October 4th, 2011 I have a story to tell you. It’s rambly and disjointed. But it’s a good one.
I’ve tried to compose posts in my head and I’ve kinda written a couple, but they don’t stick. They don’t resonate with me. So they don’t get written. Plus, we all know without pictures I’m just lost. I’m so visual. It’s how I write, how I thrive. And this moving process has been just that: a process. Acquiring a computer, a modem, a router, now the computer won’t support my photo editing stuff. And I still have no writing space – the big desk has been disassembled (am I the only person who thinks of Number 5 Alive when I say that word?) and so I have to find my “spot” in the house now.
Yes, disassembled. Yes, that big beautiful desk that I have (had – whatever) is no more. It’s one of the many items that have bit the dust in this move.
When I first complained about having to pack up everything one of my friends said something along the lines of “well, at least you get to get rid of a bunch of stuff and de-crap in the midst of the move”. It cracked me up and though I knew she was right, I also very unhumbly thought “I’ve done a pretty good job of simplifying over the years, I won’t have too much of that to do.” (Note to self: whenever you think anything “unhumbly”.. get ready.) As I look back at the last few weeks I’m reminded of Eustace Scrub (of Narnia, yah?) and how when he became the dragon (which was actually just his true personality visibly seen) he realized he needed someone to fix him. But no one could, least of all him, and he turned to the one Fixer. But he realized what we eventually realize .. that the fixing is a tad bit painful. There are layers that need to be peeled away. Layers of accumulated … crap, if you will. And the peeling away is never as surface as you think it’s gonna be. Because the crap always goes deeper.
One of the ways I planned to de-crapify was to have a Yard Sale. We didn’t have a moving sale in the country because I didn’t have time to deal with it all alone with Matt up here working more and frankly, there are fewer people to buy your crap in the country. So, I packed all.that.stuff up and brought it here, piled it in a room and planned a yard sale. For weeks now.
(Okay step over here to the 3rd line of this story and I’ll make sure they all converge by the end, ‘k?)
I delayed listing the house with a realtor (or even putting a For Sale sign in the yard) because I couldn’t get all our old stuff out of the old house and couldn’t get it cleaned up to my standards. But finally I finished the paperwork on a Thursday and Matt took off on a Friday to finish the moving. That Friday morning (same day as the listing) we got an email from our realtor saying he had the house listed, the sign up in the yard, and it was officially on the market. Matt and I packed up the kids and cleaning supplies for one last big push at the old house. While I was packing them up to go there I realized I was super stressed, snapping at kids (and Matt) and was very cry-y. I dug deep and knew that it was the fact that there was no way we could sell that little country house in our power and finances. We didn’t have time or the money to get it fixed up the way everyone says you should (a new coat of paint, a mowed yard, a leaky faucet, gutters in place…) I hugged Matt at the back of the van and cried. I told Matt I had hit bottom and that we just couldn’t do this. I told him it was gonna have to be all God to get rid of that house (just like it was all God that led us straight to this one) because we just couldn’t pull it off. “It’s gonna have to be God’s miracle again.” And then I kinda giggled and said, “Well, at least I’m learning to hit bottom earlier! The first day it’s listed is way better than getting to the end of my rope. I hit bottom, I surrendered, I know God’s gotta do it, so now it’s just time for God to shine!” Matt smiled and hugged me. Away we went to the old house. A few hours into working Matt got another email from the realtor saying he would be showing the house the next morning (Saturday). We smiled and said, “Here goes God!” We finished that night at about 8:30pm. Saturday afternoon we got another email from the realtor that said the girl liked our house and wanted to bring her parents back to see it. Monday we were told the parents liked it, they were making an offer, and we would get the details by that night. We prayed and waited and prayed some more. The offer came in late Monday night and it was scarily close to our payoff. We’ve said all along we aren’t looking to make a profit on that house, we aren’t wanting to do any updates on it. We just want to be done and walk away. We prayed some more. The numbers were so close to the payoff that it scared us. And we’re so business unsavvy. We didn’t know what fees would be involved. We wanted to counter offer, to take the reigns, to back out. But instead we prayed more. We felt like God had taken over on that Friday that we surrendered (a short 3 days prior) and that He had made straight the path of the offer. Though we worried about the closeness of the numbers we knew God tended to cut things close (by our standards) a lot of times in a simple loving waiting for us to trust. (I’m reminded of the Israelites at the edge of the Sea – brought so far, with the Egyptians closing in on them, eminent death upon them – with miraculous only-God rescuing in the end). We prayed more and felt fully that to make a counter offer would be like bargaining with God. We knew He had sent the buyer. We knew He had the plan. So it just took accepting the offer. His offer. We did. By Tuesday at noon we signed the paperwork, on top of the world for what He had done for us. We proclaimed loudly and for all to hear what God had done for us! He was going Big! We were goin’ with Him! By Tuesday night the trials had begun. Hidden fees, electric bills that the electric company hadn’t known about for the last 5 years, fees, expenses, out of pocket fears. We wanted out. We got scared at the edge of the sea with the enemy closing in. We doubted. We wanted leeks, not the promised milk and honey. We emailed the realtor and asked what we could do to get out of the contract. We couldn’t sleep all night. We wrestled with God all night. I would pray and hand it over to Him remembering how He had orchestrated it all, then I would yank it all back and try to figure out a way to get out or at least afford all the fees on our own. Over and over all night. Give it to Him, take it back. That sucks, by the way. By morning Matt and I regretted our lack of faith, our off the cuff sending of the “back out” email. We worried about the realtor’s response. By 8am the realtor had replied with a very understanding, very kind email that he would work with us to cut the fees and out of pocket expenses, to just hang in there. Unexpected encouragement. We took a deep breath and pushed forward.
I continued on with our daily busyness. Trying to find a place for all our stuff, preparing for the yard sale (which was the last hold out of getting our school work in order and getting it going again). I started to get excited about the yard sale. It would be the answer to the out of pocket fees!! We would make enough to ease some of the burden! I toiled, stressed, and prepared for a bang up sale. The morning of (Saturday) a neighbor boy wandered by and asked about fixing the flower beds and yard for our elderly neighbor (who is on a brief out of town trip). I happily promised we would pay him for his services (knowing the yard sale would yield plenty of extra spending money). No problem!!
By noon we knew it was over. We had made $37. One of the handful of items we did manage to sell was Matt’s pair of Doc Martin’s that he loved. For $1. Accidentally sold them for him. For a whopping one dollar. The most money we made at one time was by a friend who I had set aside some clothes and the playpen. (I still think hers was a pity payment!) All total I had made $47. I owed MyOldest $11 that I had borrowed the day before, MyMiddlest $3, and oh, the neighbor boy came back by ready to weed that flower bed. For $20. I was planning my pity party and piling up the stuff to load up to take to Goodwill when I noticed the tire on the van was completely flat. And the tire next to it was showing the tread. A mere $200 bucks would fix that. Followed closely by a water bill (that had to be paid at the old house to get turned back on for the inspection this week) that we thought would be just over $100 became nearly $300. Trials. Upon trials, upon trials.
I was bemoaning our stupidity, our bad luck, our poor judgment, our lack of business sense. I was wallowing in my lack of faith. I was no better than those silly, stupid Israelites who grumbled, complained, and wanted slavery back.
And then I realized that Yard Sale was a very visual wake up that I wasn’t going to fix this on my own. Who gets the glory when I make enough money to cover everything in my own power? I was letting it go again. I took the clothes to Goodwill, but set all of our other yard sale belongings on the curb (what we’ve learned is affectionately called “Curb-Mart”). I watched through the window as all night Daddies carried off baby furniture and toys. And I found myself with so much joy at letting go. At blessing others freely.
I also discovered that I was okay releasing all that baby stuff. Are we through having babies? Are we planning on more (as I so boldly stated just a few months ago)? I don’t know. I’m praying for contentment no matter what. We’re taking it all one day at a time. We knew we were supposed to release the baby stuff. To simplify. Way beyond what we had planned. We feel called to let go of so much: preconceived notions, plans, money, our own way, the toiling of our hands, the complex business side of my blog, the time I spend online, the nursing of the toddler, the single digit years of my oldest, our dog that we feel we nursed back to health and prepared for someone else someone who has time and space for a medium sized dog, one of our cats (who was making messes in inappropriate places), the babyhood of our youngest child, the desk we didn’t need that was taking up so much space, the clutter filling our lives, taking our time and stealing our joy.
Some people move to the country to simplify their lives, God moved us to the city to focus ours. I love Him, I love the ride, and I’m learning to trust. To simplify. To proclaim His goodness in the full knowledge of the trials to come.
I’m learning to shout of His works in the middle of them and not just waiting for the big ending. I think He wants me trust Him enough to talk about Him and His works in the middle of what He’s doing and not just waiting til it all looks neat and prepackaged. I think He wants me to work out my salvation with fear and trembling. In front of all of you.
September 27th, 2011 I weaned the nearly two year old Baby a couple of weeks ago. Break.my.heart. He is the longest nursed child of my 5. BigMan came pretty close, I think I weaned him a few months earlier than this sweet baby. I was ready to wean. Really. It wasn’t a rash decision, but that didn’t keep it from being so very difficult. It’s never easy letting go and letting them grow up. It doesn’t matter if it’s your first or your last child. I have celebrated each joy and mourned each chapter’s turning with each child. And this sweet baby has been no different.
I know I could’ve nursed him longer. I didn’t have a number or deadline in my head. I never do. But I just felt like it was time. Yes, it was the all night nursing sessions, the bazillionth case of mastitis, the accidental bite that left me frantically searching for Lansinoh lanolin. Yes, it was all of those, yet none of it. I just knew it was time. I was ready to move on. But again, letting go, even when you’re super ready to move on, just isn’t easy.
Here’s a pic I snapped with my phone of one of the last times to nurse the Baby
For those of you wanting the details.. it has been a long drawn out process. I slowly worked him down to 2 or 3 nursings a day. And then I just didn’t nurse him anymore. I just told him we weren’t going to do that anymore. He would ask all the time “I wanna nurse, Mama.” It would vary how gently or how loud and demandingly he asked depending on the moment. But he asked all day and night. He would accept food and “coco” (what my kids call chocolate milk) eventually in lieu of nursing. I cried in private. I have tried to not cry while he was asking or in front of him. There was that one time that he fell and bumped his head and I cuddled him and he begged through tears to nurse and I cried right along with him while declining his request.
My milk continued to come in several times a day until just the other day. And even that milestone made me cry. The day I realized it hadn’t come in all day long I teared up. I’m not good at long goodbyes. I like clean cut “It’s all over” goodbyes. Not long drawn out, relive the letting go goodbyes. And weaning, generally, is a gradual goodbye. After about a week and a half of not nursing any I got very sore and began to feel the pre-mastitis fever-y I don’t feel right feeling. I wondered if it was even possible to get mastitis a week after weaning, but yes, you can. Thankfully, I didn’t get it. I did all the things I had done before with mastitis (massage, hot showers, ibuprofen, lots of fluids and more rest) just leaving out the excessive nursing part (which also stressed me out and made me sad). Now, though I’m still feeling a little tender, the pain and fear of infection is mostly gone.
The weaning is mostly complete.
Except I’m still sad.
And he’s still asking.
August 25th, 2011 
I’ve been thinking about weight loss and healthy eating again, you can look through all my thoughts on the 25 pounds that have changed my life in my weight loss category. Well, in actuality since I’m more aware of my habits and desires I think about it nearly all the time, but it’s not like it was when I first started losing weight. And some of the thoughts I’ve had recently I really wanted to share with you. So this is more of a look inside my mind as opposed to a how-to.
I recently gained 4 pounds back. Now I know weighing 120 instead of 116 is really more fodder for your irritation than a concern for you and me. But I knew it could be the beginning of the end again. It was a mindset and not the numbers. It was a lack of mindset, a lack of thinking, a reverting to just eating and not ever thinking about what I was eating or why. More of that “the unexamined life” mentality.
But instead of giving up like I have before when faced with a little bit of failure I just said, “Alright, I begin again.” I quit eating just to eat. I quit eating out of stress (and started praying instead stuffing my mouth). And now, a few days later instead of being another 4 pounds in the hole and a full 8 pounds heavier, I’m back to 116. It’s an ebb and flow, a give and take. An awareness.
But enough of the how-to’s I told you I wasn’t going to give and on to the random thoughts I’ve had about it.
With the fairly rapid weight loss (25 pounds in 3 months – rapid for me anyway since I struggled with wanting to be skinnier for 15 years..) I noticed I felt weird in my own body. Kind of like when you hit that end of your 2nd trimester of pregnancy and suddenly your body is in the way and feels .. like.. not so much your own? Like that, but opposite. I felt like .. I just.. wasn’t… It’s kinda strange.
Also, with the rapidness of it all I noticed that my skin was kinda … loose. Again, weird. And hard to describe. Flabby. Even more so than when I was plumper. Because the plumpness took up space and though it was squishy, it was more … there. So hard to explain. But everything kinda just felt flappy. Now, as a few more months have gone by, I notice it going away. The flappiness, that is. Strange, but good.
I look at recent pictures of me and I just look at them. I look at me. But it’s like looking at someone else. I keep noticing how I look how I wanted to look all those years.
And speaking of years… 15 years. 15 years I agonized over this? This? 3 months and 25 pounds stood between me and feeling like this? This new joy and freedom and lack of guilt? Why oh why did I wait 15 YEARS?
And sometimes I wonder what else is in my life that with a bit of awareness and effort could change so much of my life?
My stomach, though I’m sitting at 116, is big, squishy, and flappy. Yes, I’m fully aware that I’ve given birth to 5 children. But gosh, you would think it would be smaller with all that weight loss. But no. I’ve even wondered if I’m on the beginning edge of a weight disorder. My perception of me is so skewed and weird right now – I have a hard time reconciling the numbers with what I see with what I’ve been. But no, there really is a whole squishy belly right there in the middle of that skinniness. I guess some exercise with my better eating habits would benefit me, no? But shoots, who wants to do sit ups, right? That’s for my next goal, I suppose.
I ate a Twinkie the other night and had no guilt. However, last night I ate grapes and felt horrible – physically and mentally. What gives? It’s what I’ve said before. It’s not what I’m eating necessarily as much as it is my thoughts that drive the eating. I planned on the Twinkie. I looked at the calories, I considered what all I had eaten through the day and I made the conscious decision to eat one Twinkie and fully enjoy it. But the grapes were a different story. I started eating them with the kids last night after a full dinner. I didn’t measure out a cup because I thought, “eh, they’re grapes, they’re healthy.” But then once I started eating I quit thinking. I just turned off my brain and watched the tv and ate indiscriminately. One after the other. Until I went off to do something else and then I felt yucky physically. I ate too much. And the eating too much gave way to the other yucky feeling of guilt. I should’ve known better. I should’ve quit eating sooner. I don’t care if they were grapes, it was the lack of thinking. The lack of awareness. The stuffing of my mouth instead of the self-control. I say this to remind you, it’s less what you eat (though that matters, it really, really matters) and more what is going on in your head. It’s why diets don’t work. Change your thinking. Because Twinkies can be okay and grapes can be your pitfall. Who’d have thought?
August 9th, 2011 It’s been forever since I’ve put one of these up, but since I’m trying a bunch of new recipes {courtesy of Pinterest, thankyouverymuch} I thought I’d let you know I’m eating something other than what we’ve been eating over and over.
This two week’s menu plan:
Barbecue Sandwiches and Baked Beans (thanks to Donny and Brooke! and my grillin’ hubby!)
Manicotti with Red Sauce and Corn (regular canned corn served as a side, cheapy jumbo shells filled with this manicotti filler and covered with spaghetti sauce from a can)
Slow Cooker Baked Potatoes, Lemon Pepper Chicken Salad, and Sour Dough Bread (bread was on sale at Wal-Mart – I’ll warm it and butter it, regular green leaf and iceberg lettuce salad with boneless, skinless breasts baked in lemon juice and pepper chopped and placed on top of salad)
Taco Bowls
Hamburgers
Veggie Stromboli
Slow Cooker Caesar Chicken Sandwiches
Crispy Southwest Chicken Wraps
Slow Cooker Breakfast Casserole (I tried the muffin cup sausage/egg/cheese recipe recently that I had “pinned” and I liked how quickly it cooked and how handheld they were for quick trips out of the house, but I like the idea that I can wake up to breakfast with this one!)
Pesto Chicken Jumbo Shells
Slow Cooker Potato Soup
Lunches and Snacks
Leftovers
Spaghetti
Tuna Fish with Crackers
Macaroni
Ham and Cheese Melts (toasty bread, ham warmed to crispy in the skillet with cheese melted on top, with lettuce and tomato – our all-time fav sandwiches)
Granola
Baked Parmesan Tomatoes
Popcorn
Chocolate Pudding
GoGurts (they now make Simply Yogurt ones – yay! frozen, a quick cool healthy treat for the kiddos)
String Cheese
Sunflower Seeds
Dried Cranberries
Cereal
Ice Cream (totally counts as a snack!)
Cinnamon Oatmeal (not individual packs, the real cooked stuff)
Bruised Berry Pie (Matt’s creation from pie shells, blackberries, blueberries and a cobbler type filling)
Cinnamon Rolls with Icing (yes, I know there are no pictures anymore on this post, but if you read the directions I think you can get the gist of it – I use the biscuit cans that are tiny and very cheap)
Lots of fresh fruit and carrots for snacking
***
We’re still eating healthier, eating less, and losing weight. Well, I’m not losing anymore weight – I’m at a weight that I want to stay at now. And this will be the first time around that I bring the kids onto the complete healthy eating with us. Until now I’ve been buying hot dogs and lots of frozen instant foods. I knew it was wrong to get our bodies so much healthier and pour junk into the kids’ bodies, but I couldn’t get my nerve up to cook more and serve food that I wasn’t sure they’d eat. But as we ate more and more real foods that were better for us and served them alongside macaroni and hot dogs and frozen pizza and deep fried chicken the more I noticed they wanted to try what we were eating. Plus with the rising cost of groceries I could no longer buy two different meal plans. So, here we go. All together finally. Eating healthier. I’ll let you know if these recipes make my 30 day meal plan or not. I hope they’re not all flops or we’re in trouble!!
Happy Eating!!
July 25th, 2011 I’ve decided once again to wean TheBaby (age 21 months) down to about 3 times a day and cut the nighttime feedings down to a reasonable amount. I decided this last week when we went in for BigMan’s well-child visit and TheBaby decided he wanted to nurse. Right then. And when I politely quietly declined his advances and told him we would when we got back in a holding room he flipped out. I mean flipped out. Screaming “I WANNA NURSE, MAMA!!!! Over and over and over. I was tired, frustrated, a tad bit embarrassed and determined he was not going to get his way while throwing that massive of a fit. Not to mention while sitting in the waiting room.
So, last night, all through the night, I turned him down repeatedly. We didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. Finally about 5am he said quietly, “I need water, Mama.” That I could do. I got up and got him water. And you would think one time of giving in and nursing would not be that big of a deal, but what this kid wants he gets. Or we hear about it. Loudly and repeatedly. And eventually when I give in here and there we end up nursing around the clock nonstop. So, I stayed strong.
Today I’ve stuck to my guns. We’ve nursed twice so far. First thing this morning and at naptime. But after bathtime he began asking again. I talked to him about it. We talked about how we are only going to nurse a few times a day. To which my not-yet-2-year-old asked, “Why?” I told him that it was just time to nurse less. And I told him again what times of the day we would be nursing. We talked about it at length. Then we moved onto other things to talk about. Then I asked him a bit later, “What are you going to do today, buddy?” And he answered with a big grin, “NURSE!”
I’m not sure who’s winning this battle.
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