“Why Is the Flag Coming Down?”

Sep 112011
 

Paul asked me this as we passed a flag on our way to church this morning. I told him that ten years ago today some bad men stole an airplane and killed a lot of people. We fly the flag half way up to remember that lots of people died.

“Who were the people that died?” he responded. “Tell me their names.”

I didn’t have any names for him. I didn’t, in fact, know any of the 3,000 people who died that day. I didn’t even see the television coverage until after I returned home from campus a few hours after the fact. I found out about the towers as I walked in to my economics class at 9 a.m. Mountain Time, just 20 minutes after I’d finished reading the New York Times and heading out for class.

It struck me, though, that his first reaction is to connect with the people who died. He could have said, “Why would bad men do that?” but no, he knows that some people are bad in the world. He just wanted to remember along with me and all the others that put our flag at half mast. I had just told him that we lower the flag to remember. He was remembering through me.

(Ten years is, he informed me a few days ago, the definition of “old.” One is not “old” until they are ten. Then they are old. He is still not old. Apparently, the attacks in NYC are now “old.”)

It was somewhat reassuring that this year I didn’t have to have a discussion with him about the bad people. “Terrorist” is still not in his vocabulary. But “remember” is. We can all do that each September 11. Let’s focus on the good. Let’s remember.

 

What Makes a Prayer a Prayer?

Feb 102011
 

The other day, Paul, who is obsessed with the ABCs and sings the “ABC Song” a dozen times a day, said he’d say the prayer for lunch.

“This is the new prayer, Mommy.” And then, in the melody of the ABCs, he continued, “ABCDEFG, Thank you, God, for everything.”

“That’s not reverent, dear.” I responded. “We don’t joke about prayers. That sounds like the ABC song to me.”

“But that’s my prayer,” he insisted, frowning when I asked him again to say a proper prayer.

Today, when I dropped him off at preschool, I was telling his teacher about the ABC Book he made, and how he just loves the ABCs.

“Oh, we have a new snack prayer they just love,” she said. Then she sang the song I’d heard from Paul, except at the end it said, “Thank you, God, for feeding me.”

“Oh, I get it now!” I responded, “Paul had told me that but I hadn’t believed it was a prayer.”

“Oh, well, it has the ‘Thank you, God’ so it is the snack prayer,” she responded.

And since then, I’ve been pondering prayer. Does really saying “Thank you, God” make something a prayer? To me, a casual “Thank God” sounds like taking his name in vain. People say that all the time, and how often are they sincerely thanking him?

That said, everyone prays differently, and I certainly don’t believe God ignores sincere prayers. The Lutheran service that my son sang at during the fall was a “contemporary” service, with a rock band. Yet, I still felt the spirit as I listened to the pastor talking about how we can all be more loving to each other. Just because something is done with a different degree of reverence does not mean there is no spirit or sincerity.

But to my sensibilities, it is irreverent. In my home, I don’t want my son praying by singing an ABC Song prayer that sounds like it’s using God’s name in vain. I want him to bow his head, close his eyes, and pour out his own words of thanks to his Heavenly Father, speaking to him as the son of God that he is. I don’t want my son sitting at the piano, making up a melody for a song with the only lyrics being “God, God, God.” (He wanted to sing that for Family Home Evening this week.) To me, that is irreverent. I’d rather he sing of his relationship with his Heavenly Father through primary songs.

I just signed him up for his second year of preschool at the Lutheran preschool he’s been going to. Now I’m wondering if he’s just going to be confused. He’s already learned the distinction that, “At home I pray to Heavenly Father, but at preschool I pray to Jesus.”

Is learning reverence for our Heavenly Father, especially during prayer, something I should worry about? I do want him to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ correctly, and maybe the Lutheran influence will only confuse him.

Silence

Feb 262010
 

It’s hard to start something up again after such a long break. I have nine months of family pictures that need to be stored in this online journal. They are just sitting there on my hard drive, waiting to be put in chronological order. Plus, things have been happening! My baby is almost two and a half. He’s talking in complete sentences, most of the time. He says the most adorable things. He looks adorable, and he’s in this perfect in-between stage that makes staying home with him a delight.

True, Paul is a joy. The majority of the time, he is pleasant and laughing. Sometimes, he screams and throws a tantrum (especially on the increasingly frequent no nap days). It doesn’t bother me now, at this stage. I can understand what he says, and I know what he wants: I just can’t always give him what he wants.  This is so much better than the 18-month-old stage, when he screamed and I had no idea why.

So, why am I visiting this neglected blog once again tonight? Well, Ryan is stuck in Manhattan for the second unplanned night, thanks to NYC’s huge snow storm (20.9 inches in Central Park in the last two days). Yesterday, his afternoon flight was canceled. He changed his flight to this afternoon. This morning, that was canceled. He changed his flight to tomorrow morning. Do you see a pattern here?

(To keep things in perspective, this is only the second time in his nine and a half years of 85% traveling that he has been literally unable to get a flight home from where he is. The other time was 9/11. He was in the air and the plane was landed in Ohio. He rented a car and drove back to Chicago.)

But this weekend’s snowstorm is only the icing on the “we’re sick of this” cake. Ryan had told his boss earlier in the week that he is actively looking for a job. No, he didn’t quit, but he was explaining that there was a reason he did not want to stay in NYC on Friday, as they wanted him to. At any rate, the fact that he’s stuck there, and has to return again on Monday, really and truly sucks. Sorry for the strong language. It does.

We’ve been pondering and searching for another job since we returned to the USA in August 2008. Ryan had some promising interviews that fall, but nothing panned out. (Maybe you recall, but that was the fall that the economy suddenly tanked.) In 2009, Ryan kept looking. Then, this month and last, he’s been working on it in all his free time. It definitely time. For example, Saturday, he was up before dawn, searching and applying for jobs until after 8 p.m. I only wish there was something I could do to help. There have been some leads, so we’re hopeful something will pan out soon. But we’d appreciate any extra prayers that you can send our way.

I have cleaned the bathrooms. I’ve vacuumed and swept the floors. Maybe getting the house ready will speed my husband home!

I called this post “silence” because that is how I feel about my daily life sometimes, and that is why this blog has been silent for so many months. Most days, I go see my friends or they come here for play dates. And this morning my friend was kind enough to step up as a last minute babysitter so I could still go spend my two hours volunteering at the library. How I love that time of talking to adults! Every morning and every evening, I also talk to Ryan. I do get much-needed socialization in person. In fact, it’s just the right amount of out of the house time: I’m naturally an introvert so it becomes exhausting to me. I think two book clubs and a few plays dates a week is enough for me.

But I also spend some time most days responding and discussing books with other readers online via my book blog. That life is a complete non-baby life, and it really helps save my sanity: I know I can finish the day with some thought that doesn’t revolve around best potty training methods. (I guess that’s why I haven’t been blogging on this site: blogging four or five times a week at my books site is time-consuming enough, and this site would only be about more potty training pleas for help).

But the bottom line is, at the end of the day, our home is silent. The floorboards creak, the furnace turns on, my son mumbles in his sleep. But the main sound is silence.

This is why I’m praying that my husband can come home, and stay home. I long for his snores once the silence of night sets in. The silence is getting a bit loud.

Toilet Training Success Stories Wanted

Jan 162010
 

Given Paul’s interest in Baby Doll’s toilet training, I’m considering beginning his own toilet training come the first of February. But I’d love to know your ideas for helping it go well. No promises I’ll try your method, but please share away!

Of course, that would assume there are people still reading my bog after months of silence. If not, I understand. My life is only so interesting, as this post demonstrates.

Update

Jun 042009
 

Having a Husband Home

Ryan’s been in town for three weeks! It’s been so nice to have him home at night. I go to finish getting dinner ready and there is laughter coming from the playroom instead of wails and whines. And then he gets Paul ready for bed while I clean up the kitchen or vice versa. I’m so jealous of all of you who have your husband home most nights! I’m so spoiled this month.

Ryan worked in St. Charles (30-40 minutes away) for a week. The downside was that I had to drive him if I wanted the car. We are still a one-car family, and it’s obvious that we’d need a second car if he were in town more often. Paul did not like sitting in the car for 90 minutes in the morning and again in the evening! Ryan worked in St. Charles for one week, he worked downtown a few days, and the rest of the time he’s been working from home. It’s very nice. Of course, knowing that the company has clients to send him to would be very nice too. It’s a good time to stay very busy in your place of employment.

Yesterday he had to fly out to Albuquerque in the early hours of the day, but he’s flying back tonight, red eye. He may return to NYC next week; I’m not sure. I wouldn’t mind having him around longer, despite the caveat I wrote above.

Anniversary

We had a really nice weekend to celebrate our third anniversary. Ryan finished up his work in St. Charles and we drove down to Naperville. Mom and Dad had agreed to watch Paul. It was to be the first night I was ever apart from Paul. And it was about time!

We went to dinner at Olive Garden (one of my favorite restaurants because it’s very tasty, even while being inexpensive). Then we went to to the temple for a session. After we got out (rather late), we drove to Chicago and stayed at the Palmer House. (Ryan has hotel points, and we just don’t order any room service so it was free.) The next morning we walked to Millennium Park and took some pictures as we walked around. Then we got a nice lunch and drove to Naperville in time to visit with my brother Carl and his friend.

So how did I do without Paul? I woke up once in the night thinking “oh no! He fell out of his crib!” (I don’t know why. He’s never even tried to climb out of his crib.) And then I had a dream that he was crying for me because he couldn’t get his socks on by himself. (Well, it’s true: he can’t get his socks on without my help! He tries every day.)

So how did Paul do? Mom says he didn’t cry all weekend, and he slept in until 8 a.m. (Why doesn’t he sleep in for me?!) When I heard him waking up from his nap on Saturday afternoon, I was eager to see him. He rolled over, saw me, and started to cry. It was kind of funny if you think about it.

Then we got ready and went to cousin Daniel’s baptism. We were so excited that we could be there. Paul wasn’t very reverent, unfortunately. We then had a barbecue at Daniel’s house. I didn’t get any pictures of the birthday boy on his big day. Boo.

Yard

After my last post, I did buy four small bushes (total: $70)  and Miracle Gro, a hose, and Weed Killer (total: $70). I tore out the dead bushed and planted the newborn bushes in the front planter.

Ryan’s comment: “They look like a couple of weeds.”

In the past month, they’ve grown and they look a little better. I took a picture of the planter “before” (with the dead bushes), but I didn’t take a picture of the “after” until this week. It still looks pretty meager. Maybe when my bushes have grown more, I’ll show you. I’ve also planted a few perennials and bulbs my friends gave me, but of course those won’t be much until next year.

That is the extent of yard work I can afford this year. We have a lot of other things to do, but we do not feel confident doing them ourselves and/or would really need to hire a professional. Some of those things include:

  • prune the huge tree that is half dead (please don’t tell me we can do this ourselves)
  • prune all the trees that are not dead at all (I’m hoping my better half might figure this out)
  • prune the really huge overgrown bush by the split-rail fence (I did prune the other bushes, but this one is so out of control, I seriously cannot even reach it.)
  • diagnose the fungus that the two rear maple trees have and treat the trees (Ryan self-diagnosed it, and it will just go away by next year, we think. But a real diagnosis would help me feel a lot better.)
  • tear out the dead pine tree and the dying ugly pine tree along the back of our deck (Ugly Ugly Ugly!)
  • tear out the dead rose bushes (There are about 4; turns out two or three others have a little bit of growth! maybe the other 4 likewise aren’t completely dead!)

Our planters have random things in them. I still don’t know which are weeds and which are supposed to be there. So the positive side of not having any more money for “gardening” is that I get to just wait and see. I’m glad, too, because one side of the house ended up being a bed of strawberries!

House

We have all the framed pictures we own up on the walls. Now we just need frames so we can put up the rest of our pictures. I can’t wait until every wall is full of our pictures. Then it will feel completely like home. It’s only just home right now.

I’ve spent some time getting the basement organized, including a very empty food storage family storage spot (did you notice the church “changed” the name in all it’s material?). I’ll get a picture (but not tonight) because I’m very proud of the nice open space beside all of our storage boxes. A few weeks ago, you couldn’t get past. Now you can!

Organizing the basement means there is now space to begin a sufficient family storage! Right now, our family storage is mostly non-edibles: toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning supplies. But I’ve figured out a plan for getting the edibles up to three months as well. I’m excited to have a storage of usable food just down the stairs.

I’m also slowly attacking the really moldy refrigerator in the basement so ComEd can pick it up (they’ll even pay me for it). I thought I could clean it and we could use it, but it is too moldy. I never ever want to put my food in it. I’ll never get the mold out of all the cracks. I am going to be sick just thinking about it.

Other things I’d like to have done around the house that unfortunately cost money:

  • clean the vents (The thought of having the floors sanded and all that sand still in the vents makes me shudder. I’m just sweeping up that dust every day. It’s filtering through the house!)
  • powerwash the back of the house (it’s moldy)
  • paint the house
  • paint the trim
  • replace all the windows (essentially all of them have moisture between then, which means they look very dirty, even if we clean inside and out)
  • repaint the deck
  • paint all the walls in the house

And that’s just the beginning…

Housework

I’ve come to a new realization lately: I don’t mind housework. I realized this when Ryan was home. One night, he was talking to me and I started emptying the dishwasher and loading it. I realized I didn’t care that that was what I was doing: it didn’t bother me. It’s not a big deal. Why, then, do I put it off all day?

Since then, I’ve realized the same thing about many chores: sweeping and mopping the floor, making the bed, cleaning the toilets. I don’t love doing the chores (and no, I don’t want to do your chores), but they need to be done and doing them doesn’t bother me. It’s nice to have a clean and tidy home.

It’s a nice thing to realize.

Other Updates Plus Thoughts on Cooking

I update my reading progress at my reading blog here, I post weekly updates about my son’s antics here, and I’ve started tracking my cooking here.

I’m hoping that tracking my cooking will be an incentive to remain creative in my cooking as well as healthful, even when my husband is out of town. When I don’t cook (i.e., when Ryan is gone for five days at a time), then I feel like I can’t cook and I get in a rut where I’m paralyzed in to inaction (“oh, no! It’s dinner time again!” *start panicking and staring in the mostly empty refrigerator*). I need to keep on cooking every day and planning ahead, and it will become more natural.

For some reason, I dread cooking until I begin. I really do like cooking when I’m doing it.

So does that work for an update, Jen? Sorry there are no pictures. I’m too tired to find my camera.

Sorry, Closed

Apr 062009
 

It’s interesting how we remember general conferences by where we were during each one.

Eighteen months ago I spent the first session of conference (4 to 6 a.m. Sunday morning Australia time) trying to keep my mind off my progressing labor. (Only twelve hours later I held my newborn boy!) I recall Sister Beck’s talk to the mothers with fondness because I was a new mother first the first time that weekend.

Then a year ago I spent the week after conference (since it was delayed a day) listening to all the talks on my computer as I went about my week. I remember listening to Elder Uchtdorf’s and Elder Eyring’s talks over and over again.

Six months ago I went to my parent’s house on Sunday and we had a birthday cake for Paul’s first birthday. I remember Paul’s delight every time the choir started to sing.

This time the whole family zoned out on the couch in cold-induced delirium as the prophet and apostles spoke. I unfortunately don’t recall many of the messages, except it seemed everyone was talking about temples.

Yes, we were all sick. Again. Will the winter cold season never end?

Which is worse:

  • holding my feverish and miserable son while also feeling feverish and miserable
  • letting my energy-filled son hit me on my head with his toys all day long because I’m feverish and miserable and I don’t have the energy (or a voice) to say “please don’t” over and over again

Ever since I woke up this morning, the phrase “Sorry, Closed” has been going through my head. Why today? Because today was the day my husband (who has also been sick) got up before dawn and flew to Manhattan for the next four days. (He did offer to stay home, bless his heart.)

My mind has been telling my body all day to just put up a big sign: “Sorry, I’m Closed Today.” Hence, the toys hitting me on the head. All. Day. Long. (Apparently, the last 48 hours of almost-constant sleep helped Paul to get better. I’m glad. I really am.)

But we all know, moms never close, do we?

Off to put the laundry away. Maybe.

Mental Illness and the Gospel

Mar 162009
 

I have written a number of posts in my head in the past month, but none of them have made it to this webpage yet. Before I get to those, however, there is something that I’d really like to write.

The subject in sacrament meeting yesterday was hope and joy in the gospel, or something along those lines.

(To preface this post, I admit I only heard about half of the talk because I was in and out with Paul, who hit his head right in the middle of the meeting and was rather touchy. This is a reflection on the part of the talk that I did hear.)

The second speaker began by telling about seven different people he knew in his life that had committed suicide. (Yes, seven. That seems rather high to me.) Then he said (and I paraphrase), “On the other hand, I don’t know of anyone in the church that has committed suicide. That’s because the gospel brings so much joy…. If anyone here has those thoughts of suicide, I urge you to pray them away.”

Then he went on to talk about how the gospel makes everything all better when things are hard. Because it brings us joy.

I was in shock. I could not believe he said “pray them away” from the pulpit! He revealed not just his own ignorance of mental illness but also the gospel.

Mental illnesses, such as depression, are not prayed away.

Sure, prayer can help you when you are depressed or sad. But, while I’m not a mental health expert, I do know that real mental illness in the form of severe, suicidal depression is not solved completely by prayer. It’s like telling someone with cancer to “pray it away.” Talk about setting yourself up for failure!

It is okay to have real feelings. The gospel brings joy, but it does not erase real struggles and disease. Sometimes prayer is not enough. Saying that does not mean I don’t have faith. Accepting that does not mean that you don’t have enough faith. It means you accept the reality of (1) mental illness and (2) the gospel plan of Heavenly Father. Prayer might help ease depression, but it might not. If you are seriously feeling suicidal, get help!

Further, the gospel is not a “cure all” to real disease and real struggle. Members of the church get depressed just as non-members get depressed. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mormon women (particularly stay-at-home Mormon mothers) struggle with more depression than non-Mormon women, simply because they feel the urge to be “perfect” and they think every wrong choice their children make is a reflection on them. (Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6) Or because Relief Society seems to be full of apparently “perfect” mothers with five children when they are obviously struggling with their two children. Or because their husband is in the bishopric (or working many many hours a day or traveling a lot, etc.) and they are raising the child(ren) essentially alone. Or because they have financial problems and tithing is really really hard to pay this month….and so forth.

The reasons Mormon women feel depressed are just as valid as the reasons non-Mormon women feel depressed. Being a member of the true church of Jesus Christ on the earth does not give you a “Get Out of Depression Free” card. You have to face things that come, just as everyone else on earth does.

In case you don’t believe me, here’s Alexander B. Morrison:

It is important to understand, however, that happiness does not imply the absence of adversity. Every individual experiences temptation, opposition, and trials that test faith and endurance: “For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things” (2 Ne. 2:11).

This is what I wished the Bishop said at the end of the meeting  (This what I would have liked to have said, at least.):

I want to add my testimony that the gospel adds joy. The good news of the gospel is that because of Jesus Christ, we all can have hope. We know we can all be forgiven when we do wrong. We can all be strengthened when we have discouragement.

Besides that, I know that the gospel also provides a wonderful support system. Sometimes our struggles seem to get the best of us. Turn to your home teachers or visiting teachers if you need help. If you don’t feel comfortable turning to them, turn to me [your bishop]. Prayer can help us find joy in our life, but sometimes we need a lifeline too. The church can help you. I want to reiterate what Brother ____ said. If you are feeling depressed and having thoughts of suicide, certainly pray, but also come talk to me [your bishop] or a mental health professional. We can work through depression together.

LDS-approved articles about depression and mental illness from the last four years: (Note: None of these say “pray it away” as the main tool.)

I realize that the brother who spoke is imperfect, just as I am. His sacrament meeting talk is imperfect, just as my talk will be imperfect. This gospel is a gospel of self-improvement, and thanks to the wonderful Atonement of Christ, one of hope and progression. But when he said what he said, I realized that this ignorance to mental illness is something I’d like to fight against. My blog seems like a perfect place for doing so. Thanks for listening.

A Happy Birthday Defined

Jan 232009
 

Last year, I had laparoscopic surgery four days before my birthday. On my birthday, my husband had to go back to work, so I rested in bed for the fourth straight day, three-month-old Paul on the bed right next to me, kicking and sleeping and otherwise acting surprisingly good. By the time Ryan was due to come home, I was bored from being in bed for days, so I got up and made a very yummy dinner for us. (It was all the more delicious to eat knowing that I could not possibly have a gall stone attack.) All told, it was a nice birthday.

This year’s birthday has been even better. Last year, my (costliest) present was abdominal surgery (for which I was very grateful). This year, my present contains a roof, four bedrooms, granite kitchen countertops, and a back yard. It should be ours as of next Thursday evening, barring disaster.

Of course, it will take at least 30 years to pay for this present, so I guess my birthday presents for the foreseeable future are covered!

My Happy Birthday

This year’s main disappointment was that my husband was out of town. But since I knew this would be the case, I was determined to have a happy birthday all the same. So I’ve been asking myself, what makes a happy birthday?

Last year, I loved making my husband dinner; it was just what I needed, since I’d had a few days of laziness. It felt wonderful to do something for someone else. It felt nice to be productive. I wanted a nice birthday this year, even while alone.

When I awoke yesterday morning, I decided that I wanted to take a luxurious, warm shower in my own shower. As much as I love to exercise in the morning, there is something quite distasteful to showering, changing, and doing my hair in the public restroom. No: on my birthday, at least, I wanted to get “cute” at home.

Then I asked myself: what would I love for my birthday? I decided I wanted to have a clean house. When Ryan’s gone, I get lazy: I leave dishes in the sink; I leave things lying around; I leave messes on the counter. So after Paul ate (or not) his breakfast, I cleaned the entire downstairs. I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, and I vacuumed the entire house.

It felt so nice to have a clean house. I kept thinking: what a wonderful birthday present I’m giving myself! And it didn’t feel like work. (Don’t get me wrong; I don’t like to clean. But it felt good.)

Paul was cranky, but as a result he was happy to give me a few minutes of cuddling during Sesame Street. Then we went to Paul’s playgroup for an hour, where he could run around, much to his delight. After his lunch, Paul went down for a nap, and I indulged in reading a little of my novel. After all, I’d already cleaned the house; I didn’t have to feel guilty. Then I frosted the chocolate cake I’d made and  two of my friends came over to help me eat it; one friend has a little boy Paul’s age, so they had lots of fun.

By the time my friends left, Paul had his dinner and I gave him a bath: I love the laugh of a happy little boy. I sang him a lullaby and he went to sleep. I had a little bit of time to write on my blog and then I talked to my husband on the phone for an hour. Sigh. It was as perfect a birthday as could be without my husband here.

What Is a Happy Birthday?

People seem to say that birthdays are a day for other people to indulge you: your “special day” apparently means no work.

But I don’t understand that. Waiting for other people to serve me would have made for a pretty disappointing birthday. I would have been completely alone, in a dirty house, with a cranky baby, and no chocolate cake. And, in the long run, I think that attitude would lead to a pretty disappointing life. Other people can’t anticipate what I want, and nagging them to do what I want wouldn’t be much fun either. (I hate nagging.)

I loved the fact that doing little things for myself (like doing my hair and makeup, cleaning my house, visiting with friends, making a treat) were very rewarding in one little day. And I think that is what I should be doing every day, for that is what makes life rewarding.

I like the concept of birthdays: a special day for each person. And yet, as busy stay-at-home mothers, I think we should treat every day as our birthday: not by being selfish and expecting things of others, but by doing for ourselves whatever it takes to make life pleasant. (Not that I suggest we eat chocolate cake every day, or sit and read a novel every afternoon, or clean the house every day…)

The next step, of course, is then going out and making a difference in other people’s lives. Why wait for their one day of the year?

What makes your birthday happy? What do you hope for? What do you do for yourself every day?

Two Weeks Later

Sep 132008
 

Two weeks ago, we moved out of our Australian townhome and headed to the airport hotel. We stayed there one night, and then spent the next 24 hours flying. Paul was a great sport on the plane, and I’m forever grateful that the company bought us business class seats and Paul got his own.

Two weeks after moving from the other side of the globe, there are still insomnia-filled nights for me, but my internal clock is getting a little better. Paul is on a perfect schedule (8 p.m. to 8 a.m.) and I hope he stays that way! I’m loving the spacious parking lots, low prices at the supermarket, and wonderfully book-filled libraries.

Here are some highlights of what we’ve been doing.

  • We stayed a week with my mom and dad. (But we were very busy getting set up so we didn’t see much of them!)
  • I got a new mobile telephone that has a U.S. number, so people, you can call me again! (Email me at rebecca [at] reid-family [dot] org for the number if you want it.)
  • We got a great deal on my new car. (And I love it!)
  • I only drove on the wrong side of the road twice. (Unfortunately, both times were when I was test driving a car through a dealership, so it was kind of embarrassing.)
  • We signed a six-month lease for an apartment, moved in, and unpacked. (Email me at rebecca [at] reid-family [dot] org for the address if you want it.)
  • We’ve eaten out. A lot.
  • We bought a used seven-piece solid wood bedroom set for the price of a brand new dresser. It includes a headboard and footboard, a long dresser, a mirror, an armoire, and two side tables.
  • We bought Paul a dresser and a crib (still to be delivered).
  • I bought myself a new comfy chair for Paul’s room (still to be delivered). (I sold mine in Australia in June and I was so very sad!)
  • See Paul’s highlights here.

On the schedule for the coming days:

  • Visit with family!
  • Meet our new ward.
  • Cook a real meal.
  • Get my husband a new job.
  • Buy a house (well, we have five months for this one).

About our apartment: It’s small. There are three bedrooms of adequate size, one of which is our study. But the kitchen is very small, the living room doesn’t fit our furniture, and the dining area is now divided into a play area as well. The carpet stinks. The walls are full of marks from previous renters (of course, it was repainted), but all that’s to be expected. It’s an apartment, not a palace.

This apartment won’t work for the long run, but it will work as a temporary spot while we begin serious house hunting. We’re going to be looking in the Crystal Lake area, but that location could change any day, I suppose.

Someday we’ll have a house!

The Not-So-Frumpy Campaign

Aug 242008
 

In the past six weeks since I stopped breastfeeding, I’ve gained all the weight I was supposed to have gained while pregnant, my complexion is suddenly shot, and I’m realizing that I look like a frumpy woman, in more ways than I can number.

I know, no sympathy, since I didn’t really gain anything while pregnant, etc. But it’s like the post-pregnancy depression didn’t come until I stopped breastfeeding, at a point when everyone expects me to know how to be a mother because, face it, my son is almost a year old.

I’m just realizing, as I said the other day, that I need to do a better job of making myself look like a real human being. I went on a nine-day vacation to New Zealand (which was wonderful), but every time I looked in the mirror, I grimaced. I’m in need of a Not-So-Frumpy Campaign right now.

That said, I keep thinking of things that I could do to feel like a cute newlywed again:

  • Get a manicure or pedicure
  • Get my hair done
  • Buy new pjs that aren’t fraying or stained with maple syrup
  • Buy new clothes (lots of them!)
  • Have a spa treatment (I’ve never done this, but it sure sounds nice, doesn’t it?)
  • Get a massage
  • Buy a new book (because that always helps…)

Except everything costs money. Since I move across the globe this coming Saturday (!!!), I’m not going to have any spending money for a long while yet.

This is where you come in! Please tell me what I can do to feel cute again without spending a penny!

A few clarifications:

  • I cannot for the life of me put nail polish on my own fingers. It doesn’t work. I feel very gross when I have clumpy nail polish.
  • I can only wear earrings for a few hours before my ears ache. I think my ears are allergic. Instead, I have holes in my ears.
  • I dry my hair on mornings that I have time, and that helps me not feel frumpy. But my hair dryer, which is also a straightener, has an Australian plug, so even that will cost money to replace once I get to the USA. (I burned out my USA one the first week down-under.) I know I could use a regular hair dryer, but those make my hair frizzy.
  • I wear basic makeup. I won’t wear more than that.

Please note: I’m not asking for you to buy me things. I don’t want anyone else to buy me anything; I know what I like, etc. I just want your ideas for free cute-inspiring things.

Is everything that helps women feel cute costly?

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