A Sentimental Journey

So, on the weekend we were completely re-organizing the kitchen. We threw away a lot of stuff... enough that I'm embarrassed to admit it. One of the things we found was this can of smoothie mix, expiration date of August 2003.

Ryan: Why do we still have this?
Me: Um... I couldn't throw it away...
Ryan: Why not?? It expired five years ago!!
Me: (sheepishly) Well... it was the first thing I ever bought with a coupon.

And thus we discovered that whilst R, for sentimental reasons, cannon throw away things, so I, for sentimental reasons, cannot throw away food. So here, for posterity's sake, is a photo of me with the first thing I ever bought with a coupon.

Hooray for instant smoothie mix for 49 cents.


And yes, we did throw it out...

"Date Night"

I wish it wasn't called this. It sounds so arranged. Like Tuesday I do laundry, Wednesday I vacuum, Thursday is date night.

Well actually Tuesday was date night. We went to BJ's and had a roy rogers and a mini pizza each during happy hour. For those of you who haven't gone there with us during happy hour, happy hour = cheap food.

Can I just say I had a fantastic time? I know you'd probably expect that I should, given the company, but sometimes date nights can seemed so forced. I sit there feeling a bit like, "ok, what are we going to talk about? i can't talk about the kids soooooo.... that leaves, oh right, nothing." I often feel dull and uninspiring on date nights.

But this was different, and I want to say it was because we were both making an effort, only it seemed so effortless, like back when we really were dating, before getting married and it getting all weird ;) We laughed, and joked, and enjoyed each other.

One of the things (among many things) that we talked about was the way we ended up together in the first place... given the circumstances in each other's lives, how remarkable it was how it all transpired. How divine really. And I've been thinking about something he said, about how he felt the day we "broke up" - the day I realized he liked me like that. How could I ever have doubted his intentions? And yet I was so oblivious.
The question struck me last night as he crawled into bed and came and wrapped his cold feet around me to get warm (something which I love by the way) if I'm still oblivious. Am I still so distracted by the children, the house, what I love, what I don't, how hard my day was, who I talked to, my struggles, my hopes, my failures, that I'm still oblivious to how much he loves me? That in the midst of my life, he likes me like that.



There was a hug offered to me last night, the value of which I underestimated. There was a listening ear recently that I abused. There's been time craved that I've been too dismissive of.

Somehow I think that even after 6 years, I'm still as dense as I was.

I want to change that.

Daily Bread

When I was a little girl, we lived in Townsville. It's way up on the north east coast of Australia. Think Florida like. Humid, tropical, giant bugs and ripper cyclones that destroy entire towns... that kind of thing.

I have many memories of that time, which is unusual for some people. My first memory is from that time. I was 2yrs and 9 months (a milestone which I eerily realized Amelie has reached). Clear as a bell. I got in trouble for putting my hand in the ice pit at my father's workplace Christmas party. I just loved the feeling of my hand going in under the ice cubes, so dreamy and divine, but apparently wrong. The man dressed as Santa gave out barbie dolls that year. I didn't get one. But I did eat ice cream. I think it was Pixie, the ones that came in little cups and you eat it with the little wooden stick. I think my mother fed it to me.

Anyway, one of the other memories I have is of my mother making bread. She was like mother earth to me. All things good and bountiful and womanly I saw in my mother. She would make it and set it in this giant (or what seemed giant) maroon coloured tupperware bowl, and put a tea towel over it and set it on our front porch step to rise in the sun. I remember playing outside and seeing it sitting there and knowing there would be fresh bread for dinner that night. I remember that peeling back the tea towel when she brought it inside was like hoping for Christmas, and finding the swollen dough inside had grown was like finding treasure.

So, in my never ending project of getting it all together, I found that on Friday I was able to enjoy my clean house so much that I baked bread with Amelie. It has been a long time goal of mine to start baking my own bread. There is something so deliciously homey about it, not to mention that the eating of fresh baked bread and butter is one of the smallest yet greatest experiences known to man. It is as universal as love.
Amelie was very excited, but as per usual, loses interest after she is not able to interact as much as she'd like. Too much for her not to touch, too little to keep her interest. Even measuring and stirring is a little dull for her. What facinated me the most took too long for her... I love the way you put the yeast into some warm water with a little sugar, and the yeast comes alive. R says it's like playing God. It starts bubbling and giving off the most unique odour - both delicious and offensive all at the same time, and yet you can't stop wanting to smell it.
Well, it was that very smell that brought all those hidden childhood memories flooding back, and the weight of the nostalgia made me just want to sit and remember. But I pounded that dough, until it was stretchy and smooth, happy just to have those memories at all.
I was covered in flour, surrounded my music and memory, my children sleeping and playing and I was happy as a clam.
Brought a little extra delightful meaning to "give us this day our daily bread".

Scrapbooking is not for weenies and Raging Cynicism

I don't have that much gear.

No, let me start at the beginning. I never wanted to scrapbook. When I envisioned scrapbooking I saw long denim skirt-alls, appliqued blouses two sizes too large with puffy headbands that actually matched one of the fabrics of the applique. Maybe a head scarf or two... maybe a couple of large square lace collars. I saw women whose lives were so boring, pasting little pieces of paper on other pieces of paper was fun. I saw a major recession back to pre-school, like they'd joined their kids entertainments.

I was wrong.

Now, like knitting, it has turned the way of the hipsters, with more bling than a 50 cent show and definitely (in my circles) a clear lack of skirt-alls. I started scrapbooking because I wanted to meet and get to know the women in my apartment complex who get together occasionally to craft. They were the ones who opened my eyes to a completely different world, which, when governed by the idea that it's all going to burn anyway, let's you create (something I rarely get to do these days unless I'm producing offspring) and remember (something else I have no time to do unless it's reminding myself to start dinner).

It's my only hobby. That is something I hesitate to admit for fear I do fit into the above categories of "my life is so boring pasting little pieces of paper on other pieces of paper is fun" and "I've had a major recession and only enjoy what my kids enjoy".

If this is my only hobby, has my life really become this dull? I mean, I love scrapbooking. My pages are fun and interesting (I think). I'm getting better every page I do. I feel like it helps me focus on all the good things I have in my life and I'm more grateful and content after I scrapbook a page. I pray for the people in my photos when I scrapbook. It's a peaceful time (for me) and an all too rare time of contemplation and creativity. It's the only time like it I get in my life. That is very satisfying.

So why do I feel so boooooooring?

Is it just that I need another hobby? Other outlets? A part-time job? Am I not content enough in the "Christian" female ideal of "raising my kids is the only outlet I need"? I've never fitted the whole 'wifey-mothery' mold, which is about as uncomfortable as you can get in most Christian circles, and it's not like I'm dying to leave home and get away from my children, but there never seems to be a comfortable place for me to rest. (Why I have to label it I don't know, but that does tend to be my personality. You know: categories, labels etc, i crave order in my brain, if not enough in my life)

Subsequently, I seem to be too Christian for the arty people, and too arty for the Christian people. To liberal for the conservatives, and to conservative for the liberals. I love hard-core scrapbooking, but I hate crafts.

There is no clique for me. Which is logical and stupid all at the same time. Why would an arty person want to be labeled, and why would a labling person want to be creative?

Have any of my friends noticed I have such serious personality issues? :P

Anyway, this was going to be about the fact that I don't have that much gear for scrapbooking, and yet it's heavy to lug around and I often need at least one other person to help out, and that if you take your time and do a good job it takes a lot of concentration and a lot of thought and a long creative process (if you work on it like I do) and that can be pretty hard core sometimes. So you need to be physically strong, mentally strong, and emotionally strong to scrapbook. (I think, although now that sounds a lot more 'weenie' than I'd envisioned in my head.)

::Now on to the raging cynicism part::

But then I come home to a house that looks thrashed. Really it's just that the kids and I cleaned the kitchen of toys three times today (something that, to look at it, seems absurdly unlikely) but right before my husband got home they pulled out the toy box again. Also for the last three days they've played dress ups with my clean laundry, and I've folded it four times (that was on the first day) before I gave up and let them play with it because it was one activity they didn't fight about. It discourages me that two activities gone awry can depress me so much. Stupid things, small things that combined make me look (and subsequently feel) lazy. And of course, it's only when things are at their worst that you have unexpected guests see your house. They never seem to come when it's clean. (And believe it or not those of you who've seen my house, it does actually look clean, just not when you chose to come over). I'm tired of making excuses. "Oh sorry, the kids were playing" or "I'm sorry, we're in the middle of a project" or "I'm sorry, I've been busy taking care of sick kids for the last 5 weeks, haven't left the house in 2, haven't showered in 3 days and I feel like crap today... oh and I'm PMSing so just don't look at the mess." Even if it's true, and "life". Tired of it.

I look at these two, small, stupid activities strewn about my floors. They would probably take me 20 minutes (right now in the wee hours of the morning) to clean up. Thing is, within 10 minutes tomorrow, it'd look like this again. Do I really want to clean something up, that in 6 hrs will disappear, and while it's clean no-one can appreciate.

A better woman would say yes. Yes! Go take 20 minutes and just do it. Do it for yourself, do it for your family, do it for the Lord.

I am not that woman. God bless you, if she is you. You're a better woman than I. And I wish I could toggle that switch in my brain that keeps me from being you, so I'd fit in, stop making excuses, and finally have a perfectly clean house. All the time!

Hairclips & Housekeeping

So today I had a couple of errands to do and I took Amelie with me to the mall. One of the things I wanted to do was go to Gymboree and take advantage of a 50% off coupon I had, and raid their sales rack. Given that I have two girls, I feel a bit more like I can buy better quality clothing because I know that it'll see two kids, but I'm still a stingy queen of cheap and buy stuff uber discounted. (quick question, is "uber" too 1999?)

Well first we went to see the puppies, because it's a treat when we do that, and Amelie always has great stories about it when we get home. (Is that selfish, to take her there just because I want to hear her stories?) Anyway, seeing a living, breathing creature in the middle of the mall makes it feel a little less like it's sucking the life force out of me. She very much enjoyed the puppies. She saw one with a rather cute nose and it very much wanted to touch her. "I want it," she says in this innocent kind of way, which sounds more like she wants the joy of being with it as opposed to a demanding toddler kind of way. So I tell her, "pray and ask God to give mama and papa a house with a backyard and then we'll get you a puppy". (later on, R asked me if that was a good idea. what if God suddenly did give us a house, then she'd expect a puppy, and right now she's too young for a puppy. he's right. but 1. it reflected our confidence that God can do amazing things like that, and so comforted me instead of chastising me and 2. if God answered a prayer like that for her, I'll start getting her to pray for other things! and faith like that deserves a puppy. ok maybe not exactly but you get my drift).

So on we went to Gymboree and boy did I make that coupon stretch. All my fellow clearance junkies -holla! I did you proud.

But there was one thing I saw that I didn't pay bottom dollar for... although it was still on clearance. I just couldn't resist and so to justify it, I'm going to give them to Amelie for her birthday (which is only 2 months away so I don't have to wait long).




She loved them, and so I can't wait to give them to her!

Also, I was very proud of myself. I spent way less than usual at the grocery store today. One of my goals right now, to reduce waste and focus on being a diligent budgeter is to buy less when I got shopping... seems logical right but here's the deal. Because of our car situation, I could only go grocery shopping maybe twice a month. So I'd try and buy a ton of stuff to last us 2 weeks or so, which is fine with things like cereal, or meat I can freeze, but you just can't buy produce and expect that romaine lettuce head to be as fresh two weeks later as the day you bought it. So I'm just going to have to figure out how to do this but here are my goals:

1. better meal planning. this way I can a) not be so stressed out when it comes to 5 pm and I have to think about food for the 10th time in the day and b) buy what we need for the meals we're having, and not a random cupboard crapshoot. won't always work perfectly, but hopefully...
2. buying less = spending less + wasting less

...so I feel better, not just about meal preparation, but also about the state of my fridge, and plugging the hole that (I feel like) keeps hemorrhaging money and food.

Sorry, that got even a bit too "housewifey" even for me. This really was just meant to be a post about how much I loved being with Amelie today, and that I got to buy her some fun, funky hair clips!