Do you want the good news or the bad news?

Oh well, it doesn't really matter. The news is the same.

My husband is a Financial Advisor.

That's it. The good and bad of it. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. In today's economy it's the latter.

In "Guide to Family Finance" Marvin J. Ashton says that money management should take precedence over money productivity. Did you hear that? Management should take precedence over productivity. That means that I, as a stay at home mom, have a great role to play in our financial well being. He also said that financial peace of mind is not determined by how much we make but is dependent upon how much we spend.

So I've been trying to change my ways.

Early in our marriage I said that I would rather live under the viaduct than iron dress shirts. Embarrassing. Brandon has been patient with my steep learning curve as we've said goodbye to the dry cleaner and I've become acquainted with starch and my Rowenta.

Healthy wheat bread with a short ingredient list, high in protein and fiber, is nearly $5 a loaf off the store shelf! I've taken to baking our own.

I avoid putting laundry through the dryer as often as possible, hoping to extend the life of our clothes. I try to avoid advertisements, catalogs and the mall, limiting their ability to remind me of today's latest fashions. I find I'm more content with what we've got.

"Learning how to discipline oneself and exercise constraint where money is concerned can be more important than courses in accounting." Marvin J. Ashton

Food storage, veggies from the garden, creative weekend activities . . .

What's helping you during this economic downturn?

"Mama, what if I didn't have autism?"

"I don't know Nick. What if I didn't have brown hair?"

"Then it would be black. I don't want to have autism when I grow up."

"Keep working hard buddy, and we'll see."

0

We revel in the miracle of the progress he has made.

He was communicating with sign language only three short years ago.

His voice is beautiful.

recent discovery

I cry.

I cry when I'm happy,

I cry when I'm sad,

I cry over old photos,

I cry over commercials.

It comes so naturally to me

that I've never thought to fight it.

I've delayed it, mind you,

but I've never completely denied myself

a good cry.

It took me 37+ years

to realize I can mentally will myself

not to cry.

It's so empowering

that it's making me a little teary

just thinking about it.

Monday

shower to be taken

clothes to be washed

laundry to be folded

wheat to be ground

bread to be baked

rooms to be picked up

floors to be cleaned

paper piles to be organized

sanity to be found

Birthday on a budget

On Allie's actual birthday I baked her an actual birthday cake mess. It grew upward in the middle until birthday goo oozed out the top like an angry volcano. Sure that icing would correct my dastardly homemaking skills I whipped up a big batch of butter frosting. It didn't taste like butter, or frosting for that matter. So I decided a dash of color would fix everything. Allie's favorite color is Purple. That would have been a nice color. Lavender would have been pleasant as well. Instead I served up a putrid shade of gray. She blew out the candles like a trooper, we ate the cake and I was cranky the rest of the evening.

Today I tried to redeem myself.

The best part? It didn't cost a penny.

China tea set and table covering borrowed from friends.

Ice cream, mini cupcakes and pop-it bead activity donated by grandmas.

Now that's a sweet party.

"It looks like we're going to have a baby today."

That's what the nurse midwife said as she measured my amniotic fluid levels at what should have been a routine visit. I was relieved at her pronouncement. My levels had been low the entire pregnancy, leaving me with a 10 pound weight gain over the past 37 weeks. My thoughts turned to my husband who was golfing on business over an hour away and to my best friend who had committed to watching my children for 45 minutes, and to the grandmas who would want to be a part of this magical day. Phone calls were made setting my support system into seamless action.

I was hooked up to a machine and it was joyously announced that I was already in labor. How wonderfully compliant of me. I watched the contractions closely as they systematically appeared on the screen. I was teary with worry and hope and anticipation . . . teary in Brandon's absence. And then he was there, holding my hand, kissing my cheek, stroking my hair. I was instantly stronger, ready for the work that lay ahead.


As things progressed my nurse midwife calmly announced that the window for an epidural was quickly closing. I was taking a passive aggressive approach to natural childbirth. Not wanting to commit beforehand but happy to give it a good college try I said nothing. I discovered some amazing things over the next three hours:


1. Contractions don't get more intense, they just get closer together.

2. Together my husband and I are invincible.


3. A woman's body is divinely built to do what I was there to do that day.


4. I am strong.


"It's a girl," Brandon said in a reverent whisper.



I have discovered some amazing things over the past 5 years:


1. My love for her gets more intense.

2. Together we are invincible.


3. She is divine.


4. She is strong. She is really, really strong.

Happy Birthday
sweet Allie

think small

mini muffin tins

are perfect

for freezing pesto

in just the right amount

and baking

zucchini bread bites

*Mom, you know the mini muffin tins you've been searching for? They're at my house. I just remembered I borrowed them . . . like 12 years ago. Oops.

It has been

on the lid

on the rim

down the side

along the base

on the floor

on the base board

on the wall

in the garbage can

my sister-in-law

even found it

in the tub toys

now really

Just the two of us

Arthritis Bursitis Nearsighted Balding Sinusitis Glasses Polyps Chronic Ear Infections Tubes Heartburn Graying Contacts Bronchiectasis Athletes Foot Osteopenia Asthma Hearing Loss Cracked Heals Crows Feet Age Spots Allergies

in the medicine cabinet?

laughter

and

a bottle of Tums.

To my little sister

who is brave

and honest

and loving

and tolerant

who is talented

and adventurous

and comical

and entertaining

who is beautiful

and educated

and endearing

h a p p y b i r t h d a y

i have always looked up to you

peaceful week

catching raindrops

acorn family

morning visitor

last clean cup

Spic and Span

I had a day to myself, no kids, no husband, no agenda, so I did what any respectable woman would do. I cleaned. I mean I really cleaned. I cleaned out closets, I organized drawers, I washed floor boards and wiped down blinds. At the end of the day my house the was cleanest it has ever been in my married life. Not one thing out of place and I made a commitment to keep it that way. We picked up after ourselves, placed things where they belonged and didn't pull out of the driveway unless the house was in complete order. And then one day it paid off . . .

We were on the freeway one Sunday evening, on our way home from a family party. I noticed that the SUV to our left had Idaho license plates. I peered across my husband, wondering if I knew the occupants. Nope, just a car full of beautiful, teenage girls. Moments later the passenger was leaning out her window, blonde hair flying wildly as she waved us down. It was a childhood friend and she looked EXACTLY the same, brilliant blue eyes, long sun kissed tresses, flawless skin and a dainty, turned up nose. How was it that she had stopped aging at 17?! She announced excitedly that they would follow us to our home.

Sweet! Our home. Our "not one speck out of place" home. You bet!

We pulled up and they followed us inside. I have to tell you, it was a great feeling. I didn't have to worry about the usual dirty dishes that graced my countertops on any given Sunday, or pajamas that were usually at home in the middle of the kitchen table. (Eight thirty church, I remind you.) The place sparkled and so did her children's eyes as they explored it. We made our way to the back deck, settled into the adirondacks and cracked open our bottles of cherry soda. We talked through the sunset and into the dark of night. Finally they stood to say their goodbyes and continue their journey back to Idaho.

We walked them to the gleaming entry way and it was then that I stopped enjoying the dumb luck of it all. As I looked into her flawless face I sensed the tiredness of a middle aged, working mom. She was raising 5 children between the ages of "almost graduating" and "busy little preschooler."

"Can we see the upstairs?" The two oldest asked?

"Heavens no! The last thing I want you to see is our our upstairs," I lied. Of course not a single, solitary thing was out of place in our bedrooms, but they didn't need to know that. They didn't need to remember our house any more perfect than they already would. Nineteen years since I had seen my friend. Would it be another 19 until we were able to embrace again? Another 19 until she could see the real, untidy, disorganized me? I wanted to blurt out that the clean house was a farce, a bold faced lie. Instead I hugged her tightly, kissed her cheek and told her what a great job I thought she was doing with her beautiful children. And she is.

That clean spell lasted about a week. You know what? I don't mind too much that it's over. Organized chaos is good enough for me. It feels honest, homey.

So come on over. I'll rinse out a couple of cups and we'll have some ice water together, or some 1% while we visit in the middle of my mess.

But please, don't ask to see the upstairs.

Find a penny, pick it up, the rest the day you'll have -

Did you know you can make a pretty effective hairspray out of the right mixture of sugar and water? Just be careful to avoid ants and long blessings given by warm handed elders. I bet you didn't know that if you get T.P.ed that that toilet paper will last a family of 7 for weeks on end. And were you aware that the first one to drink a newly made gallon of powdered milk will get a cup full of mostly froth or that syrup made with Mapleine is much better served cold?

Family finances were a little tight in my youth. We drove an oversized, previously used by a scout troop, cobalt van. It was exhilarating watching the road through the rotted out metal under the gas petal. My brother found the ripped, sagging roof extremely helpful in concealing his contraband each July from law abiding adults.

"We'll pay for the clothes, you can pay for the brand," was my parents mantra. My youngest brother decided to forget the name brands. He purchased his clothes at D.I. and spent the remaining money on a ping pong table. He was voted Student Body President, a clear indicator that ping pong is more important than style.

They say that money can't buy happiness. That may be true but money can buy peace of mind, and doesn't peace of mind play a large role in ones happiness?

I saw an older couple driving a brown, dilapidated van that looked like it had been brought back to life with mouth to mouth resuscitation one too many times. I felt sad for them. My parents are driving a nice enough car now that my dad won't allow food in it. His earning power has increased over time and struggles from the early years now make for good stories over Sunday dinner. Some people don't get to the funny. Some people work hard their whole lives and never get to enjoy the peace that money in ones pocket can bring.

This morning I pulled up the election results. There were a couple of candidates who had gotten an embarrassingly low number of votes. Their names weren't familiar to me, they hadn't been pasted on every street corner for the past 6 weeks. Whose to say they wouldn't have served our city well? Money. They obviously didn't have the thousands it takes to run a successful campaign. Too bad for them. Too bad for us.

I wish everyone could experience the "have" and "have not" of life.

I wish everyone could end on the "have."

Just enough to pay medical bills, utilities, buy fresh produce and education.

Just enough to buy peace of mind so one could focus their daily efforts on something besides survival.

If I were rich I would buy that elderly couple a reliable mini van, I would post the underdogs names on the biggest marquis and I would make sure that everyone used double ply when toilet papering.

during my five minutes of fame

I was very

I was standing up for something I believed

something that turned out to be politically charged

in my community

people from my city

wrote letters to the editor

people from surrounding cities

wrote letters to the editor

people judged harshly

there were others who supported

the cause

a councilman supported

the cause

he saw to it change was made

because I'm not good

at having people hate me

I will vote today

thank goodness for those

who aren't concerned

with popularity

That maddening word

snark⋅y

 * [snahr-kee]

–adjective, snark⋅i⋅er, snark⋅i⋅est. Chiefly British Slang.

testy or irritable; short.

Origin:
1910–15; dial. snark to nag, find fault with

The word Snarky makes me testy and irritable. It's perplexing to me when people use it who are neither British or from the early 1900's.

Do you have a word that makes you irritable?

*do it. push the sound button next to the word Snarky. Listen to it 4 times in a row and tell me it's not irritating.

Friday's note:

it made me giggle a little bit

"She said he's weird"

He's was sitting at the counter doing the post school day wrap up, speaking of a little girl from our neighborhood.

"We were walking to school and Nick was doing his clapping thing. She said he was weird. I told her he's autistic and she said it didn't matter, he's still weird."

All the while Nick was clapping, and listening.

There are days that these random bits of information are easy to dismiss and then there are days they settle into a mothers gut with an audible thud. It seemed to be one of those "rock in the gut" kind of days.

I calmly excused myself to the garage. As I rummaged through the sports bin, the winter clothes bin and the car wash supply bin in search of last season's shin guards the days frustrations began running down my cheeks. One shin guard and two flat soccer balls in hand I wiped my face and climbed into the car.

I drove to the neighbors house to collect the little soccer player. Angry at the change and tired from the day he began howling in frustration. The sound wafted throughout the neighborhood as I drove home with the windows open. A long haired, teenage boy began howling back as we passed. I pictured myself driving my minivan up onto the curb to tell him it wasn't funny, not in the least. I wanted to yell out "He's not weird, he's autistic," but I didn't. I drove on in silence.

We collected the rest of the family, a pair of soccer shorts and an iceless water bottle and made the 10 minute drive to the soccer field. We set up our mismatched camp chairs on the sidelines at the end of a long row of camp chairs. They were filled with mismatched families just like ours. I watched Joe hanging on the back of Nick's jersey and Caleb flexing his muscles and kissing them every time he'd make a sweet soccer move. Matthew's dad asked him to calm it down a bit as he was dominating the game, not unlike Mr. Incredible asking Dash to "slow it down a little, come in a close second."

For an hour I was a normal mom, Matt was a normal brother and Nick was a normal kid, scoring three amazing goals amidst cheers from the sidelines.

150 minutes to myself

She said goodbye to her fuzzy as she laid it carefully in her car seat. She pulled on her pink, princess backpack and walked confidently into her first day of pre-school. I had two and a half hours until she would be waiting on the curb for me. I ejected the kids CD from the player and turned my own music up a few notches too loud. Off we went, just me and fuzzy, into an afternoon of freedom.

Costco

That's right Becky, I owe you a bunch of bananas. In a moment of weakness I signed on for a joint account. What's a girl to do without her award winning, all natural, Jack's Special Salsa? Salsa in hand I moved into the produce section. That's when I first noticed him. Approximately my age with dyed blonde hair, designer jeans and a button down shirt, sleeves rolled up revealing a smattering of tasteful tattoos. He was pleasant to look at in a beach bum, bad boy sort of way. I ran into him again in the dairy section and realized that he was probably a she as we we grabbed our two gallons of 1%.

After emptying my basket in the checkout line I noticed the older lady behind me struggling to unload her supersize cottage cheese. "May I help you?" I offered as I began to pull items from her cart. She was grateful, telling me she had hurt her wrist the week before in a fall. I saw her again outside, the afternoon sun accentuating her peach lipstick and glittery broach. I walked over to her mini SUV and helped her load her new purchases inside. Her name was Maxine, just like my favorite great aunt Max. Her friends call her Max too she said. She asked my name. "Jodi," she repeated to herself. "I'm going to call you angel Jodi." To whom, I wondered. I hoped she wasn't going to mention my name in a prayer. I don't think God would know who she was talking about.

Shopko

I needed stickers for Nick's newly implemented behavior chart at school. Apparently he threw his school work and pencil in class last week. You never have to wonder what someone with autism is thinking. The young clerk with jet black hair asked me if I was excited for snow. Excited for snow? He wins for the weirdest question of the day. No, I'm not excited for snow.

TJ Maxx

Cut off by a young man in a tie while preparing to pull into a parking space. We end up at the front door together. Awkward. "My bad," he says while flashing a pearly white smile. "That's fine," I reply as I walk through the door he's now holding for me. "I don't have any kids today. I don't mind walking a little farther."

Found a darling pair of Roxy slip ons for $14. Stood in line for 5 minutes, set the shoes down and walked out the door. Felt empowered that I had saved $14. Laid in bed last night thinking about the shoes.

Barnes and Noble

Priced a book I wanted. Too spendy. Came home and ordered it for half the price on Amazon.com. Had to order two additional books so I could get the free super saver shipping.

All in all it was a good little childless adventure.

Hopefully the next one involves purchasing a little black pair of Roxy slip ons.

angel

There is something so enchanting

about camping at the lake. The outside world disappears for a brief moment, replaced by the brilliance of stars, the smell of campfire, the coarseness of sand, the taste of family unity. Rules have gone to the wind along with responsibilities and cares that seemed so important a day before.

The only thing more magical than camping as a child

is watching your child discover the magic of camping.

(taking the surrey down to get our fix of chocolate covered raspberries)