent the link to Rainman and asked him if this house "did anything for him".

He said, as expected, "Let's go look at it."

I wanted to look at it as soon as possible, which meant that not all of us could see it.  It was just me, a few of the kids and two of my friends.

As we drove up to the house, I told the kids, "This reminds me of Minnesota."  There were even cows right across the street from the house.  It had a nice, quiet, rural feel.

We walked in and I walked room to room, pointing out things I liked.  It truly just kept getting better and better.  I got to the laundry room and with my realtor and friend standing there, I announced, "I feel like I am going to cry."  Then I sort of did.  LOL

Here are my reasons for being emotional:

• The laundry room had lockers like I used to have at our Minnesota house 
• Just about every single thing in this house were things that I had been pinning all week (the cabinets, the beams in the ceiling, the windows, the light airy atmosphere, the layout of the rooms, the storage.
• I have wanted to have a light blue bedroom for YEARS, but it has never been high on my list of To Do items at my houses, because the main living areas needed my time, money and attention first.  Guess what color the master bedroom is at this house?

Those are just a few of my top reasons.  I texted Rainman and told him he was in trouble because I was in love.  

Eventually, we were all able to go see the house.  We all loved it. 

The only problem is that our house still has not sold.  My realtor was trying to be encouraging and I think tell me it was okay to stay in our current house.  It wasn't a bad house.  She asked me why I wanted to move.  What did I used to love about this house that I had fallen out of love with?

When trying to explain to my realtor my feelings, I had to remember how I felt 4 or so years ago about this house.  I told her that when we first moved to Georgia, we got a really good house.  It was a good house with a great backyard.  But, it was too small for us, it just about every way.  But, still, it was a good house.  Then, we moved to our current house, which was a much better house.  So much space and trees.  (I really love trees).  Better.  But, I have never loved this house.  There were things that I loved (the trees, the porch swing, that there are kids bedrooms near the master, the master on the main level)  But, if I am honest, Rainman and half of the kids had to talk me into this house.  I didn't want this house.  He even did one of his charts showing me the logic of this house. But, I never loved this house.  I didn't hate it.  I saw the definite advantages to this house for a family of our size, but I didn't love it.  I  gave in because they were right, it was definitely a better house for us.

I continued to explain to her that I loved this new house.  I really did.  It felt so much like Minnesota.  The lay out.  The space. The privacy.  I feel like God had closed the door on the lake house, but opened the window on this new house because it was so much more than what I thought I wanted or could have.  Now, looking back, I am kind of embarrassed that I wanted the lake house so badly.  Because even though I really liked the "feel" of the lake house, it had quirks and things that I didn't love and that I knew would need to be changed.  This new house has none of those quirky things.  It is almost a perfect fit.  Does that make sense?

Good.  Better.  Best.

We made an offer that was accepted, and now, we have a pending contract on that house, but still sit here waiting for the right family to want ours.  We have been on the market for about 110 days now.  

It is a frustrating process.  We are not a starter home, which seem to be flying off the market, so there are less people that can afford our house.  We even tried to do a rental/lease purchase, but the first few people who were interested, were scam artists.  I won't go into those details, but it really shakes your view of mankind knowing that these kinds of purposefully deceitful people are out there and out there teaching their children to lie to get what they want.

So, we wait.  Life is still busy.  Kids are still in activities, getting awards, getting jobs.  

But, I honestly feel like my life, in the middle of the swirl, is.....paused.

I don't want to start any projects......because.....what if........

I was even at the point where I didn't even want to take baths, because then I would have to deep clean my tub again.  LOL  I just wanted it to remain pristine for that ever elusive buyer.  Alas, I have given that up and am enjoying my baths again.  I will cross the tub cleaning mountain when I need to.

I don't want the kids to do many crafts or art projects.....because it will make a mess....and what if somebody wants a showing.

Half of our things are already packed.  We don't know where lots of our stuff is because it was packed away months ago thinking that we would be moved by now.  People are starting to get annoyed, with things not being where they "should" be and having to dig through boxes in the basement to try to find them, and with having to keep the house clean(just in case).  In response to my requests for them to get their rooms "show ready" before they leave the house, I get a maddening, "What's the point?"

It has been frustrating, for lack of a better word.  

And, I really do feel.....paused.  I don't even really know what to do about it.  Is this pause just part of life and that is okay?  Should I forge ahead and pretend that I am not waiting to move?  I don't really know how to do that though.  Because, if I do that, things will be messier  (and, of course, that is when someone will want to stop by for a quick showing!) and the brunt of the cleaning/picking up with inevitably fall on me.  That will make me cranky, to say the least.  

I actually told my realtor this last week that my faith is waivering.  I meant it.  It makes me sad.  But, it is what it is. (I also came to the realization that much of being a realtor has nothing to do with the business of selling houses, but, is, in fact, being a sort of psychologist/therapist and holding people's proverbial hands while they freak out on you every other day, right Angela?)

I really want the new house.  I really do.  I love it.  I can picture us there.  Both now and in the future, with grand babies, the future spouses, and when Rainman and I are old.  But, I also remind myself frequently that it is just a house.  Both our current house and the new house.  Just a house.  I can't pin all my happiness on where we live. That would be stupid and wrong.  What matters is that we are all together and healthy and happy.  I know that.  Yet.....I really want to live in that house and unpause our lives.  

I have rambled (whined) enough for today, I think.  I will fill you in on the other "changes" in a future post.

Thinking About Me

I have been thinking about myself quite a bit lately.

Want a little glimpse into what happens in this brain of mine?!?

If your answer was yes, read on!  If your answer was no, check back soon because I have graduation pictures and other stuff like that I will be sharing soon.  So, go ahead and scroll down for some pictures and ignore all the rambling thoughts I am about to share.

There is a constant mental conversation  (about me) happening inside of my head, but it gets shut down because of....life stuff.

Which leads me to these kinds of questions:

At what point in life or motherhood is it bad to think about yourself?

At what point in motherhood is it bad to think about your own goals?

Your wants?

Your wishes and dreams?

Even though I think about "me" all the time, it is still sort of hard for me to think about me.

Hahahaha....did you follow that train of thought with me?  Did I lose you?

But, like I said, I have been thinking about myself and my wants more and more lately.

Part of my thought process is that I am starting to feel my age.  Realizing that I am officially a middle aged person.  That I am not necessarily the "young mom" anywhere I turn.  I am the veteran now.

When did that happen?

I have wrinkles.  Rainman and I both just recently looked at a picture of us and said, "Wow....we look old!  When did that happen?"  We were both sort of shocked and sad.  (Me more than him, FYI)

I get that because of my age, I am not expected to be fashionable or to look like a Hollywood mom.  But, a little part (sometimes a big part) of me wants to be fashionable and praised for my style and looks.  I don't want to wear the "mom jeans", elastic waisted slacks (uggg) or those patterned shirts with the big prints.

Yes.  I am shallow.

I am also thinking about myself more lately because of a conversation I recently had with a friend. We were talking about the doctors telling me that part of the management of the pseudotumor cerebri thingie that I have,  is getting my weight down and keeping it down.

We were commiserating about how hard that is and she said something that really stuck with me.

She said, the problem with someone telling us that we have to lose weight is that the act of losing weight and everything that surrounds it....cooking differently.....exercising, etc., requires a certain level of selfishness and self focus - something we moms are horrible at.

Now, I am not one of those completely selfless moms that bends over backwards to do everything for my kids and make things easy for them.  I pride myself on helping create fairly independent, self sufficient children.  That being said, I am still a mom to 6 children (with 3 extras a few days of the week).  I love them all....dearly, whether they are my biologically connected people or not.

But, that love makes it hard to focus on me.  Just me.  There is just too much constantly swirling around me (diapers needing to be changed, somebody needing to be dropped off or picked up somewhere, meals to be made, cleaning to be done, boo-boos to be kissed, disagreements to be refereed) to really just focus on me.

And, to be shallow again for a moment, if you think for a second, that even in my late 40s that I do not want to turn heads and have strangers check me out, you would be wrong.  Completely, wrong.

No, I don't want to be harrassed, or objectified, but, I want that slight hesitation when I enter a room, a quick appreciative gaze and the sense of power that accompanies that feeling.

I remember that feeling.  It is a heady feeling.

(Apparently, I liked that moody/smirky look into the camera without smiling look back then!)

Have I just taken the advances of womankind back to the 50s?

The start of the whole pseudotumor cerebri thing started with a trip to the eye doctor to try and get fitted for contact lenses.  Why?

Vanity, that is why.

It started with a girls trip to Minnesota with my sisters and my mom.  My sister took my picture and we were getting a weird glare from my glasses, so she suggested I just take them off for the photo. When we looked at them later, I thought, wow....I look pretty.

I haven't seen myself as pretty for a very long time.

Which got me to thinking.....yes....about me....again.

I started wearing glasses exclusively when we moved to Georgia.  I started getting more and more creative with my frame choices too.  I saw it as a way to show creativity, quirkiness and some personality.

But, I think my glasses also became a way for me to hide when I started gaining weight. (As crazy as that sounds since I do not pick boring frames).  Maybe it was a a way to distract people.....like "pay no attention to the man behind the curtain", Wizard of Oz kind of thing....in a way that said...."pay no attention to the girth you see down below....eyes up here, everyone!"

My best friend just recently told me that she has never liked my blue/aqua glasses because she felt like they took over my face and hid me.

I think subconsciously, that is exactly what I was going for.  Giving people a way to describe me "The lady with all the kids and the aqua glasses." Instead of, "The big lady with all the kids".

There is this little sermonette floating around on FB about the devil and who he chooses to try to work against......and why.  This clip is a might long, but she is pretty funny, so it is worth it, if you have the time to watch it (especially if you happen to have sons....).

I sort of love her tough, no nonsense approach, don't you?

Anyway, that got me to thinking.....about my kids and who they will be....but, about me....and who I am supposed to be.  Or, who I was supposed to be.  Know what I mean?  Am I Sarah Connor?

Am I her?  Or, have I let myself be distracted and derailed away from who I was supposed to be, by doing something stupid like getting fat?!?

Am I supposed to be the fit, fabulous lady with a bunch of kids that can go to a waterpark with them and actually put on my suit and join them and not just hold all the purses and towels?  Am I supposed to be the fit mom that can share clothes with my teenage girls.  (that thought just made me laugh - because my girls would be horrified!)  But, you know what I mean.  We have seen those moms out there that can pull it off.

Or, is it time for me to let go and just be about my kids?  Is my purpose here to raise amazing and awesome little people that will grow up and do spectacular things?

I don't know.

I just know that I want to be, if not skinny, then.....skinnier.  Normal sized, not super sized.  I want to feel pretty.  I want to feel powerful. I want to take moody/smirky pictures staring into the camera and like what I see when I load them on my computer.

So, yeah, welcome to the inside of my head.

Fun place, right?!?!

So, do you want more glimpses into my head or do you want D-man's graduation pictures next?

How Social Media Can Be A Big Fat Liar

Remember A-girl's birthday post?

Remember this picture?

A-girl posted this on-line and she got all kinds of comments from people we both know about how great we looked.  Lots of comments were about how great I looked.  Comments about me being a "hot mama", for instance.

But, let's look a little closer.

Notice my sweat pants....the little bit of blue you see behind my arm is actually my pajamas....notice the strategically placed hair and birthday presents.....meant to hide the fact that I am not wearing a bra.  And, if you look closely at my face, you will notice my slightly red nose that would tell you that I had been crying a large portion of the afternoon.

A-girl and I had both gone to the eye doctor for contacts.

I ended up being called back first.  I told the doctor and his staff that I knew my prescription had changed because more often than not, I just take my glasses off when I am trying to see something and that I have been getting headaches - probably because I was making my eyes work so hard...either by wearing the wrong prescription, or not wearing any glasses at all.

I noticed a few whispered conversations after they took the initial look at my eyes and printed out the little paper thingie that tells my basic prescription.

The doctor turned down the lights and had me do the annoying thing they do where they ask you if 1 or 2 is better.  I always feel like I am somehow failing a big exam at this portion of the eye exam.  Always.

Then he turned on the lights and asked me if I had ever been diagnosed as having diabetes.  I told him I had not.  He then explained that my eyesight had changed so significantly, so quickly, (basically from near sighted to far sighted) that he was somewhat alarmed.  He said that is usually a sign of diabetes and that I should see my doctor and have blood work done right away.....like drive over to his office right now.  I told him that I have my blood work done a lot because of the problems they have had with the thyroid medications.  I had my blood work done about a week before and everything was fine.

He decided to just see if he could get pictures of the back of my eyeballs without the dilation (since A-girl doesn't have her license yet) and see what would happen from there.

They successfully got pictures....and more whispered, slightly frantic conversations ensued.  He said he was going to call a retina specialist friend of his and see what he said.  I asked them to get A-girl taken care of because I didn't want to ruin her birthday.

They took her into the office by a different door and had me wait in the waiting room.( First I had a good little silent sob session in the bathroom.) A little while later, I was sitting in the waiting room (without my glasses) and out waltzed A-girl in her new trial pair of contacts.  She was practically glowing.  She was so happy.  She looked so good.

She blinked at me a few times.  I am sure she was thinking that I was also sitting there with my trial lenses too.  Then, she looked a little closer and asked me what was wrong.  I tried valiantly to assure her that all was well.

It was like she literally matured over night and wasn't just a teenaged girl getting rid of her glasses. She looked right at me and said, "Mom....what is it?  What is wrong?"

I told her that they thought something was wrong with my eyes  and were waiting to hear back from a specialist.

They called me back and asked questions about whether I had been getting headaches.

I had.  Almost daily since before Easter.  At first, I had thought that I was reacting to the pollen.  It is seriously crazy down here with everything covered in a thick coating of green pollen.  I said that many days I woke up with a headache.

Then he asked other questions like was I ever seeing flashes  of lights or vision changes.  I was sometimes seeing "sparkles"....if I stood up too fast or changed from light to dark or vice versa too quickly.

He asked if I ever had ringing in my ears.  I told him that I did sometimes hear whooshing, like I was hearing my own heartbeat.

He let us leave and promised to call when he heard back from his friend.  He reminded me to head to the hospital if my headaches or vision got worse.

I left super scared and was trying desperately not to ruin A-girl's 16th birthday.

They got me in with the retinal specialist on Monday morning.  Rainman came with me for this one.  Lots of eye drops and tests later.  He declared my retina healthy, but said there was swelling at the back of my eyes at my optic nerve.  I even had a hemorrhage in the back of my left eye.  It was serious.  Very serious.

He took out his cell phone, took a picture of the picture of my eyeballs and texted it to a friend of his who was a neuro-opthalmologist.....while he typed out his message, he said, "I don't flipping care about HIPA right now".

Then he looked at me and said, I don't even know you, but I am taking this seriously, so you had better take this really seriously.  He asked what I did for work.  I said I was mostly a mom and took care of a few extra kids during the week.  He told Rainman to dust off his child care skills because I needed to make this my only priority until it was taken care of.

He got me in to see the neuro-opthalmologist the next day.

You know when doctors can see you too quickly how you sort of panic?

Yeah, me too.

Everyone was getting me in right away.

Rainman luckily had the day off, so he took me to this appointment too. This doctor gave us pretty much the same information as the one did on Monday, but he had a much different delivery.

As we were leaving, Rainman turned to me and said, "Somehow I feel like we just got the best diagnosis ever."

I had to laugh, but it was true.  He told us the same slightly scary stuff, but his delivery was more matter of fact and assured us that it would be treatable, but I would have to remain vigilant for the rest of my life.  I will have to take medicine and lose weight.

In order to accurately diagnose me, they ha to eliminate other possibilities, including a brain tumor.  So, I was scheduled for a brain MRI late last week.  Rainman couldn't come with me and  my friends were busy.  So, I went by myself.

Huge, huge mistake.

Let me just say that I didn't really think I was claustrophobic.  I mean, I have never really liked bunk beds and I really didn't like those elevator pods that take you to the top of the St. Louis Arch, but I really didn't think I was claustrophobic.

After I took like 5 nervous pee trips to the bathroom, I was called back.  I was told to take off my bra and my glasses, but could keep the rest of my clothing on.

She got an I.V. port ready on my arm for when they would inject the dye during the second portion of the MRI.  She explained a few things, had me lay down, gave me a little panic button to squeeze if I needed anything and in I went.

It was awful.

Really.

Awful.

Now, granted, I am a big lady, so I had to sort of squeeze my arms in while I went into the tube.  She assured me that I could relax and rest my arms against the sides when I got into place.  But, really, I felt like I was being squeezed by the tube.

Also, I should have kept my eyes closed like my friend, Sherri, told me to.  I am just naturally curious and I like to learn things.  I thought I would just glance around a little in there and see what it looked like.

Holy cow!

It was just mere inches above my face.  Like, at the most, 2 inches from my nose.

I panicked.

Like, total meltdown kind of panic.

The nice tech asked if I needed to be taken out of the tube.

YES!

I can sort of laugh about it now...but....I cried like a baby....like a crazy person.  I also kept apologizing.  I kept saying stuff like, I am sorry I am messing up your schedule.  I asked if I could just be put to sleep (and figure out a way for somebody to come pick me and my van up somehow).

This facility didn't have a doctor there to administer medications.  She said I could call my doctor, have him prescribe a Valium, drive over to the pharmacy, get the medication, take it, and wait in the waiting room for it to kick in and they would try again.

Well, that sounded awful too.  So, I said that I wanted to try again.  She suggested covering my eyes with a washcloth, so I couldn't look even if I wanted to.  She gave me earphones (because the machine is really loud while it is is doing its thing).  I asked for a Pandora station that played massage music. (Remember, I am/was a massage therapist)

I breathed deep.

I prayed...and prayed some more.

I was able to survive my MRI because I gave myself a virtual massage, stroke by stroke, while she did the tests.  I was in the machine for a total of about 45 minutes.

Honestly, I was shaky and weepy the rest of the day.

Rainman called me afterwards to check on me and I started crying in the parking lot.  It was awful.  Really.  But, if you have never been inside one of those machines, I don't think you can really explain it in a way they will understand.

If I ever have to do another one, I will make sure I am adequately medicated ahead of time.  I will also make sure that Rainman is there waiting for me to give me a big hug. Sometimes it stinks to have to act like a big, tough, grown up.

Long story short, I have something called Pseudotumor Cerebri.

I am waiting to be scheduled for a spinal tap/lumbar puncture sometime in the next week or so.  That should help with my headaches.  I will start medications after they make sure that the spinal fluid doesn't show any other weird infection or something.

Then, I will try to lose weight.

Most of the people diagnosed with Pseudotumor Cerebri are apparently middle aged, over weight women.  They don't know why.  Obviously, not every overweight, middle aged women have it, but statistically it is me.  Losing weight helps and they don't exactly know why.

That is fine.

I wanted to lose weight anyway.

But, well, you know.....it takes a lot of thinking....and food is my.....thing.  My - go to thing - when I am happy, sad, tired, depressed, scared.  You name it.

I have already started trying to be extra smart about my food choices, but it totally bums me out to have to think so much, instead of just feeding myself and my family.  But, as annoying/depressing as that is, it would be way more depressing to actually lose my eye sight.

So......there you have it........social media can lie....big time....and mislead you about the fabulous things happening in other people's lives.

Because on this day, I was just trying to keep my head above water and not ruin my daughter's memories of her 16th birthday.

My Shoulders Hurt

I don't really think of myself as old.  I really don't.

But, then, things happen....and I have to say to myself...."Hmmmm...I guess maybe I am getting old." (Notice I used the word "getting"....)

I got to fly up to Minnesota last Thursday for a girls weekend with my mom and sisters.  I didn't say anything in case everything fell apart.  I didn't tell my friends I was coming to town.  I didn't let my old church family know I would be there Sunday.  I didn't even let my brother and his family know I was coming to town.

Anyway, as the date I was supposed to fly up got closer and closer and flights still looked good and nothing had fallen apart on the home front,  I started to let myself get excited.  Then, I started to panic. I had the age old problem....."I didn't have anything to wear!"

As my size has......shall we say.....fluctuated......my wardrobe options have gotten more and more limited.  I have less and less items that fit me hanging in my closet.  I had one good pair of pants that fit and were comfortable....they were my go to pants....for most any occasion.  I could dress them up or down, as needed.   Then....I split the crotch on them.  Sigh.....darn lack of a thigh gap!

So, then, my long denim skirt became my go to item to wear on the bottom of...me.  My sisters...and my mom....are all pretty stylish.  They have nice clothes.  They have nice accessories.  Their hair is always fixed.  They wear jewelry.  (Hey, I have nice Jamberry nails though!)

So, anyway, I started to really get worried.  My denim skirt just wasn't going to cut it.  As you know, I am already having a bit of a hard time with my self esteem in relation to my current body size.  I didn't want to add being inappropriately dressed to my things to worry about.

So, I took my babysitting money (just like a teenager) and went shopping.  I took my actual teenage girls with me.  Because, if left alone, I can spiral down into a dark place whilst trying things on. They had good ideas, encouraged me to try stuff I would have walked by and kept me good and distracted, so I couldn't get too sad about my appearance.

We took a cart full of stuff back to Walmart's fitting rooms.  (Yes, I went on a shopping spree at Walmart.  )  You can only take 6 items in at a time, so the girls stayed out with the remnants and we just passed the new stuff in as I rejected other things.

I ended up getting  5 or 6 cute things.  Sweater-y things.  I was going to Minnesota, you know. (Of course, Minnesota decided to be beautiful and balmy while I was there - so, hello, hot, sweaty Kayla!)

Anyway, the day after my shopping spree, I noticed something really odd.  My shoulders were killing me.  As a massage therapist, I am pretty aware of my body and what is going on with it.  I notice if my purse it too heavy or if my posture is bad.  I almost always notice when I am doing something that will end up hurting me.

I started running through my previous 24 hours trying to figure out what I had done.....

Had I painted the living room?  No.

Had I gone rock climbing?  No.

Had I had to lift a car off of my trapped child?  Nope.

You know what it was?

The new clothes.

Yes.

I am that lady now.  The lady that gets sore from taking too many shirts/sweaters on and off over her head.

Yup.  Proud moment.

At least I haven't done this one.....yet.

Not Just a Sunday Thing - Week 5

In today's post, I am going to go a slightly different direction with my thoughts.

This weekend, I have had a mixture of joy and fun.....and sadness and feeling sick to my stomach when I found out about the attacks in Paris.  I am just  sick to my stomach because the people that are doing these horrible things are doing it for their "god" or because of their religious beliefs.

The joy/fun part is that I am having a girls weekend with my mom and my sisters.  (Oh, I love them.)

We laugh and laugh.  We share some of those deep, secret feelings that we don't have anyone else to really talk with about some of these things.  It has been a great weekend.  We went to the taping of this local daytime talk show on Friday afternoon.  One of my sisters taped the show so we could see if we made it on t.v. afterwards and saw that the show was interrupted with the news of the Paris attacks.  They didn't tell us anything in the studio.  We were clueless.  Mom and I found out when we got home that night and opened up Facebook and saw all the Pray for Paris things floating around.

Why?

Why do people do these things in the name of their god or religion.  I really and truly don't understand how they can value life so little.   How they can think it is perfectly okay....and honorable....to kill random people out doing fun things?  How can they think they will be rewarded when they get to heaven?

I don't get it.

If I let myself, I can just think all Muslims are horrible people, but I know that isn't true.  Just like I know all Christians aren't judgmental jerks.  Just like I know all homeschoolers aren't anti-social weirdos.

But, what do we do now?

This can't keep happening.  How can the people responsible be punished?  How can this kind of thing be stopped?

And most of all, how can we go on living our lives....with this kind of crap popping up all over?

My answer is....I don't know.

Here is what I will try:

I will try to pray for the people that are doing these kinds of things.  I will try to remember that they are someone's little boy or little girl.  They have loved their grandparents.  They have gotten excited when their mom brought home a new baby.  They were excited when they learned how to tie their shoes or ride a bike.  You know?  They can't have always been this way and had this crazy hatred for people, can they?

I will try not to live my life in constant fear.  I don't want to put a stop to the joy and fun...just in case.  That one is hard, especially when you are a parent.  But, I will try.

I will try not to bad mouth the people/religion that is behind these attacks.  This will be hard too, because I am angry.  I am disgusted.

But, I am determined not to let evil win.  Not to let these sneaky, underhanded things of the devil gain ground in my world.  I will keep my faith.  I will keep God close.  I will try to have compassion for people.  I will love.

I am trying really hard to remind myself of Luke 6:27,28: "But, I tell you who hear me:  Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you."

That is what I am trying to do.  Not sure if I will be successful or not.  I am human.  I am flawed.  I am swayed by anger and a sense of.... don't mess with me or my family.  But, I am trying.  And, now, more than ever.....my faith needs to be Not Just A Sunday Thing.

Letter to Young Me

The bulk of this post is from an article I wrote back in April for the Home and School Mosaics site, but, in looking for something else, I stumbled on it again......and....

I needed this little reminder for myself...personally....even though I am not so young now.....and I originally wrote this with my kids in mind.  But, I am the one that needs it today.  Right now, I am in the midst of feelings of shame and almost hatred towards how my body looks.  It still does amazing things, but clothing it and going out in public in it....that is a whole other thing.  Bleck.  So, I needed this reminder....and though you might too!

Uniqueness. Why, oh why does that seem like a dirty word to teenagers? My own, included.

I have strived to raise and help create unique little people to send out into the world. Little people that I want to embrace the fact that they are fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image. Uniquely made.

But, I am having a problem. My kids don’t want to be unique. They want to fit in. They want to be like everybody else.

I get it.

I do.

Because, I remember, I didn’t want to be unique and stand out either. (Well, okay, I sort of did. I wanted to be so fabulous that everyone loved me/that boy wanted to date me…… but, NOT unique in a…..wow…..she is really different (weird), let’s pick on her, kind of way. LOL)

So, I thought I would write a letter to “Young Me” explaining the virtues of uniqueness.

Dear Young Kayla,

I am writing to you today to tell you why I want you to stop trying to fit in and be like the rest of the crowd and be unique. Parachute pants and R.D. Simpson jeans really don’t look all the good on you. And, listen to me closely….that hair….don’t do it……you went from this…..

To this…..

To this…..

In 2 short years….because “everybody” was doing it. Everybody was getting bangs and layers….then everyone was getting perms. Yes, the glasses were unfortunate too, but notice the smoky pink and the little monogram “K” that you were styling in the Great Perm Incident of 7thgrade. (Honestly, your youngest daughter will cry every time she sees this picture when she is about 1 year old. Every time.  Your other kids will think it is funny and sneak up behind her and flash this picture at her and  then laugh and laugh when she cries. True story.)

You didn’t realize that you were following the crowd and trying not to be unique when you got your hair cut this way and styled it like that…but you were. You thought you were just being you.  Scary, isn’t it? Just remember these pictures when you feel yourself weakening your resolve to go ahead and not follow the crowd.

Here is one more example of you being "unique", just in case you don’t believe me yet. Here you are with a few of the other Madonna WannaBe’s back in the late 80’s. Yeah, we stood out (she said sarcastically) and none of us were crowned the winner of this particular pageant.

Be brave…be bold….be you. Uniquely and wonderfully made. You.

You are different. You really are. Not a lot of people will ever really understand you. But, that is okay. That is a good thing. You just need a select few in your inner circle that “get” you. It doesn’t need to be an army….just a special forces unit. I know, it may not seem like it now, but it is a very good thing.

You are curvy and womanly when everyone else is lean and straight. You will not be able to change your DNA. You are going to have boobs and cleavage and a curvy backside. Don’t hide. Don’t feel fat (like you actually did in the picture of the many Madonnas in the picture above). Just figure out what kinds of clothes look good on an hour glass figure and embrace it. Don’t wait until you are older to figure that out and wear low cut/skin tight stuff to “flaunt” those curves because you are looking for acceptance….and being sexy seems like a good idea. It will just get you the wrong kind of attention and acceptance. I promise. Neither scenario will turn out well. Hiding it is bad. Flaunting it is bad. Embrace it and be in charge of how you view your body. Be in charge of not being tied into what the world thinks of your body. Don’t allow yourself to be judged based on your body…for good…..or for bad. Your body is just your body. Your body is……a work of art, no matter its size, no matter how much of it you share with the world. It just….is. (This is the part I needed to hear today)

Your body will actually prove to be strong and powerful and will do miraculous things. Not to scare you or anything, but your body will carry 10 babies. Your body will give birth to 7 of those babies. Six of them will live. I share this to show you that your body will take a beating and keep on going. It will survive 5 C-sections. Sadly, it will gain too much weight, and you will, once again, learn to “hide” it, but, it will still work for you. Be kind to it. Take care of it.  Appreciate it for the spectacularly unique thing that it is…stretch marks, scars, and all. Don’t allow yourself to judge your worth based on your body size either. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, whether you are big or small. (Again....needed this reminder in November of 2015)

Your brain and the way you think and look at the world and the people in it are unique. You are not the smartest girl in school. It is okay for people to know that. You do not have to pretend to be smarter than you are because somewhere along the line you got the reputation as a “brain”. It is totally okay to admit to your fellow students AND your teachers that you don’t get how to do something. You don’t have to cover your grade when the test is given back to you and pretend that it was higher than it actually was. You aren’t dumb either, so when you get that C in college chemistry in nursing school,not, I repeat, do not, drop out of school because you are convinced you are too dumb to be an R.N. Again, it is okay to admit to yourself and your professors that you are falling behind and don’t understand something. Remember that you are there to actually “learn” not to show that you already know stuff.

Not everyone will see things the way you do. Not everyone will understand that no matter how honest and kind you try to be, or think you are, some people just won’t like you.  You cannot change that. They just won’t…..like you…..get you….want to be around you. That is okay. You don’t need to be around people that don’t see the beauty in you….even if it is different than theirs. You will end up with friends that have made different lifestyle choices than yours. That is a good too. You don’t all need to be alike. Just treat every conversation or discussion with love and respect, and your friendships, will not only last, they will thrive – even though in the eyes of the world, you are supposed to despise people that don’t think like you. Be unique in your thoughts and your acceptance and love for others.

Remember this:  Everyone is just trying to figure their own lives out. Everyone else is trying to become okay with their own personal brand of uniqueness. Remember that. Everyone. Everyone is trying to figure themselves out and ultimately be okay with who they are. Even the bullies and mean girls. Even the quiet nerd in the corner. Even the popular kids. None of them really know and accept their own uniqueness…..yet.

Remember, Young Kayla, being unique and different is good. Sometimes it will even be fun. When you move to the south after 40 plus years in the north, you will be considered unique by your new friends and neighbors. To most of them that will be a good thing, but to some, it will be considered a bad thing. (some will think of you as a crazy, outspoken Yankee)  For you, consider it an awesome thing. It will end up being a chance for you to come into your own and not “just” be one of the Atkins girls. You will be on your own. Nobody will know anything about you, your family, your school, your church, your pageants, your jobs, your bad choices. They will just get to know…..you. The unique, and yes, sort of quirky, lady that is truly happy to have 6 kids….and would have been happy with 10 kids. The unique, quirky lady that has fun glasses and wears sandals 364 days a year. The unique lady who still….occasionally….has to remind herself that it is okay to be unique.

Be Unique. Be You. It will be so worth it.

Love, The Middle Aged Unique, Quirky You

I wish I could really send that letter to the younger me (although I would be totally freaked out by how many children I had and how much weight I would gain, so maybe it is best to keep that a secret from myself! Because I am still sort of shocked when I look in the mirror and can’t quite believe that is really me.) I really am at peace being unique now, finally, in my mid-40s. I take a little pride in it too (that is an article for another day). I am glad that I don’t blend in. I am glad that I am not just one of the herd. I am glad that my style, my feelings, my way of talking, my opinions, my way of raising my children, my choices, are my own.

Nobody else is like me (said with a secret smile rather than a bone crushing sense of dread and shame).

That my dear, unique, little people, is a good thing. A very good thing.

Our Itty Bitty Time Away

Like I told you yesterday, Rainman and I got to sneak away for a little bit for our anniversary.  Back in the early days of our marriage in Minnesota, we went to a Bed & Breakfast every year around our anniversary.  That stopped somewhere about 3 or 4 kids into the deal.  It just got harder and harder to coordinate childcare, our work schedules, and our money.  So, it sort of faded away.

Earlier this year, Rainman announced that he thought we should go to a B&B down here for our anniversary.  He even looked on-line and found a few for me to look at.  I told him I would research and see what I thought and see if we could figure out childcare.  Back in Minnesota....we had family that we could farm the kids out to....or Rainman's mom would fly up from Chicago and stay with the kids.

Georgia is different.  No family and friends that are busy with their own kids/jobs.  However, we also have sort of old kids now.  Rainman assured me that D-man and the other bigs could handle it.  I absolutely trust my kids to babysit other people's children...but, for some reason, I was hesitant about their own flesh and blood.  Ha!

Our biggest problem was finding time that would work.  But, we found a itty bitty time slot right at our anniversary.

Last week, Rainman kept asking me....so...are we going or not?  (Oops...I hadn't done anything) I looked on-line and found a little B&B south of Atlanta that I thought looked promising.  I contacted the inn keeper and she had vacancies.  So, we booked it.  Talked to the kids.  Figured out logistics of vehicles and which kid needed to be where and made sure D-man could handle it.

Rainman and I finally hit the road heading out about 4ish on Sunday afternoon.  At about 4:30, my cell phone rang.  It was D-man.  We had forgotten to leave him keys for the van.  Oops.  So, we turned around and drove home...again.  It was a lovely drive...both times.

We got to the town, followed our printed Mapquest directions that.....didn't take us to the B&B. Luckily, we had Rainman who has a brain for these types of things....we drove around a bit, looked at house numbers, he did some guess work, drove by many of the same houses 2 or 3 times,  and....we found our place....after driving around town for about 20 minutes. (I would have just stopped and asked for directions at the fire station, but that is me...where is the fun in that, right?)

We dropped off our bags in our room and decided to go try to find someplace to eat.  We were hungry.

But, that is the thing about small towns.....especially small towns in the south....lots of places are closed on Sundays.  So, we drove and drove....nothing....not many restaurants...and the ones we found, were closed.

We finally decided to drive to a nearby larger town and see if we could find anything there.  Then, we did the modern day problem solving technique (when you don't own a smart phone anyway)....we texted D-man and asked him to look on-line and see if he could actually find anything that was open and that looked good.  He found us a place that sounded good, but we couldn't find it.  Our car also doesn't have GPS either.

So, we resorted to the unthinkable....we actually called D-man on the phone, so he could describe the map to us on the phone. After a few false turns, we finally found this great little steak house in a strip mall by Rite Aid.  Despite its very odd location, it was really good.

We didn't try to have any big talks or discuss big lists on this anniversary.  We have done both of those before with mixed results.  Sometimes it has been fantastic and sometimes we have spent money to be at a B&B only to be completely annoyed with each other and our time filled with awkward silences!

This time, we were just together.  We just chatted about stuff we thought about.  The kids.  Work.  My writing.  Just chatting.  No "discussions".

It was nice.

I think we both had a good time.

We loved our inn keeper, Jenny, (by the way - small world moment here - after I booked with Jenny, I was looking on-line at reviews and things and found one from a friend of mine from church - who it turned out had been friends with Jenny since kindergarten!)  Rainman and I  decided Jenny had a very interesting, adventurous life.  Plus, she was super fun and super sweet.



She is also a caterer and has had some cool clients.

How you christen a room when you have been  married for 19 years.....like this....LOL!

Jenny left us yummy chocolate cake for our anniversary.  The frosting was like my mom's chocolate frosting.  That thick kind that hardens.   Yummmmmm......

The bathroom was spectacular.  Although it took Rainman a minute to figure out how to flush the toilet.  Apparently I have been in a lot more old houses than him because I coached him through what to look for from the hallway!

I was so excited about getting into this tub.  So excited.....

.....but, I was too tall for it to be comfortable.  I ended up having my knees up in my face, but, if you were a shorter person than me...it would have been fantastic!

There was even a music room, which, if we had had more time, I would have sat down and played the piano for a bit.

We sat outside on the porch for a bit.  It had a comfy love seat and this cool lighting.

Jenny served us a beautiful and delicious breakfast, but apparently I am showing my age again, because I just.... ate it when it came.....and didn't remember that I should have taken a picture of it until I was almost done.  It was far less pretty then.  So, use your imagination....

Jenny even sat with us for a bit and chatted.  We were in a hurry to get home because we had obligations and children waiting for us.  But, it was good.  It was really nice, just a bit more rushed than I would have liked.


If you are ever south of Atlanta, near Barnesville....check out the Rumble Seat Bed and Breakfast and say hi to Jenny.  Tell her I sent you.  She is awesome!

On a side note:  Remember she is a caterer too and she also does cooking classes and not just regular, old cooking classes...check this out...



...she also does destination classes.  Last year, she took a group to Tuscany for a week.  See?  Fun, adventurous life.