Welcome!

Five years after I started my first blog, Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child, I decided it is time for change.

At Ramblings, I did a lot of shadow-boxing, working through multiple depressions, role strain, and many other quarter-life crisis topics.  I also chronicled some sweet memories of my two older kiddos, so it wasn't all bad ;)

I identified myself as being the odd man out - hence the whole red-headed step-child beat - but at some point, I began to feel as if that put a chip on my shoulder, that I was playing victim to my circumstances.

This new blog is to pay homage to the fact that life happens.  And rarely according to plan, particularly ours.  I believe that God has a plan for us all, though, and sometimes that means stops, yields and complete detours on the paths we set out upon in order to remain in accordance with His will.

Also of note?  This idea that we have to be the finished product, that we have to have it all in order, in a word - perfect - before we can go on into life is pretty much....uh, false.  Life is in the journey and not so much the destination!  So quit echoing your kids' "Are we there yet"s and stop worrying about whether you're a perfect housewife/personal finance manager/cook, etc.  Enjoy the ride and know that you will arrive at your [un]intended destination when you're supposed to.  Just remember to listen to the 'On-Star' of your life: God, and you'll navigate just fine.

So - there you have it.  This is a life blog - no mommy blog, food blog, etc. niche to fill.  So the things that happen and make life memorable will all play a part (and yes, that does mean the occasional recipe!) in the posts here.  I hope you'll follow along with me.

Oh, the things I've NOT been doing!

It has been awhile, dear readers, since I've had much NMM fodder...but this weekend the past 2 weeks?  FULL of it.  (For those of you who are ignorant to how NMM works, click the button!)

I absolutely did NOT, after a full day of Screech's incessant and ear-piercing, uh, screeches, find myself an incoherent, brain fogged mama.  And I did NOT decide to pack us both into the car a little after 2, hoping a change in scenery would jolt his temperament back to the peaceable one he used to bless us with, only to find the clock, glaring 2:15 at me.  And, because glares are seen and not heard, I did NOT seem to hear the aforementioned glare hissing tick-tocks at me, accusingly.  I did NOT have to mumble to myself, "2:15, why is that sticking in my mind like a bad idea?" repeatedly, and I most certainly did NOT panic when it suddenly came crashing into my consciousness that Middleton's OM team was doing  a dress rehearsal of their problem in front of the school at their assembly and he'd told me their curtain time was 2:10.  I did NOT utter a swear that starts with S, because such language is absolutely NOT a residual struggle of my childhood influences for me.  I did NOT gun it straight to the school and did NOT feel a flood of relief upon seeing that the assembly was only just beginning.  You see, since I was NOT actually late, none of that earlier stuff mattered.  I made it to see my special little guy perform, and he was none the wiser!  Phew.....

I did NOT freak out when Special Ks birthday cake (yes the party was almost 2 weeks after her birthday, thank you to the Over-Scheduled School-Aged Children stage in life) failed to rise, instead sinking into layers with miserably gnarled topography.  Said cake's failure to rise was NOT due to my stubborn inability to drop the SuperMom attempt at creating memories that really wouldn't be all that different had I made a cake mix that I knew would turn out reliably.  Because I do NOT have any motherhood issues...at.  all.  I did NOT attempt to fix the cake's lopsided layers by strategically placing the low ends atop the high ones, nor did I try to level them with obscene amounts of frosting.  Nope, the cake turned out perfectly, if I say so myself...picture evidence is not so easily shared....it's on my FB acct and my Droid and has not been uploaded to my lappy.

I also did NOT lose my running shape this summer, dropping from a 6 mile avg run, 3+x/wk, to a less than 3 mile avg run, 1-2x/wk.  Because I'm harder-core than that!  I did NOT, therefore, entertain* the idea of running the Sharin' o' the Green 5k last week because it was 1.) Just hours immediately preceding K's bday party and 2.) a stretch, given my current lack of running.  *Entertain = go to the online registration for the race, only to abandon the thought prior to hitting submit....or maybe you actually do hit submit and subsequently talk yourself out of it, forgetting you had hit submit.  Uh, yeah...  My memory is shot, y'all!  Because, 1.) I, again, have NO issues with needing to prove myself, and therfore feel NO need to put myself in such an overcommitted frenzy that only SuperMom can master, and 2.) well, let's just say I know my limits.  Because I was NOT so silly to register for this race, I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning.  And failed to hydrate.  Then, mere hours later, I did NOT chug some water, put my running duds on and get the dog all excited, grab my phone (b/c I cannot live without my iMapmyrun app!) only to find an e-mail from Active.com wishing me luck at my race just before I set out the door.  I did NOT frantically run upstairs to rouse Mr. Fixit and tell him, "Uh, I guess I did register for that race and I gotta leave NOW!"  I did NOT speed to the race site only to get there when registration check-in was supposed to close, and I certainly did NOT revisit my unwholesome talk when I couldn't find a parking space.  I was NOT simultaneously Relieved (ah! not LATE) and Frustrated (I'm gonna have to jet back for the party!) that registration was running 15 minutes behind schedule.  I did NOT have to walk for approximately 3 mins after 2.5 miles, because I'm In Such Great Shape I've Run A 10k Before!  And I did NOT lose the full-on sprint to the finish line from the last corner to a woman who had a good 15 years on me, but most certainly, I did NOT puke seconds after crossing the finishing line when I began to put the brakes on.  I mean, heck if I ran a 5k in a sub20 time, then I'm entitled to puke, but 37 minutes was not really puke-worthy...it wasn't even a PR for me.  I did NOT walk immediately to my car, arrive home, and proceed to rapidly sponge bathe, apply deodorant and change clothes only to get everything gathered up for the b'day festivities, arriving at the party less than 40 minutes after crossing the finish line.  Because that would require SuperMom.  And I?  Am so NOT her.  But maybe I am, sometimes.

I did NOT forget that the Mother's Day Out program Screech has been going to when I work was closed for the Neighboring School District's spring break (which is different from our school district's spring break and therefore, not on my radar) last Tuesday.  Therefore, I did NOT get all ready to go, drive down there, only to see it was a ghost-town and be slapped with the realization that I'd Failed To Plan.  I did NOT go to my contracted agency's office with baby in tow whilst he slept.  And he did NOT wake up while I was trying to transfer files, and proceed to cry while other people may have been in therapy.  That will NEVER happen again.  Ugh....

So....per Almond Joy and Mounds, somedays you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.  Lately, I'm on a nutty streak.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

A Synopsis...of Sorts

Sort of in that I just don't do short stories all that well, right?

So....

This week I had an assignment for my class to:

1. Interview the finance person for a non-profit/government/healthcare organization; and
2. Get them to reveal their most pressing financial challenge for the coming year[s] to me; and
3. Write a BRIEF (one order of Heather's Kryptonite coming right up!) memo to the instructor detailing said organization and their respective challenge, as well as my 'penetrating analysis, offering sage advice."

Because either the instructor didn't get the memo that we are all students, many of whom have never had direct financial management experience outside of casa del :insert last name here:, or he uses sage advice with license looser than the tooth my daughter refuses to just. pull. out. already!

I digress...as usual.

Anyway, the caveat was that we were to pick complex situations, and organizations for whom we didn't currently work.  Hmmm....Well, he didn't say we couldn't pick an organization for which we used to work, so I shot off an e-mail to the CFO of the organization that hired me fresh out of college some 9 years ago.

Dear CFO dude who used to really intimidate my 22 year old self with both his physical stature and his intellectual command of numbers,
Hi!  Remember me?

I really hoped he didn't actually remember me, as in actually working together with me, because I was really young, green, and well, I shot my mouth off at him on my last day.  To my credit, he was being a jerk at the time and I was later praised by others for my boldness.  Perhaps he remembered me for my work with the homeless count, or other such community presence.

Blah, blah, blah - hey, I'm doing an assignment for grad school, and could you do me a favor by interviewing with me? 

His response was, yes of course he remembered me, yes, he'd love to help me out, yada yada, bada bing, we set a date and time.

The other day I set out to interview him and as we reacquainted ourselves, he pretty much told me that I'd left a good name with the agency and if I'd like to help them out with some grant-writing while their development director was out on maternity leave, they'd love to have my help.  Remember when I said that whole deal about breaking the nets?  Yeah!

Then we get down to business.

Except he paints this totally rosy picture for me about the agency's fiscal outlook.  Bottom line is that legislation being implemented re: Medicaid eligibility, not to mention the impact of our craptastic economy, has increased the number of folks eligible for their services, and since that is the bulk of their budget - business was booming.

We talk a few other details and I get kind of stuck.

I say, wrinkling my nose in quiet frustration, "Well.....the assignment was for me to identify your challenges and then," I go into air-quote mode, "offer my 'sage advice' on what to do to address those challenges.  But it seems like you guys have already had your challenging years and are now rebuilding.  Hmmm..."

He says, "Yeah....I might challenge you to talk to another non-profit and compare and contrast...."

I look at him and tap my pen on my notepad a few seconds.

Something clicks.

"So, you basically have said that due to the bad economic conditions more people are becoming Medicaid-eligible, due in part to unemployment or under-employment, and that has benefited you.  What happens when the economy rebounds, and those consumers who came to you in their unemployment find new jobs, with insurance, and say, you're not in the insurance's network so they leave?  What do you do then, I mean it seems like you might be in a 'bubble' like the housing market was in, right?"

He looks at me and smiles, in concession.  "You," he says pointing at me, "You always were a pain in my side with your questions, weren't you?"  And it seems like some of the memories of my days with him are returning.  He clarifies, "I mean that in a good way, ya know?  It means you're smart, and that's good - really good.  But for someone like me, it is SO ANNOYING!"  He laughs and nods his head.  "That right there, that's our biggest challenge over the next five years.  Bing-O."  It was such a fraternal way of paying a high compliment - and with the earlier job offer, I was practically floating on the clouds!

I smile and tell him, "See, I can make this assignment work after all - just had to dig a bit!"

We talked some more and wrapped up.  Then he took me to meet the development staff person who wasn't on maternity leave - whom I actually worked with, albeit only via e-mail, while I was at the city.  Then he told on her that she had once confided in her co-worker that CFO Dude really intimidated her too and that she didn't like to work with him!  We laughed and talked some more and I really began to see CFO dude in a new light, one that made him look less like a bogeyman who could chew me up and spit me out.

Then, he asked Development #2 if she could take me to the clubhouse (a vocational rehab site for the consumers) and give me a tour, which she did.  It was amazing and I was truly proud to have had some affiliation with such a meaningful organization.

And, cut!  This is so long, and yet it has virtually none of the she-said-and-then-I-said details that my hubby and friends got to hear - thus, I stand by my title.
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday Fragments + FREE!

* It only took me a year, but I finally landed my first review/giveaway gig.  Please click over to my first ever giveaway post and enter to win a free natural lip balm!

* This morning Screech spilled my coffee on my laptop.  I was horrified.  I've already been having problems with the memory (needed a BIOS update, but not sure that was all as it was acting up again this week), and if I lose my stuff, there goes my business!  Thankfully most of my stuff is accessible via my e-mail.  Note to self: invest in external hard drive.  Now I'm en route to a computer repair shop to get it fixed.  I love my children, love them, love them, love them!

* Parent teacher conferences + President's day = 5 days in a row of all 3 kids, sans break.  Pray for me

* Parent Teacher Conferences revealed that my kids are doing great academically, but Middleton is.... "I wouldn't say de-FIIIIIIIII-ant per se...." said his teacher, "but there's something there."  To which I said, yes, and it has been going on for some time (within weeks of his birthday - which was in July - he began acting like a moody little teenage girl and Mr. Fixit has since been known to say, "That boy needs a Midol!") and it seems like he's taking on a victim mentality where it is Certainly Not My Fault and Life's No Fair all the time.  We're working on it.  And Special K has had some run in with the whole Queen Bee/Wannabe dynamic it would appear. 

Stream of Consciousness

I hate getting behind.  But last week Special K and Middleton were out of school for not one, but two non-snow snow days.  The weather was below zero with wind-chill, but the roads were clear and not hazardous in our area with very little actual snow, so I didn't really get why they got two days off, seeing as it IS Colorado and things do get cold from time to time, but hey, whatever, right?  We mostly did alright, with little to no altercations, save for the incessant undoings of anything I attempted to do domestically, which then resulted in subsequent RE-doings to the power of x, x being that mysterious value of "you will never get anything accomplished today, bahahaha!"  Quality time with the kids, good.  Falling behind in laundry, housework, my Finance Mgt for Non-Profits class, and life in general: Bad....very bad.  I'm digging out.  Slowly.  Obscene amounts of caffeine are predicted in the forecast.

Mr. Fixit and I had a date night on Friday.  The first since.....our anniversary???  Which would have been July.  Sad, I know.  It was GLORIOUS.  My BIL and his wife had given us a gift card to The Outback for Christmas, and some friends had graced us with a gift card to the movie theater, also for Christmas.  Last month, after a snow storm during which Mr. Fixit had done his usual neighborhood snow-blowing, I came home to a note on the door from our neighbor which had a gift card in it - also for the Outback!  We had a friend's daughter come sit our kids since she is saving money for a missions trip this summer (also - tangential side note....14 years ago, if someone would have told my 18 year old self that the then toddler with the cute blonde hair and brown eyes would be babysitting my own children - kids, me? and plural no less? - in what would seem like a blink, I would have laughed at them maniacally).  So we ate at Outback in conversation that was blissfully absent of whining, pinching, or some other activity warranting parental intervention, and then went to see 127 Hours.  It was a good movie.  But, I was unprepared to be hit with torrential emotions as I seem to have drawn some keen parallels between Aron Ralston's plight with that of my own glance at mortality nearly two years ago.  Vastly different settings and details, but that familiar roller coaster of hope and despair, coupled with a mutually experienced, primal, and determined will to survive, left me shaking in my seat as the credits rolled, hands fanned out in a vee and my thumbs attempting to dam the tears.  PTSD's adrenaline had been coursing through me, unbeknownst, and culminated at the scene where he finally knew he was going to make it, for reals, as the helicopter hovered over him....at first just a few tears flowed down, but then I was sobbing and shuddering, borne of something extremely similar to that very potent cocktail of joy and adrenaline one experiences moments after giving birth.  *sigh*  life is good, eh?

I got my first paycheck as a free-lancing, independent contracting, non-profit consultant on Saturday!  And I now have me a fancy-pants business account with a registered trade-name and DBA and everything.  I'm so excited about what the future holds for this endeavor and just know that 2011 is going to be a great year for us.

I don't remember how I landed on this article about extended nursing awhile back, but I swear, it rings so true to my life, particularly this part:

...They are his breasts now. He strokes them lovingly through my shirt and cups them with his palms. He blows raspberries on them and giggles. He nurses in a toddler variation of Downward Facing Dog while simultaneously thumbing the pages of Goodnight Moon. He slaps my chest with both hands and shouts....

I don't know that I'm as embarrassed as the author of the article says she was re: Screech's extended nursing, but we've definitely cut out nursing in public at this point not because I worry about what other people will think, but 1.) his acrobatics are mutually exclusive with any attempts for modesty, which is MY preference, and 2.) there has to be some sort of balance around teaching him boundaries, no?  I still enjoy the quiet moments, the cuddles.  Though it did a number on my body's balance of supply/demand, I had incredible peace of mind when he had 2 GI bugs back to back because I knew through nursing he was getting nourishment as he simply would not eat any food or drink other liquids.  But there are times, like Saturday night in bed, when I get tired of always having an unwieldy toddler stretching my breast into positions once filed in the erstwhile mental category of  "humanly impossible."

French's yellow mustard has something going on.  Special K is something of an anomaly for kids when it comes to her tastes in sandwich spreads - that is, she is a mustard and lunchmeat only kinda gal.    Same goes for burgers, hot dogs, and other condiment-requiring foods.  She'd do great in TX, no?  Last week at the International Festival, Middleton just about popped a gasket b/c the mustard at the concessions stand, French's yellow, was too spicy.  I tasted it, and sure enough, it had the vinegary twang of yellow mustard but the heat of the hottests of Chinese mustards.  I assumed it was an isolated incident.  Until today when I was making lunches and Special K insisted that I NOT use the mustard I used yesterday because it burned.  Sure enough, the brand new bottle I bought was not the same taste we've relied on for years.

Well...this has been days of SoC writing, best to hit publish and get to work.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

So, How's it Feel to be Jealous of a Muppet?

Sidenote: I decided to return to using nicknames for my family members...I just like the whimsy it lends to my stories.

Today was a rare day that Mr. Fixit was home with me, without one of us being deathly sick.  He'd worked Saturday and was beat.

So, because we are old and boring anymore, and because we still had little Screech with us and thus could not just spend the day in wild abandon with each other, we set out on some errands, and the promise of a quiet brunch, together.

First, we went to get Screech caught up on his vaccinations.  Let it be noted that I am NOT one of those moms who thinks that vaccinations are bad, mmkay?, nor have I EVER let my kids get off schedule with their immunizations before, but Screech kept getting sick whenever I had the idea to get him in (and vaccinations during suppressed immune functions ARE bad) and the universe only just now aligned for him to get his 18 mos appointment stuff done.  3 months late.  Anyway, so we got that done.  I do hold vaccinations in poor regard just because of having to reckon with seeing my little ones in pain and anguish, especially when they are wearing that betrayed look on their face of "Mother!!  What in Hades are you letting this wretched nurse do to me?  LETTING her?!?  I thought you loved me!"  Of course, less than 5 minutes later, all was forgiven, I think....

Then we moseyed along, cautiously, as the then-light dusting of snow that looked harmless was quickly turning into black ice with a skiff of the white stuff atop it and accidents were popping up all around us, to Target, where we were hoping to acquire a new backpack for Special K since hers had long since decided to abandon any semblance of functional zippers.  Turns out?  Backpacks with any quality to their design are not so affordable these days.  I mean, we were talking minimum of $30 for packs that were still pretty flimsy!  So after a lot of hemming and hawing, Mr. Fixit and I just decided that we'd let Special K use my Swiss Gear daypack for her use.  Because we are all about the practical on the cheap.  We laughed at ourselves after that as we'd just spent an hour of our time shopping for something only to leave empty handed.

Next stop, Sam's Club.  For the purpose of scouting out truck tires - a purchase that is inevitably coming up the pike but I keep wanting to put off.  Truck tires are EX.PEN.SIVE!!!!  We priced things out, taking mental notes as Mr. Fixit said he would do some online research and compare costs at home.  We found some really nice Osh Kosh winter coats for $5.33 - which was 50% less what I paid for Screech's USED coat from Once Upon a Child this season!  So we got one for Screech to sock away for next winter (wish they would've had sizes big enough for Middleton and Special K, but alas! no such luck), grabbed a giant tub of parmesan cheese and went to the check out.

Wouldn't you know it that it was one of those mornings where all of the checkout aisles not only had some serious lines, but it was like time was suspended for all of them as various price checks and other obstacles stalled them out.  While we waited, I people watched.

And grew increasingly self-conscious of the fact that, while I had showered before we left (since I'd pleaded to get one in before we headed out, on the grounds that showers are NOT guaranteed for SAHM's, and especially newly WAHM's, with toddlers, and I SO needed one), I had not styled my hair after blow-drying it, applied any makeup and was wearing my frumpy clothes thanks to it being my bloated week of the month. Normally, I don't care about that kind of thing - normally, I am confident enough to wear no makeup into the workplace, knowing that the only time I need to take the effort is when I want to.  But today was an anomaly.

There were fit, perfectly made up, beautifully dressed, well coiffed women in abundance this morning.

Well, I have an anti-poker face, in that whatever is going on inside my head is totally apparent to even the newest of acquaintances.

Mr. Fixit noticed and asked me what was up with the frownies.

I told him that I was feeling a bit below average in comparison to those around us, leaning my head toward the gal in designer jeans and boots ahead of me.  She was dainty and petite in frame, naturally olive in complexion with perfectly highlighted platinum locks and had a structural beauty to her face with prominent cheekbones and pouty, collagen-filled lips.  Minus the boobs, she looked, to me, like Pamela Anderson.

Source: Life.com

Mr. Fixit immediately quipped, albeit in a hushed tone so that only I could hear him, "You mean her, the one that looks like the chick from the Dark Crystal??  She looks like a damned Muppet, Heather!"

Source: Henson.com

No sooner did he say that than I was able to see the uncanny resemblance.

And couldn't stifle the ridculousness of my up-til-then feelings of inferiority.

Nice to be reminded that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder - and so much nicer still that my beloved's eyes are so discerning.

Hello, Right Hand? Meet Left Hand, and Please Take Heed of What the other is Doing

I've been dreading this week....

Particularly because my inner Grover insists there's a monster at the end of it.  Particularly on Saturday.

It's a scheduling cluster#@$%, erm, nightmare.

Kelsey's Girl Scouts troupe has been working very hard on their display on Korea that will be part of the annual International Festival.  Kelsey digs learning about new cultures and ethnicities.  A lot.  Earlier in the month I was planning out my calendar, and at some point I had a jotted a note reading:

So I got about it and lo!  The Girl Scout Council of our town had scheduled the International Festival on January 29th.

But wait, Kelsey had another commitment on the 29th.  As in, my little Special K (my newest nickname for her!) had earned herself a place in the district spelling bee after kicking some booty in the school bee.

Now, some of you know that in my former career, I was something of an executive scheduler, and as such, am a little O-to-the-C-to-the-D when it comes to those pesky little things called details...so, when organizations that work with school-age children schedule major events fail to consult the academic calendars, respective to the population they serve, it grates on my nerves much like the waitstaff at the Olive Garden manage to do with the parmigiano.  Because clearly nothing says, "We're training your girls up to be short-sighted leaders - but it will be meaningful and fun along the way!" than a myopic planning maneuver such as this.  Oh, the other pet peeve is that our town's IF is not listed on the Events Planner portion of the GS COLORADO website, but the neighboring town's is listed as if it is the only one for our region, in February....seriously, these people need some admin skillz!

So there was my visceral reaction - but then Kelsey's was somewhat heartbreaking.  She quickly melted down into her woebegone state that is fairly common anytime anything deviates AT.ALL  from how she expected things to be (I feel for my future son-in-law, how I feel for him and pray for a gentle, long-suffering soul to step into that future role!).  Then she said, "Well, then I just won't do the spelling bee - I'll do the International Festival instead!"

At this point, the tiger mom in me - who normally pushes the snooze button and stays in hibernation as long as possible - came out and said, "No ma'am.  You most certainly are not going to forsake an academic activity for some fluffy little foreign fair.  You're going to spell like a champ, like it or not.  This is not the first time you'll have to make a decision in a conflict, so put on your big girl panties and suck it up, buttercup."  Because I have principles, and academics are important in them.  So are actual leadership/service learning opportunities - if they were going to help out at Habitat for Humanity that Saturday, I'd have probably let her skip the spelling bee.  But to forsake it just to go hang out with a group of girls, many of them the mean girl types at that, gabbing about Bieber and Taylor Swift and what clothes are in while they go and participate in a Cliff Notes version of world travel?  Nah.....

So....after that it stood that our weekend schedule would look like this:
Saturday:
Leave the house at 7:00 am in order to get from our northern-most district home to the southern-most district school by 7:30
7:30 - check-in at the spelling bee
8:00 - 9:30 Wait as Kelsey completes the written spelling bee exam - if she makes the cut, then we go on to oral round at 10:00
10:00-noon - Oral Round .... OR if she gets cut, make a mad dash to the other side of town and get her to the IF

Meanwhile, I will have both of the boys because Seth was informed at the beginning of the month that this was his Saturday to work.

And I'm on deadline for some grantwriting.

And holy cow am I realizing just how diligent I have to be with the time management trying to get this all done....

Also?  You extracurricular people who can't plan to save your life are putting a big rain cloud on my parade!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Oh Snap!!

Today an old HS friend emailed me with some questions about changing up blog templates, code and what have you...

I told her I knew some, but really just enough to be dangerous.

And then I got a hankering to finish the attempts I'd made at customizing this template's header - which I did and am very pleased with the results.

However....

In doing so, I completely wiped out my blogrolls!

And my memory really fails me when it comes to remembering stuff that is automated (and I'm kind of old fashioned and still click through to people's sites instead of reading a feed :gasp:).

So, if you're not already on here and would like to be, please leave your url in a comment.

Thanks!

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Resorting to the Bottle

This winter has zapped me of a certain joie di vivre...

While the sun is visiting more tropical elsewheres, oft-sunny Colorado has had to suffer through a dulled down version of its usually radiant natural beauty.  Even in winter, we usually have crystal blues and bright whites to lure us into venturing outdoors, despite the cold.  But not this winter.

Skies blanketed with clouds cast a sallow film onto the already scarce daylight.  Coupled with the bitter cold January has brought with it, and the winds, the infernal winds!, this muted experience has resulted in my hermit-like (for me, that is) retreat to the indoors, making the days long and weary.

Then there are the voices of doubt.  Those that question me frequently enough that I question my reality.

These things have got me hankering for a bit of liquid courage.

Something to drown out the voices and make the day shine a little bit more.

Help me find a little bit of comfort and spice.

Oh, wait, before you go all Intervention on me, let me clarify:

I'm not talking about Smirnoff, merlot, or Coors.

No, behold; the bottle of which I speak:

You see, with me staying increasingly indoors, the afore mentioned sallowness and muted colors have not only applied to the scenery outdoors, but to my hair as well.  Just as a blonde's hair dulls up in the winter, so does mine lose some (though certainly not all) of the coppery undertones.

The voices?  Only the frequent commenters who inquire as to where my son(s) gets his red hair from, while I (and often Seth too, with his red beard) am standing right there!

So....after a long period on the non-hair-coloring wagon (nothing has touched my hair since the highlights I did when Christopher was a newborn), I've fallen off in hopes of escaping the reality of this situation.

And I likey.

Disclaimer:  both pictures are in the same crappily lit room, my bathroom, for equal opportunity purposes.  No make-up is being worn in either picture, so please brace yourselves for what you are about to see.  My face is noticeably redder in the second picture only because I exfoliated while in the shower in which I washed out my hair; the new color does not make my skin look like that!  Finally, picture quality is not great, but it's what I've got.

Before

After

I think this was just the mid-winter pick-me-up  that I needed.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Metaphorical Fish

Last week I was something of a mess.  To say the least.  


But you know me....I don't do the whole minimalist thing, right?  


Sooooooooooooo.....about last week...


Our family was recovering from what is now being referred to as the 2010 Year-End Pukefest, a quaint little GI bug that tore through EVERY family member with a vengeance for almost a whole week.  The laundry was epic, taunting me to the point of overwhelmed tears.  My wee baby boy, Mr. >5th %ile for Weight, didn't eat, save for breastmilk, for a whole week, turning his already scrawny form into downright gaunt...and that is not just a hypersensitive mama growing paranoid, this is a noticeable weight loss that caused comments from others.  Yeah, that helped too.


The older kids went back to school, and though the officially dreaded re-entry day was smooth, the subsequent ones were not.  As in I completely lost my cool with Kelsey, in one of her horribly defiant I-will-NOT-go-to-my-room-even-if-it-is-more-for-you-to-cool-down-than-it-is-for-me-to-be-in-trouble moments, and while it didn't escalate physically, it prompted Colton to retrieve the phone and inform me he was dialing 911 because he was so scared.  Well.  If that's not enough to deflate the hot air running the anger balloon and cause it to create a heaping pile of GUILT I don't know what will do it for ya....


And then, as we had been healthy for mere days and just in time for the weekend :read: Urgent Care, Christopher began to cough.  And run intermittent fevers.  During which time he became attached to my hip, or breasts as the still-nursing case may be, and any separation to said appendages was cause for marathon meltdowns.  And the non-eating resumed.  A myriad of PTSD-like emotions, due to the coughing and intermittent fevers triggering memories of my own hellish journey, legitimate maternal worry, and battle fatigue set in.


The low-grade, ambient stress regarding my potential return to work gnawed at me as a big cloud of UNKNOWN loomed over me.  I can deal with a lot of things, but UNKNOWN is akin to Alice's Jabberwocky: a formidable foe that initially scares the muchness out of me.  Eventually, I can get to a point where I can slay the UNKNOWN as Alice totally made the Jabberwocky her b!t*#, but as of last week, I was still in the "Oh, hells no!" phase regarding defeating the UNKNOWN.  As such, it was kicking my booty.  Not to mention the fact that after I'd submitted my application, I got a response from a local non-profit re: a grant consulting proposal I'd sent them.  Their response was yes, they would like me to contract with them on an on-going basis.  So then I was torn between was that the right thing and I was abandoning that, testing God, in favor of the higher-paying, more family-time sacrificing job at the city?  Mother guilt X the UNKNOWN = WRECK


It was no surprise then, that I cried at the drop of a hat over E.V.E.R.Y thing.  Movies.  TV shows [that I'd already seen!].  Songs.  Intonation in my child's voice surely meant that I was a failure at everything.  And was so irritable with Seth that super stoopid things became grounds for verbal grudge matches.  


Not pretty, right?


Monday, I took Chris to the doctor.  Diagnosis: double ear infection and croup - not killer pneumonia as my paranoia had tried to persuade me.  Easily fixed with some time and medication.


Then, I called the HR department at the city, and anonymously inquired as to where they were in the hiring process for The Position.


"Oh, well, they've already interviewed and I think they've got a person in mind now.  Thanks for your interest."


My first instinct was self-defeating, that maybe-I-did-something-so-wrong-that-it-negated-all-the-previously-glowing-commentary-from-my-former-boss thing - serious self-doubt, ya know?  I mean, they didn't even call me for an interview!  That lasted for maybe 5 seconds though.


And then...


You asked Me for a roadblock if it wasn't where I wanted you right now.  You told me MY will and not yours, remember?


Ok, God.  I get that.  And yes, things DO happen for a reason, and so I will trust that.  In the meantime, could You shed some light on this for me?  Clarify just where we're going with this whole exercise?  I mean, uh, the money has to come from somewhere right?  And it's, uh, not there.  So, while we're on this whole 'you said' schtick, might I remind You that You said  You had 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,' so, don't forget that, mmm-kay?  Thanks.


Sidenote - I know that kind of prayer seems irreverent to some, and for you I will apologize.  My intent is not to offend - I just think that God wants my heart, my real heart and not some Pope-ish, rote acceptance of the things that don't quite seem fair or clear.  So we are real with each other like that.


Yesterday was good.

Today I went to a non-profit networking meeting and it felt good.  A peace that things would fall into place covered me.  A few people inquired about my consulting services and asked me to follow up with them.

Tonight I got a voice mail, informing me of a key opportunity with which to substantially expand my [from-home] grant-writing business.  All through church I kept feeling goosebumps.  That phone call that quieted that small, albeit powerful, voice of self-doubt I heard the other day.  When I followed up on it and spoke to the person who'd called me, I was buzzing with gratitude my Heavenly Father for the very real potential that lay before me.

In early December, I was about to give up on the consulting endeavor, as I hadn't managed to get many bites.

I'm reminded of a story in Luke Ch. 5:

One day as Jesus was preaching on the shore of the Sea of Galilee,^[a]great crowds pressed in on him to listen to the word of God. ² He noticed two empty boats at the water’s edge, for the fishermen had left them and were washing their nets. ³ Stepping into one of the boats, Jesus asked Simon,^[b]its owner, to push it out into the water. So he sat in the boat and taught the crowds from there. 

 ⁴ When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Now, go out where it is deeper, and let down your nets to catch some fish.”

 ⁵ “Master,” Simon replied, “we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But, if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.”

⁶ And this time their nets were so full of fish they began to tear! ⁷ A shout for help brought their partners in the other boat, and soon both boats were filled with fish and on the verge of sinking.

 ⁸ When Simon Peter realized what had happened, he fell to his knees before Jesus and said, “Oh, Lord, please leave me—I’m too much of a sinner to be around you.” ⁹ For he was awestruck by the number of fish they had caught, as were the others with him. ¹⁰His partners, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were also amazed.

Jesus replied to Simon, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people!” ¹¹ And as soon as they landed, they left everything and followed Jesus.

This year is going to be a deep-water year, I have a feeling.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I Didn't Wanna Do It

I'm not much for the so called genre known as Chick Lit, nor do I find myself drawn towards the books Oprah has endorsed as worthy for her club.

As such, Eat Pray Love held no real appeal to me, with the whole premise of glob-trotting to find oneself being completely irrelevant (and impractical) to my life - I didn't feel a connection would be made.  And I didn't see that it fit in with my values, seeing as its plot hinges upon the dissolution of a marriage - apparently for little compelling reason, other than the oft-cited, self-indulgent "I fell out of love."  That whole vein of thinking is a selfish cop-out to me, being that I've fallen out of love with my own husband about as many times as I've fallen in love with him over the years, and where would we be if I'd been so selfish to call it quits on those grounds alone?

Lately, I've been in a funk though, and found myself craving something inspirational, if not just a couple hours of thought-provocation.  So I added Eat Pray Love, the movie, to my Netflix queue.

And promptly fell in love with it.  So much so, that I now want to read the book.

Oh, Julia Roberts' character, Elizabeth Gilbert, struck me as selfish alright - but lately, I have seen myself in that light, too.  It was nice to be able to project my frustrations with myself onto someone else for a couple hours for a change.

Some of the more new age-y concepts of God didn't align with mine - particularly that of God dwelling within you...as you.  Theological tangent in 3..2..1: I agree that God dwells within those who choose Him and commit to Him, that's called the Holy Spirit - and I even agree with Gilbert's assertion (below) inasmuch that God lives in any of us, despite our tempers, our ambitions, emotions, etc., but God does not conform to us by living in us, as us, nor does He conform us all into the same type of Stepford-like person.  Instead He transforms us into beings that are closer to Him and His will, as he takes up residence in our diverse, as He intentionally created them to be, souls and personalities.

God's not interested in watching a performance of how a 'spiritual' person looks and behaves. The quiet girl who glides silently through the place with a gentle, ethereal smile...who is that person? It's Ingrid Bergman in "The Bells of St. Mary's" – not me.

That does ring true...I certainly don't think that Mary Magdalene and a bunch of ignorant fishers, some with tempers, were the quiet, spiritual types with ethereal smiles, speaking "Peace be with you," to passersby - and yet, these are the types among whom Jesus chose to dwell.  God wanted them, and He wants me, as me, and you too.

So, overall?  I found some nuggets of wisdom and inspiration that I'm that surprisingly resonated with me.

A friend took me to the most amazing place the other day. It's called the Augusteum. Octavian Augustus built it to house his remains. When the barbarians came they trashed it a long with everything else. The great Augustus, Rome's first true great emperor. How could he have imagined that Rome, the whole world as far as he was concerned, would be in ruins. It's one of the quietest, loneliest places in Rome. The city has grown up around it over the centuries. It feels like a precious wound, a heartbreak you won't let go of because it hurts too good. We all want things to stay the same. Settle for living in misery because we're afraid of change, of things crumbling to ruins. Then I looked at around to this place, at the chaos it has endured - the way it has been adapted, burned, pillaged and found a way to build itself back up again. And I was reassured, maybe my life hasn't been so chaotic, it's just the world that is, and the real trap is getting attached to any of it. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.

This made me think of the whole beauty for ashes passage in Scripture, and comforted me, particularly the thought about getting too attached to the events of life.

The largest nugget, though, would be the Quest Physics conclusion, emphasis mine:

In the end, I've come to believe in something I call "The Physics of the Quest." A force in nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity. The rule of Quest Physics goes something like this: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments, and set out on a truth-seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared, most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you. 

Again, as a Christian, I see this through a bit of a different, albeit complimentary, lens.  Mainly, I feel  the Truth Gilbert speaks of is none other than Jesus, but all the same I see a parallel in this quest physics theorem with the whole spiel that He gave about us denying ourselves, taking up our crosses and following Him.  In doing such, I believe that one of the biggest crosses we have to bear is that of the blinds we wear regarding our innermost workings – that unless we look long and hard at ourselves and take an honest inventory and repent of those things counter to what God has in mind for us, unless we take up that cross, all the other ones we may carry, our jobs, roles and relationships, etc., are in vain.  It’s kind of like in The Power of a Praying Wife, when Stormie Omartian realizes that the ‘Father, change him’ prayer is far less important than that of ‘Father, change me.’  But, it’s not all blame and shame for the self – as Gilbert states, once we see the difficult realities about ourselves, we.  must.  move.  ON!  lest we simply want to pick that sucker [cross] up and just stand there with it.  We gotta follow the Leader, and to do so, we have to want to be different and follow the trail He’s blazing, not the one we’ve trod on forever, comfortably.

For myself, I’ve been in limbo lately re: the whole working versus staying at home conundrum as a result of the recent job opportunity.  [should hear something late next week or early the following week]. 

On the one hand, I’ve seen some things flourish in the time that I’ve been at home that I’m afraid to let go of, should I get the go-ahead from God (right now our prayer is – God, we *think* this was a sign from you, but if it is not, please prohibit it from happening – if it is, let there be incredible peace and green lights all the way).  Like Elizabeth Gilbert’s quest for balance, I desperately sought to improve my family dynamics when I embarked on this journey.  But, also like Gilbert, in doing so I eradicated anything in my life that I thought would distract me from my quest.  I quit volunteering in the non-profit community; I turned down opportunities to speak and participate in homeless programming panels under the guise of not having childcare and/or still needing to recover from my illness; I’ve flaked on countless friends and family and insulated myself to where I’ve focused all my energies into my family.  As Gilbert became the woman who couldn't possibly risk her newfound self by loving a man, I’ve become that martyr-like woman who’s made her family her idol and dares not risk her newfound sense of family by pursuing interests that feed her essence, that person God created her to be.  A mother is never “just” a mother – she is a child of God with her own unique gifts, talents and purpose, many of which will [and should] benefit her family, but need not be exclusive to that.

Whether I get the job or not, I want to find some kind of balance again.  One where my husband and I make time for each other alone, beyond the bedroom.  Where I can volunteer some time and give back.  Where I feel as if I am answering the call to be a light in my community, not just my own home; however, not forsaking my own family in doing so.  I want to feel secure again, to not feel the tightening of the walls each time my phone rings, dreading whichever creditor it may be.  I want to write again – creatively and frankly – and yet, I’ve looked back and seen that my most prolific writing periods were those in which I had to balance many things. 

All this inspired by a movie based on a book I thought I’d hate.  


Amazing what happens when one opens her mind, eh?



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved