Currently.

Today's post inspired by Danielle from Sometimes Sweet.

Currently Reading

I've been following Jennifer on Twitter for quite some time now. I have NO clue who started following who first. At one point we almost did a 5k together, but I was too much of a chicken shit to jump on a plane to Oklahoma to be doused in color alongside my fellow bloggy friends. What was I so afraid of again? Oh, that's right, I'm the anxious chihuahua of my kind. I'm almost ashamed to say I started this book, ooooooh... back in MARCH. In MARCH people. Re-fucking-diculous. I was on a roll, and then I got sidetracked. Butterfly. Cumulonimbus. Jeebus on a cracker. Seriously though. As a treat to myself I bought myself a BOOK and some BATH MILK with my tax returns (hold on to your underpants, people, I'm out of control when it comes to dollah dollah bills, y'all.) I would read and soak in my milky "spa water" sporting my mad seaweed mud mask and read a few chapters a few times each week. And then, BAM, busy season. I'm sporting POLYESTER SLACKS in the muggy south because I don't. have. time. to. shave. I could probably braid my kneecap hair. I've already apologized to Jennifer... I sensed snark. For real though, I was enthralled with all the church ladies in her life, even the moment when she became the church lady herself. It's also heart wrenching to read her thoughts as she suffers with her own self doubts and anxieties. I feel ya, sista, I truly do. Sneak a peek at her words here or check her out here.

Currently listening to...

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I love the track "Home" so much I haven't even bothered to listen to any of their other stuff. I seriously crank this regardless of who's in the office. Eventually my boss just might send me home thinking I'm trying to drop hints. I swear I'm not. I just can't stop listening to this song. There's something magical about it. Reminds me of that time I fell in love with Those Darlins. 

 Currently thinking about...

This sweet baby. Her brother. Their insane little minds that go a million miles a millisecond. How at peace they were upon seeing the beach for the first time. Wanting to take them back. I contemplated moving back to the beach for a hot second, because... the BEACH, man... THE BEACH. My heart pulls and tugs and rips from my chest with the ebb and flow of the tide. I need to go back. My very existence depends on it. Needing to see their excitement at the infinite blueness of the horizon. Hearing the waves crash onto the beach at 5 in the morning... on the edge of my seat with alertness knowing with certainty the sun was going to rise at ANY FUCKING MINUTE. I'm suffocating in suburbia, man... suffocating.

Currently watching...

Well, catching up on, rather. Soon I'll be obsessively watching "Orange is the New Black."  I've been blowing through shows on Netflix like a mad man. Drop Dead Diva, Switched at Birth, Secret Life of the American Teenager, Pretty Little Liars and now Weeds. This is what I've been doing after hours. Catching up on the television everyone else has been watching for ever and ever amen. Netflix now has a new section just for me entitled, "Dark Television Shows with Strong Female Characters." Hmm... maybe Netflix knows me a little too well. I need real friends apparently.

Currently bummed  out on...

Apparently when I schedule actual vacation time through corporate, I don't get to revoke that. What's done cannot be undone and you must plan at least 1 month to the day ahead of time. My family cancelled our reunion this year, for logical reasons, but I still want to throw my temper tantrum. Not only will I have to fork out $ I don't have for airfare if I still want to visit, but if I don't fork it over my kids can go but I can't? Eff it. We'll all stay home and build tents and roast s'mores over the gas stove... in our kitchen... with fondue sticks. Can't go to the mountains. Can't go to the beach. Boo hoo, gimme some cheese for this whine of mine. In other, more positive (but damn, seriously no vacation???) news...

I'm totally loving...

That after nearly ten years of paying off my (financial) debt to society, not only was I able to refinance my truck through the bank -- DROPPING $150 off my monthly car note, I'm finally eligible for the Young Adult Visa through my credit union. I actually thanked the woman for thinking I'm a young adult. 30 really is the new 20, you guys. It's the little things in life that totally lift me up. Something as stupid and meaningless to most adults, like getting approved for both a line of credit AND an auto re-finance, mean the world to me. It shows me that I wasn't wrong in working hard and paying off my debts. I cannot even tell you how many times we were advised to "just file bankruptcy" so we wouldn't have to wait as long to fix our mistakes. What would that teach us? What would that teach our CHILDREN? That right there is why this country has gone to Hell in a hand basket financially. Yes, I've had to accept help from family, friends and the government (after a LOT of kicking, screaming, and sucking up of stubborn pride). Warning, run on sentence alert!!! Yes, I have cried myself to sleep from the weight of all that's riding on my shoulders AND the unfairness of watching others file bankruptcy around me and while they're taking their kids to Disney every few months and going to little Johnny and Jenny's Tae Kwon Do ceremonies and my own kids are eating PB&J for the 5,284th day in a row and gluing pipe cleaners together at yet another Vacation Bible School because, GOSH DARNIT, IT'S FREE AND YOU'LL ENJOY IT OR ELSE. This means if we play our cards right, we could actually own our own home possibly by my next birthday. This means no more ridiculous interest rates. This means an emergency fund is now a reality... I can defer payments if times get tough! I can pay my car note now in my underwear from the comfort of my home! No more money orders! No more $100 off my balance after paying $360 towards my balance! It's the little things...

I gotta bad habit...

I started smoking when I was 16 years old. Meaning as of this point in my life, I've been a smoker almost as long as I've been a non-smoker.

I want to quit.

The only reason I started was over a stupid boy. A stupid STUPID boy.

My first cigarette happened pretty much like this:

Stupid Boy, "The waitresses tip me in cigarettes. You want to try one with me?"
Me, "No. I have asthma. Probably not the best idea."

 ~~3 days later.~~

Stupid Boy, "The waitresses tipped me in cigarettes again. You still have asthma?"
Me, "Yes, dipshit. It doesn't just go away."

~~3 hours later.~~

Stupid Boy, "I still have those cigarettes."
Me, "FINE, IF IT WILL SHUT YOU UP LONG ENOUGH TO LISTEN TO ME GO ALL EMO AND TALK ABOUT HOW MY MOTHER HATES ME AND HOW E E CUMMINGS IS THE BEST POET EVARRRRRR...."

~~3 seconds later.~~

Stupid Boy, "Hey... HEY! You alright?"
Me, looking up at him from the floorboard of my car, "Wtf just happened? Let me try that again."

Stupid. STUPID STUPID STUPID. I went from 1 a day to 1 every waking hour. When I'm nervous? I smoke twice as many.

I want to quit. I need to quit. I want to see Lillie walk down the aisle. I want to chase my Grandbabies around the park. I want to run faster. I want to WANT to run.

Worst habit EVER.

e e cummings is still the best... for instance...

maggie and milly and molly and may

10

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea 

 

 

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.fwLh5BIm.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.fwLh5BIm.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.fwLh5BIm.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.fwLh5BIm.dpuf

31.

I'm 31 now. Thirty fucking ONE.

Let's talk about 30x30 shall we?

1. Meet with my people. Not like Jesus, but more like my fellow bloggers... maybe even smoosh cheeks European style with the ones I put up on a pedestal. Met the Bloggess 5/16
2. Run 40k by 32nd Birthday. (Currently at 21.6: Color Run 2012 5k, All Aboard for a Cure 2012 1 Mile/1.6k, Hot Chocolate Run 2012 5k, Diva Dash 2013 5k, Color Run 2013 5k)
3. Get back into a career style job. May 21st 2012
4. Move out of the basement. June 22nd 2012
5. Take the kids to the beach, any coast will do. May 25th 2013
6. Really celebrate my marriage and relationship with my best friend, i.e. family might need to avert their eyes.
7. Pilgrim back to the Drepung Loseling Monestary in it's new (to me) location.
8. Yoga. And YES, M.... I'm going to need your help on this one because this one is inspired by YOU.
9. Read 30 novels. (1, Jenny Lawson's "Let's Pretend This Never Happened." 2, Rebecca Woolf's "Rockabye.")
10. Lose 30 MORE pounds. (Update, I've slipped. Big time. See more below.)
11. Quit smoking.
12. Spend more time in my craft room and less time in the kitchen. (Seeing as how I've got no craft room currently, I'm going to have to find some other outlet. Again... see below.)

 WTF IS THIS SHIT??!?!

Oh yes, let's talk about my inherent lack of control when it comes to pretty much anything and everything edible within reach of me as of employment a freaking year ago. Who knew a job where I spend half of my time on my ASS in front of computer would wear me out and depress me so? I spend so much time doing absolutely nothing. Both at home and at work. I mean, I get my job done and I do a damn good job doing so... but... when I'm home? I nap. I use what time I could be bettering myself physically, and eat. Pretty much whatever I can lay my freshly manicured hands on. There's been no motivation, no want or yearning to run or do yoga. I contemplate getting up early and walking the community, maybe picking up some trash, and then when all three of my alarms go off? I wake up to the very last one and end up rushing to get to work on time between feeding children, myself, and making myself semi-presentable. 20 pounds ago I wanted to get up early. I wanted to put on my makeup. I wanted to straighten my hair and look NICE. Because I felt NICE. And for whatever reason, now? I feel disgusting, inside and out. I don't feel worth the time or effort for these things. I know I am, but that little stupid voice in the back of my head tells me otherwise. Time to shut that Bitch up.

Y'all? This is bull shit. This is stopping. TODAY. I see that 240 and even though I've gained 20, I'm going to lose 30. And when I lose 30? I'm going to lose another 10 BECAUSE I'M FUCKING WORTH IT.

End rant.

Life's a Beach.

Ormond Beach. May 2013. Day late and a dollar short, but here she is...

 

What we woke up to after a long looooooonnnnnnnngggggg drive down (it's surprising how often kids have to pee when they're in a confined space traveling at 70 mph.)

What their faces looked like when I told them it was time to "hit the beach!" They'd never seen the beach before up close and in person. Because I? I'm the best mother IN THE WORLD.

For prosperity's sake.

My most favorite picture of this child ever.

Blue Steel... or his "WHY DID YOU SPRAY SPF 5000+ IN MY HAIR??!?!" face.

Because why the Hell not.

Don't anybody move or make any sudden noises. This never EVER happens in real life.

Sun looks good on me. Smiles do too. Alcohol works wonders.

Doing laundry at 5 a.m. after a certain little person horked all over me AND the bed. Had a great view of the sun coming up from the patio... made me miss sunrises via the window of a DC-10.

Who cares that she puked her brains out? She can nap at the beach, because BY GOD, she's at the BEACH!

He never dd find the perfect shell to bring home. Next time, little buddy, next time...

I want to be able to grow these all around my house. Helps if I had a house and not an apartment.

I'd rather see these in my yard than pines any day of the week.

 

 One of the better pictures of my Mom and me.

 Lo was ready to go home, he was home sick for Daddy... Lillie and I never wanted to leave. Ever.

He changed his tune a few days later. Sighing in the bathtub, looking up at me with big puppy eyes, "Mama, I wish this was the ocean and not the bathtub."

This? Was a HUGE ASS NO NO when I was flying. Policies must have changed since then, because I've never seen a more proud kid than when the pilot scooped him up and put him in the co-pilot's seat and handed him his "first flight" wings.

This kid right here... She was all smiles and questions until the landing gear dropped. And then she was suspicious of ALL OF US. I was scared, y'all... SCARED.

All of this travel and love and light and laughter and and and... I'm not going to lie. The gypsy in me is itching to get out of this skin. To peel off these damn slacks and put my wings back on. It's also created an itch to move back to Florida... but only if we moved to Colorado afterwards. I want them to see the World. I don't want them to have to wait like I did.

I've put out some feelers. Testing the waters, so to speak ironically enough. Not even a week and I've already had one phone interview. It lasted 30 minutes, but who's counting?

Touchdown in T minus 5... 4.... 3...

Tiffany and a series of very bad, no good days... pt. 1

Don't worry... this will be a super heavy picture laden post and I will attempt to balance out the ugly with the beautiful. PROMISE.

My Grandmother died. I went to bed early for a change and woke up to my Father shaking me... shaking me. Holding my shoulder and shaking me awake. "Grannie died, she's gone... your Grannie just had a heart attack. She's gone.... she's gone."

For a few years we'd watched her deteriorate mentally. Going from friendly to frigid to frightening in 60 seconds or less. She didn't know who Logan was. She thought Lillie was still an infant. She would seethe with anger over a vacuum cleaner she knew my Father had stolen from her. People were watching her, she'd say. My Dad and I consistently made plans to find a way to have her taken care of, for someone to watch her and monitor her. I couldn't do it by myself. I couldn't bring myself to call her towards the end, because it was no longer her on the other end of the line. I'd make excuses and honest to God forget about her, because it wasn't her. And now? Now she's gone. My therapist asked me what my Grannie would say to me if she saw the person she'd become towards the end. And to be honest? She'd say something along the lines of, "Look at that crazy bitch!!! GIRL, THERE AIN'T NOBODY WATCHING YOU THROUGH YOUR BACK DOOR!!!" And she would forgive me. I know she would. I know because she left me over 70 pairs of handcrafted shoes from the 70's and 80's still in their boxes with their matching clutches. All in my (our) size. I know because she had a box full of pictures. Pictures of me, the kids, postcards I'd sent her from all over the world. She would forgive me, and that gives me great comfort.

Grannie the Fashionista

Grannie and her #1 girl... that would be me. Obviously.

I worried myself sick over the location of this ring. I worried it had been stolen, worried she'd been buried with it, again worried it had been stolen. This ring really belongs to Lillie as she was named after my Grandmother's twin and they share a birth month (January.) There's a garnet on either side of my Dad's birthstone representing his Mother and Aunt.

Grannie and her #2 Girl. She loved the fool out of that baby, even though she only got to see her a few times. Each time it was as if she was meeting her for the first time again and again...

 

Even though Grannie died the week of the Diva Dash, I owed it to her to keep living. So I ran. I ran, I pushed myself over/through/under/around obstacles. I hefted logs over my shoulders and ran through mouse mazes. I ran uphill and downhill through the mud and then finished off by running through an ice cold creek that left my lady parts more than a little frosty. Sometimes it's a bitch being vertically challenged. I even spent the night before at a friends house... WITHOUT CHILDREN. I broke all my own neurotic rules and pushed myself. Believe me when I say it took a good two days to recover mentally and physically. I still can't believe I made that muddy hill my bitch. I OWNED THAT SHIT.

 

It was cold as fuck and it literally stopped raining MINUTES before we arrived. Mother Nature is a cruel cruel woman.

Friends since '05 y'all! Only took me 7 years to convince her to run with my lazy, non-athletic ass. I don't run for time, I run for fun and to push my body and remind myself that I'm stronger than I think. I prepare for races the same way I prepared for tests in High School, I just don't.

 

Who needs a spa for a mud bath? Needless to say these shoes went directly into the garbage. I'd only owned them since before Lo was born... you know, it was time... Nobody should use the same running shoes for over 6 years unless they're Forrest Gump.

 

And then there was the fire. Just a typical day at work... vendors were coming in and out of the office, we were having a small meeting post-lunch... and then the phone rang. The voice on the other line yelled out that our building was on fire. It didn't seem real. I repeated it back to him to make sure I'd heard him correctly. My Property Manager and Maintenance guys ran like Hell out the front door, seconds later running back in to yell "CALL 911 CALL 911, IT'S BURNING FAST!!!" I started calling everyone that lived in that building all the while calling my Sister from my cell. She wasn't picking up and I just kept redialing. It was the building her and her roommates lived in with their 5 cats. It was my sister's building. Her apartment. Her fur-babies. I moved her in. The guilt rips through me like a hot knife. I am hyperventilating and sobbing and a resident is helping me as I scream at her to "Hurry, please hurry, your building is gone. Your cats are gone. Everything is on fire." Minutes later her roommate walks through the office door in her pajamas with only one shoe on. Tears streaming down her face. The cats wouldn't leave the apartment. She went back for them. The maintenance guy went back for them. Each time they would dart back under the bed. All of them, gone... weeks later we still looked for them in hopes they ran out. I still hope I'll see one.

 

Hardly anything survived that fire. By the grace of God, all children with the exception of one were at school. My Property Manager and one of our Maintenance men pulled an old lady out of her apartment, the same Maintenance man caught my daughter's friend and her mother from the second story window. Every last pet perished. Including an 80 pound black lab that I often confused for my own. The month it took to clean up the aftermath was the worst month ever. I passed it daily to get to/from work. The smell gave the Husband flashbacks of nearly every call he ever went on as an EMT/Fire Fighter. Things were pretty rough... but there were also quite a few God moments that surprised us all.

 

Moments after the first call.

 

This window looked into my Sister's bedroom.

 

My Sister's patio furniture that sat in her breezeway next to her bedroom.

 

The bathroom tiles in her shower looked as if they'd always been that black. Tools from two stories above were in her bathroom as if they'd always been there. I am so grateful everybody was out of the building when it collapsed.

 

I began posting on Facebook about all 10 families losing everything, with only a few having renter's insurance. Donations started pouring in. We could barely get into the other half of our office through the sea of clothing, toiletries, bedding, furniture, etc. A local storage complex ended up donating 3 storage units and a 14' covered trailer for us to transport donations to residents.

 

We had some odd and end gift cards that were awkward when split 10 ways (between the 10 families) so the kids and I put together 10 gift baskets with items most people wouldn't think of when settling into a new place. I.e., extra hangers, toilet scrubber, tissues, toilet paper, air fresheners, chip clips, etc... We had over $2000 worth of gift cards donated from strangers for Walmart, Target and Chick-Fil-A that I evenly distribute between the baskets and secured with the chip clips.

And then the demolition really began... Baby books were found, fireproof safes, fire arms, 10 untouched Coach purses (go figure, right?)

 

Amazingly enough, my Sister's artwork survived. They were all soaked, but practically untouched.

As was her boyfriend's tool chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To be continued...

Calculated Risks.

A few weeks back on the way to drop the kids off at school.

Lo: "Mommy, there's our house! Are we going to get it today? Are you going to go see the man about the house?"
Me: "Maybe, baby. Maybe. Mommy still doesn't know what God has in store for us. Mommy's going to go look at a few cars today because Mommy and Daddy REALLY need to have our own cars, but if God doesn't show me a car that's right for us, I promise you I'll go see the man about the house."
Lillie: "I want my own room." ((Insert bottom lip out so far birds could perch on it.))
Me: "I know, Peanut. I know. I want you to have your own room too, but we're not going to get upset if we don't get the house, it just mean God has something so much better for us in store."

I spent all of my off day that week from 10-5 car hunting. Nothing felt right. I started getting excited that maybe I was meant to be in my dream home. The dream home I'd found shortly after the kids started school. Yes, it was for rent... BUT, it had a lease/purchase option. It was built in the early 60's, had all the original hard wood floors refinished, built in bookshelf in the third bedroom (Lillie, our reader's, room), a huge formal dining room that could be used for crafts/play/computer stuff. I've been smitten ever since I stepped into the musty Grandma smell of that house directly across from Lo's Elementary school. The same Elementary school I went to.

And then I told my Dad to pull off at one last car lot. It was a buy here, pay here shanty of a place. I didn't have high hopes. And then I saw the X-Terra. I'd wanted one since High School. I started feeling my heart pound in my chest. After talking to the dealership and transferring money around and talking to my car insurance company, everything just fell into place. I'd talked the dealership down like a champ, worked the maintenance it needed done into the cost of the car and despite the ridiculous interest rate, knew without a doubt I'd be able to refinance it through my bank for much MUCH cheaper in a few months. I'll be able to have it paid in full within a year. A YEAR. Last Fall I was in tears at the bank because they told me even at 30 years old I'd *STILL* need a cosigner on any lease or credit card (yes, even a secured card.) Not because my credit was shit, but because I'd literally built NO credit whatsoever in over 7 years. Why is it, that even though I'd paid off all my debts, left all my accounts in good standing that I was getting shafted? Why is it, you can file bankrupcy and come home to loan and credit card approvals in your mailbox before the ink is even dry on your discharge papers? I just didn't get it, and yet, here I was... approved for the truck I'd wanted forever. APPROVED.

We only need to make a little more financially each month to take on a house payment be it lease or mortgage. So hopefully my review gets me some sort of raise or the Husband can find GOOD employment somewhere. I'd love to say I want a raise, who WOULDN'T want a raise, right? As of right now, however, I'd love to have some sort of relief where I'm not solely responsible for bills, expenses, etc. So here's for the little things. For hopes and wishes and prayers and fairy dust. Lillie needs her own room, Moose needs a back yard, Logan needs a safer environment to run and play, and Mommy and Daddy need a room to express our creativity. Heads out of the gutter y'all, I'm talking about an arts/crafts/computer room. SHOOT, this is a "semi-safe family blog" y'all! I'd like to be able to open those floor to ceiling on days like today where there's a breeze and it can trickle through the whole house. I'd love to open the back door, and yell for the kids to come in for dinner...

I weigh my decision between the truck and the house from both angles often. We needed the vehicle. NEEDED. As much as I love that house, and as much as I want all the little details that pull at my heartstrings... we NEEDED the vehicle. Thanks to my occupation, housing is not an issue, so housing was not and is not nearly as important.

I still wouldn't mind a fresh "home" start.

 

Snot myself lately.

You'll have to forgive me, I'm having a rather amazing time rocking this fabulous head cold slash sinus thing right now. Wait, what? You forgot I blogged. Me too there for a minute. I started to miss you guys. I began feeling a void and not knowing or understanding what exactly it was that I was missing from my life. It was you. Shit started getting real and I ditched like a 17 year old boy whose girlfriend's period was 20 minutes late. So here I am, on my knees in front of you, humbling myself and devoting a few minutes to just clear my mind.

I should have named this post "bullet points." But I didn't. So let's move along, shall we?

Risks. Some of you may understand why this is my topic of the hour (maybe month), but we're not going to put promises out there into existence because I don't want to fail. There's always the risk of failure when promises are made. Be it vows, treats for good behavior, discipline for bad behavior, career advancements, etc. I don't want to make promises I may or may not be able to keep. Thus is the story of my life.

Hello, I'm Tiffany and I'm gonna ramble like a mother fucker on fire because this is my first post since JULY of last year. Again, "bullet points" would have been a better title. Helicopter.

Let's play ketchup and keep with the theme all at the same time. If this were a drinking game, we'd probably call it "bullet points." Banana.

I took the risk of taking Lo out of a for sure great school district so we could "spread our wings" and deepen our bottomless "responsibility well" I like to call "adulthood." He now gets in trouble for "inappropriate touching." Apparently hugging a friend or high-fiving a classmate is inappropriate. I call it being a sociable five year old boy. But what do I know, apparently I rock at this whole parenting thing.

I was on the PTO. Was being the key word. I have the shirt to prove I paid the $10 to be a team player. They stopped calling me after I declined working the popcorn table at family move night because my kids were sick and um, hello? My kids go to bed at 8 because we're lame as shit. This movie thing didn't start till 7:30. Do the math, y'all. I did get a little irked when I wasn't informed about the family fun run. Not halfway into the school year and I was crossed off the PTO call list. I guess I should be flattered.

My father moved in with us. So much for living on our own. It benefit both parties though, so I'm not beating myself up too much about it. Shit happens. Shit like my Grannie passing away last week. My inner Catholic (dudes, like everyone else in America, I've got at least a drop of Irish blood in me) feels insane amounts of guilt about her passing. We'll save the details on that for another post.

I bought a truck. An X-Terra to be exact. I've wanted one ever since High School and we needed a second vehicle. I now have one more bill to pay every month, but you know what, I didn't need a cosigner and I feel really fucking great about that. I love my truck. LOVE my truck. Let us not talk about how it's been at the dealership more than my parking spot in the short time since I've had it. I took the risk of buying a used vehicle, but somehow managed to get the dealership to do thousands of dollars of work to the truck without charging me anything extra. It's all being covered in the cost of the truck itself. Which I talked them down to $8k for. Maybe there really is something to having a used car salesman for a father.

If it weren't for the fact that it keeps Lillie entertained for free 5 days a week under the poorly veiled disguise of a pre-k education, I would yank her out of her pre-k program. Even though she's 4 and can do Lo's homework and her 1st Grade "Summer Fun" workbook, she's still got one year of pre-k left before she can enter Kindergarten. I am praying that she doesn't resent me 10 years from now for putting her in full time school so I could work.

Speaking of work. I work 9-6 most days that end with the letter "y." Remember, my children go to bed by 8. I love my job, but I love my children more. Infinitely more. It kills me to the core that I get a total of 3 daylight hours with them on days I work. T-H-R-E-E. It's not nearly enough time. And yes, I miss being the "at home parent." And yes, I am jealous most days that the Husband gets this time with them and not me. It makes my uterus heart hurt. I don't want to miss Lo losing his first tooth (any day now) or taking Lillie to her interpretive dance class (which, note to self, must look into finding a local studio that offers such a class.) Mothers bring their babies to the leasing office and I hold them and smell them and make ridiculous faces for little gummy smiles while their Mama's vent or fill out their checks for rent and my heart aches to be near my own children. Teaching them, molding them, dancing with them. I try not to dwell on it so I organize another filing cabinet or call a thousand million gajillion leads in hopes for a big commission check the next month so I can take Lillie to get her nails did or to make more empty promises of seeing the big stupid rat and eating at his appropriately named restaurant/germ circus. At least they serve beer there... if we ever find time to go as a family that is.

I've also fallen in love with a house. A HOUSE house. The kind with a yard, a history, built in bookshelves, vintage black and white tile and serial killer lighting over the inset medicine cabinets in the bathrooms. The kind of lighting that makes the "ting ting TING ting" noises as they charge to full brightness. I want to rent the house. I want to lease to own. I want to outright buy that bitch and make it mine. That little voice in my head called "logic" knows we can't afford it. Not on one income. Not any time soon. I constantly catch myself looping through pictures on the property manager's website and just as constantly hand it over to God, because I know I can't obsess about it without being tragically disappointed when someone else makes it their home.

The seven year itch is here. I'm not saying it's HERE here, I'm just saying this year marks seven years of marriage to the Husband. We finally had our first big test of our vows and our strength as a team. I had to find strength in myself and in my love for him to find forgiveness. There's work to be done there, but we must first work on ourselves. He's trying, and I know God is testing my patience and us, so I'm trying too. I'm trying to find understanding for both current issues and issues from my childhood. I'm constantly reminding myself of how patient he was with me while I lost my shit a year ago. There were times I felt alone in my anxieties, but I know now that he was waiting for me to breathe again. Listening for that sharp intake of breath when I would start holding it all in when my world was imploding on itself. Seven more years will go by faster than the last seven. I am lucky to have him as my friend, my soul mate.

I'm still ticking items off my 30x30, but at a snails pace in consideration to when I first started. The Husband and I ran Ram's Hot Chocolate 5k in Atlanta in January and a group of some of my best girls got together for Shape's Diva Dash last weekend. We've still got The Color Run and Dare to Dash in April. I might make it to 30k by my 31st birthday (2 months, 4 days and 5 minutes... but who's counting?) I'm no longer pressuring myself to mark them all off so quickly. Priorities have changed a bit since then and I'm not going to beat myself up when some things are just beyond my control. That's not entirely true. I will beat myself up about it, but I will forgive myself just as quickly. Last year was all about telling others "no." This year it's learning when to tell myself "no." Baby steps.

Next post will have pictures, honest. Fingers crossed it won't be another 8 months from now.