New Author Blog!

I have another/  new blog now!

After selling over thirty copies of The Lady of Steinbrekka, I have decided it was time to start acting like an author. I have my static webpage over at StrongNovels.webs.com and I have my blog over at StrongNovels.Blogspot.com.

Check it out for Sneak Peaks for my future book, Heart of Kylassame, character spotlights, and so much more!

Accepting My Imperfections

    I know, this is a common thing over here. I get these grand ideas for how I’m going to have my house organized and cleaned and just OMG awesome when I read through blogs like OrganizedMadeFun or ABowlFullofLemons. I tell myself, “This is it! Now I’m doing it!”

    I really do want to do it. I would love to have a house that is organized, has a place for everything, and is instantly company ready. I’ve read the books and started over a bajillion programs, yet they all seem to come down to one thing.

    I don’t have enough time in a day.

   And while I normally tell myself to stop making excuses, I recently took a step back to view my life.

   You see, this is also my excuse for why I’m not as in shape as I would like to be as well. “There just isn’t enough time” and I know that this is going to bring scoffs from people but…sometimes…it’s true!

Just like you need to cut out some things in a financial budget, sometimes you need to cut out things in your time budget as well. Would I love to work out for an hour a day and see some pretty fab results? Well sure. Would I love to have a sparkling clean house where everything is in it's place all the time? Of course! BUT I’m not willing to give up that one hour of playtime with my daughter to get it.

   I also have realized that I actually do a lot more than I think. When my daughter is happily playing independently with her toys, I will pick up the adjacent room, clean the chinchilla cage, or fold the laundry. I will do a ten minute work-out or a yoga routine.

   But then there are some nights like last night, when I got home from work at 6:30 p.m. After dinner and bath-time and story-time and then bed-time…there was no time left for anything else. I took 5 minutes of me-time to finish a chapter in a book I was reading and the day was over.

   I look at a lot of these cleaning programs and think “it’s just fifteen minutes! Why can’t I just seem to find fifteen minutes?” But the simple fact is that sometimes fifteen minutes is just fifteen minutes more than I have. When you add fifteen minutes on top of all the other things that “just” take a minute it really does add up in the end.

   That being said, there are still things that I am working on that ARE giving me some great improvements. 

   Every week I try to donate items and de-clutter my house. 

   I finally have our living room to a point where Bug’s toys can be quickly and efficiently put away (and she’s started helping me!).

   I have enlisted the help of my husband and he has the kitchen clean every (okay, most, maybe some) nights so that’s one less thing to do.

   I tell myself that it’s okay that my house is not perfect. I’m never going to be an organizing blog or have an always-photo-ready house, but that’s okay. The house is sanitary and clean enough for daily life and I’m enjoying living it.

Moving on is not failure

Well, I did it. It took me 6 years, but I finally got rid of my college notebooks and will get rid of (most) of
my textbooks this weekend.

Why is this a big deal? Well, I have a huge emotional attachment to clutter, as well as a tendency to
say “Oh, I’ll use this one day.”

But this is much more. Getting rid of these items was me finally saying, “I will let go of who I was, and
embrace who I am now.”

Except in my head that comes out as, “I wasted four years of my life getting an anthropology degree and
am now admitting that it was worthless and will never pursue that lifestyle again” followed by “Wait,
but what if I do pursue a Master’s in Anthropology? Think of all the money I will save!”

The fallacy of thought 1

Those were four of the hardest, most wonderful years of my life. I learned what it was like to live on
my own, and be placed in a lot of uncomfortable situations. I shared a room for the first time in my life,
and had to live with total strangers. I met a wide variety of people, and was put in situations I never
dreamed possible. I had to eat in a public place by myself! (Seriously, that was terrifying the first year)

I learned how to present an argument, how to speak in public without fainting, and that listening to
German Opera while hung-over was a bad idea. I pushed myself to the limit and then beyond, and
learned when to pull myself back. I learned a wealth of information that I will probably never use, but
loved learning it.

I was given the opportunity to have experiences that few people have, like excavating prehistoric
hunting ground, camps, and making obsidian blades. I was able to excavate sites at two Presidential homes
(Monticello and Mount Vernon), and co-authored and presented an archaeological report to the people
whose books I had studied in class.

I was given a safe environment where I could learn to make good decisions (like having a friend walk me
home when I worked late at night) and bad decisions (like riding a bus home alone after having a few
too many drinks).

I was able to more clearly define who I was, and who I did not want to be.

I was able to strengthen my relationship with my parents, because they were no longer there. At 18 I
thought I was “way smarter” than my parents. At 20…I only hoped I could be half as smart as them.

I also firmly believe that my education in anthropology helped shape me into the parent that I am today.
Sleep patterns, reactions to crying, breastfeeding/weaning ages and allergies were among the many
things that I studied both in local context and on a global scale. This helped to form my parenting style
and reinforce that even though that style is not mainstream America, it is normal in a global setting and
(through my studies and my 16 month experience as a parent) in an evolutionary sense.

The fallacy of thought 2

It has been 6 years since I graduated college, and don’t remember most of the basic information
relating to my field. I would definitely need to take the basic courses over again, and chances are the
information has changed greatly over that time (more if you consider I took the first course in 2002).
These books are probably 8 editions too old and I would have to re-buy everything anyway.

But you know…there may be someone out there who would want them for their library, and is just
thinking “If only someone out there had an Archaeological Theories book from 2005 they didn’t need.”

Clutterbug

It may seem like I am obsessed with clutter, and perhaps I am. You see, for me the clutter is not
just “things” but much more. I’ve always glossed over articles on organization thinking that the writer
doesn’t get me at all, doesn’t get how hard it is to “just” get rid of something.

Kick the Clutter by Ellen Philips was an eye opener for me. I felt like she was the first one who
understood that, to me, these items weren’t just things that had to be thrown away, but parts of me.

I am a clutterer for two reasons.

1) “I can fix this!” I am one of those people who always has looked at the broken toy or missing
piece as a challenge. When I was 10 my dog chewed off my Barbie’s hand. Instead of letting my
parents throw her away, I made her a wonderful bandage and just worked her wound into any
storylines.

2) “Emotional attachment”. This is where the non-emotional attachment people fail to understand.
It’s not just clutter, it has a story. The story may be as simple as “a friend who drifted away from
me gave me that and it reminds me of them” or as complex as “my great-grandmother sent me
that chicken before she died and she'll never be able to give me anything else”, but they all have ties.

Now why am I like this?

I think part of it is my past. When I was young my parents and I lived in Kuwait and were in the
US visiting relatives during the summer of 1990. When Iraq invaded and occupied Kuwait, we lost
everything. My parents had to figure out how to survive (with a 6 year old girl) on the money they had in
their wallets (because they could not access our Kuwait bank from the US) and their brains.

For a while, we lived with my grandparents while my parents tried to get jobs. It’s difficult to get a
job when you have no professional clothes, no vehicle, and no means to acquire the objects. It’s also
difficult to get an apartment when you have no money, and no job.

As an adult, just the prospect of this terrifies me, and I can’t even imagine how my parents managed to
pull it off. To literally start from scratch, with nothing but the clothes on your back…yet not be able to
get government assistance. But, they pulled it off, and a year later Kuwait was once again opened and
we went back to help rebuild.

These events placed the following thought in my head. “You can lose everything, so fast.”

As a result, I cling to “things” because I never know when they will be gone. I cling to money because I
never know when an event will happen that will cause it to disappear. In my mind, I can’t get rid of this
stupid $5 decoration that has been in a box for years, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to replace it.

But I’m trying, and I’m finally feeling like I’m making strides.

Part of it is due to my husband, who started the process by accidentally throwing away 3 trash bags of
my things when we moved. In his defense, they were in trash bags. In my defense, they were in trash
bags because I had run out of moving boxes, and the trash bags were in the back of my closet, waiting
for me to sort them as I had moved a week earlier.

We were driving somewhere when he asked me what was in the trash bags he threw out earlier,
because they felt like loads of books! My heart stopped, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I realized
what he had done. My books, my nick-knacks, my…I don’t even remember. In fact, even that day I
didn’t remember what was in those trash bags. The only thing I know that I lost (and still mourn) was my
diary, which I wrote in daily from the day I graduated high school until the day I graduated college.

It still makes me cry a bit when I think about that diary. All of my hopes, all of my dreams, all of my
sorrows were in that diary. It recorded the good times and the bad times. It had all of my crushes and
vents and not a little poetry that I wrote. My times of great depression were recorded in there, when I
thought that I was not worth the air that my lungs used to breathe, and how no one loved me.

But I still went on.

FlyLady also helped. Her thought is “If you don’t love it, or need it, give it to someone who will”
(paraphrasing there). That mindset has helped me, so so much. Maybe I could use the extra knife set
one day (that I bought 8 years from Wal-Mart for $10 but hey , it still works) but somewhere out there is
a single mom or just-on-their-own adult who NEEDS it.

And now…the baby stuff. The onesies and the dresses that not only hit me on the “omg my Kaylee wore
this when she was just a newborn and so tiny and precious” side but also the “one day I might have
another baby who can wear these” side.

So I told myself, you get to keep 1 large plastic bin for “one day” and that’s it. Realistically, we are a one-
and-done household. A lot of things would have to align in order for me to have a second kid, but that is
another post.

I then sent a box of clothes to a good friend who had a baby girl, because it helped to send it to
someone I knew would use and appreciate the items.

I then sent 3 boxes of clothes and baby items to our local Abbacare center. They provide food, shelter,
counseling, and a whole host of other good things to women in my city who are all alone and pregnant/
have infants.

I received so much help with Kaylee, that I could not imagine doing it on my own, with no income, and
no support system. Maybe someday I could use the receiving blankets again, and sure saving $10 would
be nice, but these women NEED them now, and don’t have the $10 to spend.

Now, all of this actually is a set up story for the next post, “Letting go of the past is not failure”

House counseling?

The house honeymoon is over

Well, the house honeymoon has been over for about a year now, when I really think about it. I realized this the other day as I kept procrastinating taking Kaylee home one night from my parent’s house. I procrastinated so long that she ended up having a total melt-down of exhaustion.

I figured I was just lonely. Scott works late/long hours and I’m tired, so I like having help from the parents and being able to take one mental step back from being super vigilant. But then I had another day where I left my parent’s house early, and in great spirits. Kaylee and I sang the whole way home, and I was in a great mood.

Until I opened the house door. I think that was when I realized that I am no longer in love with my house. But it’s not my house’s fault, it’s what is in the house. Not only has my house descending into CHAOS (Can’t Have Anyone Over Sydrome), but it’s become to the point where I don’t want to be there.

Here’s what happens in the first 15 minutes of getting home…

Get out of the car, hear dog barking (sigh, I’m so sick of the dog barking).

Get Kaylee out of the car seat and walk inside with her on my hip.

Open the door, get the lovely whiff of dog pee and poop because the dog has, again, peed or pooped all over the place. As a result of the last year of this she is now confined to the laundry room, so while the mess is contained, the smell is just amplified by the smaller quarters.

Let the dog out of her room, curse as she barrels into me and throws out my knee. She then stops in the doorjam and just stands there.

The cat has heard the door open, so I am now left trying to keep the cat from running outside, while holding the kid, while trying to push the dog out of the door.

Finally the dog is out, the cat is in, and the kid is still with me (now I can put her down at least, and she will normally hang out in the garage playing with some toys we have set up for her in there).

The dog tries to attack another dog/running/shadow that has come within 100 yards of our house. I grab her and get her back inside.

The cat makes another attempt to run outside as the dog decides that doorways are scary, and refuses to walk through it.

Okay. Now we’re all inside the house. I put Kaylee down in her safe room so that I can clean up the pee/poop and feed the dog. She throws a huge tantrum because I’ve been at work all day and she wants mom time.

Finally, the crap has been cleaned, the animals fed, and I am able to have some kid time.

But after the 15 minutes of craziness, I don’t even want to be in my house. I don’t want to have to look at the stuff I need to clean, or the laundry that needs to get done, or the dinner that needs to be cooked. I’m tired from working all day, tired from the long commute, and tired of feeling like I’m doing all I can but getting nowhere. Add to it that I now have a headache from dealing with the last 15 minutes, and knowing that I will have to do it the next day, and the next, and the next.

So my answer is to just avoid my house. Because that totally solves the problem…

Cleaning program,,,take 2

The New Cleaning Program

Today is the start of my new cleaning program. Yes, I attempted a new cleaning program over the summer and it didn’t work so well. Yes, I will wait for the laughter to subside before I continue.

…

…

…

Okay then. My summer cleaning program, while good intentioned and well planned, did not happen. Yes most of the activities I had planned would only take 15-30 minutes to do each day, but what I had not taken into account was that it would be 15-30 minutes tacked onto my already full day. Maybe prior to having a kid, I could have gotten it done. Maybe prior to having a dog who pees inside all the ever-loving time and requires carpet steam cleaning before the kid splashed through it like a splash pad, I could have gotten it done. Maybe if I was getting more than 3 hours of sleep in a row, it would have gotten done.

Maybe if I stopped making excuses….nah.

Regardless of why it didn't get done, it didn’t. One of the big points of Flylady’s system (yes, I am a flybaby, I’ve just been fluttering a bit lately instead of flying) is to find what works for you.

 (You haven’t heard of FlyLady? Go check it out at Flylady.com)

So I’m trying something else, because my old system is not working. Be it out of lack of time, lack of energy, or sheer laziness, it’s not working. My new system will be…keeping 3 rooms clean in my house at all times, and then slowly tackling the other rooms.

These three rooms will be: Kaylee’s bedroom, my bathroom, and the laundry room. Why these three rooms? Because they are small rooms that can be easily maintained, yet get very messy very quickly.

While we are still bed-sharing with Bug, she loves to go through her closet and take out clothes, or throw her stuffed animals around the room, or her blankets. Her changing table was quickly turned into a catch-all surface for random stuff (oh, there’s my bag of zip-ties!) ever since she started rolling and decided that diaper changing should be an Olympic sport. At the end of the night her floor is covered with toys, blankets, etc. and since she hasn’t learned how to pick-up yet (but we’re working on it), that leaves it to me.

My bathroom also falls victim to Hurricane Kaylee, combined with Tropical Storm Kristi. Every Sunday I hang my clothes for the week on my towel rods so that I don’t need to go into the closet and risk waking up the sleeping people in the room. This would not be so bad, if it weren’t for the 10 empty hangers from the week before, or the already worn clothes that just end up piled on the floor. Most of this is laziness, as the laundry hamper is just outside the door to my bathroom. I just need to suck it up and put it away when I’m done.

Hurricane Kaylee comes into play in the mornings. Most mornings she will wake up between 6:15 and 6:30, aka, the time when Mom is getting ready. If Scott tries to keep her in bed she will scream bloody murder, so usually after 2 minutes I hear a little knock at the door and in she comes. She will be content with brushing her teeth or playing with my (in-activated) phone for about 5 minutes, and then starts to unroll the toilet paper, or play with the trash can, or start removing all the items from under the sink. (And before you say it, she has a small container of toys and books under the sink, but we all know those are NOT interesting compared to things like, oh, mommy’s extra –and still sealed – contact solution bottle). In the last week she has grown tall enough to reach 99% of the counter top in the bathroom, which makes things even more challenging.

The room is just big enough to hold the sink, toilet, and shower, so this results in the room being nigh unusable very quickly. I keep telling myself that it should also work in reverse, so that is my goal. Easy to mess, easy to clean (just like weight, easy on easy off, no? Ah well)

The third room is the laundry room. Truth be told, this room is still looking pretty good from my summer make-over. The problem now is the dog. See, while I do like her on most days, I don’t like steam cleaning the carpet every-single-day, or sometimes multiple times per day. The vet said she’s not sick, she just can’t hold her bladder very long these days. So, now while we are at work, she has been relocated to the laundry room. This way I just have to throw away pee pads and do a quick mop, vs running the steam cleaner. But, this also means that my budding romance with my laundry room has gone back to a “ugh, you again” type of relationship. It smells like dog pee, regularly has pee on the floor for me to deal with, and gone are the days of having Kaylee in there with me while I fold the laundry.

My hope is that after a few weeks of keeping these three rooms clean, it will become habit to me to keep these rooms clean and I can start adding in other rooms as I progress. Here’s hoping!

Gluten Baby

Gluten Baby

                Why do I insist on torturing myself by eating gluten? At the end of the summer I was so happy with my weight. For the first time in 10 years I was under 150 pounds, which was an incredible feeling. I had a lean tummy, and thin legs, and my arms were pretty dang good after carrying around the kiddo all day. 

 When I went back to work all I heard was “Omg, you are so thin!” or “Wow, do you really have a 1 year old?” and it was so uplifting. And yet, now the pounds are back, and I feel squishy, and I don’t like my body, once again. 

What is the difference? A month long return to gluten.

Now, to be fair, there is another culprit. During the summer I took a lot of long walks with the Bug, and now that she is fully competent at walking she does it herself, which results in a 30 minute walk covering ½ mile of ground instead of several miles.

But really, it’s the gluten. You see, my husband was diagnosed with diabetes at the end of the summer, and as a result we filled out house with snacks for him. Granola bars, crackers, and breads suddenly invaded our pantries, foods that had been abolished back in the days when I couldn’t get pregnant, and decided to go gluten-free. And when I went back to work I was STARVING all the time, so the granola bars, crackers, etc. made their way into my lunch box (which is why they were exiled from the house to begin with!). Within a month I was squishy, and now look like I’m pregnant again. (Okay, that’s not quite fair. Here is what I looked like at 12 weeks pregnant, which is where I feel I am now. 

Most people would still call me skinny, or just say that I have the classic “mummy tummy”)

I can definitely feel the difference though, and that’s why I’m getting back on the feel-good train and away from the convenience factor that gluten gives me. It’s not only the gluten belly, but how I feel. I feel horrible when I eat gluten. It’s like a heavy ball is just sitting in my stomach and I feel sluggish. I have more frequent headaches and I’m a lot crankier (because who wouldn’t be cranky when their stomach always hurts and they have headaches). My entire body hurts and feels tense.

It’s time to put down the cupcake, granola bar, and sandwich bread. I must once again live by the mantra “The 5 minute pleasure from eating this, is not worth the weeks of pain that it will cause”