Illuminated!

I am quite the klutz at homemaking, and I have finally discovered why! I found a blog entry called "The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Homemakers."

http://orgjunkie.com/2010/02/seven-habits-of-highly-successful-homemakers.html

To be blunt, I have none. Let me show you...

First, Cheryl says that all children must be over five-years-old. Nope. I'm in Toddler Land. NEXT!

Second habit: start the day with a plan. My daily plans are limited to dragging myself out of bed when B awakens, making sure I'm wearing deodorant, grabbing my make-up bag, and high-tailing it to our baby activity du jour. Not exactly the plan that makes for a successful homemaker.

Third habit: basically, don't procrastinate. Ummm, did I mention that I went to law school? It was an exercise in procrastination. Technically, I am now a professional of a habit that DEFINES me as an unsuccessful homemaker.

Fourth habit: don't allow clutter to accumulate. Despite my persistent efforts to "simplify" my life, I have not mastered this habit. Specifically, I have an issue with books and magazines. Oh yes, and clippings therefrom. I haven't read much about managing that chaos. Maybe I'll shoot some emails into the blogisphere.

Fifth habit: good homemakers are "wizards at organizing it all." I'm so overwhelmed with my STUFF that I don't even have a chance to broach the subject of organizing it. See, I told you things weren't looking good for me...

Sixth habit: control the clutter during projects. Nope..."F"...Come on, it's a big deal for me when I get past the "fantasizing about a project" stage and actually make it into the "during the project" stage.

Seventh: the job is to make a home for the family. I might not really fail at this one. We always have food in the house. We always have laughter roaring. The highlight of all of our days is when we come together in the evenings. (It sure did take a long time for me to get to success territory, right?)

Despite my big "F," I really enjoyed reading this article because it highlights some goals I will (eventually) set for myself. While it's humorous to itemize my shortcomings, the truth is that I sure would love to be a genius at the work I do everyday. Oh well, maybe that day will come in my next career...or lifetime!

Home-Based

I haven't taken much time to read my favorite blogs lately, so in catching up I was interested to read about a new phenomenon: no adults working outside of the home. Yes, one of my favorite bloggers, Mandy, keeps a very interesting website called "Organizing Your Way." Her husband had worked for many years to support their ever-expanding family. In Mandy's last post on her personal website she mentioned that the hubs was selling his business to come home, become a stay-at-home dad, and assist her with home-schooling their four? five? daughters. Apparently her blog generates enough income to support the family. And I am impressed. I will be further interested to follow how this plan works for this family.

Admittedly, I was a fan of "Jon & Kate Plus Eight." When Jon was able to quit his job and come home to help raise the family, I thought it was brilliant. Despite the anti-social arguments to people becoming completely home-based, I think it is an ideal situation for raising young children. Ryan and I decided long ago that it would be optimal for our family if I were to be home with kiddos. I enjoy observing the milestones and playing at Gymboree. I wouldn't trade this time for the world. It has given me an entirely new, more enthusiastic perspective on life. Having said that, wouldn't it be special for Ryan to have the opportunity to partake in these moments? While I know that his contributions to our children's lives would be distinctly different from mine (rough-housing, playing ball, etc.,) I do believe it would be well worth the time spent to engage in all of the daily routines.

Here's the downside. First of all, it is a difficult task to accomplish. In order to enjoy the full effects of two stay-at-home parents, at least one parent would have to have a part-time, home-based occupation that generated a substantial income. While this is quite possible, it is an exercise in both creativity (to find the task,) patience (to build the business,) and discipline (to create a balance.)

The other potential downside of both parents at home is the way it COULD affect the husband's perception of his role. Men often identify themselves by their professions. They pride themselves on the money and accolades awarded by an employer. In my opinion, this was one of the two fatal flaws in the Gosselins' plans. Jon seemed to lose his sense of identity when he no longer worked outside of the home. He sought to reconnect with the man he remembered being prior to his role of "Daddy" consuming his identity. I think this could be tough for any man to overcome. More often than is mentioned, it is also tough for some women to overcome.

Nevertheless, I will eagerly follow Mandy and her family as they explore how this new arrangement works for them. For now, for OUR family, divided roles give us a satisfying balance, but I can imagine a day when these roles will change. It will be a new and exciting adventure, for sure!

The Mirror Friend

Today I had the pleasure of going to see "A Chorus Line" with a dear friend of mine. Her wisdom is deeper than mine. Her heart is more tender. Her vision is more clear. She is my "mirror" friend. Let me explain.

After we parked in the Hobby Center garage, we boarded the elevator to whisk us seven flights to the ground. The show was due to begin in precisely fifteen minutes, and we had to hit up Will Call prior to seating. The elevator was packed. We stood shoulder to shoulder. As it happened, I was in the middle of a little anecdote about a slightly bothersome and very entertaining story about an acquaintance. The tale was neither malicious nor favorable, yet it involved an animated mimic of her mannerisms. Excited to share, I continued talking throughout the elevator ride.

When we evacuated, my friend made a light-hearted comment suggesting that now everyone around us understood the situation I had just recounted. Although I am quite sure my Mirror Friend was not bothered in the least, her powers, her value as my Mirror Friend, suddenly struck.

You see, a Mirror Friend is a teacher. She shows you how to see yourself. She forces you to hear yourself. In this moment, just outside of the elevator, she forced me to face a very ugly truth that I find intolerable: I had not only shared an unfavorable tale about an innocent person, but I had, in doing so, created an unfavorable scene casting myself as the villain.

I realized that although my behavior was neither kind nor entirely rare, other friends hadn't ever shown me how ugly said behavior could be. Despite the fact that my Mirror Friend has no intention of the service she does for me, I am quite sure that she would be proud. I just wonder what value I have to offer her.

How DID Stella get her groove back? And a fantasy.

Don't you just LOVE this picture? It's from Martha Stewart's blog, a picture of her farm. Suddenly I can breathe again. I am on the second story balcony of my country home, a hot cappuccino in my hands, and a wool poncho over my shoulders. I'm just taking it in, inhaling the winter.

SMACK! Olsen (the dog) just snored and snapped me out of it.

On another note, does anyone know how Stella got her groove back? (I'm referring to the dramedy from years ago.) I need to get my groove back, too. Well, I don't think we are defining "groove" quite the same; nevertheless, I need to find mine. Somewhere between holiday parties, celebrations, travels, and vacation days, I seem to have completely lost my routine. When things are "normal" my body seems to mimic the beat of my routines, but I so easily get off track. Hence, I am sitting on the couch blogging instead of...ummm...how about getting dressed and doing some laundry? Don't worry, by about 3pm I'll be ready to go. Unfortunately, that means I will have lost five hours to waste. (Come on, you KNOW things don't really get going until 10am, right? I have to feed everyone, and, um, wake up.)

Hopefully this week will push me towards what used to be and NEEDS to be my routine. I've got a list I need to get around to, ya know?

"The Opposite of Love"

Last night I finished the book called "The Opposite of Love." I thought it was going to be a breezy comedy about a twenty-something woman and her plight to find her way in the world. Instead, it was heavy...perhaps "heavy" isn't the right word, but it certainly struck a painful cord in my heart.

While I never quite bought the narrator's definition for what is the "opposite of love," some of her explanations forced me to understand some of my own compartmentalized sadness. In short, she explained that the reason we sometimes hold back our tears and muffle our pain in times of loss or heartbreak is because we fear that if we begin to cry, we will never stop. There is sometimes no cessation of the losses that we feel, so we are left knowing that no matter how many tears that our eyes leak, there will still be more. We cannot open the floodgates to a flood that we know will drown us.

I share this not to dwell on my own losses, for I am grateful and happy every moment, but to lend this explanation to others that might wonder if their dry eyes reveal a cold heart. No. It is merely a defense to defend against the fear that we might not recover. Then again, we don't. I suppose life is a series of scars and prayers and memories, and the beauty is that we don't ever recover.

Continued...

Steps 6-10:

6. "Get back in the kitchen!" I love to cook. I love to bake. I love people to eat my food. But these days I rarely cook a meal. Baby B and I like to eat dinner between 5pm and 6pm, but the hubby doesn't get home until seven or later. Throw in the fact that the hubby never really gets excited about food, and I'm left not caring too much about dinner. I could eat ramen or cereal every night. I'm tired by the evening, so it's just so easy to be lazy. I know that we need to spend more time eating together as a family, and I know that Baby B needs to be exposed to a wider variety of dishes. I'm trying to create a list of meals and recipes that satisfy all of us and can be put on a sort of rotation. I figure that fourteen meals and four batches of baked goods could be thrown on repeat to last us a few months. My goal is to complete the meal plan by January first so that I can get started on the right foot. Here's to 2010 full of home-cooked meals!

7. "Keep your girlfriends." Check. I definitely enjoy my girlfriends. In fact, I get a barrage of phone calls every evening... they all seem to be extroverts and big talkers. Go figure!

8. "Make time for yourself." I love this one. Right now I'm lucky to have most "nap times" at my disposal. I take long baths, and I read. I also read myself to sleep at night. I guess that's how I love to spend my "me" time. In 2010 I'm going to keep a list and try to read 100 books. I'm not sure how many I usually read per year, but I'd like to see it reach 100. I'm stocking up on good books and potential titles right now!

9. "Don't take it all so seriously." I'm pretty good at this. I take food and sleep seriously. Other than that, I'm pretty good at rolling with the punches...as long as those punches don't come from the dogs. One of these dogs is making me crazy lately, and I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear me screaming at him everyday. If I have a stroke, you can be 99% sure it's because of him.

10. "Don't wish for someone else's problems." I don't think I wish for other people's problems, but I do occasionally wish for other people's blessings. Ultimately, I know that any time I spend wishing away my life is time spent wasting my life. The truth is, I just need to be more disciplined about distracting myself from these torturous thoughts. Really? Am I THAT shallow? Am I THAT insecure? No. They're just fleeting moments of weakness. So float away, please.

There are many areas in which I seek to improve. As a housewife, it's so easy for me to let things slide. My husband never complains, and my baby never cares. But I want better for them. I want better from me. So in 2010 I'll record my efforts and enjoy my progress...you know, until it all gets derailed by the arrival of baby #2. (No, I'm not pregnant...but it's a-comin'! I'm so excited! :))

Distracted from The Job

In my quest to become a better mother, wife, and homemaker, I have been reading lots of books on the subjects. Leave it to me to try to INTELLECTUALIZE the phenomenon of the "homemaker" as opposed to CREATING it. Anyhow, my most recent read was "Happy Housewives" by Darla Shine. Although the book was clearly written for the upper-middle class housewife, she managed to keep it hilarious and searingly honest. Let's just say I have a lot to live up to... a LOT.

Darla gives us ten "easy" steps to become completely blissful in our roles. Let me just say that I'm pretty happy with my life, so I look to her more for advice on how to improve in my role.

1. "Please stop whining!" Check. I don't whine about my lot in life. I just don't.

2. "Be proud!" I'm working on this one. I'm hoping that as I start improving in the domestic arts...or...errr...my CONSISTENCY in practicing them, I'll be more proud of my role. I like to see concrete accomplishments, and that's the difficult part of this job. Nothing is measurable, and few feats go noticed. I need to become more at peace with this reality.

3. "Stop looking like a housewife!" Hmmm. Uhhhh. Yeah.... I haven't worn velour out in public lately. Does that count? We'll just put this on the old "New Year's Resolutions" list.

4. "Make your marriage a priority." Ironically, this one is hard. Ryan and I have a very easy, comfortable relationship. There's no friction, ever. Having said that, I think we need to be more committed to a date night. That's a challenge when we're on a budget, and we have a tiny tot. This one makes the list of things to work on, too.

5. "BOND WITH YOUR HOME." Okay, folks. THIS one was the reason for my post. I have TOTALLY lost touch with my home. We have gotten so involved in playgroups and playdates that we're barely ever here. Most days I feel like all I do at home is bathe, feed B, feed the dogs, do laundry, and try to keep enough dishes clean to make it through the next day. Not good. To make matters worse, the less time I spend "bonding" with my home, the more neglected it becomes and the less I want to be there. Thus, the cycle repeats. I plan to create a schedule for home maintenance and execute it diligently in the new year. Then, I will schedule several days a week in which we stay home and enjoy ourselves and all this ol' stack o' bricks has to offer. I can assure you, we have lots of "stuff" and mounds of projects to keep us busy!

I'll post #6-10 tomorrow. I think I have strep throat, so I need to drink some tea and watch CSI Miami right now. (Well, I actually NEED to go to bed, but I'm pretty sure the tea I've been drinking has caffeine in it, so CSI Miami it is!)

A Holiday Dress

It sure has been a while since I've slipped into a fancy dress for the holidays...or at all for that matter. There's something about a beautiful dress that gives me a confidence that I cannot find on a daily basis. In fact, I love them so much that I actually ADORE dress shopping. These days, I buy most of my casual clothes online. I have an idea of my size, and I just go with it. But a dress, ahhh, modeling a cocktail dress or a formal gown in a fancy dressing room with salesperson in waiting is definitely an experience to be enjoyed.

Since I don't really have an occasion to wear such a garment this winter, I'll just do some online browsing and tell you what I'd LIKE to be wearing this season.

The not-so-classic black dress:

This one is perfect for my beautiful sister-in-law:

I love the color and the detail on this one:


Ahhh, and finally, these last two are from one of my favorite designers who manages to fit my body so well, Kay Unger:


Phew, our lack of occasion just saved us A LOT of money! This whole "fantasy" web shopping thing could be the way to go!

While these dresses are from Neiman Marcus, I have learned that Target has actually featured a new collection of holiday dresses that are very affordable. In fact, I saw two of them in person last Saturday, and they were actually quite lovely as well.

Enjoy your holiday parties, especially if they involve a great dress!

Something about Mondays

Ever since I became a mom, I've discovered a new love for Mondays. Yes, it marks the end of a weekend full of family and fun. Yes, it is a dreaded workday for the husband. Yes, it is a quiet day as people return to their routines.

Despite it all, I love Mondays. It is a calm transition into the routine that I have grown to love. It is quiet and without demands. Rarely do we venture out on this day. Instead, we wear pajamas well into the afternoon. We have leisurely naps and leisurely meals. We wrap up some chores and enjoy the stillness of the house.

Monday marks the beginning of a new week of opportunities. We check the playgroup schedules, the vet schedules, the doctor schedules, and the bill schedules. We prepare ourselves for a week of duties and dates. We select our priorities and make our lists. All in all, it is our secret getaway...our FREE getaway. And they don't get any better than that!

It's time to grow up...apparently.

So, I thought getting married was akin to "growing up." Then, I thought having a job would be the milestone that marked "growing up." Having a baby? Closer. Unfortunately, it appears as though EVENTS in my life are not the catalysts I had thought. Instead, it *will be* my actions. And I'm a mom now, so it's time, right? I didn't really get that memo until I was looking at some pictures of myself from Saturday.

Flashback to Saturday: Baby B and I went out for an evening playdate. Unbeknownst to me, one of the moms there was in charge of taking photographs of the event. No problem, right? Wrong.

The pictures were posted, and I eagerly scrolled through them to view the photos of B and his friends. Then it happened. The very FIRST photo was of ME! Side view. NOT pretty. Aside from realizing that my beloved fleece sweater isn't so flattering, I was gobsmacked with the reality that it's time to grow up. You know, have a grown-up hairstyle. I didn't realize that throwing my hair up in a ponytail everyday made me look so adolescent. I looked like a college student...except fatter. (Note that my concern is about the hair, not the fatness...that's a whole other post.)

Yes, of course, I go to the salon and have them work their magic with my hair. Of course, well, that's only when I keep my appointments. I have a nice cut, but you'd never know it. I'm a sucker for the wash, air dry, and tie-it-up routine. Well, Jennifer, my dear, you're a bit OLD for that. Frankly, bless your heart (southern for "I'm about to say something tacky,") you look like a slob.

OUCH! But it's true. My friends, you'll be happy to know that today I spent a whole twenty minutes styling my hair. Now, if I could only get rid of this old raggedy sweatshirt I'm wearing...

Bras...yes, bras...

I've got a little story for ya' Ags! (as in "Aggies" for those of you not in touch with the A&M lingo...)

A while back I decided that I was finally going to get properly fitted for a bra. Everywhere I turn the media seem to be telling me that VERY VERY few women have a proper fit. Why would I be any different, right? So, off I go, ready to bare it all. I had my game face on.

In I walk to the specialty bra store. I grabbed a few samples that I thought might be my correct size, and I crept towards the fitting room. Then, I did it. I told the saleslady that I wanted her to help fit me, please. She was probably younger than I was, and she was definitely shorter than I was. (That was hard since I'm only 5'4".) Frankly, she looked a bit upset to have been bothered at all. I decided that to reduce the awkward nature of the whole ordeal, I'd be on my best behavior. No jokes, no small talk, and no impatience. So much for that plan.

Here's how she "properly fitted" me. (Please keep in mind that the store advertises itself as the bra experts.)

First, she asked, "What size are you wearing?"

I answered, "34-B"

She asked, "How's that working for you?"

I answered, "Ummmm, alright I guess."

She asked, "Why don't you try on another one and see how that feels?"

I answered, "Ummmm, okay." I thought, "Ummmm, this is NOT going well..."

After I put on the second bra...

She asked, "How does that feel?"

I answered, "Uhhh, fine."

She declared, "Whatever you want should work just fine."

Please notice that there was NEVER a discussion about sizes. She never even suggested a different style. I concluded that this whole experiment was a big flop.

Moral of the story: as long as you're not flopping around, spilling over, or leaving a vacancy, "Whatever you want should work just fine."

Right?

Party Hosting

I love to have people come to our home. I adore cooking for them and visiting with them. I believe that opening our home to people is akin to opening our hearts to them. It's a way of giving everything we have to our relationship with our guests. I look forward to these events for weeks leading up to them.

Having said that, our house is not large, and it is sometimes challenging to accommodate everyone comfortably. I'm sure there is a "rule of thumb" regarding space and number of guests, but I've not yet stumbled upon it. For now, we are left to dream up possible seating arrangements and flow spaces...yet we always come up with a deficit. My immediate reaction is, "THIS is why we need a bigger home!" Truth be told, however, that we don't entertain large parties frequently enough to justify rolling into a new home to better suit them. A more creative and practical approach leads us to discover creative uses of space.

While our home is not huge, our lot is quite sizable. It's over a quarter of an acre, large by Houston standards. Thus, it would be possible to set up seating outdoors. This fall and winter, as we invite people to our home, we will be grateful for our ability to use a space that has, until now, been used as a dog run.

Back when we were looking, one of Ryan's standards for purchasing a house was that it must have a small yard. He loathes yard work. Well, my dear, we might finally be making use of that extra space I strong-armed you into! And it might even save you money in the long run!

JUST SIMPLIFY

How trite. Of course I want to simplify. Every time I find myself walking up to the house with an arm full of shopping bags I wonder, "What in the world could I possibly be bringing into this house that we actually NEED?" I suppose the answer is, "Very little."

Our house is just over twenty-four hundred square feet large. But somehow it feels like it's just over twenty-four hundred square feet too small. How in the world could this be? We are a small family: myself, Ryan, and Baby B. To tell you the truth, we barely even USE half of the house...probably more. Having said that, we do have that excess packed to the brim with STUFF. I'm so sick of STUFF! We're drowning in an addiction to which we still play the slave. I'm not sure where to find the cure.

SO, folks, I've turned to the Super-Moms of the world, and I am desperately seeking tricks, secrets, and strategies to SIMPLIFY our lives. Well, truth be told, I've been seeking these tips for about two months. I'm not sure I've made much progress, but I have kicked about five monstrous trash bags full of clothes to the curb...or, Goodwill. I've also blown through my kitchen and removed MOST of the tools I never use. I even relegated many of the infant items to the garage. Nevertheless, you would never know any progress had been made.

Somehow, I have loads and loads of homeless STUFF. Little ornaments and statues and crystal. I have so much that means so much, but we haven't the proper places to house them. I suppose that the answer is to kiss them good-bye and carefully pack them away so that we might find a way to enjoy them in our next home.

I'm also finding that we could clothe an army of beds with the blankets we have. I'm left convinced that if I just continue to hang onto these things, I'll find relief when the unanticipated need arises.

And, oh, the toys! I am totally overwhelmed with the toy situation. Our living room looks like a daycare center. While we have the space to create a playroom, I have to believe that Baby B will always prefer (and need) to be in close proximity to me while he plays. I don't foresee spending our days in the confines of one room, even if it is a child's Heaven.

It will be my mission in 2010 to organize this house. I'll work away the clutter room by room, and I'm quite sure...very sure...ummm...yeah...that by 2011 I will be a new woman! And, I'll fit into my size four clothing again! (Hey, while we're dreaming...)

Frisked! Again!

Last Thursday, Ryan and I left for a mini-vacation in Colorado. Despite having to make a 6am flight, we sported two positive attitudes and timely arrivals at IAH. And then "security" entered the picture. Scene:

Only one lane of "security" was open despite it being such a busy time for business travel. The line must have been about thirty feet long just to pass the first identification verification. Shortly after joining the other patient travelers, there arose a verbal battle between the "security" agent and a group of foreign travelers. I believe their accent was Russian, but I can't be sure. Clearly, they did not understand the American concept of standing in line. Their confusion sent the intolerant and abrasive "security" agent into a tailspin of lectures to all of the surrounding travelers. She stopped the line several times to shake her finger at us all. The alleged Russians breezed through the x-ray machine and metal detectors without further issue.

I, however, the short, plump, blond(?,) all-American, young woman who never confuses the verbs to "lay" and to "lie," was pulled to the side for a pat down. Oh, no, my friends. They didn't use a wand. I was felt up and down and too close to personal bits. Did I mention it was a show for all of the other travelers to watch? It's good to know that I am just as likely to be perceived as a terrorist as, well... people that cause noticeable distractions in the security lines. No, I don't suggest that there was anything suspicious about the Russian travelers. I have to believe, however, that there are endless ways in which they MORE closely fit the profile of someone to watch.

You might be surprised to know that I was barely fazed by the event. Why? Oh, my friends, I've had MUCH more humiliating experiences at the hands of "security" officers.

Flashback about four years to the Baltimore airport. Mom and I had been visiting family in DC, but it was time to go home. It must have been a slow time or date to fly because the airport was quiet. "Security" must have been bored. After walking through the metal detector, I was pulled aside for further investigation. Ahhhhhh...lovely. There I was without my shoes, without my jacket. I stood there stripped down to a sleeveless shirt and a loose pair of black pants. The agent began to swipe me with the metal detector wand. It kept detecting metal on my body. I had to pull up my pant legs one by one. No metal. The agents were confused. I did tell them that I had metal in my knee from a post-ski surgery I had years earlier. Then, it happened.

They wanted a closer look at my mid-section. I had to pull up my shirt, not to the point of exposing my undergarments, but high enough to show my mid-drift. My other arm out to the side like a scarecrow, I stood there feeling increasingly upset as...wait for it...AN ENTIRE UNIT OF SERVICEMEN WALKED PAST ME ENJOYING THE FREE "WELCOME HOME" SHOW!

Eventually, of course, the "security" agents were confused enough to give up. (Good to know they're so committed, right?)

Thus, I sit here today, twice frisked by airport agents. It's not fun, folks. Perhaps next time I'll have a meltdown in line waiting to shove my bags through the metal detector. Then, I will look like an average, disgruntled passenger calling just enough attention to myself to be perceived as "normal."

The Money Person

I am the "money person" in this house. I pay the bills, collect the receipts, and manage the accounts. This year I have committed to consolidating some of these accounts. Although many of them APPEAR to be held at the same financial institutions you'd be AMAZED at the paperwork, phone calls, and appearances this feat requires.

In the last three weeks I've been desperately tackling a custodial account and my Teacher Retirement System account. The idea is to move the funds into Roth IRAs. Despite all of my efforts, the monies still have not been moved. (Ironically, however, I had to OPEN a NEW account in the process of said transfers.) Maybe, just maybe, if I work on it EVERY DAY by the end of 2010 I might finally have a reasonable number of accounts to manage.

The lesson is twofold. First of all, don't let your accounts multiply. Rather, when you need to change ownership make the time to go to the institution and make the changes in person. (Although that whole "in person" thing hasn't gotten me very far in the past few days.) Secondly, persistence is key. Put your banks' customer service lines on speed dial, and have a daily chat!

On Perfection

About two months ago several of the blogs I read offered an answer to "How do you do it all?" The ladies who run these blogs are, in fact, miraculously brilliant homemakers. I just assumed (and pretty much still do) that some women are born with Olympian-style talents for the role. I am DEFINITELY not one of those women, and no one would EVER mistake me for one. But oh how I sometimes wish I were... Nevertheless, I was relieved to read how these aforementioned bloggers responded the the inquiries.

To sum them up, they reported that time is, of course, finite, so there are things they DO and things they DON'T DO. Some even ventured as far as making lists to expose their realities. I decided it would be a good pick-me-up exercise to try this myself. Expert critic that I am, I'm pretty sure that my "don't do" tally far outweighs my "do" tally. But some relief comes in the fact that I indeed have a list of things I do and things I do well. For example, I make a fantastic butter-cream frosting, I make a to-die-for cinnamon applesauce, and I show unprecedented and unbelievable patience with my toddler. I don't scrapbook, crochet (although I'm considering classes,) get up early, or immediately get dirty dishes into the dishwasher. There are more to each list, of course, but I am not the measuring stick of perfection as are the IMAGES of the bloggers I read.

My second source of forgiveness for my imperfections as a homemaker came, unexpectedly, from a magazine article. It's so cliche, who knew some actual wisdom could be imparted by a magazine's quiz? Perhaps it's not quite wisdom, but I found some relief therein. The quiz was something along the lines of "Find out who you really are so you can be you really are." I'm sure it was more eloquently written. I thought it was a bit of a joke until I hit a category of questions that identified my nature EXACTLY. WHO KNEW I WASN'T ALONE? Not I.

The article concluded that I fall into the category of the "Intellectual." No, it doesn't describe my IQ. Instead, it describes what gives me energy, how I enjoy spending my time, and my natural tendencies. By reading ABOUT myself, I had a moment of epiphany: who I am is a LEARNER. I will ALWAYS be a learner. I love to research, and write, and spend my time getting the most thorough IDEAS of my area of interest.

People who are able to translate their natures directly into a career are, and rightly so, lauded for their recognizable talents therein. Some of us, however, have natures that are more hidden under the layers of our jobs, families, and obligations. To IDENTIFY our natures, even if only to ourselves, is to RELIEVE ourselves of the guilt of what we are not. We may have convoluted ways of contributing or shining, but we each have a nature that has immense value to those around us.

I am a LEARNER. I will fulfill my mission in life THROUGH this natural tendency that I possess. And by embracing who I AM I will free myself, and enjoy myself, and hope that you will enjoy me.

Oh Em Gee!

Yep, I MADE these, the PJ pants! I was gifted a series of sewing classes, and it totally paid off. Lots of fun. Translation: if I can do this you can DEFINITELY do it. I have the patience of a famished lion. Oh, yes, and if you're on my holiday gift list, you just MIGHT be getting some too!

(I'm pretty sure that sewing these pants and making a fantastic butter-cream icing are my ONLY Martha Stewart "ish" feats in the last year of being a stay-at-home-mom. Hey, I'm a work in progress.)

My Confession on His Birthday

My title is "Homemaker Exposed." Here is my maximum exposure, a shame-filled truth wherein I hope I am not alone:

I tried not to love him.

When my son was born, I realized that the expression "such a miracle" is not trite as I had believed, but rather true in biblical proportions. Part me, part Ryan, part God and His creation, my son is most deeply a miracle. But he is separate from me. I cannot completely protect him. I cannot completely heal him. He is left in God's hands, and I am left to recognize my own mortality, my own vulnerability. And it scared me. It still does.

I had resolved to protect myself from these fears. How? Well, I had pondered this for years prior to my son, and I had determined to "hedge" my losses should I endure one. Translation: I used to believe that the more children I had, the more bearable a loss, illness, or incapacity of a single child would be. I thought I could intellectualize and ration my love. I was wrong.

Although my son is healthy, and although I do not know how many more children my body can bare, my son's first year has taught me this:

Having a child is giving myself to God, losing my sense of power. In return, God gives me an appreciation for the daily mundanes that I have never before felt. God shares Himself in a way I have never before understood. And I lose my sense of "I."

Happy birthday my son, and thank you.

A Housewife?

I wasn't raised to be a housewife. I was raised to be a lawyer. In fact, I have a lovely diploma from law school sitting up against the wall in our master bedroom. I'm sure that the moment I was handed that parchment was one of my father's proudest memories. Only several months later when I declared my intention to stay at home with my newborn baby did reality strike: I wanted to be a housewife, a homemaker, a stay-at-home-mom, unemployed. Little did I know how unprepared I was.

I thought the job was very straightforward: cook, clean, and care for the baby. Well, I'll tell you what, in suburban Houston there are MANY more responsibilities to being a homemaker. Just to name a few: decorate the house, decorate for every holiday and season, sew, craft, and make something out of nothing on a shoestring budget. Many more will come my way soon: host playdates, be involved with the PTA, volunteer at school, become a chauffeur, plan and prepare for vacations, etc. What is so interesting to me is that these responsibilities fall upon the working mom as well; however, I believe that the expectations aren't quite the same. For example, if the working mom doesn't have a seasonal wreath on her door she is forgiven, but if the homemaker fails to place or change the wreath she is idle.

I am not only surprised by the list and height of high expectations for homemakers, but I am surprised by what is required to do the basic tasks properly. I know I am responsible for doing the grocery shopping and getting dinner on the table, but I didn't know that my baby would select a vegan lifestyle forcing me to make multiple dishes for every meal. I knew that the floors should be vacuumed, but I had no clue that the WALLS should be vacuumed.

I grew up in a house with a housekeeper. She covered the basics. Then, there were the cleaning ladies who, I must assume, did the heavy housework. I wasn't even taught how to fold a sheet, let alone clean a toilet! Nonetheless, I am grateful for what I had, and I am now grateful for what I have. I just feel as though I have so much catching up to do! Every time I think I've mastered the art of homemaking, I pick up a book or read a blog that reminds me how short I have fallen. Maybe it's time to read a NOVEL instead!

Something about Gratitude

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about gratitude. Between my time of need (the surgery) and a friend in need (issues with her baby's health,) I am forced to feel a gratitude for my life far deeper than can be expressed with words. I try to pray my thanks and write my thanks, but it is not enough. Is it greedy to long for the words, the ability to express myself adequately? I am left shaken in blender of grief for those who are grieving and gratitude for the life that is mine.