I don't care if the world knows what my secrets are -Mary Lambert

I am undergoing a reformation, I've hinted at it before but I haven't revealed just how ugly things have been. Saturday Troy and I went to the kick off for the Fitmania 90 day challenge that we've committed to "Finish Strong". There was a woman who was admirably courageous. Of the question, "Why is it important to you to take the time to get fit now?" She responded (in a room of health conscious people many of them toned), "I'm sick of being left out. I am so overweight that there are things I simply can't do." She wasn't wallowing in self pity she was determined to change. I was so impressed with that honesty. And so here I go sharing my uncomfortable truths.



With my desperation to get out of my current domesticated life I created a fantasy world. I reunited with a high school crush of mine via email. Soon we were texting and talking on the phone, in secret of course. This stimulating exchange of words filled a space in my life that I mistakenly thought he was the only one who could.  As we took our cliché  walk down memory lane I began to try to match my ideals with the ones that he possessed. Just one child, money to spare, and eventually I even thought I wanted a life without religion-boundaries. I had come undone. I stopped praying, I thought how could I go to God who was undoubtedly disappointed with my choices, when I wasn't in the least repentant. In fact the conversations were the only thing keeping me alive. I looked forward to my afternoon escapes-hours of humor with someone who knew me well, who I had history with and who was able to make me forget about the daunting, overwhelming, depressing life I had developed for myself.


Lying by omission was causing me to have physical side effects. I was often dizzy and had stomach aches, my appetite disappeared, I was unable to concentrate on much of anything excluding myself and I believe my countenance lost it's usual glow.  I felt the aliments building and knew if I just stopped talking to my flame I would instantly feel better but I couldn't break free of this addiction.


I knew if I told Troy he would shut it down and rightfully so. He would force me to give up my phone, stop blogging, delete my Facebook account trying to keep me away from temptation. Trying to fight the battle for me. I needed to do it myself. So for a few months I kept my dirty little secret. Only my mother knew the depth of my involvement and my attempts to self destruct. I had no idea of how it would end. Finally my friend responded to my unraveling pleas for help and direction with some wise words-ultimately saving myself from becoming a divorcee. He made a metaphor that struck me with my own epiphany. He related my fantasy to a box. A box of memorabilia that you may think you can't possibly get rid of and put it in the attic for just in case, for some day. That box most likely will sit and it's contents may fade and doubtless collect dust. He said if you don't use those items packed away after years of taking up space why not have thrown the box away in the first place? All they really are are memories. That was when it hit me. He is just a past boyfriend, just a memory from high school. His recent words and time were not meant to be spent on me. He and I needed to be with our spouses bettering our real lives. This fantasy was just a mix of could've, should've, would'ves that ultimately weren't ever meant to be. It was a huge waste of time. I had fallen so far behind in my real life. My kids had been neglected- left to watch TV all day and eat candy, cereal and chicken nuggets. I had shirked most of my responsibilities. I was a closet addict.


After I threw the box away, the memories remained and I had to push them to the back of the shelf and put lots of books and what not in front of them to hide them from view. I have been successful at leaving them there out of sight, out of mind. I met with my counselor who unveiled the truth that one of the things I craved and found in this other man was-ironically- pure honesty. My amazing husband often chooses what will best make me happy, squelching his own ideas. I have proclaimed, "I feel like I don't know you" for lack of conversation or the truth behind his expressions or lack of expression even. In identifying this missing component our marriage has improved dramatically. I  look forward to any disagreements because finally Troy has found it within him to say what he is really feeling. It is of such value to communicate honestly with the person you have the potential to become one with. And in hearing him out I have learned to trust what he is saying is true not just what he thinks I want to hear. It has brought us closer than I imagined anything could.


As I'm continuing on my journey to find strength to face the "harsh reality" of my life I am simultaneously acknowledging my weaknesses. I made a list of the things that are absolutes to me. I know that one of the reasons I fear my kids is the words they say to me or even just the tone of voice they use. I'm learning that kids are just trying to survive and that means that they are innately and normal to behave selfishly in this phase of their lives and that I can not take it personally. I have had to work on the art of not joining with them in tantrums.


Being honest with my husband and myself has had phenomenal results in the mystifying world of communication. I obviously take the approach of complete transparency, I believe it is the only way we can begin to understand one another. How many terrible things have happened in this world as a result of failed communication?


This entry was the most difficult to hit post- fo sho. You may feel awkward around me or even want to avoid me from now on. You may think I'm incredibly selfish (a weakness I am very aware of) and be baffled at why the hell Troy chooses to stay with me every day. That is fine with me. I am convinced we all have demons and most of us try to bury them as deep as humanly possible but for some of us bringing them to the surface truly is the only way to ultimately free ourselves of them.


I am anxious about embarking on this 90 day journey with Troy (who I will be tightly clinging to for the next three months-he's done this before) but I expect to see a big change in myself. As I get through the grueling boot camp workouts every morning I know I will gain the confidence to attack each day with my children. And that I will come to believe that I can do it without vices, secrets and regret. I may not be strong today but I have the potential to become better every day. I need to- for myself, my husband and my kids. I hate feeling inadequate, less than, terrible, hopeless. I look forward to sharing with you my successes as I gain control of the chaos.

I'm just a little slow

Unintentionally Revised


When my husband and I were in the throws of the defining months of our relationship, the time when you answer the question should I stay or should I go- I remember being okay with the thought of leaving the kids behind. My sister said, "Maybe you were just supposed to give birth to them. Maybe someone else was meant to raise them." I was ready to believe that. I find that I often battle the restraints of domesticated life and flounder like a fish out of water as I try to figure out who I am and what my calling in life is. Yes, I have been here before.


I don't seem to possess the innate nurturing, loving feelings that should accompany being a parent. Sadly, I can't relate to the parents who say they would do anything for their children. This is hard to admit. At times I have to force myself to think about losing one of them to remind myself that I do care. The parents who are smitten and enamored by everything disgusting and cute about their children, are just plain annoying. However, over the past couple of months I have been watching more intently the parents around me. I've been watching people in all circumstances and with all different parenting styles. I watch to see where they acquired the gooey love from and why I don't have it.


I think part of my problem is the irresponsible spacing of our oldest four children. They were born too close together. It was enough to keep myself from drowning, treading water is exhausting. One time we left all four of them, 5 years and under, with my parents while we went on a five day cruise to Ensenada. Upon our return my mom asked, "How do you even find time to wipe your butt?".


This is pretty ridiculous but an epiphany none the less.


My kids have assumed that they have a say in if they do or don't attend family events. I've tried half heartedly to ask why they didn't want to grace us with their presence, I've attempted to validate their feelings by letting them rattle off their unreasonable complaints. My husband just simply, without argument, tells them to "GET IN THE CAR" leaving me to deal with the incessant whining. This time I was grown up enough to listen. Unanimously, the most pressing problem was that they get bored. I planned to sacrifice and packed my swim suit. I got all five kids in the pool. We had races, cannon ball wars, synchronized routines, we did handstands and underwater somersaults, we had a tea party at the bottom of the shallow end and I even took a turn down the slide-pretty sure I snagged my suit.


We had a blast. I think I learned the secret -I need to build block towers with them, get in their tree forts, play Monopoly with them (gag), watch Slugtara with them, ride bikes with them, lay on their beds and listen to their dreams, concerns, and stories. You can't love someone if you don't know them.  I was enjoying my time writing, talking on the phone, organizing closets, keeping the house clean and running smoothly, mowing the yard. I was trying to stay as uninvolved as possible this summer. I need to put in the effort to build relationships with my children and have the desire to draw closer to them. I don't think it has to be one or the other. I don't have to give up everything I love to play with them all day but I do need to give them the time of day (so they know when they have to check in).


During this time of rediscovery I know I need to better prioritize my time so that I can make memories with my kids before they slip through my fingers.

You are stronger than you think

I chose to spend 90 minutes in 100 degree weather to mow the yard. Some say, "Make your kids do it", "That's what kids are for". Sheepishly I agree thinking they're right and I'm wrong. Why doesn't my husband do it? The fact of the matter is, I'm my father's daughter and I actually like working in the yard. Yes Mom, it's true. I also realized how much more enjoyable it is when the grass is high and the sun is hot.  I like to hear my favorite music cheering me on. This chore has always made me feel strong like I have the power to conquer armies should there be any in my way.  For a long time I had to act like the little engine that could chanting "you can do it, you can do it." This was my only solace as I dodged moths, grasshoppers, bees and wasps which all seemed to attack me when I didn't even know they were hiding in the first place. I've gotten better and can forge through with Pandora.

As I was on leave from the world making an attempt at straight lines-haha-I got to thinking about how strength is about pushing ourselves. As I pushed through the tough spots I thought of my oldest daughter and how she may not think of me as strong in an emotional sense, I want her to know I'm strong because I don't give up-I fight through the blisters. I thought about how good it felt to push my body to finish the yard without breaks-except for a minor one when I shared a popcicle with Louie it was orange-we were out of purple-but I refrained from sitting because it definaty would have been over. I thought about the people who-be up in the gym working on their fitness-pushing themselves to the limit. I thought about a special mom of a friend who would work a swing shift and come home and start making food for us teenagers. She never sat down for a break she is strong and pushed herself.
Recently I told a friend who has significantly less children than I -if you had to do what I have to do, you wouldn't be able to do it the way you want to. I don 't actually think that's true anymore. With enough desire I do have the strength to push myself to keep a cleaner house this is probably my biggest aspiration. With the kids as my slaves-I can do it.

Our new routine of same get out of bed time, same chores, same consequences for two solid weeks is working and they no longer bring up child labor laws anymore. Do I feel stronger? Absolutely but I cringe to think my teens will likely ruin it. Can't see it going well. (they are in Cali with grandmas) I have pushed myself.  The first step was the plan, the second acting on it.

It was right in front of me the entire time. As my dear friend Dannette would say -put on your big girl panties. Let's clarify, the panties themselves don't necessarily have to be big. I needed to push myself to get stronger -not change my role in the lives of the most important people-my family. I needed to get stronger by simply trying harder.  We are all in different places can all handle only so much at one time.

Sometimes we need to break to put ourselves back together and we need to fall to get back up. Sometimes we  downright can 't push any farther we have made it to our limit and need the strength of someone else to push from behind. This time I think I just needed to overcome myself and find the strength I had buried. I thought I was going to lose, to be eaten alive by these monsters , my offspring. When really I just needed to take control of the situation, exert my power and face them with a sword and shield. I am stronger than they are by sheer status-I am their mother-and always will be. I can do this. As cheesy as it may sound, when you tell someone you believe in them, that is a source of infinite strength. Let 's build each other up against all we have to fight. Tell someone you love how you are on their side , you believe they have the strength to overcome.

It's Working?

It's been about a week of working at my new place of employment. Much has been accomplished but, I'm wondering if I've lost sight of my original goal to be a better mother...I'm sure you seasoned, wiser women read the post about the required duties of a nanny from a man's point of view and saw that it was really a call for a maid. After the first few days that's sort of what I thought too. I was getting quicker at my routine, I have learned how to prioritize my time just right so that I have an hour in the morning to get myself ready-blow dry my hair even-without interruption, dinner is now ready promptly at six unless prior arrangements have been made, I keep up with the laundry and have the dishes done before I go to bed every night. It feels amazing but it has evaporated any time alone with my husband and the time to play with the kids.


The new routine as stated before includes bribery to help the kids accomplish their daily tasks in an hour or less upon waking at eight-two tootsie rolls-one for finishing the list and a second for no complaints. I had one child tell me last Thursday-"I don't even mind doing chores now.". Saturday they were given two hours with their additional work load and one of them required a five minute grace period, the other had challenged himself and was done in just over an hour. I had increased  the prize to be a single snack size candy bar of their choice. They had accompanied me to the store to pick out the treats and were able to drool over them for a couple of days. Only one of them complained-losing the tootsie roll but all three of them finished. And I made it through without raising my voice or having to throw a tantrum. I was so happy the way things went, was it really that easy? Candy and a race against the kitchen timer? We continued the routine Sunday morning but I let them sleep in an extra hour, I think it's important to keep it going everyday if it's going to stick.


My experience with routine is a love hate relationship. I love the way it looks on other people. I try putting one in place with rigidness and lots of complicated agendas just like she does. It lasts as long as I can go without hitting my forehead against the sink, making me cut my bangs. Or I try a more manageable one and it sticks for a couple of weeks, a month maybe and then I go bored out of my mind and I'm back to banging my forehead on something. However, I do have a couple that have stuck for years-my rotation of themed dinner nights throughout the week and the kids chore rotation-that's it. Before now we haven't even enforced a bed time, ever. Now we say bedtime is between ten thirty and eleven. Sleeping until eight still allows for nine hours.


So it has been a positive experience in the afore mentioned ways but I still get frustrated and annoyed with them often throughout the day. I still yell at them to change their clothes because I don't want to be seen with them like that in public, I go to bed without tucking them in-it's more like "go to bed, stay in your room, I'll see you in the morning"- and they can tell that I'm deathly bored almost every time they start sharing something about their latest creation-the one I suggested that they make to whittle away the extra hours of the summer. Wow, how's that for nurturing? So I have a clean house and kids that get up and go to bed at the same time everyday with responsibilities. I know it's not time for a rest and  I feel up to new tasks. I feel like employee of the month, by way of my job description. What's next? Please feel free to leave your suggestions-what would the classified look like for "Mom"?

Please sign on the dotted line

 After eight weeks, we finally had our meeting. My husband and I sat down to discuss the rules. He was not prepared nor was it scheduled as I had originally envisioned. It honestly came after locking myself in my closet where I  punched cardboard boxes full of our winter wardrobe, and screamed just how much I hated my children through tears. I'm sure I looked beautiful. Yes, I was throwing a tantrum fit for a two year old. No, an almost thirty-five year old. I'm almost embarrassed to share this but somewhere someone might be asking "Ok, then what?" Waiting for an answer to her woes. At the moment I was ready to make an entrance back into the world that had made me so fragile in the first place, I called for a meeting. I thought of it as an interview of sorts for both parties. Nothing had been agreed upon as of yet. My bewildered husband (who had taken my place pleading with the kids to get their chores done while Mom " cooled off"), was then asked a very pointed question. "If you were placing an add for a nanny what would it say?" I had caught him off guard, unprepared. I'm so impatient, I just started drilling him, "What would the responsibilities be? Would she be a live-in? Would she have to have her own vehicle to transport the kids?"



I calmed down and then we went over it all in a more rational manner. We decided she would feed them three meals in addition to a healthy after school snack. She would do the laundry, grocery shopping, transport the children to their after school activities, do something educational-interact with the two year old at least part of the day. The hours for summer would be 7am-10pm.  We decided to enforce a new motivating chore system bribing them with a daily treat as long as they are finished within an hour of waking up, which would now be 8am as opposed to the summer custom, between 10am-noon. We also discussed consequences this part is not real clear yet rather a work in progress.



We will have a Sunday planning meeting to look at the family's schedule, to plan meals and my "days off". The plan was two 4-5 hour blocks of freedom. However, just three days into this revamped experiment I think to begin it will be one block for this girl-uninterrupted. I also think we need to rethink the hours on the clock. Fifteen for such meager pay is just not worth it.



We deliberated about different aspects of screen time and agreed on some limits, they were different for summer time versus during the school year. And many other details of our life with five personalities. Personalities we were given to figure out, shape and inspire. It was so refreshing to go over expectations, what was working and what wasn't. It was a DTF (defining of the roles).



Once the conversation ended I said "Thank you for the opportunity. I will think it over." I'm 99% sure in his mind he had imagined a submissive, naughty nanny to beg for the job. We don't always get what we want, do we.



Over the past couple of years I've had the chance to work in a few different settings, with lots of interesting people and encouraging management. I grew and enjoyed the praise I had for learning quickly and having a pleasant personality. This new job of a nanny for five, (count them one, two, three, four, five), is exhausting but I now feel it's clear what tasks I'm expected to complete every day. I will no longer roam the house surveying all that needs to be done, getting overwhelmed and then sitting on the couch with a bag of chocolate chips (which aren't even really candy) and a bag of mini marshmallows, accomplishing absolutely nothing of importance. Getting up and ready before the kids has had an immense impact on the rest of my day. It has also taken a toll on my free time and I'm asleep by 9pm. I recently quit an outside job after a three day stint and have stopped scanning the classifieds for all the jobs I know I could do. After my interview with the CEO here at Cooper Inc., I feel that I am a good candidate for this occupation and the challenges that lie ahead will be interesting and full of variables. I hope I will make a difference in this position and be recognized for my efforts (I'll have to remind him my love language is praise). I think I may even make a career out of this.

For Love or Money

There is something that has always tried to keep me in. In, instead of going out with friends. Actually it didn't start until after I was married but not for the typical reason. It wasn't because my husband was possessive but rather because money had become particularly sparse. Why is it that combining two single people into one household suddenly makes you both strapped for cash? It did not help that my business minded, entrupernral husband chose a commission only job right off the bat! Very scary for me, my parents are both in the education field, and have a modest but steady income. So our dinners out were restricted to the restaurant where I worked part time and got a steep discount.




I already knew the art of living on a tight budget. For most of my teenage years my dad was in college so extra money for my activities was nonexistent. I learned to work and buy my own gas, clothes, hair products. And to pay for my choir tour, admission to movies, football games, and my Senior trip. I had to be certain when money passed through my fingers it was worth it. I was responsible for all my wants. With a check book and ATM card I felt that I had reached adult status. (snicker) College life was the same. I worked part-time to pay for my groceries, long distance phone cards (remember those) and extra curricular activities. I learned to be more resourceful and diligently seek the free happenings around campus.




Unfortunately, things have seemed to be that way my entire life. However, I can recall with clarity when I was pregnant with our third, realizing that even though our family was quickly growing and the income hadn't, we miraculously always had enough.




There was a snippet of time when we had a large sum of money (VERY large from my perspective), after selling our home in California to move to Idaho for double the amount we had paid for it. We had decided that with the real estate market booming we would invest, manage, flip houses or something of that nature. Soon we had ten properties. Then we partnered with some dear friends and started a glass business amongst this very busy time. Not to mention the fact that we had four kids, five years old and under!


You all know the story, the market crashed and so did we. At first it put a wedge in our marriage but we made it through even stronger than we had started. We counseled together to figure out how the hell to get out of this. These meager years felt like they would never let up, give us some relief.


During this sink or swim interval we grew in everyway. Out of necessity, I learned how to extend our grocery budget by making bread, pizza crust, tortillas and even bagels.  One of my best friends and I found ourselves in the same predicament. We would laugh about our destitution and hope to be rescued. I remember her creative juices flowing she came up with a clever idea- saving pb&j sandwich crusts to dry and turn them in to bread crumbs. We grew beautiful gardens. We used all the Red Box codes on every ATM card, hardly ever paying for a movie rental. To have a positive perspective I tried to make a game out of it. A household version of "Survivor".


Finally we came to realize that we were "house poor". Our entire paycheck was going toward our combined first and a second mortgage. (This is not an exaggeration.) We decided to leave the house we had built. The decision to relocate, was comparable to the deepest heartache. It surprised me how much it hurt.





We have slowly learned where to find the balance between penny-pinching and frugal. It was awful  when we were collecting practically no income. I couldn't justify even buying chocolate chips-it was that extreme. We came to realize that we couldn't live like that for very long. It wasn't healthy. So slowly we let up on ourselves and allowed for Tuesday $1.00 movies, some Sunday afternoon drives , and dental floss.




The silver lining is the lesson our children have learned of the value of a dollar. Kylie now a high schooler, has impressed me with her spending and more importantly her saving habits. I have learned many cooking and baking skills, among other things that I wouldn't have had to. Life is not what we thought it was going to be like but, we can embrace it and stretch ourselves and our dollars much further than you might think. The real estate market seems to be on an up swing, invest wisely.

And despite of her bipolar rollercoastering

I have been down desperately trying to get high. Not in all the conventional ways. However, I have to admit I did try a nasty combination of 20 mg of my son's adderall, and two yummy drinks from the Flying J cooler: double shot Starbuck's espresso followed by one of their mochas delish! Let me put that into context I wasn't just trying to stay up to the end of family movie night I was transporting other people's children across state lines. That sounds terrible. Kylie and four of her teammates had attended soccer camp at a nearby college (well six hours away) and I offered to pick them up and drive them home. I never stay awake on family trips leaving the driving and required attentiveness to my husband. I was really anxious about driving at night and luck would have it, we were three hours behind my scheduled start time once we finally packed up, ate dinner and left campus. I had had a mocha on the drive the previous day and it was soooo good, I knew I wanted another but I thought I would need more. Apparently I over estimated by a long shot. About an hour in -I popped his ADHD med. About half way thru we stopped to fill up and get snacks, I bought my cold coffee and started to down the surprisingly sweet shots. Once that was gone I began to sip on the mocha, mmmmm good. I didn't have the patience to let it ride content along side me so I just finished it. The girls were all sleeping and my two year old awoke with a sugar induced nightmare. We coaxed her back to sleep and then I started to feel awake. It was not an obnoxious, wide eyed, let's go cliff jumping feel- I was just alert and my mind was crystal clear. I had Pandora on my phone, one earbud in, the car on cruise control. I was genuinely happy. Singing along to my music each new song a favorite-how do they do it? I felt a bit disappointed when our trek was done around 1:00 am. I took the girls home and then found myself  laying in bed but, unable to sleep. I closed my eyes, snuggled my pillow, let my thoughts drift but sleep would not bless me. I looked longingly at the clock each hour passing made me more frustrated. When I took a moment, I realized -I'm not tired. My husband got ready and went to work. I pulled myself up around 7 and took a long shower. My body felt hungover but my brain was still alert and clear. I did not sleep until after midnight that day. It felt crazy. I NEVER drink coffee nor do I steal my son's prescription pills EVER. I had failed to factor my weight, my tolerance, my reaction before ingesting my elixir. Kind of similar to how I didn't plan on how to afford to raise children, discipline them in all manners, or know what my limits to the number of them would be before we ended up with four, and then five. Anyway, I had never gone for roughly 40 continuous hours without sleep and it took me this entire week to feel better. But we all made it home safely, object accomplished.



This escapade reminded me of Jessica Dodd's comment. She wanted me to share the flip side of restraint give it a positive light. Contrary to popular belief, I don't believe rules are made to be broken, I think they provide an element of safety and even peace of mind.




The interesting thing is how differently we define ourselves. The restrictions we give ourselves, what we deem is right, our own set of rules doesn't need to be compared to the next person. We are all just doing our best to stay sane and grab a little bit if happiness.

So Jess, restraint, a value system, a set of standards provide me with the ability to make decisions before I am even in the situation. Rules keep us from acting on a whim, making decisions based solely on emotion, help us filter ourselves-sometimes. Recently, I've been trying to figure out how to live with the least amount of these rules. I thought that by releasing myself of all the demands I had placed atop my shoulders, I would somehow feel freed. Feel more like my authentic self. In the beginning that was true. Stripping myself of all standards- I found the things I truly believed. And I found that even in the shackles of laws and regulations I was much more comfortable than the way I flailed on my own-swayed by even the faintest of breezes. I had become accustomed to a certain system and it may seem to some that I walk blindly led but what's the harm in that when the outcome is a safe, stable, protected lifestyle. However, following the rules relentlessly for years at a time always brings me to some temporary reckless behavior-it's a cycle with me. So I take a break every now and then to remind myself I am carnal, sensual, human. And that's okay. I've relaxed and know that where I am is not where I will always be.

The point is we need to exercise control. We don't get to have everything our heart desires. We can't leave our children, our husbands, our responsibilities. Sometimes this reality spanks you in the face and you feel completely bound by life. If you dwell on it, the idea that you can't do anything to change your circumstances, your life becomes hell. Hence the idea that you have the power to change your perspective. Think about the future. How much happier will everyone in your circle of influence be if you give your best to the jobs you have-everyone of them- than if you are always squirming hoping to wriggle free of the ropes that hold you to the chair? The ropes are really just there to help you. To keep you grounded and focused on the task at hand, make you finish what you've started. Help you make the right choice. The choice to stay, be the  mom they need, the supportive partner they crave, the strong woman they've come to rely on. In the end you will all benefit far more than having the top down, wind blowing through your hair, sipping margaritas on the beach. So buck up, follow the rules, give it your all and take a break when you feel sick.

Hope I addressed the topic, answered some questions for you Jess. I know I answered mine.