The Vibe And The Tribe Thing

Everyone seems to know this mantra these days. I can tell you over the past 6 months, this little rhyming ideology has been a game changer for me. My best friend used to tell me that I was easily meshed into any group. I didn't fit in a clique per-se but I attract all different kinds of people and I especially am found wanting to be "the good friend."

Motherhood has made my personal friendship stuff rough. Just last week I wrote about losing contact with a friend dear to me that really hurt me. Weirdly enough some of my best and long lasting friend relationships are long distance. It's not about seeing each other or even talking on some regular basis. It's about being there for each other during the best and the worst times and never completely losing touch.

My friend from Kindergarten, also someone I have blogged about, lives in Italy and I had him call me last week just for like a 20 minute phone call. We message each other weekly if not more, but when he called me I realized I hadn't actually heard his voice in like 2 years and I forgot about all the silly things that come with that kind of interaction, the laugh, the sarcasm and such. I got off the phone and just felt so contented having had that "normal" conversation because he's one of those people that just gets me.

It's after a handful of years of stress, darkness, anxiety, depression, anger and all the MUCK that I can now admit "Hey I've been completely lost and horrible," but also that I can clearly see who stuck around and let me be ANY version of me, and are now right there with me celebrating my growth. 

I've felt ashamed. I've been ashamed of myself, my family and my circumstances for seemingly have lost a grip on our stuff. We had some wonderful milestones that we hit in the midst of the dark times and I pushed myself into the "celebratory mode" to try and get myself out of my funk but it's weird how it is only now can I adequately appreciate the journey.

We had friends over for dinner, something I realized we don't do often. I used to blame this on my husband the chef never being home and no one wants anything I could ever cook. Then I realized that we had befriended people who were buying new houses and getting new furniture and shopping and decorating and that wasn't us. Our house is a mix of sentimental hand-me-downs and gifts and a celebration of us actually having a house of our own to paint weird colors and cover in canvases.

Our friends that we hosted last night have hosted us so many times. They have a fabulous home with a great pool and it's clean, kid-friendly, dog-friendly and super great for entertaining. This was the first time we had them over and I was concerned the kids would be bored because we just had toys, no pool. 

Our friends immediately saw our daughters room and were like..."WHOA THIS IS A COOL BEDROOM." Her loft bed was painted in colors she picked much like her walls and ceiling. She had fairy lights wrapped around the edges. She has a Nintendo Wii on a Disney Princess old school tube TV and huge plastic Maximus horse. Her loft bed had a mattress and stuffed animal beneath it to chill with her action figure shelf that she hand painted filled with Disney figurines awaiting to play. The dog has a staircase to get to the top of the loft bed which has My Little Pony "carpeting." Her room has green walls and a purple ceiling.

Then my daughter showed her guests her secret dream-house play-space, also known as the garage. My husband arranged a carpeted area with his drum set, her yoga mat and the heavy bag. So one was punching, one was drumming and everyone was having a blast. My husband later told me that our friends husband said, "It's so creative over here. The piano, the drums, the place is covered in Luna's art and canvases and pictures she made everywhere it's so cool."

I had never thought of it that way. And today it is making my heart calm, happy and ridiculously grateful that we gave off that vibe. It made me think of our upcoming trip and where we are staying. We have a city full of family but I'm crashing with my best friend, her husband and their 3 children in their 3 bedroom, one bathroom house. Why? Because I have always loved staying with her because it feels like a home away from home. The last time we were there, she brought out old Barbie toys and a doll house for my daughter that they still had. They have dogs, cats, bunnies, chickens, you name it. The girls re-decorate and swap rooms often. There are pictures of her mom and family and craft projects everywhere. I'm completely comfortable there and it just makes sense to be around my people.

My house is a place where you can spill without getting yelled at. I didn't spend $2,000 on a dinette set so, if you get glue on my table I could care less. We don't have matching furniture so if you stain something maybe it will actually match another piece. I watched two friends we really enjoy, and their kids, just walk into our house and embrace it. Then I watched my daughter show off all the things she loves about her home from, the guest room to her room, to her garage. It was a weird sort of gratification, in a way.

My husband outed me as only having "the same people," over. We have my cousins and our other close couple friends over. Otherwise we really don't "host." It's strange because I can hostess like a boss, but I think up until yesterday, I just felt so awkward about our house. I think I reflected all my own insecurities onto my poor house and last night it proved itself to be our "home."

The vibe and the tribe thing are real. Even through my worst phases of life, the people that have caused me stress or discomfort, the people who I have been challenged by, the ones who have stuck around to see me push through everything, are enjoying me being in a better place and THAT feels amazing too.

And don't get me wrong, it's not a "happy" thing. This isn't some "Oh yeah because I'm happy now." I'm not that person. I am awake, I am healing, I am growing and I am slowly owning my trauma. I was not able to do that 3 years ago. I was not able to do that 2 years ago. In that process I was not always like-able and I can own that now too.

If anything I'm affirming that all the cliches are completely real. You have to take things "one day at a time." If you can get a day with "no complaints," call it good. The feelings I'm putting out into the universe are being reciprocated as they should be and the things I don't need are falling out of the way.

I am finding that the people that I need to keep up my forward momentum are right there alongside me. My tribe is ridiculously important to me and I hold them dear. This isn't to say anyone who isn't in my "vibe" isn't in my "tribe" either. I feel good in my general surroundings and support system, which is a huge step. I have always felt that feeling lonely when you are alone is natural but feeling lonely when surrounded by people or in the company of friends is the absolute worst feeling ever, so you can afford to be picky about that sometimes.

With all my years with one foot in the hippie door in Oregon, I can tell you that most of their mantras are true and helpful so, I leave you with this for a Monday Musing:

 

The Broken Spoon

When my parents split when I was 16, they divided everything in half in terms of most of the "stuff." Then my mom and dad ended up giving me the bulk of it when I was in my twenties. Dishes, albums, turntables, random furniture and pictures were given to me. The dishes are the ones that have followed me everywhere; every state and home I've ever lived. 

I found some of my childhood dishes. I mean little ceramic plates with horses and flowers on them for kid-sized things. There are spoons with ceramic dog and cat handles and of course the Christmas-related dishes we dust off once a year.

I used to guard these kinds of things carefully. I was never one to buy a bunch of "nice things" so the things I did have that were nice, I loved and kept close. I was a collector of random stuff...until I had kids. Then I wanted no stuff, and certainly nothing of value. Everything gets broken at some point and anything can lose sentiment as we grow older and the memories fade out, so most things we have now just center around functionality.

In 10 years together my husband and I have never been able to agree on a dish set. In my first apartment, my mom got me purple and maroon striped matching everything and my husband loathed them. They were replaced by my parents set of light blue Pfaltzgraff and we wore those to the bone. We still have them, they now just hide in "retirement" for special occasions only or if necessary at all. We have a random array of IKEA, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and JC Penney stuff from over the years but nothing special.

I used to have little decorative things all over. The dog took down a few of them but one ceramic bowl I painted at one of those paint your pottery places? Yeah my daughter broke that on the tile within the first 6 months after we bought the house. It didn't bother me. It served no real purpose except that I made it and it was now one less thing to dust.

The bottom of the butter dish that was my dad's and is older than me that matches nothing but I refuse to give up? Yeah my daughter grabbed something from the counter and rocketed that thing right off into 50 ceramic shards, again on the tile in the new house. That one I was pretty annoyed with. She apologized but I knew it wasn't really her fault. This is life, it's messy and things break often.

Something kicked in when we got the new house to where I just didn't care about having "nice things," anymore I was just so grateful to have a house of our own. We've never bought furniture from a legit store other than IKEA. We have lived off of hand me downs for quite some time.

We got a pull out couch from an auction right before I had the baby. We had completely trashed that thing by the time she was 3 years old. It was ripped and torn and falling apart. We got a replacement faux leather one that got ripped by dogs and just wasn't even that comfy. Our newest couches were a gracious gift from someone we love very much and I scold my daughter for mistreating them and say, "We will never get nice stuff like this for free ever again!"

I got a bunch of free stuff from an old boss too, including a piano. Total score! None of it matches or is even really my taste but free is for me. It has never occurred to me to go buy matching things honestly, because I feel like I have no one to impress and with kids and dogs and life, who wants to look like they live in a museum? I want our place to look like we love our home.

Sure there are some coffee mugs I just love and would be bummed if they broke. I have some favorite salt and pepper shakers and such but things break, and some you can fix, some you can't.

Last night my daughter had her go-to dessert, ice cream with chocolate syrup and sprinkles. I always ready the bowl but make sure she gets her own spoon.

She was enjoying her dessert and Netflix and then she came running into my room in full on hysterics. "Mom, I'm so sorry. Mom, it just fell and I just, I BROKE THE SPOON!"

There it was, a little headless puppy spoon in two pieces. I said completely calm, perhaps even deadpan, "Hey, it's fine. It's just a spoon. I'm not mad or upset, not even disappointed." She still wasn't completely calm. I then explained that accidents happen and the only way she would have been in trouble would have been if she hadn't told me or if she lied about it.

At first I was anxious and upset that she thought I would unleash the "momster," on her but I understood that I had warned her so often that things would break on the tile (because they will) that she had a fear about it, but also she is knowingly sensitive to when I raise my voice. Then I looked closer and realized we could probably glue it anyway, but regardless, it just wasn't worth the energy of getting mad.

She came back into my room to talk about it more and I just told her, it was fine. It was just stuff. It was just a broken spoon. Maybe it is all part of the priorities, the growth, the perspective, and the stuff I've been writing about this entire year, but sometimes it really is just a broken spoon. I've spent so much time and energy being mad about silly things and I now realize it was more a projection of my anger that my life was in such chaos and that I had no control, rather than being legitimately upset about the smaller things. 

What is that saying, "Don't sweat the small stuff?" Well I've spent years sweating! Now that I have a handle on things, it seems as though I can breath easier on such things and am far less balmy.

I understand my daughter's "fear of telling," the grown up. I was generally afraid of getting in trouble often. I can't pinpoint why; I don't even remember really being yelled at. My daughter seems to have that same sentiment. In younger years as I mom I would yell or overreact so things wouldn't fall down or she wouldn't get really hurt. After the car accident, I seem to have been taken down a peg or two in terms of that kind of anxiety. You learn and grow as a mom and you definitely pick your battles!

I told her not to be afraid of me and I appreciated her telling me and guess what? I Gorilla-glued the spoon. It is drying and I plan on surprising her. The whole incident felt blog-worthy as another example of just how things can evolve. Maybe 4 years ago I would have cried it out and felt such a loss of the nostalgic spoon, but even if I would have had to toss it, me and that spoon had a good run. 

I'm hoping I can keep this vibe going and translate it into other things as well. We'll see!

The Ice-Maker Line Lesson

Homeowners stuff is so weird. Being a homeowner and adulting in that fashion, is still so weird to me. Some days are better than others. On the one hand you can paint and decorate and mess things up and not worry about losing a deposit. On another hand, you pay (sometimes in more ways than one,) for everything you mess up.

Water is a force to be reckoned with in most walks of life, but especially in a house. Pipes and stuff are serious business. I'm two types of people weirdly melded into one: I won't ever pretend to know more than I know, if it can get me into trouble, but I love a challenge and refuse to believe I can't find a way to figure something out or make things work. Sounds like a recipe for disaster right? I'm relatively careful.

Friday afternoon I get home in a storm, with groceries and kid, and I hear this faint noise from behind my fridge. The fridge is on, running properly and I think, "Huh? Have I never keyed into that sound before?" I go about my Friday evening routines and then come back to make tea and it's louder, it's almost like a weird hissing sound. I move the fridge and start digging around and there it was: a water leak from the ice maker line.

It was small but the more I started messing with it, the worse it got. I stood there calling my kiddo for help to get towels and just took a breath, "Okay, who do I call?!?" My husband was not my first call, nope not on a Friday during dinner service. I called my local friend who's husband was quite handy and had helped with weird things I'd never know in the past. She didn't answer. I knew there had to be a water shut off but how much do I mess with things? I called the front line of the restaurant and asked for my husband saying it was "Important." I'd never called that number before. Ever. 

He told me to shut off the water under the sink. First knob, water still going, my daughter reported back. Second knob, my daughter said same thing, no result. It wasn't working and I was freaking out. My husband told me to go outside and hit the main water shut off. Yeah that wasn't happening. That thing needed a serious tool to get it to chill. Back to the under the sink situation.

As I was meddling down under there my husband zipped home and I was picturing me twisting too much and breaking it worse, having some newer, worse leak and I just kept poking around. I had found a 3rd knob. Turn, turn, and done. Off. Of course that's when hubby arrived. Crisis averted?

Behind my fridge was disgusting. Lots of old dog food crumbs, fallen magnets, a broken something and so much crud and I was appalled. It looked moldy. Mold is the devil. There was a small hole of separation from wall to floor and that's when the panic set in...what if that thing leaked all day and there is MOLD under there now and it just keeps growing mold because we live in Florida?

I took off any clothing that was essential because I have the worst luck ever with bleach. I always stain something and usually it's clothing that I actually like. So in my bra and underpants in my kitchen on a Friday evening I'm on my hands and knees on the tile floor scrubbing with bleach all the yuck. It is also fun to note that since pregnancy I have had a fantastic aversion to certain cleaning supply smells. It makes it fun, really, and bleach is the number one offender.

I gave up and kept all the water in the kitchen shut off knowing that Saturday afternoon I could tackle the project. I Googled things and looked on YouTube. It seemed pretty straight forward, nothing to scary. I went to Lowe's armed with knowledge.

We had a play date that ran awkwardly long. It was a whole weird thing where they ended up at our house even though we started at the park and things just snowballed. It was okay. We get along but I had stuff to do and the play date ran twice as long as I'd planned. When I stopped and began I got out the video tutorial to go with the kit I bought...uh OH, the video said the kit I got was not preferred.

I packed up the kid. Back to Lowe's. Every non-fun outing requires a lot of negotiation between my daughter and I. There are many agreements of doing a good job. She loves the hardware store but when you go there needing help and guidance and needing to use massive amounts of patience? She grows tired and fast. 

I got round two of what I thought I need and with a back-up plan. I was ready to attack! I'm a practical person and I believe that most things can be done with an open mind, some specifically situational and learned tools, and some confidence. I realized how annoyingly strange it was all installed to begin with and became defeated pretty fast. I even tried to just rig it through Tuesday to work so that my husband could more expertly repair it on his day off, with no child under feet and asking for snacks as you are using the wrench.

It was when I got creative that I realized again, in all my over-buying for other options and in all my optimism and "Can-do" attitude that it didn't fit properly. We had to go back to Lowe's again. I was tired, but I wanted working kitchen water, so I had to finish. I had a great crying jag, balled up on my kitchen floor. My daughter came to console me. And we gathered up for the last trip. 

Immediately at the returns desk, my daughter recognized the cashier as the one from our first return and said, "Excuse me we need to return all of this, because like none of it worked for my mom and we need kitchen water and she said it doesn't work." The cashier found her endearing and said, "Well I'm sure your mom knows!" 

I had cried off my make-up and I'm sure had the look of determination, exhaustion and anger plastered on my naturally blemished face and the cashier that helped us twice said, "Oh, no, you're back," in a sweet way of saying she had hoped we'd fixed it last time. The one genius thing I did was grab an exact piece from the mis-matched size of the first part of the connector and took it with me. I marched right up to someone and said "THIS, I NEED THIS SIZE, AS A CAP OR STOPPER FOR WATER TO CLOSE A PIPE PLEASE."

When we got to the register with our friendly cashier that had helped us with multiple things earlier, my daughter said, "Yeah we had to come back because my mom had like a MAJOR meltdown in the kitchen." I laughed and said, "That's true. Mommy did have a meltdown."

I had given up on repairing the ice maker line. After 3 trips to Lowe's no one in my house needed ice ever again. Ever heard of ice cube trays? Had we become lazy millennial people? No thank you. I could have got the power drill and make the hole bigger but the problem was the connector sizes were different on the pipe side than the fridge side, which was why it was set up so badly to begin with. I then realized that in all my master plans of 2019 a dishwasher was my black Friday goal and the ice maker line goes right behind, so we should just do one big install in a few months.

I got the correct cap sizes, turned knobs back on and have been enjoying water ever since. I used the wrench properly and everything! I told my husband the ice maker news and he accepted it gracefully. I slept better knowing that I'd solved part of an issue and would live to tell the tale.

I don't feel like I bit off more than I could chew and I certainly didn't mess around with something I couldn't handle. I felt like I should have gone more with my intuition on a lot. My husband actually really supported my handling it myself and said, "You can totally do this, you're smart enough to find your way around everything." Even when he got called to come help he was patient and understanding that water leaks are no joke.

My lesson was a balance in what was all worth it really. It needed a safe fix of course, but when my sanity, my abilities and just how poorly it was set up to begin with came into play I had to make some educated decisions and maybe lose a luxury for a bit until we could have a more detailed repair later.

I felt accomplished and like I learned a lot, although slightly disappointed I couldn't write a post about my success of replacing the whole line. Perhaps that will be an end of year thing. Homeowners stuff is no joke though and I feel like there are some intense growing pains that go with it all, but I have to take it like I take everything else, one day at a time. Happy Monday!

I Like Being A Homebody

I've been trying to plan this whole mom's night out thing and the first scheduled evening I was ill, and the reschedule isn't producing great confirmations from others of interest but I kind of just chalk it up to the fact that, in the end, I like being a homebody on the weeknights and my motivation to get it together is lacking.

I'm in a pretty strict routine of 5AM wake ups and workouts Monday through Friday, and I'm actually about to add more to my workout plate, as opposed to my dinner plate. I'd love to see the Moms but I'm a Friday and Saturday night party person only. I've worked for so long to get my regular, normal person, run of the mill schedule, that I adhere pretty closely to it.

I don't know what it is, maybe because I finally have a home or a "real house" as my uncle once called it, but I'm perfectly fine folding laundry and being at home most nights. I'll be the first to admit I have plenty of room to just grow and improve routines, and there are some defaulting habits that I dislike, but by the time I get home I'm too tired to embrace the new and change it up! Regardless, I like being home.

I'm discovering more and more just how much time I need to reboot. I'm discovering how much time I need away from social things, but I also work well when I have things to look forward to. It's kind of a weird place to be and the balance for it is delicate.

There are some days and some ways, in which I just can't people anymore and I'm learning that is also very okay. I've wasted a lot of time being guilt-ed into doing things I didn't want to do, being pushed into corners I wasn't comfy in and made to feel bad in general for existing and I've worked so hard to get away from that.

Being a homebody has it's perks. I spend way less money than most people for sure, my house is pretty well kept up because I'm slightly obsessive about it staying clean. It gives my family a chill "safe space" and we utilize the relax factor pretty well. Home is our haven and I think we all have a bit of a sigh of relief once we get through that door.

I learned how to become nomadic by default, but this past decade I've really worked diligently to make any home that we had, a true home. Ironically my daughter has been asking a lot about various residences. She clearly remembers the house that we rented before we bought the one we have now. Every once in awhile she brings up when we'll move again. I always roll my eyes and say, "When you're 18."

The house we bought is it. We've been in it almost 3 years and it just recently started forming into home. We're still reorganizing and de-cluttering and making it ours. We have plans and goals to make it even more ours and I plan on staying as much homebody as I possibly can.

Maybe it is adulthood. Maybe it is age. I just don't feel the need to be out and about all the time. Our Saturdays are quite busy, but I like being around on Sunday to reboot, maybe catch a play date and do nothing. Having a place called home to hide, is amazing, because some are not so fortunate.

My daughter likes to pretend she isn't in love with her room and her house, but I can tell she's attached and loving it more and more. Although kids are far more resilient to change than we will ever be, she does love her space, her home and her routines, just like her mom.

I really don't think there's anything wrong with being a homebody. It certainly beats the bar hopping days and wasting money days. It beats the apartment neighbors and parking lot woes, the shared spaces and annoying faces from apartment complex living. I think being a homebody is proof I'm coming into my own and that's kind of an amazing space to be. 

On this Transformation Tuesday I'm open to changing things up, and I'm open to tweaking routines, but am equally happy in my current situation, and still embracing and getting used to that. And it feels pretty great, I must say. 

Gutters, Glitter and Getting Comfortable in Adulthood

My daughter just got out some Glitter that was a gift and is dumping glitter on glue. Comedian Demitri Martin says, "Glitter is the herpes of craft products." My husband has a serious glitter aversion. He very much hates them.

After a work out and a calm morning, I came home with a slight headache prompting my husband to take my daughter to the hardware store with him to get more gutter pieces to work on stuff with the house. I rested, rebooted and started on the chores.

We made plans for this day that have since fizzled, but I'm actually okay with it all. I guess this weekend kicked my butt. After an enlightening conversation, I've realized that through everything, not only have I maintained a good outlook in general, but I'm making the best of what's in front of me and I feel proud. This is a rarity for me.

We're a little bit in debt, but crawling out well. We have our structure and our plans. We have some fun things planned for us that I'm looking forward to also. We're growing and doing our best. 

Moreover, the gutters and glitter and just continued metaphors for life. We borrowed more than I'd like from savings for gutters because it's rainy season and it's a small home improvement thing that we need. There is glitter all over my table, my bench and a pan and spoon but, we'll clean up the mess as best we can. I mean, what else can we do.

Doing the best you can with the situation at hand is such a task sometimes, but it's all you can do. I finally caught up with a friend and was asking about long-term plans only to get the answer "I don't know what's going on, I just have to take things as they come." I laughed and replied, "Hey, one day at a time is all you can do sometimes, that's how I roll."

Adulthood is rough. It super sucks honestly, but we all have to live it. It's all what you make of it. That theme is so important. It is imperative that you stay positive even when you don't want to. 

After getting some serious rest and actually having time to chill I can now appreciate the process, the struggle and the growth more than when I'm cranky and hangry. Yesterday I was not in a great place so I couldn't find my positive vibes. 

Memorial day can come with a lot of mixed feelings for many people and I don't think of it as just BBQ day. I invite you to take some time and think about how far we've come because of the people who fought for us, and how far you've come personally because of your fight for yourself. Just enjoy the day because we're back to the grind tomorrow!

Cash Conundrum: Fiscal Frenzies

Money can be a more touchy subject than religion or politics, maybe even the two combined. For me, it is an extremely sensitive and very stressful trigger, very much always uncomfortable. I had the "money" issue come up yesterday and it had a strange, strange affect on me.

My dad gave me a credit card lesson at age 18, but other than that no one really taught me about money. I learned everything the hard way, but always had the support of my family in the end. It was after our wedding that I learned just how evil credit cards could be, if used improperly, and that I needed to be much more tenacious in terms of watching payment schedules. It was after having a baby and being rejected on homeowner dreams that I was violently shoved into getting fiscally responsible.

I am extremely uptight about our current budget. Debt is not something that sits well with me. We have taken out two small loans to pay off credit cards and I'm obsessive about payment dates. It drives my husband insane, but it's for the greater good so I stand firm as financially feisty.

I wrote another blog about asking for help from a financial mentor only to be completely let down by the whole experience, leaving with a defeated sense of "screwing" things up or not being apt to do more. But then I thought about how far we've come and just how much I fight daily to keep things together and decided to just take what I could from the experience and let it go. 

I'd like to say we don't, but we live paycheck to paycheck. My husband and I fundamentally see everything having to do with money completely differently. I'm that weirdo that loves a savings account and doesn't see certain things like dentist visits and wellness check ups as a "luxury" but a basic necessity like the internet and phone. However, I won't buy myself new clothes, new sheets, or new towels without serious buyers remorse unless mine are threadbare. To me, those are luxuries.

I'm naive enough to just leave the money issue as unspoken though and to think that, if you don't have the money, you don't go out, but also to be careful who you complain to about certain money things because it can create issues. I like to think that everyone lives within their means, and some people just have bigger means than others.

I struggled with this in motherhood, especially within the rise of social media. Everyone is posting cute new baby outfits and new wraps, carriers and strollers and we just couldn't afford it. Then my single friends were posting pictures of nights out as I'm at home re-watching Glee in a shirt with baby puke on it. I couldn't afford a babysitter, a night out, or new clothes to look decent in. It felt not great.

I once was called out as a hater because I made a quippy comment about how, it's not that other people just get to "have more," but that some people are just more okay being in debt and everyone must just have 50K in debt and not care. I thought I was handling my inner struggle sarcastically well, but was immediately shamed. It took a long time for me to change my perspective and found that around the right people, I was more apt to thrive mentally and financially.

The problem with money is that the people who have always had it, often forget that not everyone does. It's also a matter of the cost of living. My childhood home in Pennsylvania, a 4 story, 4 bedroom, 1 and 1/2 bath Victorian with a huge yard, sold less than a decade ago for just 30k less than what we paid for our 3 bedroom 2 bathroom Safety Harbor home. Location, location, location.

My cousin and his family live in Brooklyn and work in Manhattan and he tells me about the cost of living there and I'm astonished, but then again, I romanticize New York with the best of them. It's all about places and circumstance.

Yesterday, a plan that I had not budgeted for came at me full stop and I was completely taken aback. I had so much to consider and there were no cost options but, I had my family's comfort to think of. It was lightly suggested by someone to just throw some money at it and solve the issue and it just...struck me in the wrong way. Let me tell you, it's never that simple in our lives.

Money is just an uncomfortable subject. I avoid it like the plague because, it can lead to discourse. We've made the mistake of lending to friends and family and never giving back. We've had family lend to us and probably regret it. I've felt taken advantage of by people I would "spot lunch money" to and they never offered to return the favor. Or when you give someone rides home often but they never offer gas money, things get awkward and I hate it! I do! It's such a fine line and delicate tight-rope walk.

I never assume anyone will pay for me to do things and I try my best to appreciate any kind of monetary gift received, it's a huge deal for me. So even if I'd had friends treat me before, I don't make plans with them if I can't afford it and just think "they'll probably just pay for me." That's not how things work.

After a stint in the hospitality biz, I'm very sensitive to tipping. The least I leave is 20% unless the service is completely horrible, because everyone has a bad day, and I guarantee they will get at least one person daily who won't even tip at all. It has been drilled into my mind of, "If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to go out and enjoy that service." And I know some people don't feel that way; to each their own.

I think money stuff is just...difficult, and being kinder to each other's limitations can go a long way. We have close friends that are much more...financially advanced than we are. One time we really wanted to thank them for just, being so kind and including us in things that we saved to pay for an expensive dinner for all four of us and it literally made our friends uncomfortable. They were almost upset at the gesture like, "We have to at least leave the tip! Or pay for drinks!" But for me, it was a gift I wanted to give - these are the kinds of things I work really diligently with, thoughtful gifts that show gratitude and appreciation.

I've had to drill into my husband's head, don't buy me the "stuff," take me to a concert and we'll hang out together. I want an experience. Not things. My mom is the person who needs the "stuff" and pushes all those things on me too. I smile and nod.

There are time when I know to just accept the gifts even if I feel uncomfortable or don't want the gift giver to feel like I'm the one taking advantage, but there are times when I just say, "I'd love to but we can't afford it." That was really hard for me. It's so much easier to just swipe a card and go, but I can't enjoy anything if I'm saddled by debt. For those of you who can, I quote over and over again, Amy Poehler, "Good for them, not for me!"

I'm extremely frugal, some may even call me cheap, but I'm trying to live a little more, still within my means:

At one point when we had Disney passes my family was like "I can't believe you pay for that all the time." And in retrospect it's like, we took 9 mini-vacations in the same year, which is the same cost as one trip home to see you all! At least with Disney it was split into monthly payments, haha!

But, back to the point which is, money stuff is rough and stressful, and cumbersome and it's difficult not to be envious and judgmental these days, especially with social media. No one is posting pictures of eviction notices or late notices on bills, it's all pictures of new iPhones and new cars so it can make you feel inferior. But I think if we can all just remember that we all come from different a spectrum of the cash flow, it can be less of a conundrum or fiscal frenzy.

The moral of the story is, be nice, because you just never know what someone went through to earn what they have, or if someone is struggling just to make ends meet. Pay it forward doesn't always mean monetary things, but we should pay forward more understanding, especially in the financial districts.   

The Florida Move - Who, What, When, Where...Maybe Even Why?

We're inching closer to a full decade as Floridians and my husband also has reminded me, I've officially lived in Florida longer than I did in Oregon and I'm 3 years shy of beating out my 13 years in Pennsylvania. The Florida move was a big one for my husband but less so for me, and 10 years later I figure I can better explain the move now, as opposed to before.

When I was all of 7 years old and obsessed with Father of The Bride with Steve Martin, I decided I was going to get married in my dad's church, have the reception at our house, that I loved so much, of course stay close by to family and raise my kids right there, right? Why would you ever leave "home?" That's how it worked right?

By 13 my mom was consistently out of the picture and my dad, having moved to Pennsylvania for my mom and her family more than anything else, was growing tired of being where he no longer seemingly had a reason to solidify his roots. My dad attempted to find us a secondary space in North Carolina, our version of a summer home he bought for him and my mom. When the shit hit the fan, he lost the house, and all his future plans, so he started devise a decision on what he wanted in terms of a new life alone.

He decided on Oregon. My mom ended up in Delray Beach, Florida for her first solid year of stability. I came down for summer camp and visits and much like the opposite of Frozen's Elsa, "The heat never bothered me anyway." I fell in love easily with Florida. My grandparents were just an hour north of her in Port St. Lucie too and I was just in awe of all things Florida.

I loved the palm trees, the big changing signs along I-95, the malls, and it was bright and sunny so that you could go to the beach or the pool year round. I loved the big houses almost as I loved the little key west style one-floor ranchers and loved that it was WARM!

When I was vying for having a mother figure back and my dad was itching for distance, he said he was going to go back to Oregon when I was 16 and I had zero interest in following. I wanted to live with my mom in Delray. So, I finished my sophomore year of high school living with my Aunt in Pennsylvania and then was shipped to Delray Beach.

I landed in Ft. Lauderdale, and did my junior year in Delray Beach and literally lasted a year to the day, before my dad packed up all my stuff and dragged me across the country with him to Oregon to finish high school and then go to college. My mom and I were not fit to share a roof. Unfortunately this still stands and has been recently proven. 

After moving to two high schools in 2 years, moving didn't bother me. I could be a nomad, whatever. In fact for the next 7 years, I moved once a year. My dad rented a place on Hilyard in South Eugene for High School. After that we moved to West Eugene to an apartment for my first year at community College. Then I was on 11th with my first roommate, then I lived by myself on High Street, then to Bailey Hill in a little townhouse with a roommate, moved in the same complex but a one bedroom with my then boyfriend, now husband, and then with my Aunt back in South Eugene, whilst I planned my graduation and Oregon escape.

My sights were originally set on San Francisco, or New York. I always dreamed that being poor in a big city was more romantic than being rich in the suburbs. But, after another bad situation with my mom derailed me, and I had a year of pretty intense depression and anxiety, I gave into the idea that maybe I was the type that could settle down and have a family, and my adolescent Carrie Bradshaw dreams were just the stuff of immaturity.

My husband had never really lived anywhere. Just Oregon; Medford and then Eugene. When he met me, we visited Pennsylvania often, he saw the Jersey Shore and even Delray Beach, Florida. When I mentioned possibly leaving for a new place, he was all in. But then I was like, well if we're moving 3,000 miles together, if we were to get married we'd do that before we left right? Because I'd never be that person to get married on a beach. 

So, in the midst of planning a cross country trek and new life, we snuck in a wedding that turned into an epic send off and I was ready. I had studied for about 4 months in Europe in 2007 and it was just the best time ever. I LOVED to travel. It didn't  matter if it involved road trips or flying anywhere new, I was in. My husband was just kind of starting to embrace new horizons. Moreover for me, I wanted a place that was just ours.

My mom almost successfully ruined our relocation, but I refused to let her take away one more thing from my life. Originally I wanted to go back to Delray, but my husband had an Aunt in Tampa and I had had cousins move from Pennsylvania to St. Petersburg, Florida about 2 or so years prior. We visited once and very much liked it so we just changed the location a bit.

I was so ready for a clean slate, a warm new place that didn't even know anything about us. In Oregon, everyone knew my husband and I as this entity of "us," which was great and fine, but I just wanted our own real place.  I also didn't want to get stuck doing everything that everyone around us in Oregon was doing, but rather to find my own way.

Finding my footing was tough at first, but after about 2 job changes I found a place to thrive. After I left Pennsylvania "home" became a fluid concept anyway. It wasn't a place but more, a feeling of comfort in who I was with. My husband was home. The apartment didn't matter, only that we were in it together. 

For career reasons, I knew that Oregon couldn't support what I wanted to do for writing. I was in for a rude awakening that nowhere really could, especially in my married life, and also that our lives couldn't support endless internships or relocation for such things. Therefore, I just found my way with jobs to pay the bills.

In truth, with a broken heart from family life, and a guy next to me saying he wanted to go with and love me, why stay put? I wasn't immediately ready to settle down and have a family, but I liked knowing I didn't have to be alone. I wanted to just live a bit. 

Maybe my husband's reasons are completely different and I won't speculate but for me, the "who" was my husband and I, the "what" was, "moved to Florida," or as my sister said, "You can't move any further away." The "when" ended up being June-July of 2009 because we took our time getting down here. The "where" changed from Delray to Tampa Bay and the never ending "Why," would be best answered as, because we deserved a chance to have something that was our own.

Of course a decade later with a dog and a child, and even a house purchase in, boy did nothing go as I'd imagined. Expectations have been shattered and things have been harder than I could have ever thought, but I don't regret leaving. I asked my husband the same thing last year and he agreed.

Don't get me wrong, I love Oregon. I miss it. But I cannot handle the cold. The cold makes me so very physically uncomfortable and depressive. I'm much better here in the Sunshine State.

The why is complicated, I'll admit. I also think as I get older and one can only hope, wiser, it may become more succinct but I just wanted something that was completely and utterly ours. In Oregon I would have had babies immediately with everyone else, got a job I hated for no pay and struggled through the seasons to find what I was even looking for, and I didn't feel like that was where I should be. Luckily, I had a co-pilot who wanted to come with. 

Ironically now I have zero desire to leave Safety Harbor. My daughter jokes about having a different house and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is the forever house." I've had what I've built threatened to disintegrate often, and this is the first time I'm not like, "Sure we'll just move along elsewhere," but rather I'm like, "I refuse to give up what I've worked hard for."

It took me 8 years to land a job that even kind of used my degree, not to mention a job that actually was friendly to my anxiety and personal struggles. It took me 8 years to find a place I would want to stay and right now I'm having to rebuild some massive personal destruction and I won't let anyone tell me I shouldn't be spending my time to be a better mom and human. When I had my daughter there were a few times when I wished family was closer, but even when we go visit, I'm constantly reminded at how hard it is there for us, or at least for me.

Florida may not be forever but at least I can see the first hints of calm. I love this "colorful, lawless swamp" that I call home and why even? Because it is my home. And home is where the heart is right? I think we can end on that cliche for a Monday!

It Ended Up Being A Baseboard Day

Every weekend I clean. A lot. For many hours. Sometimes just Saturday. Sometimes I span it over two days, depending on my energy level. But every weekend I clean, like it or not.

After horseback riding lessons we got home and I had a small lunch type situation and then started my mental checklist. A friend who recently moved away left us an obscene amount and strange array of leftover cleaning supplies. I had slowly been using them for random things around the house, as I usually do vinegar based things and have some weird aversion to the smell some cleaning products, bleach especially.

I found an all purpose cleaner and looked down and realized...it had been a good month since I did the baseboards. I saw one particular spot that was completely gross. And then it began...and it ended up being a baseboard day. 

I can only speak for myself, but have to ask, does anyone else loathe doing baseboards? I have this weird wave of emotions and hilarious thoughts as soon as I start the task. It goes from, "I immediately regret this decision," to thoughts like, "oh my gosh, how gross are we living?" 

I start and I'm like, "Hey this isn't that bad." But as I progress I'm like, "Ugh why did I even start this? Well I already started it so I have to finish now. How did dirt get there?" Before you know it, I'm internally having a full on conversation with myself, and therefore have entered crazy town. 

I was cleaning the baseboards thinking of writing this blog and how, you have to get in all these weird uncomfortable positions to clean them, and reach all these weird angles. All of the sudden, then I wonder, why do we even have baseboards and why did I arrange the furniture to make this so difficult? Again, cleaning the baseboards becomes some weird internal philosophical conversation. It's so strange how my mind wanders when I'm doing cleaning tasks.

Cleaning the baseboards is gratifying and annoying all at the same time, and I totally wish it were less exhausting, but when I'm done I feel that amazing sense of accomplishment. So I'm bending and squatting and conforming and scrubbing, all to clean the dog hair and every day life of the spot that buffers the wall and the floor. All the while my daughter is scurrying around clearing her messes and getting ready for a play date.

I finally start to see the light at the end of the tunnel and then hit that mental wall about the rest of the things I need to clean. There's a huge part of me that gets a sense of pride knowing that I'm the one who does the bulk of the cleaning in my own home. My husband has recently been a huge, huge help and even the kiddo pitches in from time to time but mostly it's all me that keeps up with the chores and maintenance making the house a home.

Of course I dream about having a house cleaner and not having to spend my weekends cleaning, and if I ever had room in the budget I would spend it on freeing up my time in that way, but I also like knowing when I cleaned what and with what supplies. I think it's more of that control in the chaos thing that I live by. I love knowing there are certain things I have full control over, no matter what else is going on in my life. And cleaning arranging is one of those easy things to manage.

I always sleep better when I have a clean house. I can start my week successfully knowing that kicked butt at home ownership and did all my necessary chores. I also feel better mental health-wise knowing that I keep my house tidy and the filth minimal. 

So today ended up being a baseboard day. And in some ways that was not at all what I had in mind. In other ways I'm glad I decided to get that done so it was one less thing for me to do tomorrow or next week. There will always be a to-do list. The husband will always have a "honey-do" list. There are times to kick back and ignore the chores and then there are baseboard days. Whatever your Saturday brings, I hope you get that sense of accomplishment too!