Chore Charts & Allowances for our Small Children

You guys had some great ideas on the post about chores and allowance.

Spice, about 1.5 yrs old.

I decided to sit down and write out the things the girls do (or need to do) daily.  This is what it looks like:

Sugar's Daily Chores (Sugar is 7)

Make bed.
Clean room.
Unload the dishwasher (this sometimes happens 3x per day!)
Feed the animals breakfast.
Sweep the bathroom floor.
Set the table for dinner.

Spice's Daily Chores (Spice is 4)

Make bed.
Clean room.
Unload the dishwasher.
Empty the bathroom garbage.
Feed the animals dinner.
Clear the dinner table.

Here is a breakdown of what they're required to do throughout the week:

For Sugar, along with her daily chores, her weekly chores look like this:

Monday:
Bring up the garbage can from the driveway.
Take out the kitchen garbage.

Tuesday:
Help Mama start laundry.
Help Mama fold laundry.
(Spice will put away)

Wednesday:
Take out kitchen garbage

Thursday:
Daily chores only

Friday:
Clean toilet
Help Mama put away laundry.
Take out kitchen garbage.

For Spice, along with her daily chores, her weekly chores look like this:

Monday:
Dust living room.
Vacuum entry carpet.

Tuesday:
Help Mama put laundry away.

Wednesday:
Vacuum entry carpet.

Thursday:
Daily chores only.

Friday:
Help Mama start laundry.
Help Mama fold laundry.
(Sugar will put away)
Clean bathroom sink.
Vacuum entry carpet.

So far I've only written this out on a sheet of paper (one time!) but plan to make a sticker chart.  They have to do the jobs whether they want to or not, but they will receive stickers when a job is completed with a happy heart.

If, at the end of the week, they have a full chart of stickers, they can pick a prize.

Redbox and popcorn night
Tea Party
30 minutes of televsion
Nintendo 64. (we're so old school)
Outing to the park
(i'm sure i'll think of more next to free prizes they can choose from)

Since I want them to learn about money, the saving, the giving, the spending - I've decided that there are certain jobs for which they can earn money.  Here are a few of those things:

Scooping the dog sh poop from our yard.  (no easy feat as there are four dogs who enjoy our yard for doing their bidness.)
Working on the rigs with their daddy.  Whether this is rotating tires, changing the oil, cleaning the inside or outside - this is a way they can earn money.
Yard work.  We have four lawns we take care of.  Our own, a widow down the road, Josh's parent's and his grandparent's lawn.  When we do work over there, if the girls should decide to help, they may earn money.
Every once in awhile my mother-in-law will ask me to clean her house for her for a few hours.  Usually I stick in a movie for the girls to watch or Josh's dad will take them on errands, but I've decided this is another way they can earn money.  If they decide to help rather than sit on their bums watching tv, they can pocket some cash.

At this point I'm not sure of the cash value of these jobs.  I want it to be enough that they'll be able to save for items they want without it taking three lifetimes to do so, but not so much that I'm killing my own bank account.

I'm really looking forward to implementing this with the girls and teaching them the value of hard work and hard work with a happy heart.  I pray that when they leave our home that they are hardworking women who know how to run a household, make money and know how to properly spend and save that which they've earned.

Work

Anonymous

Work while you work, 

Play while you play; 

This is the way

To be happy each day.

All that you do,

Do with your might;

Things done by halves

Are never done right.

Is paying your child for chores setting them up for disappointment as adults or a way to teach them the value of money?

Sugar spent the night with her cousin on Friday night.

I asked her if she had a good time and before I could even finish the sentence she says, "Sunshine has a chore chart, I want a chore chart!"

And that's basically all she's talked about since Saturday morning.

I've considered a chore chart for a couple of years now but I've never gotten serious about it.

My girls are already the primary dish washers and garbage taker-outers, and they help with laundry, vacuuming and dusting.  They also make their own beds and feed our animals.

Currently they are not getting paid for these things but are allowed to eat, sleep, and breathe here.

(As I type this I'm texting with my SIL and am thankful for her wisdom on the subject.)

The main reason I've struggled with whether or not to pay the girls for the help in running the household is because I fear it may be setting them up for disappointment.

I don't get paid for doing these things.  It is just part of running a home.

When they move out and take care of their homes are they going to expect that Mommy and Daddy are still going to pay them to take out the garbage?

On the flip side:

I want my girls to learn at an early age the value of hard work and the value of money.

So maybe an allowance and a chore chart is the answer?

However, what do I pay them for and what do I not?  Or do I pay them for everything but make the amount small so as not to break my own bank in allowance money?

This is where I ask for your advice, experience, and wisdom on the matters of chores and allowance.

What have you done or are currently doing with your child(ren) regarding chores and allowance? 

What has worked for your family?

What didn't work for your family?

I appreciate you taking the time to write your experiences with me.

Take THAT Christmas tree - I win this year, Yo

I'm not sure when the loathing of the Christmas tree began.

My earliest memories are watching my single mother try to saw the trunk (probably with a butter knife) and upright the tree in a stand only to watch her hours of effort come tumbling down.

Getting the Christmas tree wasn't something we necessarily looked forward to, it was just something we did because that's just something you do.  You know?

However, that's not the only reason I'm the world's biggest non-fan of the Christmas tree.  Let me try to explain.  (And after I explain you'll think I need to head to the nearest Strait-jackets R Us.)  Me telling you that the Christmas tree makes me feel claustrophobic does not make me sound normal.

Yet that's exactly how that freaking tree makes me feel every.single.year.

Claustrophobic.

The tree enters the house all while dropping needles along the way.

It's much larger than anticipated and (feels as though) it takes up the entire 15x17 living room.

It drops needles.

The cats are excited I brought in something for them to climb where it's warm.

It drops needles.

And the dog is excited that for a month he doesn't have to drink from the toilet, so I'm required to water the tree 37 freaking times per day.

Did I mention the needles that drop?

*shudder*

It makes me crazy.

(crazier)

This year I did the unthinkable and asked the husband for an artificial tree.  A fake tree.  Saying "artificial" is only to make those who buy those feel better.  But that's what it boils down to.  Fakery.  I hate fake trees but they're so pretty.  And you can find skinny ones that don't take up 15x17 living rooms!  And pre-lit too so you don't end up tangled in your tree while lighting it.

Not that that happens to me every year or anything.

(it so happens to me every year, I walk around the tree with the lights, get dizzy and end up becoming one with the tree.)

I was thinking the fake tree was my solution.  

Until I saw that I'd have to take out a second mortgage to purchase one.

Today I decided to get my craft on.  This isn't common as I am not a crafty person.  On Pinterest I even have a board called "Crafty Crap" because that is usually what something looks like after I have tried my hand at it.

But I decided I would not be daunted.

I would build myself a Christmas tree and one that would not send me running to the nearest padded room.

So I put on my sports bra (because that's when you know shiz 'bout to get serious) my jeans, scarf, hat and hoodie.  Oh, and a shirt.  I braved the area that is the husband's man cave and I found the handsaw.

The birch tree is near our iron fence, so I climbed three rungs, slipping only once, and wedged myself in the tree.  I started sawing away, one branch down and could hear a car slowing.  I look out and realize two cars have slowed down to watch me.  I am usually the people watcher but today I was the people watched.  No matter, carry on.  Two more branches that begged to come inside where it was warm.

I brought them in, washed them off, spruced (birched?) them up a bit (laugh, I'm funny!) and stuck them in a bucket that I picked up a few months ago alongside the road.  I put the bucket in the corner (Nobody puts Baby in a corner) and strung white lights all over 'er.  Only one Batman Band-Aid was used.

I'll wrap the bucket in burlap later, but here's the bad girl in all her glory:

So I found my own cure for the loathing of the Christmas tree.

No pills, therapy, or sacrificing of small animals required.

It's a Christmas miracle.

I went against everything my mother ever taught me and took candy from a stranger.

I saw Breaking Dawn last night.

But not with my sister.

I saw it with friends.  Friends I don't know super well but pretty sure I'm already in love with them.

(prefunk at Applebee's talking about giving birth, yoga pants, kids who cuss, and how different it is raising little boys to little girls)

We got to the theater and apparently they'd sold more tickets than they had seats, so the six of us were split up and some of us were put in folding chairs. It's possible the powers that be at the movie theater knew we were coming and planned this ahead of time.  

I got an end seat next to a guy didn't know.  He was with some friends and paid no attention to me when I sat down.

Hello, I don't like not being paid attention to.

So I put my arm around the back of his chair.  Uh huh.  I did.  And leaned as close to him as I could.

Still he paid no attention to me.  Eh.  Whatev.  I kept my arm around him anyway.  Even pretended I was going to rub his back a couple of times when he leaned forward - but I refrained.  I promise.

He finally acknowledged me and I commented on his candy choice.  Reese's Pieces.

I told him I hadn't seen Reese's Pieces in a long time.

So he shared his with me.  Yes.  Yes, he did.

At one point one of his friends asked me if I was Team Edward or Team Jacob.  

"Team Jacob, duh.  Because who likes a white guy?"  They laughed and gave me knuckles.

(Taylor Lautner is white, btw, according to Google. But plays a Native American in the movie)

The movie was fun.  

My friends, the ones I showed up with and my new one, Ricardo, were what made my night, though.

Good. Times.

Pay before ya Graze: The Follow Up

Based on the comments I received via my FB status, emails sent, and the comments on my pet peeve post, I'd say it was pretty evenly split on how people felt about grazing on food in the grocery store before they purchased it.

Some do it.

Some don't.

Others just don't care.

None of the ideas presented to me in favor of eating unpaid for food changed my mind about thinking it's okay to do it.

Until Josh's idea.

"Maybe it'd make your trips to Wal*Mart bearable if you opened a 6 pack while you shopped and paid for it once you got to the register."

The man's a genius.

Done.

Pet Peeve #975 Grocery store snackers

Last night I ran into Wal*Mart {shudder} to grab some beer and frozen food and a RedBox.

(Considered getting my hair cut and oil changed too but honestly I'd rather shove bamboo shoots up my fingernails than be in that store any longer than I hafta.)

While I'm in line with my goods, there are two women in front of me with a 2-3 year old little boy in the cart. He has an opened package of Funyuns.

An opened, unpaid for package of Funyuns.

{shudder}

I see this often.

More often than I like.

And I'm sorry if this is something you do, I'm not trying to offend anyone at all.

But maybe you haven't thought about it, it's just something your mom did and her mom before her.

I just don't think it's right.  Why?

Because that's not your food yet.  

I get it. You intend to purchase it, but at this point, while you're walking around the grocery store munching away, it's not yours.

"But I'm going to pay for it!"  You argue.

Right.

But let's say you get to the register and the cash you thought you had isn't there?  Or your debit/credit/EBT card doesn't work?  And you just happen to be outta checks too.

You've already eaten the food and now you can't pay.

Uh.  Now what?

Maybe you've never had an issue.  You always have a way to pay for the food you've already eaten.

Honestly, I don't think it matters.  You're still eating something that isn't yet yours.

And that's just not right.

Pay before ya graze, folks.  Pay before ya graze.

Do you eat food in the grocery store before you've purchased it?  Do you wait?  What are your thoughts?

sometimes the mess isn't so beautiful

The 2012 election is over.

I sat on the couch with my phone, laptop, and the television.  I ignored my family while I watched the results.  There wasn't a sense of panic this election the way I had four years ago.  I think because just a few days before the election I re-read my post from four years ago and Josh's words from that day were a comfort to me.  That God is our ultimate Commander in Chief.  So who am I to worry?

As I re-read that post I saw my own heart.  My faith.  Four years ago it was so much stronger than it is today.  I hate admitting that.

But it's the truth.

Four years ago I read my bible more.  Not much more, but now my daily reading is Sunday reading as I'm in church.  Four years ago I applied Sunday's sermon with my day to day.  Now I listen to the sermon half-heartedly and find myself thinking about what to put on the grocery list and, will Josh stop at Starbucks on the way home without me asking or not.

Over the last couple of  years I have made some positive changes to my life.  But I've made negative changes as well and isn't it funny how negative can outweigh positive?  No, it's not funny.  Yet it's how it's working in my life at the moment.

You're probably reading this and wondering what the heck.  That's okay.  I'm mostly writing to get all these thoughts outta my head that have been making me crazy.  Crazier.

The other day I was so frustrated.  My heart hurt so badly.  I threw my phone across the room and dented the wall.

And then I wept.  Not for the wall.  Or my phone.  But because I just needed to let my heart spill through tears.

I'm really mature for 32.  Obvs.

I get so frustrated with myself.  I am this mess of a girl.

I love my husband and I adore my sweet baby girls.

I love my mom and my word how I love my sisters even when they don't speak to me.

I would not be the person I am without the amazing friends God has blessed me with since I was 14 years old and moving to yet another new school.

I have rockstar in-laws, that if not for them, sometimes I feel as if I would have no family at all.

The biggest area where I'm so frustrated with myself is that I love Jesus but to meet me now or just a couple of years ago, I wonder if you'd even know that.

I'm failing all the people I've listed above.

I tell God that today's the day.  Today I live for Him.  Today I'll do it different.  And days will go by and we're tight.  We're good.  And then I screw up and I when I screw up I don't mess around, I screw up big.  And I wonder how on earth I can train these girls of mine when here I am.  Like this.

With tears and snot running down my face while I type this, two sets of innocent eyes are looking up to me and asking, "Mama, why are you crying?"

I don't want to worry them.

So I'm going to go snuggle them.

Thanks for letting me lay out my heart.

If you're looking for me, I'm the girl struttin' my stuff.

Last night I took myself on a date.

I went to the mall and to Target.

And I spent a lot of money.  And I have no remorse.

Which is the first miracle.

Second miracle is one of the things I bought.

In high school I had a certain boyfriend who would often refer to me as "perky" and he wasn't talking about my attitude.  (such a nice thing for a boy to call his girlfriend, no?)

Because back in high school they were perky.

Were as in past tense.

As in they aren't perky anymore.

Amazing what nursing a coupla kids for a year can do.  I'd trip over them if I wasn't careful.

Last night I went into Victoria's Secret and I found this miracle bra.  It's a push-up bra.

I've seen them before but there's all this padding in there and I really just don't need anymore boobage so I've never tried one on, assuming it was going to make me look like Dolly Parton.  Friends!  Had I known that the padding doesn't make you any bigger, just boosts the bosom, I'da bought these years ago!

I put the bra on.  Then I put on my shirt and I was pretty taken with myself.

Hmm.

Not too shabby for Sarah!

So yeah.  I'm all perked again.  Totally can't tell that my boobs normally hang below my belly button.  I'm stoked.  Pretty sure I'll never buy any other bra again.

Apparently she views this place as a prison?

This morning during school I was talking to the girls about safety.  Sugar's health book is so old that it says to pick up the phone and dial '0' in an emergency.  I didn't read that part to her but I laughed out loud when I read it to myself.

I totally picture a rotary phone too.

Anyway, I ask the girls what number they need to call in an emergency,

Sugar: 911

Me: And when they ask your location, what do you say?

Spice: In jail.

I couldn't get through these school days without her.  She makes them fun.  She makes them memorable.

Friday Random

i did not wake up to a dead, headless bird this morning.

i'm getting the silent treatment.

i went to Portland on Wednesday with amber and my kids.  we were in Portland for a whole 2 hours.  it was a fun, quick trip.  and we ended up in a neighborhood where we were pretty sure we were going to end up in a dumpster.  but the address was right.  and we didn't die.  so that's a plus.

today is my mom's birthday.  it's so weird to not celebrate with her.  1,000 miles separates us.  when i'm rich i'm totally going to own my own plane.

i don't love that it's cold outside but i sure do love the fall with all its beautiful colors.

i wonder if it's possible to have a healthy, functional, happy family.  like when everyone is all grown up and gone.  do families love each other and talk to each other and take care of each other?  do they get together and everyone plays nice?  because i want that for my little family of four.  i want my girls to be best friends as adults.  i want them to love their brothers-in-law.  i want my girls to want to hang out with josh and me.  i want to go to their homes and love on them and their kids and then shove them outta the house so they can go on dates with their husbands while josh and i take care of our grandkids.  josh and i talk about it often.  we're trying to cultivate these relationships with our kids now.  and our prayer is for a happy, healthy adult family.

the colors in my kitchen make me happy.

my curtains in my living room make me happy.

my empty starbucks cup hurts my heart.

sugar bought a tattoo at the grocery store yesterday.  she wanted it on her right calf.  just like her mama.  i'm so proud.  pretty sure she'll be getting a tattoo as soon as she's 18.  i'll be right there cheering her on.

josh asked if i was going to pierce my nose now that i'm not going to get dreads.  he hates nose piercings but said he figured he'd have to give somewhere.  i thought i'd make it a goal to lose another 7 lbs, putting me at 115 and then i'd go get the piercing.  but honestly, i have zero desire to lose any more weight and i've been at 122 for over a year.  might just go get the piercing.

okay, i need to get lunch made.  this randomness is over.

you're welcome.

It's so nice when someone else makes breakfast. Except when it's the cat.

This morning, at my bedside was my seven year old wearing gloves.

And holding a dead bird.  A dead, headless bird.

Sugar (7): "Mama, I didn't do anything.  But Ruby brought this bird in the house and there are feathers all over.  Oh, and it doesn't have its head.  Can we bury it?"

Spice (4): "Hey, remember that bunny that peed on you?  We buried him too."

Me (32):  much laughter.

Sugar: "So what's for breakfast?"

I'm thinking bird.  Bird is what's for breakfast.

Knowing when to say when.

Nearly two years ago my husband got this amazing idea to move our staircase over in order to make our kitchen larger.

I love to cook.  We both love to eat.

And invite people over.

However, my small kitchen made it difficult to entertain more than a couple of people at our small dining table.

So when Josh told me his idea, I liked it, definitely.  But I thought he had gone crazy.  Move the staircase?  Really?

Yes, really.  So he and his best friend Jim went to work moving our stairs.  (Jim's a huge life saver!)  Stairs have been moved for quite some time.  My kitchen is twice the size it was and it's now much easier to invite a crowd over.

We have room enough for everyone.

But.

(you knew that was coming, right?)

But even though the stairs have been moved and my peninsula thingy (not quite an island) is built, my drywall is up, the room has not been finished.

For two years I have looked at bare drywall.  It's driving me crazy.  Crazier, perhaps.  Drywall is one of those jobs that just sucks.  I can do it.  Josh can do it.  We both hate it.  So instead of just tackling it, we've put it off and put it off.

I finally asked Josh last Saturday if I could hire someone to just finish the drywall.  At first he didn't like the idea.  He wanted to be the one to finish the job.  I understood but pointed out that if we hired it done, it'd get done much faster and then he could focus on other projects that he actually wants to do.

So he agreed.

And the heavens rejoiced.

My friend Tommy showed up a couple of days ago, busted out some drywall moves and in no time I'm going to be able to texture and paint this room.

My countertop still needs to be glued down, there's still a cabinet to build for my double oven, and a 6" cupboard that needs to be built, but the biggest headache for us, the drywall, is just about done.

By the end of the day that part of this two year project will finally be complete.

While difficult to hand over part of this project to someone who hasn't been a part of this on-going kitchen saga, it was just time.  It was time to say when.

And it's been the best money I've ever spent.

hard parenting moment. hard kid moment.

During school on Monday of last week, in Sugar's Health book she learned a little about mistakes.  That everyone makes them.

And that sometimes we can fix them and sometimes we cannot.

We didn't know that it was a foreshadowing of the next day's events.

The girls and I had gone to TC for an appointment, I had planned to run several errands after the appointment but due to the pain I was in from my wisdom teeth extraction and the events at a certain store, we didn't run more than the one errand.

I wanted to stop at Craft Warehouse to load up on art supplies.  We're putting goods in the cart, I'm on the phone with Josh telling him how the appointment went and then we check out and head home.

It's a 45 minute drive home and we're half way into the drive home when I look in the rear view mirror and see Spice (4) hand a little colored pebble to Sugar (7).  A colored pebble that I know does not belong to us.

"Where did that come from?" I asked.

"Sugar got it."  Spice pipes up.

Both girls look sheepish.

The pebble came from the craft store.

I didn't buy a pebble while I was there.

"Sugar, did you take that pebble?"

"Yes.  It was on the floor."

I told her that that didn't matter.  It wasn't ours.  We didn't pay for it.  I explained to her that she stole it.  She took something that was not hers.  And that she had to return it.  Her eyes got panicky.  Then the tears started to flow.

We were 20 miles from the craft store.  25 from home.  And I just so wanted to be home.

But going home wasn't nearly as important as the life lesson we were about to experience.

We took the next exit on the freeway and turned around.  As we drove back to the store I explained to her that when we got there we would go inside, she'd have to ask to see a manager and tell them what she did.

She cried the whole way back to the store and kept telling me she couldn't do it.

I explained that she wouldn't be alone.  That I'd be right there with her.  I asked if she remembered how we learned about mistakes.  She nodded.  I told her that just like the book said, sometimes we can fix our mistakes and that this was one of those times.  She could right her wrong by confessing what she did and giving back the pebble.

It was a long walk across the parking lot.

We entered the store, asked for a manager and when he approached she thrust out her hand and said, "I stole this."

I asked if she had anything else she'd like to say.

"I'm sorry."

The guy was kind.  He thanked her for giving it back.  I asked him if there was anything else we needed to do and he shook his head.

We left the store and Sugar burst into tears again.

"Mama, Mama, I'm so sorry I did that."  I hugged her and told her I forgave her.

It wasn't easy going back in there.  For either of us.  I had a kid who stole something, what does that say about me as a parent?  And she had to confess to a grown up that she had taken something that wasn't hers.

Later I sent my mom a text.  I thanked her for that day when I was little and had taken candy from the store and she made me take it back.  I realized last week how hard that must have been for her to do.  But I'm so thankful she did.

Being a kid is tough.  Being a parent is tougher still.

to know my husband, is to be blessed by him

This post is just a glimpse into the heart of the man I'm married to...on his 35th birthday.

He likes to take care of everyone, do anything for anybody and fly under the radar while he's at it.

You hear the expression, "he'd give the shirt off his back" and you kinda take it as a metaphor.

My husband would literally give the shirt off his back if someone needed it.  He'd give anything he had if it meant he was helping someone.

Who pulls his semi over in northern California during the winter time to help two women on the side of the road?

That'd be Josh.

One time we were headed to a friend's house to help them move and on the way there was a girl broke down on the side of the freeway.  She was from Seattle, she was four hours from home.  Josh loaded her and car up, we took her to our house for the night and took her and her car home the next day.

Who works a 14 hour day, comes home and gets on the floor to play CandyLand with his four year old?

Mhm...Joshua.

Another time Josh was over the road in his semi he came upon a guy his age in California.  The guy was from Seattle and had left his wife and four stair-step kiddos 4 and under.  Josh brought him to our house (we live in WA) gave him work, food and then reunited him with his family.

Who takes my crazy Pinterest ideas and puts them to action in the form of a swing outside?

My husband.

The neighbor kids come here when they have flat tires on their bikes, can't start their lawnmower, and once last summer one of them had a nail in his foot - asked Josh if he would take it out.

Our neighbors got in a car accident a few years ago and their Suburban had to be in the shop for a couple of months.  So Josh gave them our '99 Suburban to use for as long as they needed.

Josh has always told me that though we don't have a ton, what we do have he feels blessed with and that there's no point in having the things we do if we're not going to use them to serve and help others.

There are countless stories of the ways he's taken care of his family, his friends and strangers.

I'm beyond blessed by Josh.  I think anyone who knows him would say they are too.

If you wanna share something about Joshua, please feel free to leave a comment or email me.  It'll totally embarrass him but what a fun birthday present, huh?  Way better than the tools I got him for sure.

Dreadlocks Saga

Saturday night I woke up around 2 in the morning and could not go back to sleep until 5.

Three hours awake with oneself in the middle of the night and you can solve a lot of the world's problems.

At least my little world's problems.

Of the 5,273 things I thought about in that amount of time, a conversation from a couple of years ago between Josh and me came to mind.

Me: What was the first thing you noticed about me when we met?

Him: Your hair.  I really liked your hair.

And it was in that moment I realized I couldn't do dreads. (cue sigh of relief from about 99% of you)

Josh has basically resigned himself to the dreadlocks.  But has never been supportive of the idea, and why would he?  His favorite physical feature of mine is going - in his mind - to look nasty.

I laid there thinking, "but it's my hair. MY HAIR."  

So I thought about my favorite physical feature of Josh's.

His hands.

{his back and those muscles on his back are a very close second}
{oooh, and his arms.}

I have always loved his hands.  The nails are clipped just right but there is always, always grease under them.  The lines in his hands are dark.  And no matter how much he washes them, they always look worked.

They are rough, man hands.

And what if one day he decided to mar (and that seems such a strong word to use but best describes his feelings toward the dreads) his hands in such a way, because it was something he wanted to try out, resulting in my not liking them?

It would hurt my heart.

I have hurt that man's heart enough in our years of marriage.  Sometimes accidentally.  Sometimes purposefully.

I'm done hurting his heart on purpose.

For once I'm going to put his thoughts and feelings ahead of my own and I'm going to leave my hair alone.

Am I sad?  You bet.  But I'd feel worse doing something that made Josh sad.

I'm so over surgery

I had surgery in 2007.  Twice.  Within two weeks of each other.

Then I had surgery in 2011.

And then I had surgery last week.  Last week's was just the surgery to remove my wisdom teeth but let me tell ya, it's been a doozie.  I'm kind of over going under anesthesia and the knife.

I had to have all four removed.  Only one was through about 60%.

The rest were cut and dug out.

Three have healed just fine.  One, though, has been trying to kill me.

I went to Tri-Cities on Tuesday for an appointment and was going to do my grocery shopping and run errands but it was cut short due to the pain I was in, I just couldn't focus on the tasks I needed to get done.
Then I wake up yesterday morning and was actually in tears because the pain was so intense.  Josh looked at me and said that I looked like the times I've come out my big surgeries.  Death.

I have a high tolerance to pain but this has been getting to me.  I ended up taking two of my pain meds throughout the day yesterday (none today, I'm toughing it out).  This morning I called my dentist to see if he could see me and tell me if I've messed something up in there.

Bless his heart he took the time to see me.

Thankfully, everything looks great.  I'm thinking it's the lack of "taking it easy" that the oral surgeon prescribed me.

How does a mother ever just "take it easy"? It isn't possible.  Not really.

But yesterday I basically did nothing.  Today I didn't do much either.  We've gotten school done and have managed to keep the kitchen clean.  Everything else has pretty much gone to pot.

So, you're welcome to come over, just pretty please bring dinner, some alcohol and clean my house while you're here.

The day we moved our deck.

This post deserves pictures.  Lots of pictures.  But I currently don't have any.  So you get words.  And it's early and I haven't had a full cup of coffee and there will probably be even more run on sentences than normal.

Josh didn't have to go to work yesterday because he has to work Saturday.  We were talking about all the things we needed to get done or wanted to get done for the day and for some reason I blurted out, "I wish our deck was on the east side of the house, so I can have a front porch."

Many of you know, but some of you may not, my issues with front doors.  I like to know where the door is of every place I'm going to.  Houses, places of business, etc.  So when we looked at this place 13 years ago, one of the biggest complaints I had was that when you pull up you don't really know where the front door is. I've seen people walk all the way around our house to the backyard and come up to the back door before.

I hate that feeling when I'm that person looking for the door.

Side note: Last week I was meeting friends for Monday Night Football, I was going to be a few minutes late and I get a text saying, "in the bar, first table on the right when you walk in."

This is a friend who gets my issues.  I laughed at the text but was so thankful.

(side note was just to show how awesome my friends are and to help you understand my issues.)

Back to the door at our house.

Our front door faces east.  Faces a carport.  When you pull up to our house, you see the north side of it (but you're facing south) so you don't see the front door.  And there's not really a porch so you just can't tell where you're supposed to go.

It drives me crazy.

Plus, no porch to decorate all cute and welcoming.

So I blurt out that I want our deck on the other side of the house and Josh grabs his tape measure and says it'll fit.

And seven hours, some ratchet straps, jack stands, a flatbed trailer, and a whole lot of head scratching later, it's moved around our house.  It was dark when we finally got it to the front of the house so the neighbors didn't see it last night.  Can't imagine what they're going to think in a few minutes when they head outside to leave for work and our deck is sitting in our driveway on the flatbed.

It's hilarious.

And so redneck.

I love that Josh just does.

I love that he can do anything.

I love that any idea I give him, any dream I have about our house, he makes it happen.

Yes, we have a kitchen that needs to be finished.  Yes, we have two rigs in our driveway with engine issues. Yes, there's a whole lot of other stuff that could have been done yesterday.

We just chose to do something else instead.  And I've found when Josh has a break from what he has to do, to do something he wants to do, it energizes him.  It pumps him up for the projects he knows he needs to get done.

So the kitchen and the engines, they got pushed back a day, but he'll get to those too.

While I decorate my new front porch.

I'm gonna be me...dreadfully me.

"This is so you."

"I saw this shirt and knew it was you."

"I don't like it, you probably do though, huh?"

"This just says, 'Sarah' all over it."

I've heard these words a lot since I was a teenager from family and friends.  And a lot in the last few years. Stuff that I like is different from stuff that "normal" people like.  I don't just have one style.  Most of what I like is off.  Or random.  I mix it up.  I'm a country girl who likes Wrangler butts (love that my husband wears 'em everyday) but I'm also the girl who buys a Mexican head to replace her family picture on an end table.  I love bright colors and I love muted tones.  I love whimsical clothes and I love prom dresses.  I'm drawn to country decor and modern too.  But the decor in my house right now is neither.  It's a mix of hand me downs and thrift store finds with a little Ikea and Pier 1.

I like what I like.  And usually what I like, another person will not.  I'm okay with it.  But it's taken me a long time to get to this point.

When I was 16 and dating Eric, he and I drove up to Safeway (the old one in GV) and when we pulled into the parking spot, in front of the store was a girl wearing clothes that reminded me of how Ellen Degeneres  dressed back in the mid 90s.  Baggyish bottoms, button down shirt, Vans.

This girl was beautiful.  Simple.  Dark, almond shaped eyes.  Thin.

And she'd shaved her head.  Not scalp shaved but not much longer.

I told Eric, "I'm doing that.  I love her hair."  Or lack there of... He just took my hand and we went into the grocery store and I'm not sure what he bought me, but most likely candy.

After Safeway, we went back to his house and we walk in and his dad is home.

"Hey, Dad.  Guess what.  Sarah's gonna shave 'er head."  I coulda hit him.  In fact, I probably did.

Pat looks me dead on and says, "You shave your head, I'm not taking you on vacation with us."  The vacation we were to leave on in just a couple of weeks.

And if you know Pat, you know that look.  That tone of voice.  And at the time I was closer to him than my own dad and what he said - went.

So I didn't shave my head before vacation and I never ended up shaving it after vacation.  I spent most of the summer of 1996 under their roof so I kept my hair to keep my relationship with Pat.

side note:  I miss Pat and Sharlene, and my time spent in their home.

During high school I wasn't the girl who cared about her hair. Most of the time I'd shower, let it dry and stick the frizzy mess in a pony.  My hair wasn't straight, nor was it curly.  It was just plain dirty dish water blonde and I wasn't a fan.

I don't know what happened but in my early 20s my hair completely changed.  It got curly.  And then I chopped it and it got even curlier and I was in love.  Besides my natural frizz (contain your jealousy) I really like my hair.  It's easy.  I get out of the shower, put my hair in a t-shirt for 45 minutes and then call it good.

But for several years there's been another hairstyle I love.  One that isn't too popular.  And geez has it caused an uproar lately as I've posted to FB what I want to do.



I'm sure there aren't many people who look at this picture the way that I do, but when I first found it on Pinterest, it made me catch my breath.  It's beautiful and free and

and me.

I've been so fascinated and drawn to dreads since I was about 14 or so.  

But even more so now.

I'm not someone who researches stuff.  If I like something I buy it.  I'm an impulsive person.

However, I've decided to start researching dreadlocks and the more I read, the more fascinated I've become.

There are a lot of misconceptions about dreads.  The main reason I haven't done them sooner is that I had heard that when you were done with them, to get them out, you had to shave your head.  And while a shaved head is what I wanted at 16, it's not really the look I'm going for at 32.

So, contrary to popular belief, you do not have to shave your head when you're through with them.  But it will take a vat of conditioner and a patient friend to comb them out.

The site I've been reading at is here in case you're interested.

I've started prepping my scalp by not washing my hair the last couple of days.  I'll wash it every three days for the next month or so while I wait for the products I'm going to order.

When asked why I'd want to do this, my answer is simple.  I just do.  I love how it looks.  Whenever I see someone with dreads, I'm drawn to them.

And lately another reason I want them is to kill the stereotype that so many seem to have about dreads.  That a person is dirty, that they smell.  Sure there are folks with dirty dreads but there's folks without dreads with nasty hair.  Right?  Right.  I'm still going to shower.  I'm still going to wash my hair.

I'm still going to be me.

And in the midst of less than encouraging words, I was thrilled to see this text today from Treena, my sister-in-law:

"Honestly...I like them and I can see you in them.  I know you and I know you will do them."

Thank you.

I'm not 100% sure this is happening, as Josh is not 100% on board.  But I'm prepping my hair just in case.

And I'm getting pretty stoked.

Pinterest Life vs. Real Life

I'm a big fan of Pinterest.  Big.  You can follow me here if you'd like.

Pinterest makes everyone's lives look so glamorous.  Or maybe everyone's lives, but mine, are glamorous.

I've always tried to "keep it real" here on my blog and today is no different.  I thought it'd be funny to show Pinterest's version of three different life events and my version of those same events.

Number One: Engagement/Save the Date Photos {Pinterest Version}

Source: Pinterest

This couple is super adorable.  I'm guessing mid to late 20s, they're done with college and they've got it all together.

Engagement/Save the Date Photos {My Real Life Version}

Source:   A cute little frame in my house

Who doesn't get engaged at 17 and use their prom pictures as their engagement photos?!  Okay, so we didn't use the prom pics as engagement pics but we could have!  Seriously.  17.  Engaged. (whole nother blog post) While the couple in the first photo is probably most concerned about mortgages and careers, I'm just hoping I'm going to get my high school diploma!

Next...

Number Two:  Maternity Pictures {Pinterest Version}

Source: Klicken Photos via Pinterest

Does this girl not have the cutest pregnant belly?  In her size two jeans.  I admit it, I'm envious.  My jeans are unbuttoned too right now but that's because I ate a candy bar and two slices of pizza for lunch.  With a beer.

Maternity Pictures {My Real Life Version}

Source: My scrapbook

Yes, folks.  That's yours truly.  About one week before giving birth.  Yes, I went to Safeway looking like that.  No, I didn't know that my belly was showing underneath.  I'm a hot mess.  Also, didn't know I had stretch marks until a few days before this when my sister pointed them out.  Thanks, Meg.

I'm so glad Pinterest wasn't around when I was pregnant because I would have wondered why I was the only pregnant chick with cankles, stretch marks and EEE boobs.  

And finally...

Number Three: Gender Reveal Invitations/Parties {Pinterest Version}

Quite a few of my friends are pregnant right now and they are pinning some of the most fun gender reveal ideas!

Source: Pizzazzerie.com via Pinterest

Out of all the ones I've seen lately, this one is probably my fave.  Love the mustache and lips.  So cool.

Gender Reveal Invitations/Parties {My Real Life Version}

The gender reveal parties for my girls were in the delivery room.  Pretty sure not even my husband was thrilled to see those gender reveals.  

You're welcome for not receiving an invite to that party.

this that and some other

I started a post on "Mommy Guilt" and quickly got rid of it.  The post, not the guilt.

I've decided to purchase a cow on my next to trip to the grocery store to keep up with all the butter and cream that is required to make the Pioneer Woman's recipes.

My kids aren't napping anymore.

I just died a little bit admitting that.

I was encouraging a friend today to not believe lies that can sometimes fill our heads (either words we think up or are said to us) when all of a sudden I was hit with the reminder of being told, "you're a fat, selfish, snob" and I had to quickly remind myself  that those words are lies.  They were then.  They are now.

I just slammed my girls' bedroom door.  Because I'm mad.  Whew.  Glad I got that off my chest.

At a stop sign a coupla days ago Spice says, "it's clear, Mama!" so I go.  And then she says, "Mama, what's 'clear' mean?"  I laughed so hard.  Good thing I'd checked and knew that it actually was clear.

Saturday night Josh and I came home from a wedding, started a fire in the woodstove out on the deck, turned up my dad's 1970's Kenwood stereo, grabbed a beer (or 2) made some popcorn and danced and sang with our girls.  It was one of my favorite nights of the summer.

I have a terrible memory.  I remember the most random stuff, usually numbers, but I never remember important stuff.  Like my childhood.  I was talking to Josh about it the other day and there's just so little I remember.  Bugs me.

Clifford just meowed.  He wants outside.

Amber and I are going to collaborate on a book with letters to future selves.  Letters to us as the mothers of adult daughters.  To remind us of the types of mothers-of-adult-daughters we want to be.  We'll likely be the only ones to read it but that's okay.  I will read and re-read that bad girl so that I am the type of mama my girls want to be around and come to for advice or just to talk or sit or whatever with when they are adult women.

I'm having my wisdom teeth out soon.

I've been baking up a storm lately.  Not sure what my deal is.  I wore my apron to the grocery store by accident last week.  To be honest I'm more embarrassed about the apron in public than the prom dress.  Maybe because the apron was an accident and the prom dress so wasn't.

I'm putting us back on a budget.  Which means less driving around.  Less spending.  Less being fun.

I overhead Sugar say to Spice, "let's pretend we're sisters and we like each other."  To some it would be funny.  For me it hits too close to home.

We started school yesterday.  Can ya tell?



The other night my sister and BIL were over and the kids were playing.  Spice hit her head on the coffee table and started to cry.  I picked her up to check her over and Jerry said, "she's bleeding."  Sure enough there was  a lot of blood.  I panicked.  I looked at Meg and said, "what do I do?"  She grabbed Spice and said, "you give her to me."

Megan and Jerry both used to volunteer with a local fire department and both are trained for situations like this and I was so glad they were there.

It was amazing to see my sister in action.  She took Spice, set her on the counter, looked it over and determined that while it was deep, she was fine.  I would have been fuhlipping out had they not been there.  We put pressure on it and within no time the bleeding had stopped. I would have rushed that kid to the ER for stitches.  She was her chipper little self within the hour and has been just fine.  I haven't been able to brush her hair though because some of it is stuck in the scab.  Yum, huh?  You're welcome.

Josh put in a 14 hour day yesterday.  I love that he's not lazy.  He never complains but is always saying he's so thankful for his job.  I love that he's a hard worker.  I love that he doesn't expect or depend on anyone else to provide for our family.

That's hot.

We're a lot of things but mostly we're a good time

Have you heard about the Taylor Bridge fire?

The fire broke out on August 13th and burned over 23,000 acres and destroyed over 60 homes.  It took over 16 days to contain and over 1,000 firefighters. (be still my heart)

A few weeks ago my friend Jessica linked to a fun run fundraiser for the Red Cross, with donations going to those affected by the Taylor Bridge fire.

I signed myself up and told Amber we should do it together.

In our prom dresses.

She agreed.  Signed up.  And for the last couple of weeks we've had banter back and forth on FB or texting talking about this 5K (3ish miles) that we'd be doing in our prom dresses.  We've had friends comment, some disbelieving we'd really do it, laughing with and at us.  We've had friends not comment at all, believing - with eyes rolled - that we would.

It's best to not doubt our ridiculousness.

It knows no bounds.

Saturday morning I woke at 5 with a bit of anxiety.  The anxiety wasn't over the running of three miles in a prom dress, it was over wondering what people were thinking of us.

I woke Josh up and asked him if we were stupid.  Like, stupid stupid.  (I know we're silly stupid)

He says, "no, you guys are fun.  And you're putting the fun in fundraiser."

I laid back down and thought a lot about it.  About what you might be thinking of me.  Of us.  And our silly prom dresses.

It ends with me not caring.

But it started this way:

You might think us irresponsible.  But does irresponsible work 40+ hours per week to raise two kids on your own?  Because that's what Amber does.  Does irresponsible homeschool and keep house for a family of four?  Because that's what I do.

If so, yes, we're irresponsible.

You might be thinking we're 32 and need to grow up.

To that I say, see above.  We're grown ups.  We're just really fun grown ups.  There's so much seriousness to our lives.  There's drama we'd rather not have.  There's junk we'd rather not be dealing with.  So if we have the opportunity bring some excitement, silliness and fun to it - you bet we're gonna do that.

After seeing our dresses (they're strapless) many people were concerned how we'd run without the dresses falling down.  Do you really think we'd run with dresses falling off?  C'mon.  Give us a little credit.  I had joked that we were finally going to be famous if those dresses came down.  Fully knowing they were not going to fall down (and that my fame will have to come another way, dang it).  Rest assured, the dresses kept us covered at all times.  Much to some people's relief and other's disappointment.

Life is too short to take everything too seriously.

Loosen up.

Have some fun.

Do something silly out of your comfort zone.

Like run 3 miles in a prom dress for a fundraiser.

We like to have fun.  We like to be silly.  We like to make other people laugh.

So laugh with or at us all you want.

Just don't be judgey.  

It's my best friend's birthday

I was reading some of my blog posts from a couple of years back and found one from when Amber and I were on our "break".  This isn't really a time that we talk about.  Like, ever.  I don't know about for her but for me that was a really painful time and I'd just rather not re-live it.  Why bring it up if we don't need to?

Anyway.  Since we don't talk about that time, we don't have a name for that time so I'm just going to say it was during our break that I had written this post.  And in the post I'm talking about how I don't have a best friend and I remember writing it and how much it hurt to say those words.  Yeah, sometimes as I'm typing I'll say the words aloud.

Saying, "Right now I don't have a best friend" is freaking painful.

I remember the ache.  I remember the hurt.  I remember just wanting to reach out to her but not knowing how.  The longer that you let things go, the harder it is.  I wish I'd reached out to her the very next day and apologized.  Maybe it woulda helped.  Maybe it wouldn't have.  Maybe we needed that year to grow separately.

I don't know.

I just know that God has reasons for stuff, allows stuff to happen and I'm not going to regret that time or mourn that time, I just rejoice that it's over.  I'm thankful that I've had her back in my life for the last two years and I know that I never ever wanna be without her again.

"but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." Proverbs 18:24

Amber has been that for me.  She's been closer to me than family.  She's was there during the whole appendicitis/cancer surgery and morning sickness, my postpartum crazy, and my days when I wanna just up and leave the world.

She gets me and loves me.

Sometimes I wonder if she stays close to me just for my husband.  It's no secret that the day I die is the day she moves in.  It's sort of a joke.

But mostly it isn't.  I asked Josh if he was okay with Amber moving in after I kick the bucket and he says, "do I have a choice?"  He just knows.  She'll be here.

Besides Josh, Amber is probably one of the least selfish people I know.  You need something, she's there.  I'm the type of person that I want someone to tell me what they need from me so I can do it.  Amber's the girl who gets in there and just does.

She does the dishes, she loves on the kids, she brings the coffee, she sits and listens, she makes inappropriate jokes.

She makes me happy.

Our former yoga instructor told me a few weeks ago, and I kid you not, these were his exact words, "you guys would make great lesbians, you love each other so much."

I loved it.  It's true.  We do love each other so much.

I love that we can get in the car and have no destination, we just know to turn up the radio and drive.  I love that Thursdays mean yoga and Bern's.  We work our butts off for an hour and then go drink a beer and we catch up on the week and interrupt each other and laugh at each other and get pissed with each other.  I love that we joke about skipping class and going just straight for beer but we don't do it because we love yoga just as much.

I love that we go to Ross and pull every ridiculous prom dress off the hangers, try them on in the dressing room, take pictures and then post them to FB to display our ridiculousness.  I love that we bought the last ones.  I love that we've signed up for a 5K and we're going to wear them while we run.

I love that we both have issues with being on time for stuff.  And on time equals 15 minutes early.  For everything.  Always.

When someone isn't nice to me on FB I know that all I have to do is tell Amber and she'll fix it.  She always has the right comeback.  The right words.  And she's not afraid to use 'em.  Where I'm the chickenshit, she's the brave one.

She's raised two fantastic daughters.  I love how well they play with my girls.  I love that her 11 year old is sassier and smarter than us already. Though it does worry me...

I love that Amber calls Josh "our husband" because that's what he is.  He'd do anything for her.

"What did we do before Amber?"  Is a line Josh has said many times.

I don't know.  I don't ever wanna know.

you don't ever have another best friend like that first one you have when you know who you are in life.

Happy Birthday, Amber.  32 is our year, chick.  We're gonna get it together.

In our prom dresses.

I love you.

Thursday Random

i'm finally finding the decorating me.  no.  i cannot decorate.  but i'm finding, finally, what i like.  and it's a lot of color and maybe a lot of color that doesn't necessarily go together and i'm sure anyone who comes over after i've finished doing what i want to do to the place will think i've lost any marbles i may have had.

i have zero sense of style.  zero.  i don't know how to put anything together.  i'm always asking my friend Melissa if i can put such and such together.  thank God she can put stuff together.

we did not keep up with school throughout the summer the way i intended.  this doesn't bother me in the slightest.  it did.  now it does not.  i ordered books yesterday for Spice who just turned four in may.  she'll start some kindergarten work, not because i'm pushing (i learned with my first one, don't push - wait for your kid to show interest) but because the kid loves to sit and write and i think it will be fabulous for her.  we'll be starting with Get Ready for the Code, Book A.  for Sugar, we'll finish up last year's books and move on to this year's books.  i asked Josh if he was concerned that we hadn't finished last year's.  "nope."  talked with another homeschool mom friend of mine who has kids older than mine and she tells me they've never finished a book.  oh the relief to know life doesn't end if a book isn't finished.

i'm thinking school will start on Sept. 10.

i read on Pinterest the other day that putting eucalyptus oil (or Vick's) on the bottom of your feet stops coughing.  Spice came home from Mt. Rainier with a cold and i rubbed it into her feet before bed, put socks on her, and she slept through the night without a cough.  sweet deal!

i rushed my cat to the vet the other day because his cheek was swollen and his eye was watery.  my kids can be puking, fevery, rashy, and i don't take them in.  but Clifford?!  it's just nothing ever happens to Cliff.  Cliff happens to everything else.  he's fine.  they shaved part of his face, he just stood there.  they gave him a shot, he just stood there.  never has there been a more laid back cat.  i love that dude.

til 4 am when he's standing on my chest meowing in my face because he wants out.

watched where the red fern grows the other night.

the end of the movie, the mama said, "i guess God doesn't want families separated."

no.  no, He doesn't.

sometimes that's in our control.  sometimes we can choose our family to be whole and we opt not to.

and other times it is out of our control and all we can do is rest assured God's got us covered.

i've seen both lately.  both hurt my heart.

there was a hailstorm here recently, i dunno a few weeks ago or so.  just got the quote back for the damage on my van.  4 grand!  crazy, huh?  we have a $500 deductible and i don't really feel like shelling that money out to have the van fixed.  it's not a big deal to me.  i don't know why i even took it in in the first place.

speaking of my van, i took that bad girl apart the other day.  i took my seats out and you know those little runners where all the fishy crackers and McDonald's fries go to live forever?  i took those runners off and i vacuumed and i vacuumed some more.  she looks new again.  i have to mix it up with my van.  make her feel new so i don't wanna go out and buy a new rig.  it's so hard.  i love me a new car.  we have no debt.  no car payments.  no credit cards.  a ridiculously low mortgage payment.  we could afford a new car.  well, we could afford PAYMENTS on a new car.  but it's not gonna happen.  we've agreed to never put ourselves in that position again.  the next "new" car i get will be used and paid for with cash.  like 20 years from now.

today is thursday and that means yoga and Bern's.

and yoga and Bern's makes my heart happy.

oh.  and my mom is moving back from Vegas.  so there's that.

Make the Call

Today I had to do something so out of my comfort zone.

I had to make a phone call and apologize to a friend.

Texting and emailing just don't cut it when you need to say you're sorry.  Those methods are so much easier, though.  You don't have to hear the person's hurt/disappointed voice, you don't have to stumble over your words, you can backspace all you want until you get it just perfect.

But a phone call takes guts.

Guts I don't have.

Didn't have.

I called my friend and she wasn't thrilled with me.  But I apologized.  She listened.  And thanked me for calling.

It's the hardest thing I've done in awhile, but let me tell ya, it felt good to do the right thing for once.

So, this is me, encouraging you.  Maybe you have your own tough phone call to make.  Just do it.  Sitting around stewing about it doesn't get you anywhere.  You can do it.

You'll be glad you did.

A post about Kit

My friend Chelsea is one of my favorite people.  When I need someone to tell me what I need to hear in my homeschoolishness, I call her.  She's not a sugar-coater.  She's all sorts of fabulous in a lot of ways BUT this post is not about her.

It's about her husband. Who I think is pretty great too.

I'm not sure if I've ever shared how Kit and I met for the first time but it might have been that he was shirtless and wearing his wife's slippers and opening a gate for me so I could enter their driveway.

And I may have made some fun of him and his little slippers.  And then introduced myself after that.

Nice start to any friendship, I think.

One of the things I like about Kit is that he and Josh get along super.  The last time we were over there he and Josh had a coupla beers, talked cars and at one point I think I saw the two of them skipping, hand in hand to the shop to look at Kit's truck.  It was a special moment.  (hi, Kit!) (you're welcome!)

Another thing I like about Kit?  He and I can flip each other sh er, crap and it's all good.  Offense taken?  None.  Ever.  And that's why I love that after reading my post about my Mexican head vintage find I get an email from Chelsea with a quote from Kit:

"Whenever I go into second hand stores I always wonder who buys this shit...now I know."

Now I can't wait to invite them over for dinner.  And put Pedro on the table right next to Kit's spot.  They're gonna get along GREAT.

The vintage find that has changed my life

We try to make it to Portland a few times a year to watch my niece's in their sporting events and then once during the summer for our annual trip to the beach with their family.

Last weekend was the weekend for our beach trip.

We got there Friday evening and since we planned on going to the beach Sunday, we had time to hang out and do some shopping beforehand.

One of the perks of Josh's sister having kids quite a bit older than ours is that they can babysit ours now while the four of us double date!  It's a treat for us since we don't get to hang out with them very often.

I wish I knew what was making us cheese this picture so badly, but I can't remember.

So Friday night was good and fun, I can't say enough how much we wish we lived nearer to them.  I told Treena her house is the only house where I sleep just as well as I do at my own house.  I also get into the fridge as comfortably at their place as I do my own. :)

And while Friday was great, Saturday was just around the corner and oh boy.

OH BOY.

I can hardly contain my excitement.

Treena said she had a couple of places to take us that she figured we would like.

LIKE?

How about LOVE?!

We went into a rebuilding store where people can donate household items and you can get them fairly inexpensive.  I was in heaven.  There was the fabulous board, I'd guess about 18" long, inch thick, and was covered in several coats of paint.  I loved it.  I wanted it.  Just to hang in my living room.  Husband put the smack down and said no.  That we have plenty of our random pieces of board covered in several coats of paint.  But that even though we have them, I can't hang them on the wall.

Pfft.

this was just outside the rebuilding store

The next place we went to was House of Vintage.

There just aren't words.  Okay, there are several.  Just none that can do the place and my love for it justice.

Oh my.

It's full of amazingness.

I kept touching things and loving on things and telling Josh I needed things.  Sadly we didn't have our truck and flatbed or I would have gone home with new (to me) furniture.

There was one thing though that I didn't need a trailer to haul.  One thing I needed.

Yes, needed.

I saw it and knew I had to have it.  And just like that piece of wood at the rebuilding store, Josh told me no.  Like, a very adamant, you cannot have this item no.

Silly Joshy.  He shouldn't have used his No Card so early in the day.

I walked away and looked all over the store without said item in my hands but I knew I was going back for it.  There was no way I was leaving that store without him it.  Josh and I separated at some point while walking around and then he made a phone call and while he was busy doing that, I made a beeline back to my soon to be prized possession.

And once the transaction was complete, what could he do?  Why absolutely nothing.

Except take my picture with it.

Oh yes.  That's my purchase.  That's my new love.  That's what I was not leaving the store without.

I know he looks like he's worth hundreds of dollars.  But ladies and jellybeans, I got him for the steal of a mere 18 bucks.

Josh just shook his head.  "I feel like I don't even know you."  How could he not know my love for something like this??

I posted his picture to Facebook.  People think I'm crazy.  "Where are you going to put him?!"

Oh I knew as soon as I saw him where he would go.  I had the perfect spot in mind.

In my living room on my end table.  Duh.

Tell me he doesn't fit perfectly?  See.  You can't.  Because he SO does!

I feel like my life is complete now.

Smoothie Recipe

I know I need to blog.

But I'm busy.

Don't ask with what, I don't want to try and make something up.

I'm not usually one who passes on recipes here on my blog,

but I'm a huge fan of super easy breakfasts because I hate making breakfast.

(because I don't usually eat it)

This recipe is quick, easy and healthy.

I know, healthy?  Me?  I'm surprised by myself, too.

I'm really bad about sharing recipes because I don't measure anything, I just throw stuff in and call it good.

This recipe is no different.

Here are the ingredients:

Roasted flaxseed peanut butter

(you could just use regular PB and throw in some flaxseeds)

Some honey

(maybe a Tbsp or so)

1 or 2 frozen, sliced bananas

Some almond milk

Put all of this in your blender and, well...blend.  And make sure to get all the banana chunks.

*shudder*

The girls and I have had this for breakfast the last two mornings.  

Super tasty, filling, and healthy!

This one is for their future therapists

I've never claimed to be a good mom.  Honestly because I don't really think I am.

I'm short-tempered.  I yell.  I don't play make believe very well.  Or at all.  And even with a name like Sarah Lee, I very rarely bake.  Unless it's brownies out of a box.  Then I bake those.

Or at least eat the batter.

Okay, anyway.

So I may not be a good mom but I'm a fun(ish) mom.

Driving by a park but don't wanna play for very long?  That's me.  My solution?  Pull up to said park and yell,
"seatbelts off! hurry! hurry!  jump outta the van, go down the slide twice, jump on the swings, do a round on the merry-go-round then run! run! back to the van!"

And they scramble.

And I don't have to get out.

And they think this is great fun.

It boils down to me being a strange mom I suppose.  Though they don't know it yet.  They don't know that most moms actually get out of the rig and push the babes on the swings and push em on the merry-go-round. They don't know that most moms don't roll down the window to bark at strangers on the sidewalk.  Or wear orange sunglasses.

Or wear prom dresses to the grocery store. Wait, whaaat?



Well this one does.  This mom will buy a prom dress 15 years after she's too old for prom, and wear it to the grocery store.

Just because.

Like I do.  Did.  Yesterday.

After all this time of people knowing me or being my friend on FB they wanted proof I'd actually go to the store like this.  So I asked Sugar to take my picture and seven year olds, if you didn't know, ROCK at taking pictures.

Of headless people.

I assure you.  That is me.  In the formal attire with flip flops.

And of course I'm sporting my orange sunglasses.  You just can't see them.

I feel like I need to print off two copies of this blog post and put them in the girls' baby books so they can just hand it to their therapist and say, "See.  See why I'm here?!"

And this post.  It will explain much of why my kids are whacked.

You do this stuff too, right?

13 years and it still ain't easy {he used to say ain't and that used to make me crazy, now if only i could hear him say ain't just one more time}

I've had an unsettledness to me for about a week now.

Because I feel this day is coming before it's actually here.  I know that sounds odd.  But there's no other way to explain it.

We've been going out in the boat and playing on the water for a couple of weeks now and everything's been good.  I've been fine.  I've been normal.  I've let my kids play in the water, be on the boat, ride the tube and I've been fine.

And yesterday on the boat I wasn't fine at all.

Because this day is here.  This 13th anniversary of my dad drowning.

And my God, I am missing my dad this day.  I'm sitting here, agitated and crying.  Why?  Why miss him so after all these years.  Why was I just fine last year but today I'm not?

Today I am short with my girls.  I'm quick tempered, more so than normal.  I can't concentrate on tasks more so than normal.  I finally loaded the girls up and made them go to the cemetery with me.  It was a quick trip, but it was enough.  Just to go there and see his name.  His simple head stone.  He was simple.

Yet so full of life.  I miss that life of his.  I miss that the adult me doesn't get the chance to know him.

Right now I think about how good of friends we'd be.  I know I'd need him as my dad and ask him to come over and do whatever a dad and adult daughter do together but I miss him as my friend.

I never had him as my friend.  How can you miss something you've never had?

I'm sure I'd be trying to find myself the perfect stepmom.  One who didn't call me a stick in the mud as one of his girlfriends had back when I was 16 or 17.  Maybe I was then, I'm definitely not now.  She would like me now.

I think if nothing else I've done in this life would make him proud, he'd at least be proud that I like beer now.  He'd think he'd done something right. :)

I wish I could hear him laugh and watch him walk.  Doesn't that sound funny?  Watch him walk?  He just had this easy way about him and I can picture the way he walked.  He was comfortable with him.

I remember after his best friend was killed by a drunk driver that I didn't hear from my dad for a long time.  I was 11.  When he finally resurfaced he tried to explain to my 11 year old self that he very nearly had himself committed.  He wasn't sure he could go on.  I never understood that until Amber.  I never understood how you could feel life wasn't worth much without your best friend until her.  I think as I get older I understand him  a little better.

Man he loved his friends.

They knew him so much better than I ever did.  Ever will.  I'm jealous.  I admit it.  Of the memories they have.  Pictures, videos, in their hearts.  I have so few.

I remember locking myself out of my car in the Wal Mart parking lot when I was about 17.  He came to my rescue.  And it was no big deal.  And it's just little things like this that seem so simple and yet mean so much.  I mean, that's what a dad is for, to save you.  Even if it's just from the Wal Mart parking lot.

I just wanna ask him to come over.  I want him to come over for dinner and sit out on the deck and drink a beer or 3 and hear his laugh and watch him with the granddaughters he never got to meet.

And I wanna not cry til snot drips down my face.  I want life to be fair and there not to be dads who die too young.  And like I said back in November, I just want my dad.

My 17th birthday.

I just miss my dad.

Two years ago I laid out my grief in this post, it wasn't an easy write, but it was healing.


Can you do me a favor?  If you knew him, can you leave me favorite memory of him?  Or more than one.  You can leave 'em in the comment section or email them to me at truckfamily@gmail.com  That would be awesome.

Spanks.

Summa time random

We're a couple of days in on this blog reunion, so it's high time we have some random.

About a month ago I put sunscreen on my face.  The next day I broke out and looked like a 14 year old boy.  I still look like that 14 year old boy.  I'm not loving the zits.  Here I tried to protect myself from the cancer and I'm rewarded with acne.  Nice.

I took all the books out of one of our bookcases yesterday.  So far I've only put back about 3/4 of them.  The rest are waiting for me to finish blogging.  I might blog until Sunday or Monday.

Tuesday we went boating (we did on Sunday, too) and I went way outta my comfort zone and tried wake boarding.  Out of my comfort zone because I'm not super thrilled about water (the whole dad drowning thing) and because I don't like being strapped into stuff.  Freaks me out.  But I had to do it.  I need to get over these fears.  I didn't get up but I tried.  Four times.  And that counts for something!  (not sure what, but it does!)

I kissed Spice's armpit.  She had an owie.  She asked me to kiss it.  I did.

I meet my new(ish) stepdad soon.  Like in a week soon.  He's been my stepdad for nearly a year and it's weird, right? that we haven't met.  I think so.  Maybe this time has been good.  He only has a glimpse (my mother) of what he's in for.  I kinda feel sorry for him.  It's me we're talking about.  I'm also a lil worried.  What if he doesn't like me?  I don't have a dad, so to now have a stepdad is kinda cool but only if he likes me.  Not sure I could take the rejection.  But who wouldn't like me?  I'm a treat!

I've decided to buy anti-aging cream.

I don't whiten my teeth.  I get asked this all the time.  Especially when summer is here and I'm tan.  I brush them.  Once a day usually.  When I remember.  I credit my white teeth to my dead dad.  He had nice teeth.  Nice, white, straight teeth.  Mine are just white.  Win some ya lose some.

I need to blog about church.  Remind me.

My kids were gone for 19 hours Weds/Thurs.  I didn't get much accomplished.  About as much as when they are here.  Which equals nothing.

My Beagle is snoring.

I wish I had a motorcycle.  Or at least knew of someone who did.  I want a ride on one.

I'm really tired of my house not being done.  It's exhausting having a house that's partially re-done and partially not re-done.  My husband is busy.  Busy, busy, busy.  And I'm lazy, lazy, lazy.  Those two combined are not good.  It means nothing gets done.

I love flip flops.

I'm going to take a nap.

I can't quit words: On breaking up with my blog and getting back together with it. Again.

I feel like my blog and I are these 16 year old high school kids in a FB relationship status that reads, "it's complicated."

We break up.

We get back together.

And it's good.  Real good.

But then it gets bad again.

And well, lather, rinse, repeat.

I'm gonna admit, it was embarrassing getting back together this time.

I assumed people would roll their eyes and say, "I knew it!  I told you they'd get back together!" or the "yeah, but how long will it last this time?"

I had to decide that I cared more about my blog, my little place on the internet, than I did about what people may say.  Because they may not be saying anything at all other than, "Woohoo! She's back, uh huh. Oh yeah."

I'm gonna go ahead and choose to believe the latter.  Yes, I am.

There's no real good explanation for why I deleted or why I un-deleted.  It's me.  C'mon.  If you've been here longer than a month or so you know this is what I do.  I'm not going to say it won't happen again.  It might tomorrow.

For now, it's here.  For now I'm going to try to make my writing a priority.  It's such an outlet for me.

I love my bike riding.

I love cooking.

I love yoga.

But there's something about words.

And the flowing of them.  And the releasing of them.

I get something completely different from writing than I do from any other outlet in my life.

As hard as I try - I just can't quit words.

Just a day in my life

My blog and I broke up.

But we're back together now.  We'll discuss this at another time.

For now, here's a glimpse of the start of my Tuesday, July 17th, 2012.

My friend, Jana, is in town and I bribed her with Starbucks if she'd come over and hang out with me for a bit before leaving town.

So I load up my girls which is no easy task.  You'd think it would be by now.  I mean, they are seven and four and c'mon, you can put your shoes and your seatbelt on by yourself already!!

We're driving, we get to the store, we unload and I realize I don't have my wallet.

"Oh, yeah, Mom.  I saw it in the house.  Forgot to tell you.  Sorry."

Thanks, Sugar.  Thanks for nothin'.

We drive home and Sugar jumps outta the rig, brings me my wallet and then there's a gasping from the three of us girls as Justin Bieber's Boyfriend has just come on the radio.  Any fighting, any anything stops for those few minutes of glory.

Anyway.

I pay for the drinks, barista hands me my $1.33 in change and I go to put it in the pocket of my pants.

Only to realize the pocket of my pants is on the inside of my pants.

Because I have them on inside out.

This is why I blog.  To publicly embarrass myself in written format.

You're welcome.