wisdom has two parts

Do you know what happens when you awaken in the middle of the night, reach for your glass of water, take a tiny sip and rest the cup on your chest before you take another sip?

You fall back asleep and then are shocked awake when the cup tips, spilling cold water onto your neck.

You bolt upright with a gasp and water pours down your back, ending in a puddle by your butt.

You feel adrenaline shoot through your body as you look around the room wondering Who would DO such a thing?

You feel the cup hit your hand as it rolls off your lap and realize what had happened.

Then you change out of your soaking pajamas and skulk into the living room to sleep the rest of the night on the couch.

Fun, fun, fun

My mom's here! We are having a fabulous time talking and laughing and counseling each other. (Well, actually, it is more like she counsels me, but, whatever.) We shopped for plants and visited with my sister yesterday. Today I get to drag her around while I live my life. It is awesome!

I have posts brewing. I should be back later this week.

(The post title comes from the song in my brain. Is anyone familiar with The House Martins? Excellent stuff. Sometimes they stick in my brain for awhile.)

Frugal living--or is it?

Blogging is a morning activity for me. I often awake with a post on my mind and as soon as the kiddos head out the door I sit down with my coffee and laptop. Lately, however, The Loved (being currently Unemployed) is home in the mornings and we talk a little and laugh a little and I lose the brewing post.

What was brewing this morning was a rant inspired by a conversation with Debo yesterday about frugal-living websites. (I don't rant very often--I am always afraid of offending someone and I am keenly aware that what I write here may live forever on the Internets.) I have been reading a lot of frugality blogs recently and, while I find lots of great ideas and inspiration, I also find guilt-inducing diatribes about how we all could live the frugal life if only we control our consumer-driven ways. I am sadly susceptible to the guilt that is thrust upon me and I often agonize about how I am ruining our future by not being more careful with our money. This occurs most often when I read blogs that share that they live on a food budget that is a fraction of mine. So many of them share that they are able to live on $25 to $30 a week. I am happy for them but sad that some of them think that anyone can do it. Here are a few observations on how some of them (Some! Not all.) are able to keep their food budgets so low:

• They don't eat meat.
• They don't drink milk.
• They own livestock (chickens, cows, etc.) (Do they include the money it costs to feed the animals in their food budget?)
• They grow their own produce. (They live in climates where it is possible to grow all their own produce.)
• They only have babies or toddlers, not teenagers and the friends that come with them.
• They live in areas where coupons are doubled and CVS apparently gives away everything free.
• They eat other people's food. (Keeping the food budget low by eating at the in-laws as much as possible is mooching, not budgeting.)
• They rarely entertain.
• They live in the middle of nowhere where the cost of living is low.

Now that I have surely offending someone in the frugal-living community, here are a few of the sites that I love.

Money Saving Mom is a warm, friendly place to find great deals and ideas on how to live on less. She is one of the people that has a tiny food budget but she acknowledges that not everyone can do it and her blog has helped me cut my spending significantly.

Get Rich Slowly. Check out his Garden Project. He is tracking exactly how much money and time it takes to grow their own produce and will compare their harvest to market prices. I am eager to see the results. Maybe it will be the moment I decide to level our landscaping and put in a vegetable garden. Or not.

The Grocery Game. I started grocery gaming last November and I am amazed at how much money it has saved us. I never thought I could clip coupons but The Grocery Game makes it easy. They offer a $1 trial period that gives you a chance to learn about the concept. Email me if you have questions about it.

The Loved and I have recently taken tests to identify our strengths and gifts. One of my strengths is harmony. I dislike conflict and try to get everyone to be on the same page and see each other's viewpoints. I'm already uncomfortable with this post--ranting about people I don't know is not my style. I'm going to hit publish quickly anyway.

You know what you should be doing

The Loved and I are at a crossroads in our life together. This week he signs the paperwork to end his employment with The Man. He is evaluating what he wants to do with the rest of his life. We are planning how to be involved in ministry in our new church. Our kids are entering their teen-aged years. What does life hold for us? What should we be pursuing?

Here is a great post about how we already know what we should be doing. All we have to do is remember what we were doing as a kid. When I try to remember what I did as a kid the first things that pop into my mind are sitting in a neighborhood tree reading a book, walking alone on the neighborhood beach, laying on my bed reading, crafting quietly with my grandma, sewing quietly with my mom. I know I didn't spend my whole childhood quiet (you can stop snickering, Dad) but those are the pictures that first appear in my mind.

I am sitting alone in a quiet house at this moment, realizing how much I need quiet, alone time. Not always possible as a mother, yet so important. Even when my kiddos were little and home all the time I would find a way to have some moments of quiet during the day. After they had given up napping I still enforced a quiet time where they would be in their rooms reading.

So I need quiet time--to think, to read, to process, to craft.

Other pictures from my childhood: telling stories to my mom that make her laugh, debating ideas with my dad at the dinner table (my sister was better than me at this--I hate conflict and sometimes it felt like conflict to me), bossing my brother and sister around, telling them the best way to do things.

I like giving advice to other people, helping them find the way that is best for them, encouraging them, telling them stories. I enjoy teaching adults and facilitating discussions.

It is a fun exercise to think about what you did as a kid and whether or not you are doing these things now. Read the article and give it a try.

On my coffee table

The prettiest needle book ever by Jenn Maruska:

Sweet pincushion by my friend Debo:

New spring coasters:

Mother's Day freesias:

What's on your coffee table?

The glory of spring

We have had a late winter this year. Yesterday I wore a turtleneck and sweater. Not a warm spring at all. But the sun is peaking out today and it is time to pull out some spring clothes. The last two years of cookies and homemade bread have not been kind to my wardrobe. So I'm off to the mall to shop for more of these--unfortunately in a larger size.

On a vaguely related note--have you seen the new commercials for Nair? They have revived the "Who loves short shorts?" song to promote their new formula--one that stays on in the shower. Stays on in the shower? The stuff is a scary enough mass of chemicals before now. I can't imagine trying the scrape that goo off if it can withstand being pummeled with water.

The picture is the corner of my living room this morning. Hopefully I'll finish that quilt this weekend. There are more projects waiting in the wings!

Identity crises in the quilt shop

I put together this quilt top last week using fabrics from the Urban Chicks Swell line. It is so summery and cheerful—I’m really happy with the results so far. I took the top to the quilt shop on Friday to pick out that green border fabric. Quilt shop employees amaze me. They oooh and aaaah over all these quilts that come in—a definite ego booster for a beginner like me. What do they do when someone comes in with something truly ghastly? Do they oooh and aaaah? Maybe they find something they admire about it and just comment on that—like when a friend walks in and asks “What do you think of my new outfit” and you answer “I love your new haircut!”

After I picked out my border fabric I took it to the counter and asked the two lovely ladies there how they would do the quilting. “I’m not a quilter.” I told them. “I don’t do free-motion at all.” They exchanged a meaningful look and one of them pointed at my quilt and said, “Honey, you ARE a quilter.” It made me feel better about not being able to quilt with fabulous free-motion designs. I just don’t think I have the patience to master the skill.

When I was in high school I worked in a quilt shop that was owned by two of my mother’s friends. I can picture the rows of fabrics even now. I loved the fabrics and used some of them to make blouses and dresses for myself. But I didn’t love them the way I love some quilting fabrics now. I think it is the change in times. In the 80s quilt fabrics were dark and calico-y—lots of burgundy and mauve, navy and dusty blue. My mom has some of those fabrics still in her stash. Now quilt shops are filled with stunning batiks and colorful retro fabrics. That is what I love—the cherry reds and pinks, lime greens, and cheerful yet not-too-bright yellows.

So maybe I am a quilter. Any excuse to put some of those fabulous fabrics together works for me.

Just don’t ask me to free-motion.

What is the strangest thing you did this week?

The strangest thing I did this week was teach my son how to remove make-up and stubborn mascara. Oh yes. I thought that I would be talking to him about shaving long before I taught him to remove make-up but...that is the stuff of parenting--going with the flow. We are finally coming to the end of hell-week with his play rehearsals (a week that is aptly named) and his first performance is tonight. His first! Performance! Ever! Be still my jittery heart.

Mommy-blogging with teens in the house is a strange thing. The line of privacy is difficult to sight. Like the Loved often says after he has teased me too much--you usually don't see the line until you've crossed it. I've tried to be careful here. None of Boykiddo's classmates know about my blog but I'm not so stupid as to think that they never will. So I need to be cautious about what I share about him.

Blogging with preschoolers in the house is fabulously full of adorable, yet exasperating moments. Like the time I was in the grocery store with toddler Boykiddo sitting in the cart seat when he suddenly started screaming at the top of his lungs "My p e nis hurts! My p e nis hurts!" I frantically tried to shush him while trying to not LOOK like I was shushing him for fear that it would seem suspicious. I smiled resignedly at other shoppers and waited for Child Protective Services to come barreling down on me. Good times.

I still have exasperating stories. (What do I do about him when he mutters angrily under his breath when I ask him to do something?) And adorable moments--like when he picks me up off of the ground to demonstate his strength or lines his hands up with his dad's to find that his fingers are longer.

The one thing I can share here without any fear of negative consequences is that I am immensely proud of him.

Make-up and all.

Mother's Day gifts

My favorite thing about Mother's Day is when the kiddos bring home gifts made at school. Pictures of flowers made from their handprints, poems written with the letters from "mother" (M is for mom, O is for the orange juice she makes), and bookmarks made from construction paper. Nothing warms a mother's or a grandmother's heart more than a handmade gift from the kiddos in their life.

Randi has kindly asked me to contribute to her fabulous blog Me and My Girl. I am honored and excited to be a part of such a fun endeavor. I have a post over there today with an easy, breezy idea for a great mother's day gift your girl or boy can make. Come take a look.

The Paint Game

Dedicated to Bub and Pie, immersed in her paint chips:

The Paint Game. Let me know how you do. I am "pretty average" when it comes to paint-name knowledge. I did get Bongo Jazz right, though!

via How About Orange.