First Born

My inbox has been overflowing this month. Blog readers of all sorts have been curious about Nolan, his birth story and how the west was won. I’m assuming that most of the curiosity is a result of my lack of follow-up and I apologize for that. At one point in time, I blogged about infertility and babies and all that jazz and then sort of stopped. Not sure why. I think I was tired and emotional and trying to put it all into words was just a bit too much at the time. Who knows, maybe it still is.

I was reading a friend’s blog recently (like her whole blog, dating back to the 20′s or something) and she shared the birth stories of her littles. Yeah, lots of people do this but I am inspired by this one friend/blogger because any time that I think I’ve had it hard, I remember her and her children and I am inspired. I don’t have pity for her but I do have respect. So hey, if she can write it all out then I can too. I think.

There’s no way that I can do this all in one post. You’d read 2,000 words and be over it. Never mind, you’d think. Not worth it. Too much to read. So I’ll do my best to get this all out of my brain and onto the blog in three posts. Maybe four. Because to understand the insanity of my love for Nolan, and how unique and special and miraculous he is, you’ve gotta hear about all the obstacles and junk that we went through to finally hold our son. So let’s do this thing, eh?

We decided we wanted lots of babies before we got married. I’ve not had the best of health, specifically in the netherlands where babies are made and grown, so we knew that if we had any chance at making a human, we’d need to waste little time. We had a plan. Get married, fly to Cape Cod, MA for our honeymoon, lock ourselves in the suite for seven days and make lots of babies. It was great fun. Making babies usually is.

Three days into our honeymoon, I did the dumbest thing. I convinced myself I was pregnant. Because my hair smelled weird and I was a little moody and GOOGLE TOLD ME I WAS PREGNANT. So I decided to keep it a secret. My first step in keeping it a secret? I called three friends, maybe more. I told them to pray. I told them to Google early signs of pregnancy. And you know what’s crazy? They did. Parents, this is why you need to talk to your children about sex.

Fast forward two days. We were still making babies and I was still convinced I was knocked up. So I did what any woman would do…I bought four packs of pregnancy tests. Four packs. Each comes with three pee-on-me sticks. That’s twelve tests. I peed on a couple, got negatives and decided that perhaps it was too soon to know. Perhaps. But that didn’t stop me from the crazy baby talk. We got a couple’s massage and when the lady asked the standard questions – on drugs? on blood thinners? pregnant? – I gave her a long-winded speech about how I may or may not be pregnant but Google and my friends say that I am and my hair smells weird and I yelled at my brand new husband a few hours ago so, you know, I’m pretty much with child. She offered me a stiff drink. I didn’t take it because a) I don’t drink but more importantly b) I was pregnant, duh!

We named our kids on the flight home (none of those names made it to the final cut). And yes, I took three pregnancy tests in flight. I’m hardcore like that.

Why did I waste 507 words on the play-by-play of our honeymoon? Because it sets the scene for what’s to come. And I hope that as crazy as it reveals me to be, it also shows the truth of how much we longed for a child and how serious we were about making it happen.

People said, “You’re so young (22 and 24) and you have your whole life to have children. Just be married for a while. You’ll never have this time back”. They were so right but so wrong at the same time. Truth be told, even if I didn’t have said netherland issues, we probably still would have tried for a baby on our honeymoon. We wanted (and still want) kids that bad. Some people want the career and the house, and that’s fine, but we wanted to show the Old Woman in a Shoe what’s up. We have a heart for family. And we had dated for something like one hundred years before getting married and had been good friends for like a thousand years, so we felt like we had done enough of the “just the two of you” and we wanted to graduate to the “just the ten of you”. Maybe not ten.

Well, you’d never believe it but Google was right. I was knocked to the up. The eleventh pregnancy test worked like a charm. This is where dates get fuzzy but really, you don’t care about dates. We made a baby on our honeymoon and a couple weeks later, I took that eleventh test that confirmed we were going to be parents. I went to Target (the place of all things motherhood) and bought a maternity shirt because surely, I would wake up the next day with a huge belly. That’s how it works, right? …mom? I also bought a little gift for Jason to rub it in his face tell him that just as I had predicted three days into our marriage, we were pregnant. I decided to hold off on telling Jason until my doctor visit when a blood test would confirm and we could party like animals.

I had my blood test. Twenty minutes later, while sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office where I was anxious to hear his congratulations, I lost the pregnancy. I rushed to the front desk, begged to see my doctor right away and then whispered the words that no woman ever wants to say. I’m miscarrying. There was no time to call Jason, no time to cry. My doctor saw me, comforted me, decided to do a urine test and confirmed that I was right. On my way out of his office, a couple came flying out the door, cell phones pressed to their smiling, happy faces. Those jerks.

“Mom!” they both yelled on their phones, “It’s twins! What are the odds? This is amazing!”

I spent the next hour helping them make phone calls. Because I’m insane. That’s how I cope with things. I find a reason to celebrate and then I do it big. I have no idea who those people were, but I was happy to help them text and call every person in their phone book. I even pulled out my fresh prescription from the doctor and used the back to make a list of who needed to be contacted. I needed to celebrate a baby that day and I ended up celebrating two.

If you are that couple and you randomly happened upon this blog, thanks. I needed a reason to smile.

Telling Jason was the hardest part of it all. I vaguely remember slamming my face into his chest and crying about having a baby and then not having a baby and then something about twins. He was very confused for about an hour until I was able to pull myself together long enough to say it in a way that he would understand. We decided to celebrate. We celebrated the fact that I could get pregnant and while we were sad and mourned our loss, we chose to move forward. It was the best thing we could have done for ourselves, to heal.

We saw my doctor a few times over the next month. He prescribed different drugs to help me get pregnant and stay pregnant (most doctors expect a couple to try for at least a year before starting fertility treatment but because I had neverland history, and now a loss, we didn’t need to wait. Bless my doctor for helping us to avoid twelve months of heartache). Over the next couple months, we had a missed miscarriage. You can Google it. Because Google wins.

We’d always wanted to adopt but we were never fans of the “adopt because you can’t have kids” method. It works for some, but for us it felt second class, like a back-up option and no child of ours would be a Plan B. Every little that gets our last name (blood related or not), will be as wanted and as intentional as any other child in our family. We don’t do Plan B. So we decided to investigate adoption but to hold off until we had exhausted our baby making options. It was a difficult decision to make but when the time is right for us to adopt, we want our hearts to be fully available to that child and we knew that for us, fertility treatment mixed with failed pregnancies would not free us at that time to love unconditionally.

*I need to say this – in no way do we think that adopting a child as a result of infertility is a bad thing. It is NOT second class or Plan B. For us, at the time, and in the weird emotional place we were in, it just didn’t feel right. Adoption is amazing and we respect those who adopt, who foster, and so on. Please don’t take offense to me being real about how we felt in the moment, in our grief.

I took my fertility meds, we were monitored, we charted (look it up, not time for details), we tracked my ovulation and we prayed a lot..and we did a whole lot of bow-chica-wow-wow pretty much around the clock. It was Good Friday, 2010, when I decided to consult Google. It told me I was pregnant so, obviously, that meant I was. Google never lies folks. And I just so happened to have the twelfth pregnancy test in my purse because that is where I keep my pee-sticks, okay? Leave it alone.

The big plus sign or pink line or whatever it was appeared and I stood in the bathroom all alone, wondering if I should cry. I wasn’t sure what to do in that situation. I was thrilled but apprehensive. I wanted to celebrate but be cautious. I thought that maybe I should keep it on the down low for a while so I shoved the pee-stick into my back pocket (I’m telling you, my ways are weird) and I drove .5 blocks to my girlfriend’s house. Her youth pastor husband put a baby in her belly about five weeks before my staff assistant/tech guy husband did the same and since the men are co-workers and we are all friends, I figured I should probably tell her first. Yes, before my husband. No idea why.

She opened the door, I put my pee stick in her face and then life gets blurry until I find myself at a different friend’s place of work, pee stick in my back pocket and my pregnant friend by my side. I flashed the stick, she called her mom into the main office (they work together. cool, huh?) and then all of a sudden, every person at that office knew I was pregnant. And my husband still didn’t. I’m a winner.

The boyfriend (husband) was with the youth pastor aka expectant parent at work, setting up for a Good Friday service. I didn’t dare interrupt him so my pregnant friend and I decided to go out to eat. Because that’s what you do when you’re with child. You eat. Finally, we made it back to the church and before I could blurt it out, I was recruited to buy light bulbs and hang signs. I really wanted to start cashing in on my “but I’m pregnant” excuse but it was too soon…I had to help. So I drove another 30 miles back to the town where I had lunch, bought light bulbs (that ended up being the wrong color) and by the time I got back to town, I knew I was short on time. I flew by the house, grabbed the baby shoes I bought at Target, got my pregnant self to the church and then with my pregnant friend and the youth pastor standing nearby, I shoved the shoes into the boyfriend’s hand. He was silent. He had no idea what was going on.

Cue the youth pastor…

“Are you serious?! Are you serious right now?! Uhh…..”

Youth pastor and pregnant friend awkwardly take about ten steps back and wait for the boyfriend to react. At that point, I was thinking that maybe my pee-stick-in-the-face would have been a better approach. Finally, he got it. He was speechless for about three hours. Signs got hung, red light bulbs bought and installed and Good Friday service started. I drank vinegar water (it was one of the hands-on experiences of the service) because nobody the boyfriend didn’t warn me. I spent the majority of the Good Friday service puking vinegar water in the church bathroom, thrilled to no end.

2,167 words later and I think I’ll leave you with that for now. For those who are fearful of reading a sad post about the pregnancy not working out, have no fear. My Good Friday baby is my Nolan. Happy days are ahead. Stay tuned for the second installment of First Born.

And for fun, here is a picture of that child with a goat and a saggy-bottom man in the background.

Are you smiling?

Jacked Up

A popular television show among brides is Say Yes To The Dress. (Don’t worry – this isn’t a wedding post) On the show, when a bride tries on dress after dress, she starts to feel overwhelmed and often, there is at least one family member who is VERY opinionated and picky and has no qualms about letting their voice be heard. When the bride is just about to call off the wedding as a result of stress and wedding dress meltdowns, the hero consultants step in and jack her up. The jacking up process on the show involves jewelry, a headpiece and heels and once that happens, the world stops. Time stands still and the woman is transformed from a young, silly thing playing dress up into a gorgeous bride. She’s convinced and even the loud family member is convinced…it is the perfect dress for the perfect bride. Happy-la-la.

To relate this to non-wedding happenings, I’m happy to report that my living room is currently being jacked up. We have done some serious renovation and while I’m antsy to reveal the room and show off our hard work, it isn’t ready yet. She needs some jacking up. So while I toss some pillows on the sofa, make art for the walls and do a bunch of other stuff, I thought I should post to let you know that I am still alive. My absence has been for a good reason. You’ll see.

While we jack up the living room, I will take time to do a few posts on how we pulled the carpet out of our home and painted our floors. I will also share with you our Ikea adventure, our baseboard installation, our DIY console table, our DIY coffee table, our DIY art, our DIY curtains, our DIY rug and lastly, our soon-to-be-built fireplace surround. We have been busy.

Stay tuned for a lot of fun this summer! We’re jacking everything up!

 

 

Yes Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus

There’s this little huge place that I blog/talk about on occasion all the time. Do Y’ALL know where I’m talking about? Bluebonnets, Longhorns, Rangers…any of those ring a bell? You know, everything is bigger there. Deep in the heart of TEXAS!

I’ve also mentioned a few (hundred) times that it has always been a dream, since childhood in fact, to raise my family in a modest home where community is the focus and opportunities to learn and grow is encouraged. This dream place needs to be safe, have a great school district (in case I chicken out about the whole homeschooling thing…or can’t teach math without a calculator) and have recreational opportunities like gyms, parks, city sports, etc. I’d also like for it to be similar , but not too similar, to where we live now.

We live in a small town where I think that maybe only three people don’t know who we are and that’s because they just moved her. Seriously, it’s a place where just about everybody knows your name (and your business). We’ve got parks and playgrounds, city sports, a whole bunch of fancy murals and one street of shopping that is just about the cutest, most charming street in the whole wide world. It’s cozy and quaint and generally a good place to raise your kiddos. The downside however, is that it is in California. You might like CA and that’s just fine and dandy…but I don’t. Not one bit.

I’ve also mentioned a few times that I’d love to move out of California, specifically to Texas. You know this. Everybody knows this. But guess what – the boyfriend is still not a big fan. He is warming up to the idea but he is not packing boxes into a U-Haul anytime soon.

Let’s practice some math, shall we?

One woman LOVES TX and very much dislikes (almost hates) California. She loves almost everything about Texas and, if given the opportunity, would move there in a heartbeat. Now let’s spice things up. Add to this a man who LOVES California. Did you just say uh-oh? Yeah. Uh-oh indeed. This man loves everything about CA, especially his small town.

This, my friends, equals conflict.

I married a man knowing full-well that he never wanted to leave and he married a woman knowing full-well that she wanted nothing more (besides babies) than to make like a tree and get-outta-here. Some couples fight (newsflash: it’s okay to disagree) about finances. Not us. Some couples fight about how to raise their children. Not us. Some fight about the in-laws. Not us. Nope, we pick something that is nearly impossible to resolve…we like to fight about our location. The solution isn’t as easy as finding a new job or spanking the kids less or never answering the phone when the in-laws call. No, we decided that we were meant to be together and with that, meant to fight about location ’till death do us part.

And let me tell you – I’m losing by a long-shot.

It isn’t easy to tie up a 200 pound man and drive him to Texas. I’ve tried it and it isn’t possible. Also, declaring that you are going to “pack up the baby and fly to TX and you can come with us or not but we’re going either way!” doesn’t get me real far because I don’t even have my name on a bank account so I’d need his approval on my traveling budget and well, that kind of defeats the whole hasty, I’m-going-with-or-without-you idea. So I’m here in CA (for now), searching the web for something, anything to help the boyfriend to oh, I don’t know, realize that I’m right. And yes, it truly does boil down to what God wants for us but here’s the deal – we both pray about this a lot and both feel at peace about either situation. So it just goes to show that God is good with either place and He’s probably shaking his head, watching us try to be grownups and fight fair about something we so strongly disagree on.

I spent some time with my aunt and uncle today. They are packing up their beautiful ranch and moving to a gorgeous home in the pines of AZ. Lucky bums. Each time I see my uncle, he encourages me to get the bleep out of California as soon as possible and my response is always, “Sigh. I’m working on it”. Now I don’t want to go into politics, but there’s about a thousand reasons why we (my family) all want to get the bleep (in the words of my uncle) out of California. And a lot of my family has. Smarty pants.

After our little visit, I decided to check out some options online aka fill my Texas tank. And oh my goodness, you wouldn’t believe what I discovered! An area called Providence Village that is ALL ABOUT community living (which is what we are all about) and so much more!

It is a community of modest homes that surround FIVE, count them, FIVE lakes that are large enough to fish, kayak, canoe or sail. One of the lakes is 25 acres and has a boat ramp. That is music to a bass fisherman’s daughter’s ears! There are eighteen, EIGHTEEN!!, pocket parks that include playgrounds and picnic areas. There is a hike and bike trail system throughout the entire community and there are even a few dog parks.  There is a baseball park, soccer fields, full court basketball areas, tennis courts and putting greens. I don’t golf but I’m strangely thrilled about the putting greens! The idea of men and women in argyle, right there in the community, amazes me.

But that’s not all folks! There are four pools! Music to a swimmer’s ear (get it, swimmer’s ear?) One of the pools is Olympic size, but no big deal. There’s an adult/family pool and two toddler pools. There is also a dancing water spray park. I don’t know what that is but I don’t even care.

Pretty cool right? …Oh, please! I’m so not done!

Repeat after me - WATER PARK. A triple loop water slide that is thirty-five feet tall, a children’s water slide that is twelve feet tall, sunning decks and grotto (again, no idea but don’t even care) and two shaded and sandy beaches.

“But it’s hot in Texas and even with the pools and the water park and all of the fabulous outdoor activities, I’m still going to be hot and sticky…” – random person.

Oookkaaayyy spoiled.  For those who are more of the indoor recreation type, there’s something for you too! (Seriously, I should be paid for this post). How about an amazing three-story clubhouse?! It includes a multi-level exercise facility, a weight room, saunas, locker and shower facilities, a thirty-five foot observation deck, a large gathering area/television room, a salt water aquarium, a cafe sitting room and children’s areas.

I know, it’s hard not to pee your pants. Hold yourself together. It only gets better.

When it comes to education, TX is amazing. Providence Village has two neighboring school districts that have earned outstanding awards for their educational programs. There is also a college nearby!

And then there’s the whole community thing – you know, making friends, relating to others, sharing in life. It’s pretty much the heartbeat of who we are and as it turns out, that is exactly what Providence has built its foundation on. Organized events include but certainly are not limited to: The Big Game, Happy Holidays, National Night Out, Family Events, Easter Events, Barktoberfest (Seriously?! This is awesome!), Special Events, Sports Events, Memorial Day Event, Fall Festival (We’ve got one of these in our small town), Labor Day Event, Fourth of July Events, Health Fair, Super Bowl Event and Tree Lighting Event. There’s also a fishing club, sailing club, biking club, golfing club and red hat club. There are special mom groups and even support and playgroups for special needs families.

Yes Katey, There IS A Santa Claus. He lives in Texas!

Did you hear that? That was the sound of our car peeling out as we back out of the driveway (not really). I’ve spent twenty-four years in California and I’d love to spend the next eighty in Texas. Yes, I intend on living exactly one-hundred and four years. Providence Village fits our every need, want and desire. I know what you are thinking – this place must be one pricey village. Nope. Homes start at $110k.

Okay, now go ahead…pee your pants.

Maybe someday we will be so blessed to become village people. Until then, I dream.

Where In The World?

Of all the places in the world, where do you most desire to call home? Have you thought about this? Sure you have.

Maybe it’s Russia (why?!) or maybe it’s New York or maybe Italy. Maybe you would love to live somewhere romantic, maybe somewhere full of history, or somewhere big and flashy where everybody wear suits. Or maybe the place you long to live the most is exactly where you are now. And to that I say, good for you. What peace and contentment you must have to know that exactly where you are is exactly where you belong. Forever. For always. Amazing.

When I was a single lady and was dating the boyfriend and had no children, no major bills, no debt, no responsibilities, I fell in love with Thailand. I was there for over a month and worked with a few different orphanages where I discovered my intense love for lost children. More on that intense love another day. I ministered to the VERY young who were enslaved in sex trafficking and I loved on men and women of all sorts. So rewind to when I was a sassy young thing and I would have told you that I would move to Thailand in a heartbeat. I didn’t care about a job or money or health insurance or a 401K. I was going to live off the land and minister to the people of Thailand. Forever.

What simple, lovely intentions I had.

I got married, started my family and while Thailand is a place that is so very special to me, it is not a country where I would raise my children. We will visit Thailand several times before we perish but we will never live there. And yes, I am fully aware that by making this public declaration of “never living in Thailand”, God will likely call us to do exactly that – minister (and live in) Thailand. We’d go.

If you’re a close friend and not just some random blog reader (hello my wonderful randoms!), you know that I am slightly obsessed with Texas. But it’s not the state that I’m so much in love with. Yes, there are many neat aspects of Texas that California just does not have (like big guns and bigger trucks) but what gets me – what really gets me – is who is in Texas. My family.

I have a lot of family in California, and all over the world, but there is something about Texas that just captivates me. My parents are there, which is a huge deal. My childhood was great but my teen years were a big mess. I was so lost and confused. I was hurting sooooo badly (not like emo-teen hurting but really, badly hurting as a result of some awful things that happened) and as a result, I RUINED my relationship with my parents. I chewed them up, spit them out and then did it a few more times for good measure. You have no idea. I was horrid. And yeah, I was going through the most traumatic thing in my life to date and had no idea how to deal…but that’s no excuse. Really, it’s not.

And then I grew up a little bit. I made my apologies, turned a corner and offered love (and forgiveness) to my parents. It took some time – some warming up and some major trust building – but eventually, we made it. We crossed the awkward bridge to reconciliation, embraced each other on the happy side and kind of silently promised to never fight again. At least not like that. Not years of silence. Not that kind of pain. Oh, it was awful.

Next to having my son, the biggest moment in my life, the thing that has meant the most to me, was when my mom and dad flew out from TX for my wedding. Dad walked me down the aisle. There are NO words for how huge that was. It meant the world. My dad is my step-dad but really, he’s the only dad I have ever known. There were so many times when I knew in my heart that my mom and dad would know what to do – that they would have the answer and the wisdom. But because of my selfishness and pain and all the grief I had caused them, communication was not an option. So to have made it that far – to have my dad walk me down the aisle – was a miracle. A very, very important moment in my life.

You can see now why Texas is such a huge deal. I went a few years without having a relationship with my parents and now that we are reunited and doing wonderfully, it kills me…no, crushes me…to be so far away from them. I’m not wanting to make up for lost time. Life has moved on and there is no way to go back and create memories and moments that would have been. But there is now. And I don’t want to do life without them.

Yeah, there’s phone calls and visits a couple times a year but that’s not enough. It never will be. Ever. If you have a healthy relationship with your parents and do not live near each other, you understand. Well, I assume you understand.

Of all the places in this vast and wonderful world, I would not choose Paris. I would not choose Denmark (hi family!). I would not choose Thailand. I would not choose California, not even this adorable, safe little town that I love so very much.

I choose Texas.

Maybe someday we will go. And maybe not. You see, the thing about moving to Texas is that although we would be closer to my parents, we’d be away from both sets of the boyfriend’s parents. And as selfish as I can be at times, I cannot put him through that. I know fully well how painful it is to be away from my mom and dad and I would never want the boyfriend’s heart to ache the way that mine does.

Maybe someday. Maybe if the boyfriend decides it’s the right time. Maybe.

Until then, I’d be happy with a little country beneath my feet. I’m not made for square lots and city fences. I want to be where it’s acceptable to have knee-high weeds, where my kids can run around in their glorious little naked bodies and get splinters in their toes and stickers in hair. I want to be able to sprint to the back of our property at a moment’s notice and yell at Jesus without anybody knowing.

1. Texas

2. Country

3. Where we are now

4. Cape Cod

Of all the grand and glorious places in this world, where do you most desire to live? Let me know! I’m all ears!

Don’t Wear White

Ever feel like you just. might. die. of overkill? I’m not talking about a rough day or a bad week. I’m talking about the piles of responsibility that you committed yourself to – the things that stick around for a long time. Yes, even the good things. Even the REALLY good things like babies and family and border collies.

News flash: Babies poop. All over, all the time, usually when you are wearing white. Even the very best things, the things you want the most, have flaws. So next time you take on a huge projects or say yes to the friend, or sign yourself up for a class, remember to ask yourself this: Will this end up pooping on me?

Chances are, it will. Don’t wear white.

We all have to juggle things. It’s life and I’m good with that but over the last month, I have had one meltdown after another. Like, “Move me to Texas right now!” meltdowns and “I quit school forever!” meltdowns and “If I have to wipe one more butt…” meltdowns. You get the picture. To say that I have been stressed is an understatement like you wouldn’t believe. The irony is that I signed up for all of this. And truly, I do want it.

For those who don’t know, I’m in school to become a court reporter. Pretty fancy, eh? Yeah, so is the tuition. $6,000+ every ten weeks. Roll your tongue back in your mouth and be thankful you’re not paying it. So it should make sense why I have to work full-time but my brain doesn’t do math that way. I don’t see money coming in to pay for bills and a mortgage and family trips and home projects and fertility treatment and tuition. Nope. My female brain sees something very different.

My female brain (full of crazy hormones from fertility drugs) drives me to work every day, three of those days I’m away from my baby ALL DAY and I’m taking care of OTHER PEOPLE’S KIDS. And really, they are great kids and it’s a fun family to work for (hi guys) but who doesn’t get a little overwhelmed about their job at times? It’s hard to take care of other people’s kids just to provide for your own. It feels a little backwards and my female brain is all about making it a really big deal. Especially to the boyfriend.

Let’s do some more math. 40+ hours of work each week plus 30+ hours of school each week plus marriage plus child(ren) plus church plus social life (haha!) plus home projects plus laundry plus everyday stuff. Yeah, my brain shut down after the school part. Fitting all of this into one week is hard, if not nearly impossible and the result of it all is one meltdown after another. Stupid girl brain.

Most of my stress is ME. I put a lot of pressure on myself and I am learning to let go of that – not let go of standards and accountability but instead let go of the drill sargent inside of me who thinks I’m a failure no matter how hard I work.

People talk about juggling balls. You know – “I’ve got too many balls in the air”. But for me, it’s plates. Balls can bounce back quickly or they just roll under the sofa where they are safe until you have time to look for them and pick them back up. Plates? They break. Shatter. You drop a plate and you are in trouble.

But I’m not just holding these plates with my big fat hands. I’m actually balancing them on dainty sticks that stand on my hands, my chin, my forehead. And if I move one inch, they will all come crashing down. Oh, and did I mention I’m hanging upside-down on a trapeze?

That’s me. I promise.

And because I’m hanging upside-down, balancing plates like an idiot, the blood is rushing to my head and my thoughts get blurred and then my female brain forgets things like taking antibiotics and remembering the diaper bag and showing up for doctor appointments. And then the meltdown rolls in like a bad storm and I unleash on the boyfriend and demand that he win the lottery or rob a bank because I’m going to bed and never coming out…ever…ever again. And it’s expensive to be married to sleeping beauty.

On that note, I showered today for the first time in four days and I’m getting my eyebrow(s) waxed at 4:30pm. This is the part where you golf clap without really knowing what the heck is going on. Don’t worry, this is where it all turns around…

After a weekend at a conference where we learned about healthy marriages/families and last Sunday’s church service (you can read a little blurb about that here), I have come to the conclusion that I might possibly be the worst in the whole world at time management. So I’ve decided to manage my time better and to prioritize how I spend my time and who I spend it with.

Last week, instead of putting school and work before my family, I did the Biblical thing and swapped ‘em. Family first. And guess what – it worked. I was relaxed and full of joy. I had a wonderful time with the boyfriend and the baby. My dad is visiting from TX and while I should have been in a panic about finishing school work with so many distractions, I wasn’t. I was cool as a cucumber (who comes up with this stuff?!) and I just kind of floated through the week in a very happy, secure place. As it turns out, I ended up taking second place out of over thirty students this week in my class. How on earth did that happen?

Something clicked.

When in doubt, spend time with family. Work will come later.

It’s a hard lesson to learn but let me tell yah – I didn’t cry on the way to work today and therefore, I am rewarding myself with an eyebrow wax. And tomorrow, I will wear mascara for the first time in months because I am anticipating joy instead of stress and THERE WILL BE NO TEARS.

It seems so simple. Put family first. And really, that’s what we moms are all about. We are all about our kids and our husbands…but somewhere in the mess of life, our job and our education trick us into thinking that being successful outside of the home reflects success inside of the home and that, my friends, is a lie. I might have appeared to be a rock star who could handle it all but really, I was a mess of a woman who had more stress and pressure on my shoulders than there are words for. I’m not out of the valley yet. I’m still working on priorities and managing time, but I’m getting there and that feels really, really good.

I need to add this – girlfriends, do not be fooled by being busy. You might be someone like me who wants to help with ministries and church happenings and you either sign up for way too many things and get burned out or you sign up for nothing at all and feel guilty for not helping. STOP IT. I’m realizing that there are seasons in life when the best way that we can honor God is to focus on our family and let somebody else be the rock star volunteer. It’s not forever and it is okay to say no. I’ve had to do that a lot lately. I’ve said no to some of the nicest, sweetest people and their big, awesome going-places ministries. And it hasn’t been easy. It kills me. But you know what? I’m saying yes to the boyfriend and yes to my son. And that honors God.

So if you’re hung up on the ministry thing and you feel like a jerk for saying no, let it go. Plan a time to jump back in with both feet, when you can give the ministry 100% but don’t kid yourself now by thinking you can handle it all. You will hurt yourself, your family and even the ministry. Seriously. Been there, done that, never doing it again.

I’m balancing a lot of plates and I know that they are all things that God has for me so I’m not backing down. I’m prioritizing and managing my time and I’m making sure that I’m prayed-up and prepared.

And I’m not wearing white.

Masterpiece

Wow. The message at church today was incredible. Thinking back on it now, it is a blur. That’s how most big moments happen for me – I’m moved, even speechless, and then when it comes time to document the beauty, to write it all down, I’m lost. So while I wish that I could tell you all about it, I know that my heart absorbed what I needed and the rest I will be reminded of at special moments in time when I need it the most. By the way, I LOVE those moments…the little reminders.

Basically, the idea was that we should be the person who we want our child to imitate. Would we want them cursing? No. So don’t curse. Would we want them fighting with their spouse. No. So don’t.

Seems simple, right? But then there was this element of “Hey, give them the freedom to BE but don’t forget to lead them in love, offering both instruction and discipline”. Think about that for a minute. Really, it’s mind blowing. To let your child be. Just be. That’s pretty revolutionary in this world where most parents are living vicariously through their children, pushing sports or art or music. Pushing potty-training. Pushing excellence in academics. Pushing ministry. Pushing college.

Pushing our children INTO something usually pushes them AWAY from something. Me? God? Truth? Love? Self-worth? I don’t ever want to push our son away from anything that is good, away from anything that would benefit his life. I do however want to encourage him to just BE. I want him to be who God created him to be. Do I know who that is? No way. I’m still trying to figure out who God created me to be so there’s no way for me to know or ponder who Nolan is made to be. I am just blessed enough to hold his hand along the way and watch his life unfold…assuming I don’t push him away in the process.

Now don’t get me wrong – STRONGLY encouraging, or even urging, is okay in moderation. I think is especially true if your child shows a sincere interest or talent in something. Take music for example (because we are a very musical family, going back generations). If your child expresses an interest in music, wonderful! Get private lessons, get an instrument, do it all the way and do it hard and good. Encourage them. Enjoy their joy. But as soon as they express a new love, a new passion or show new talent in a different area, put the flute on Ebay and move on. Maybe not that extreme, but you get it.

Your kid wants to get into a big schmancy college to be a big schmancy doctor. Wonderful! Encourage good grades, offer rewards for success, SHOW THEM the way. If he/she cares enough, is passionate enough and is given the freedom to explore, then it seems that the chances for success are great. Push them (in extremes) and chance losing them. No thank you.

I was thinking after church – what does Nolan see in me, his momma? Does he think I’m fun and kind? Does he see and feel how intense my love is for him? Does he know that I’m madly and deeply in love with his daddy? Does he see God’s light in me? Am I an example? Am I worthy of this kid’s pure love? Are his sweet, innocent eyes in a safe place when they look at me and my life?

I was created to create. You may have noticed that from my art projects, my home projects and my writing projects. You also may have noticed that with the help of the boyfriend, some kick-butt fertility drugs and the good Lord himself, I created a baby. A really freakin’ adorable baby. And while I privately answer those questions – the “what does Nolan see when he looks at me” questions – I thought that it might be fun to share a little piece of my heart, my passion, with Nolan. Not pushing, not forcing…just play-time with mommy, an opportunity to do something new and fun and MESSY. Why not?

I think that if there’s one thing I took from today’s message, it was to be intentional. I want to intentionally be the best mom this kid could ever have. I want to love, encourage, lead, instruct and discipline him with intention. I want to create intentional moments where it is just he and I having a moment, sharing in life and seeing where love can take us.

Today, I let me kid BE.

Here’s how it went down…

Maybe I’m just a big sap but while Nolan played in the paint, squealing and giggling and looking to me and the boyfriend for reassurance that a mess that big was allowed, I teared up. A LOT. To see my child, this gorgeous creation, enjoying a moment to the extent that he did – it was magical. And it was just paint.

Imagine the passion that he will have when he discovers what it is he truly loves. Imagine the joy he will exude when he knows EXACTLY what he wants and goes after it. Imagine, for a moment, that he would actually grow up to know that he is loved and to feel secure in his identity and whatever he chooses for his life – that he would know his worth, his value and his Creator. And perhaps it will all trace back to this moment when we stopped our lives for an hour to play with paint. When instead of doing work on our home or blogging about a zipper on my new pair of shorts that won’t stay up (arg!), we shut life down and shared in a moment with our child. We let him BE. Imagine that.

I am so proud of Nolan. He has overcome death. Literally. I haven’t talked much about this on our blog but Nolan’s life has not been easy and it started (in gestation) with a poor prognosis. He arrived, took life by its horns and hasn’t slowed down since. Sure, we’ve had some hiccups (two weeks in Children’s Hospital) and although he will be on medications for life and although we’ve yet to gain understanding or get a firm diagnosis, this kid, this child of mine has improved by leaps and bounds. He does not take “no” for an answer…not even from me. His spirit is outrageous and his personality is BIG. Proud does not begin to properly describe the way I feel about him but it’s the best I can do for now. I’m proud to be his momma.

My son. My miracle. My Nolan.

My masterpiece.

You Are My Sunshine

So you’ve got a big blank spot on a wall that screams “slap some color on me!” but you haven’t a clue where to start. Welcome to my world. We are in the process of painting our walls (yes, all of them) different tones of gray. I’m very excited about this. Our walls were once brown and tan and mustard yellow and dark orange. Yes. Seriously. Never paint your home in the fall unless you really all-the-time love dark, warm colors.

Gray is a beautiful, cheery change to our home and because we don’t have many windows and our ceilings are rather low, the gray really helps to open up the spaces in our home. It’s like adding an extra hundred square feet without the remodel. It’s wonderful. Having gray walls, I feel more at liberty to add some big, bold statement pieces to the walls that would not have been possible before in such a dark home.

Do you remember our sofa saga? If not, you can read about it here and stay tuned for updates. The living room will have the turquoise sofa (assuming we don’t botch the upholstery job) and perhaps a bright colored chair and a few other fun accents (like an oh-so-awesome clock that I snagged for 50% off…more on that later) but above the sofa spot, there is a big blank gray wall. For a few weeks, I have imagined what the room will look like and each time, I picture a big piece of art over the sofa. But we can’t afford art. And we’d never be able to agree on what to buy in the first place so I had to change my thinking a bit.

And then it hit me – I love word art! I have a few special songs (our wedding song is one example) that I am saving for other projects but I decided to sacrifice one of the songs for my over-the-sofa word art. When I was pregnant, I sang You Are My Sunshine to my belly and in the last six months of enjoying my sweet little guy, one of his favorite bedtime songs has been the sunshine song. And it’s true – he really is my sunshine, my little ray of light when the world seems so dark. My whole family makes me happy (when skies are gray) and so it seemed fitting that I splash some of the words to that song up on our wall. To gain inspiration, I checked out a few pictures on Pinterest (you MUST check that site out) and I found that the sunshine song was rather popular in the word art category and while I usually shy away from the norm, my heart was set on this song because it’s not just words – it has special meaning.

Okay, come back now. I rambled about the reasons why because they are important to me. But what do you care? You just want to see the tutorial and make your own! Oh, and did I mention that I made this art for nothing, zilch, nada? Yep. FREE.

A couple years ago, our friends handed down some really neat pieces (including our all-time-favorite thing in the house – the huge dining room table) and one of those items was art stretched over a canvass that once hung in their home. We put it in the dining room when the walls were yellow and it worked perfectly but now that we have gone gray, it didn’t seem to fit into the direction were going so we put it in the garage and forgot about it…until yesterday.

Art lovers, look away. Shield your eyes! This next part is going to hurt you real bad. Like why-did-I-wax-my-bikini-line bad. You want to do it, you need to see it but it will kill you. You’ve been warned.

Step One: Spray-paint your canvass (or art). I decided to use a metallic gray and bright yellow (because I had them on hand which = free). I sprayed the paint where specific words would be. You’ll want to think this part through before you go crazy and spray the whole thing. If you’re only using one color, then go ahead, spray like a mad woman (or man). Two colors, think it through. Got it?

Step Two: Type your words onto your computer, adjust the size, pick out a fun font and then print. Easy. Because I like to add hide special little things and inside jokes throughout our home (things that wouldn’t strike you as unique, but we know that they are), I thought it would be fun to use the font from our wedding programs.

Step Three: While your canvas is drying, get to cutting! I sat next to my sleeping boyfriend, watched an hour of television and cut my little heart out. Not literally. Once you cut out your letters, lay them out so that you get an idea of how you want to place them on the canvas. You should take this opportunity to double-check your spelling and make sure that you have ALL of your letters. I’m pretty sure that my dog ate my “i”  for “skies” so I had to print a second one.

Step Four: Imagine hardwood floors instead of gross brown shag carpet in the above picture. You MUST do this step or else the whole project will not work. Trust me. See beyond the carpet to the end of the summer when gorgeous wood floors will grace our home. Are you seeing it? Good. We can move on now.

Step Five: Once you have your words cut out, place them on your canvas. I highly suggest you do not do this in the wind at 1am in the morning. You will have to re-print and re-cut everything all over again. By the way, if you are my neighbor and reading this post, it should explain why you have soggy paper letters floating in your pool. Sorry about that. Needless to say, stay out of the wind. A really great way to combat the elements and keep your letters on the canvass is to use sewing pins. This is especially helpful when you start to spray your paint because the spray will move the letters around and it will be a really big mess. Speaking from experience folks.

Step Six: Paint! Keep in mind that the color you use WILL NOT be the color of the words, but rather the background color.

Below is a close-up of the sewing pins holding down the letters. Worked like a charm.

Step Seven: Wait for the paint to dry OR if you are impatient like I am, blow-dry the canvas and FORCE your paint to dry. Once it is dry (or tacky, whatever) take the sewing pins out and pull up the letters very slowly and carefully. The pins really help here – you can use them to get under the paper and lift each piece so that you don’t smudge the canvas with your big fat fingers. As you pull up the letters, you will get that oh-my-giddy-gosh feeling in your tummy as the colorful words are revealed. This is my FAVORITE part! Other than being done, of course.

Step Eight: Walk away. For reals. It needs to dry for several hours and you need to take time to decide if you want to leave it as-is or embellish a little bit. I really liked the way it turned out but I wanted more color so I decided that my next step would be to use sandpaper to expose some of the color of the original art in the lettering.

Step Nine: Sandpaper didn’t work. Oh well. I gave it some more thought and then got brave. Like real brave. Like this-will-either-ruin-the-whole-project-or-make-it-awesome-brave. I grabbed some spray paint from the garage, a handful of Q-Tips from the bathroom and went to town. To my surprise, it turned out great. To do this, spray the paint onto the Q-Tip and trace over the letters at random to add pops of color. Be intentionally unorganized about this. I went slow and thought it through but had no real plan or idea of how I wanted it to look. Sometimes the best results are born from experiments.

WOAH! Someone put that on a canvas and hang in your home! “Sometimes the best results are born from experiments”.

Step Ten: Once you have added your embellishments, let dry. Then decide if you want the words to pop off the canvas. If so, outline them with a sharpie. Trying to free-hand paint the outline is not for the faint of heart (and I’m lazy) so a thin-tip black marker works just fine. I decided that I wanted all of my words outlined with the exception of the word HAPPY. I wanted it to feel like our home was fully of “happy” and those “happy” words were bouncing off the walls, having a grand time. One happy decided to stick itself to the wall and hang out. And so you see, my friends, it could not be outlined. That really was my reasoning – no joke. I’m not even high. I don’t do drugs. This is just me. Strange, huh?!

Step Eleven: Hang that sucker on the wall!

Sorry, not a great picture. Bad lighting and I was in a hurry. The first of these three pictures is the best representation of the color on the walls and the color of the art. I’m working on my photography skills…be patient with me.

Can’t you see a fun, bold, turquoise sofa under our new word art? I can! But first, I showed you mine so you must show me yours! Take this tutorial and run with it. Put your results on your blog, your Facebook, whatever, and link back to my blog so that we can all ohhh and ahhh at your masterpiece.

Weekend 2 Remember Intro

This last weekend, Friday evening through Sunday afternoon, we attendedWeekend To Remember. If you are not familiar with Weekend to Remember, I really encourage you to check out their link but if you don’t have the time, here is the basic summary: Weekend to Remember (I will refer to it as W2R from now on) is a Christian conference that lasts three days. The purpose of the ministry is to encourage and strengthen marriages. Really, I won’t do it justice…just check them out.

They packed a lot into the three days and because I share life on this blog, I thought it might be a great opportunity to share what God did in my heart and in our marriage this weekend. Maybe it will encourage you to take inventory of your marriage and if needed (btw, it’s ALWAYS needed), seek Biblical and righteous avenues for fine-tuning your marriage. Or maybe this will entertain you and that’s okay too. But let me just say this – if you are a gossip or a weirdo who takes pleasure in learning about the struggles of others, I welcome you to read my marital posts and I even don’t mind if you want to roll your eyes and scoff but I would like to remind you of one small detail that no person should ever forget. YOUR POOP STINKS TOO. Thought you should know.

Because the weekend was so intense and so many topics were covered, I thought it would be best if I split this up a bit. I will do my best to cover the main points and to share my story but do understand that some of the aspects of the weekend will be left out and A LOT of stuff about my marriage will be left out. Go ahead, everyone say “bummer” in unison. Feel better? Great, me too. Just because I feel the Lord has called me to share my life with others in an open, very public space, the boyfriend doesn’t necessarily feel the same call on his life so out of respect (yes ladies, RESPECT your husband) for the man I love, I will refrain from sharing super intimate or private details and focus more on the conference. Yes, I will tattle on myself and dish a whole lot of juicy stuff about how poorly I’ve handled marriage and the pressures of life so don’t write this off just yet. There’s some good stuff coming your way.

Another thing I need to address is this: SEX WILL BE DISCUSSED. If you are under the age of 18, how in the world did you stumble upon this blog of all blogs? Never-mind. That’s not the point. If you are not yet a legal adult, I want you to know one thing. You ready? Sex is from God. Seriously. It is supposed to feel good. like reeeaaalllyyy good. But it is saved for marriage. So while you may think that this blog is about to get super crazy Christian sexy, you are a little bit right but here’s the thing…I’m heavily overweight, have moles in really weird places and may or may not have an abnormal amount of butt crack hair (yes). I want nothing more than for you to have nightmares about this and to remember that God made sex for MARRIAGE and not for the back seat of your car. Trust me, if He made it for your car, your car would be engineered very differently. But don’t take my word for it…go ask your parents, go ask your pastor. Mostly, get the heck outta here.

For the rest of you, don’t worry. I’m not overweight, hairy or covered in moles. I do pick my nose though so you know, it’s equal. I don’t want to scare anybody off (unless you’re a teen) by talking about sex. I won’t be graphic and oh-goodness I WILL NOT go into the subject as extensively as W2R did. It was sex-ed all over again y’all! But I do want to say this – sex really is from the Lord and if you have issues with this, or if it makes you uncomfortable, then please pray about it. Talk to your spouse, read the Word, seek counsel from righteous leaders in your church. I just want to give the disclaimer that at some point, in one of these W2R posts, sex will come up. Please know that I will not be inappropriate or crude or yucky. You are welcome to hang out and read the post but my feelings will not be hurt if you peace-out for that one (mostly because I won’t know). I promise to start that specific post with a disclaimer so that you do not feel tricked into reading it. Good deal?

And parents, PLEASE talk to your kids about sex. W2R should not have been the first time I learned about the anatomy of a woman and since I happen to be a woman, that’s pretty darn sad. I’m not even kidding. I think that so many of us have grown up in homes where it was uncomfortable to talk about sex and really, I can’t blame my parents because I’m already squirming at the thought of teaching my own son about it. It is uncomfortable but it doesn’t have to be. God did create it and it serves some really great purposes. If God wasn’t ashamed to create it, then we really shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about it. And really, as uncomfortable as it might be to start the conversation, it will be much more uncomfortable to be faced by your teen daughter someday who is pregnant because she wasn’t taught the value of sacred sex.

To all those who are or were once pregnant teens: God bless you. May you thrive in the grace of the Lord. And YES, I do realize that there are a lot of wonderful, godly folks who taught their children about sex and still found themselves to be grandparents at a young age. Please understand that it is not my heart to bash or judge or ridicule. I’m making general statements based on statistics. That’s all.

Enough sex talk. Let’s go back to hairy moles. Ah, much better.

I know that this wasn’t the most exciting post. I didn’t share about my marriage and I didn’t dive into the material from the weekend but I felt that it was really important to do a little housekeeping by letting you know what to expect from the upcoming posts about W2R. Sometimes surprises are nice but in this case, I’d like to keep you in the loop. Thanks for sticking with me through this post. W2R posts coming soon.

*I usually center my posts on the page but today, I was in the mood for some left alignment. Might even keep it this way from now on. I’m crazy like that*

**If you are a teen and still reading this, you are probably very disappointed right now. Bummer dude, no sex talk.**

The Sofa Saga Begins

For months, almost a whole year, I’ve had this little big dream prancing around in the back of my mind. It involved an old, funky sofa in need of a second chance, a weekend of labor and some incredible fabric.

I love funky sofas. A LOT. My blog header should be a give-away.

Unfortunately, few people (the boyfriend) were sharing in my dream. In fact, a few people (the boyfriend) warned that my eyes were bigger than my stomach, or in reupholster world, my eyes were bigger than my abilities. And even a few people (the boyfriend) declared that it would be too expensive, too messy and too frustrating to do. Plus, where would I find a neat little sofa in need of love? Craigslist, duh!

After months of casually searching the web for a used (but not destroyed) sofa with good bones, I decided that perhaps it wasn’t worth it. Nothing was turning up – at least nothing local. I did find THE COOLEST sofa in San Fransisco but the boyfriend did not even entertain the idea of driving 4+ hours to load an over-sized project into a borrowed truck. I didn’t see what the problem was, but out of respect for the decision-maker of our casa, I bid farewell to the SF sofa. In fact, I kind of kissed the whole dream goodbye and decided that if there was a sofa out there that was in need of some Rallis family loving, it would find me and I would just KNOW that it was meant to be. You know, kind of like a romantic comedy.

Sure enough, she found me. Rather, I found her. I was on Craigslist checking out the free stuff. (Lots of weird, neat things in the free listings). And somehow, I stumbled upon her…

(Please excuse the horrible picture – I have project ADD so there are about three projects going on in the background. I’ll blog about those later. Also, take this opportunity to scoff at our awful carpet…it will be hardwood by the end of the summer. And for you observant folks, yes, our once brown walls are now gray. More on that later.)

Isn’t she lovely? You have to look passed the gray fabric (which really isn’t all that bad) and see her bones. Those gorgeous curves, the big buttons, the tufting….oh, be still my heart. I took a big breath and scrolled down the page to see how much she was going for. Surely, she’d be a pretty penny. I mean just look at her! Apparently her owners didn’t appreciate her beauty and they only wanted $50 for her! But wait, it gets better! She has a sister! That’s right, only $50 for the sofa and her sister chair! Now I’ll admit, the chair doesn’t take my breath away but as someone who takes in stray furniture more often than the boyfriend would like, I decided that I could find a place for the chair (after a face-lift).

The best news of all was that the sisters were not in a home with smokers or animals or children who jump on furniture. Instead, they were cozied into a corner of a conference room at a fancy car dealership. Really, it was meant to be. I called the car dealership, secured the sisters and dashed into the backyard where the boyfriend was knee-deep in mud (more on that project later) and to my surprise, he volunteered to drive an hour north to get our girls. Did I mention he also surprised me with flowers last week, “just because”?

Fast forward to the fabric store. My girlfriend (who is a master of all things sewing and fabric) went to Joannes to check out a few different options for upholstery fabric. I knew I wanted a bold blue (turquoise would be best) and it needed to be man-friendly since I have a husband, a son and two male border collies.  We decided that duck fabric (yes, this is a real thing) was worth exploring and we found a really great cobalt blue but something just didn’t seem right. The fabric was stiff and there was an element of WOW that seemed to be missing. And then we spotted it – the most vibrant, fabulous turquoise fabric that was soft but sturdy and screamed, “I belong in your home!” I couldn’t resist.

The fabric is denim, which made me scratch my head a bit because it doesn’t feel or look like denim and the tag says that it’s got a whole lot of cotton in it. Maybe it was labeled wrong? Either way, I was in love…but I wasn’t loving the price. $12.99/yard. That might seem reasonable to some but being the frugal gal that I am, it was too much for me to spend. This is where my fabulous friend comes into play. She spotted a sign that showed the fabric was marked down to $7.99 a yard. Not as great as free but I could swing $8…plus, I had a 40% off coupon burning a hole in my pocket. We made our way to check-out, grabbing a couple fun fabrics for pillows along the way, and as soon as we hit the cashier’s stand, the drama began.

My 40% off coupon was expired. The weird thing is that I clipped it from this week’s ads so something wasn’t adding up. (Sorry, lame joke). The cashier had to involve a manager and just as things seemed like a no-go, a sweet older lady approached me with a different ad, offering up her 40% off coupon. Seriously, sweet old ladies rock. I caught myself reaching out to hug her and thought that maybe a very sincere “thank you” might be better. Moving on…

Just as the deal was nearly done, our cashier (who made mention of being horrible at math….ummm??) pointed out that there was a 50% off coupon available. WHAT?! YES! Sign me up for that! One more visit from the manager, a little more math and five receipts later, I got 50% off of my turquoise denim fabric.

The first time my items were rung up, without any coupons, my total was $108 and some change. After the 50% off, I only paid $54!! A $50 sofa AND chair and $54 dollars of fabric (8 yards of turquoise and a couple yards of print for pillows). Folks, that is the deal of a lifetime!

(Brown fabric with silverware will cover a lampshade for a funky orange lamp I’m working on. The teacup fabric is for a pillow and the turquoise is, oh yes, the sofa fabric. Pictures of all of these projects are on their way!)

Around 7pm last night, we decided to begin the process of taking apart the current upholstery of the sofa. The boyfriend was right – it wasn’t easy. And I’m not gonna lie, I thought about hiring a professional to do the dirty work but upholstering a sofa is not cheap (I now understand why) and as you know, I like to do things as affordable as possible so we forged onward. Stay tuned for a series of posts on the sofa saga, including more drama for your momma and a DIY tutorial.

Wannabe Nanny

This comes up a lot in my circles of friendships. I get A LOT of questions about becoming a nanny, hiring a nanny and the like. Maybe it’s because I’ve been a nanny since I was oh, I don’t know…in the womb. Or nine. Which is pretty much infancy.

For the record, NEVER let a nine year old take care of your children for extended periods of time. I have no idea how I was so trusted. It worked out just fine because I’m not a weirdo and I had extensive CPR/how to care for babies training prior to being a nine-year-old nanny but really friends, it’s not a smart idea. Just don’t do it.

Let’s Begin:

So you want to be a nanny, eh?

(If you want to hire a nanny, see last question)

Q: How do I become a nanny?

A: For starters, you’ve got to like kids. And I mean you’ve got to like them A LOT because there will be days when you have to remind yourself how much you like them and how wrong it would be to duct tape them to the wall. Any parent that just gasped at that statement is in denial. If you think your nanny hasn’t had a duct-tape moment, you’re kidding yourself. But back to the wanna-bes. Becoming a nanny is pretty simple. Love kids, get experience, get your certifications and have RELIABLE transportation that is INSURED.

Q: I’m only nine. How do I gain experience?

A: Grow up. For the rest of you, experience comes by doing (duh!) and unfortunately, you’ll have to be doing for not much. In fact, most of your experience will probably need to come from being cheap or free. Watch your neighbor’s kids on date nights, watch your cousin’s kids. You’ll find ways, I know it…just don’t expect a big kick-back. I mean after all, you are a newbie and the beginning isn’t about making a lot but rather gaining a lot. You follow? One great place to find A LOT of kids and gain A LOT of experience is a church. Churches are hurting for volunteers (BTW, you will need to have character) and since you’re hurting for experience, it’s a win-win. Volunteer your time and help with Sunday School or Awanas and in turn, you can add the experience to your resume. Plus, having a ministry or church on your resume looks good – even to non-believers. They might “not be religious” but most people see the value in hiring someone who is. You know, because of your good character and morals and stuff. Moving on…

Q: So I’ve got several months of experience under my belt and I’m CPR certified and I stopped getting rides from my boyfriend and actually bought a car. I’m ready for a real nanny job. Now what?

A: Look for one. Ask your friends to keep their ears open, ask your family to keep a look out…go back to that church where you gained all your experience and connect with the pastors and let them know that you’re looking for a family to help. They will know of people. They will get you connected. In the meantime, work on your resume. Believe it or not, showing up to an interview with baby food all over your shirt DOES NOT qualify as experience. You need a resume and a professional outfit. The nanny industry isn’t what ti used to be friends. It’s cut-throat. My current job was a tough one to get – I was up against twelve others and we were scheduled in 15-minute back to back interviews. And you know that I looked professional and had my resume spotless. It works. I got the job.

Q: A family wants me. How much do I charge?

A: It depends on a few things. READ THIS PART A THOUSAND TIMES… If they are hiring a nanny but want you to clean their house, do their laundry and wash windows, THEY ARE NOT HIRING FOR A NANNY. I don’t care how little experience you have, DO NOT take nanny wages and be expected to be a nanny and a house cleaner. A sad fact of life is that people often pay more for a house cleaner than for the person responsible for taking care of their children. Don’t be a jerk, but make sure to point this out – if you’re serious about that job, ask for house cleaning wages and “throw in the childcare as a bonus”. It’s twisted and awful but it is how things work these days. OR, my better recommendation is to run away and run away fast. Like really really fast. Like Forest Gump just got his new legs fast. You will thank me later.

Oh, but the job is so awesome and the kids are so awesome and the money would be awesome. Yep, you’re right. It’s all awesome…TODAY. But get back to me in a couple months when you are a nanny for triplets and their big sister and while they nap (rarely), you are doing laundry and dishes and feeding the dog and sweeping the patio. Let me know how that goes. I’m telling you – it won’t be awesome. How do I know? I took care of triplets and their big sis and their house was always impeccable… enter tired, exhausted, underpaid me.  How underpaid you ask? $10/hour. Yeah, I know. You see, I thought it was going to be AWESOME. Get my point?

*For the record, I LOVED those kids and that job. I just had to learn the hard way…you will too*

Let’s clarify. Washing/folding baby laundry, cleaning baby room, disinfecting baby toys, doing baby dishes…that’s not house cleaning. That’s a part of being a nanny. Don’t try to get away with charging extra for those little details. You’ll get a reputation that you won’t like. Moms talk and nobody will hire you. I’m serious. Don’t be an idiot.

Let’s talk hard numbers: A general rule of thumb is to charge $10/child and $2-5 for every additional child UNDER THE AGE OF TWO.  It’s not a good idea (in the central valley of California) to charge more than $3 for a child over the age of two. Basically, if the kid can wipe their own booty and you don’t have to change a gazillion diapers a day, you really don’t need an extra couple bucks an hour. Yes, it makes a difference in your wallet but put yourself in their shoes…do you want to pay someone $15 an hour when you probably don’t make that much at your office job? Exactly.

Of course, if you watch the kiddos in their home, you can factor in a little gas money but remember, EVERYBODY drives to their job so don’t charge for your commute. You can ask for a little gas allowance if you have to drive the kids to and from activities. I don’t charge gas allowances (because I’m incredibly nice) and I always regret it, especially during the summer months. But you know what? I’ve never had a problem getting hired. So you can come to your own conclusions…a job that you’ve got to fork over some cash for gas or no job at all. You decide.

Q: So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you make?

A: I don’t mind. My first job as a nanny (a real nanny, not a nine year old nanny), I made $5 an hour and watched two kids. Oh, did I forget to mention that this isn’t a get-rich-quick job? Yeah, you should know that.

I’ve worked several jobs and fallen in love with several families. No matter the circumstance, it is NEVER easy to leave but sometimes moving on is healthy. I have never been let go from a nanny position which is a major bonus because my previous families have been really kind to offer their recommendations to others which 9 out of 10 times is how I get a job. Right now, I take care of a 3 year old and a 4 month old. I drive to a different town and I’m a taxi for the 3 year old 80% of the time. He’s involved in a lot. A LOT. So I burn through a lot of gas (but don’t charge for it…see above). This situation is special because I have Nolan with me two days of the week so while I would have charged $15-$20 an hour (remember, experience is EVERYTHING), I only charge $12 an hour with the mutual understanding that rates will increase once the infant is walking aka once I’m chasing said child.

And don’t be fooled. In the world of nannying, there is no PAID TIME OFF. I laugh in the face of paid time off. Memorial day is next Monday and I won’t have to work which is actually pretty rare (if you want to be a nanny, plan on working most major holidays) but I won’t be paid for it. So, win-lose, you know?

Oh you feel sick? Are you dying? If you’re not dying and you’re not throwing up bright green stuff, get your booty to work. There is no “sick leave” or “maternity leave”. There is only leave, as in “you don’t work here anymore”. Need to go to the doctor? Pile the ten kids into your car and take the circus with you. Don’t have a car big enough? Call a friend and have her help take the kids to the doctor, the zoo, the park (Jenny, I love you) and then always plan on owing her BIG TIME for the rest of your life. They will ruin your car and hers but see, you’re paid to have your car ruined. Not her. She’s just awesome. You should probably give her your third-born child. I’m not kidding. So remember – sick, holiday, vacation – not in your vocab, especially when you don’t have a lot of experience. Since I’ve been taking care of kids for 10+ years, I take vacation (just a few days a year) and give advanced notice and I just suck up the loss of money because after 10+ years of childcare, I NEED vacations. Remember the duct tape thing?

So back to my income. You can do that math but I make roughly $1,900 a month. It’s not stellar but for someone who wants to balance motherhood and work, it’s a decent career.

Q: How do taxes work?

A: They don’t. For reals. This is a real down-side to being a nanny. Most families will pay cash. If they hand you a check, you should automatically know that this means they will be claiming you on their taxes and claiming you hard. It seems like a bummer but really, it’s a good thing. When families pay cash, they usually don’t keep close track of what they are paying you monthly and usually, cash means that they aren’t claiming childcare on their taxes. It’s cheaper for them this way…well, some of them. But here’s the deal – you’re an honest person and you really should report your income. There are many reasons why… the obvious is that you don’t want the IRA or FBI or whoever to knock on your door and audit you. That’s no bueno. Also, if you ever plan on buying a home, a car, anything that requires proof of income, you’re screwed. I suggest asking for personal checks and make it clear that you want a tax form so that you can file and prove your income. If you get paid cash, you’ll need to be a grown-up about it and file your taxes. This also means setting aside a good chunk every month because while you aren’t having taxes taken out of your income every week or month, you will get slapped in the face with a major bill to the tax people come tax season. So, be smart, you know? Do it right.

$1,900 doesn’t sound like all that much now, does it? Consider the taxes I’m paying and the gas I’m pumping (not to mention all the treats and special field-trips that I pay for…because I’m AWESOME).

Q: Wow. I’m kind of intimidated. Should I just go back to college?

A: YES. That’s what I’m doing. By all means, be a nanny to support yourself and do the school thing at night or whenever you aren’t wiping snot off of noses. Take it from someone who accidentally made a way-too-long-of-a-career out of being a nanny… you will want more for yourself in about five years and by that time, you will have kids of your own and it will be soooo hard to manage your time between family and work and school and you’ll be stressed and overwhelmed.  I am accidentally a career nanny. I never had intentions to love kids so much or to love avoiding college so much but now I’m serious. I have to be. I have my own kid to raise and as much as I adore and love the families I work for, I know that I need to be more available to my own family. So please, if this seems like a good gig for you but you have bigger and better dreams for your life – pursue them!

Q: I’m a mom/dad and need to hire a nanny. Where do I start?

A: Get yourself an iced tea, whatever chillax pill you have on hand, a pillow to scream into and a calculator. I’ll meet you back at the computer sometime soon and we will chat. Come prepared, come open and come with chocolate because I’m starving.

*A post on hiring a nanny is soon to follow. Hang with me*