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Blogging this week has been the very furthest thing from my mind. Unusual, yes.

While the details of some parts of my life I seem to share with the general public with a complete lack of bashfulness, there are other parts which I cannot disclose in great detail. To address this conundrum, I feel it is at least appropriate for me to use this blog as a platform for airing my thoughts, but with great care for allusive, covert references Forgive.

Life, as we all know, or should by now, does not always go according to “plan”: That amazing business that you throw your money and life into goes belly up, natural disasters tear apart your home, loved ones move on to the next life — sometimes in unexpected and painful ways, families fall apart from a gazillion issues under the sun, or friends betray our trust.

We all go through somewhat similar experiences when these things happen. Shock, denial, anger, and grief take their turns at us. Hopefully, and usually, healing does too. We begin to eat again, work again, laugh again. The loss itself might not ever be painless, but the heartbreaking helplessness of the loss will ease, (interesting, how similar this pain of loss is much like the pain of childbirth).

Perhaps the greatest piece of it all is when something that fell apart, went out of business, and broke into little pieces is ready to be restored: the start of a new business, the rebuilding of the next house, the birth of a new loved one, the healing of marriages, the reconciliation of friends. Grace upon grace is given to us by the One who made our hearts, and it never ceases to amaze me at just how that all works; How joy can fill up empty spots, left barren by disappointment.

It is the misadventures of life, the plans that went haywire, that tend to make up our story, as individuals, and as a human race. Painful as they are.

“Consider it all joy, my friends, when you encounter various trails, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing…” - James, brother of Jesus.

For some reason, I have a vivid memory of my 8th birthday. When it was all over, the presents unwrapped, cake eaten, gal pals headed home, I laid in my bed in tears. The reason? I could feel, maybe for the first time, that I was aging; that I was going to have to grow up.

Sure, it’s inevitable - at least in terms of the physiological progression of maximum bodily potential and vitality, followed by the gradual decline towards decay. Lovely. And while often the growth process with regards to both the body and the “rest of us” (aka heart, mind, soul?) are more connected than we think (just ask the raging hormones of a 15 year old or the post-menopausal woman), there are just some parts about “growing up” that are a bit more unpredictable and circumstantial. Sometimes major life events, such as the divorce of our parents, our marriage, child-rearing, etc open us up to new experiences, new responsibilities, and new ways of relating. Sometimes its working through things, learning and education, counseling, so on which brings us to new levels of self-awareness or responsibilities to compose ourselves as competent “adults” in a big, big world of diversity. Maybe its doing some travel and seeing this diversity first-hand, being able to see beyond the scope of the town you grew up in and the small group of people with which you have most of your interaction. It’s often close relationships, too, with a partner, parents, friends, children, boss’ or co-workers, neighbors, pastor, etc who push you to new limits (to put up with them?) or challenge your preconceived ideas about how you and the world around you operate. And isn’t it also accurate to say that the most emotionally stunted individuals are those who are isolated, who refuse to partake in community for fear that they might just have to deal with people that don’t like them, or that they don’t like, or (gasp! even worse?!) some one who challenges them to work through their insecurities, bad habits, and poor relational skills in order to come out stronger and more equipped with grace and love. People who can avoid others by the simple close of a door, so they don’t even have to share a backyard.

But life is short. Yesterday I had a baby and today he is nearly three years old. Blink.of.an.eye. I could say that, if I’m very, very lucky, I have already lived only one quarter of my life on this planet. But something tells me that in the end, the other three quarters will be too quick also. I’ve been stuck on this concept lately that my time here is best spent serving, loving, and -yikes- growing, and not on petty disagreements or fits of temper, avoiding touchy situations and pleasing people. I’ve got all these sore spots in my heart, like little areas of decay, from anger and resentment and insecurity and lack of trust, and if I’m not in the process of healing them, but rather picking at them and opening them back up again and again, then I’ll suffer from infection. And I don’t want that, because it doesn’t sound nearly as fun as the reckless abandon and gut-wrenching uncertainty of living this one short life out to the fullest.

So my mantra lately? To grow up. Like the magnet on my fridge reminds me, “Put your big girl panties on and get over it.” Or, to put it another way, no more peeing in my diaper. I just hope I have a confident heart like my kiddo, who, after using the “big” potty, emerges to say:
TAAAA - DAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

Today was better than yesterday (isn’t that always the case?!). I got to that dentist appointment, but only the cleaning today- so I could break up the cost between cleaning and x-rays. Turns out my chompers aren’t in too bad a shape, pretty darn good actually. I do have two fillings that are “compromised” and will need to be addressed because there is some decay in the crack/chip/edge(?). My flossing must be doing some good prevention, because my teeth and gums overall are healthy. And of course my wisdom teeth need to come out, like asap. I’m trying to just approach all of it one step at a time, financially unsure how this will all be covered but I’ve got a little time to think about all that.

Thank you, gals, for sharing your stories, and helping me remember that I am SO not the only one with a lot of debt to pay off or getting too busy and too broke to get my medical/dental stuff taken care of. I now suspect lots of mother’s of preschool aged kids are getting their first dental work and gyn visits in years!

There’s so much more to write about, regarding this idea of perspective, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your PERSPECTIVE), I have to get to work. More soon…

This post is going to be unabashedly honest.

I found out today that my dental check up tomorrow (cleaning and x-rays, the first one in two years) will cost a minimum of $250. I got them to agree to let me pay only $50 tomorrow and bill the rest so I can come up with that amount over the next 30 days. I told them, truthfully, that I don’t have $250 in all of my bank accounts or cash combined.

Then I went into my Vivian rampage and started printing out budget and income calculators and trying to figure out what planet I am on that we are always so flat broke.

First of all, we make less than I thought we did, and spend like we do. IF both my husband and I work at full capacity, we will gross around $3,600 a month. After taxes, we have $2,900 to use. Without going into the details, my rent and minimum monthly debt payments alone add up to $2,100. So we have $800 left.

$800 for gas and electric, internet access, cell phones, groceries, childcare, bus passes, savings, healthcare, clothes, haircuts, what have you.

After necessities that are not in my control come out, such as gas/electric/cell/internet/bus, we have $100 left.

Yeah. $100 dollars for 4 weeks of groceries? Since we don’t plan on eating brown rice, drumsticks and water everyday, that’s a tad impractical.

In fact, I looked closer at groceries, trying to see if I could narrow it down and trim and figure out what I need to get our basic foods each week, (this is an area I am not willing to scrimp much on, as you are what you eat and health is top priority). With the grocery calculator, I can’t see how we could spend less than $100 a week on groceries, let alone $100 a MONTH!

I know families make even less than this and make ends meet. I don’t know if they pay 1,100 a month in debt though. Sometimes we try to be frugal and other times we just give up, but we have managed to stay on top of bills for the most part. What’s the most disheartening is when it comes time to address the fact that my wisdom teeth have hurt me daily for years and that I had cavities I never filled TWO years ago at my last dental appointment, that NONE of us go for regular health checkups, not even Lil’ E, and I haven’t seen an GYN since his birth nearly 3 years ago, I am just at a loss as to how to actually survive.

Which reminded me why I hate to budget. All I see is failure and impossible numbers. So instead we just kinda keep going, hoping that we don’t borrow any new debts and that some how a little extra money will come in here and there to help us break even. Not a very nice way to live, though.

I don’t know if there is any solution to the situation. Hubby has been looking for a part-time job for hours every single day and hasn’t gotten any interest. He’s had about one interview a month but never a second one. It’s all just quite depressing, actually!

So give me some advice, some words of encouragement, because having to deal with crap like this AND get all of my hours in AND try to raise a 3 year old simultaneously has left me pretty bummed today.

(don’t email me. see comment button? its calling your name…)

Hubby forgot to wake me up at the butt crack of dawn today, so I enjoyed a little extra sleep and leisurely began my day (as usual). It’s not often I have to do anything at any certain time, and I think I function best that way. Working from home, and as an independent contractor, I do enjoy certain pleasures when it comes to flexibility. While 15 hour work days alternated between nothing to do for 2 days can be frustrating, I really can’t complain. I get to sleep in a bit if I want to, get up and make coffee, go let the chickens out and enjoy some fresh air for a few minutes in the morning. I can start my work day at 7am, or noon, or 8pm, whatever works best for me on that particular day. If I really wanted to, I could pull extra hours one week and the next only work a couple of days.

It’s a luxury that I can’t imagine living without, particularly as the primary caregiver for a 3 year old. My hope is that I’ll be able to work at least half-time for myself within 5 years, to be able to apply all that I am learning to advance other people and companies’ businesses to my own ventures. There’s really no work you can apply as much passion to as your own dreams.

Today’s morning coffee is from Trader Joe’s (can’t always afford Stumptown, darn it), a fair-trade organic whole bean from Nicaragua, ground this morning and brewed in my french press. Soy creamer and turbinado always top off my caffeine fix. Lil’ E and I both enjoy a bowl of Kashi cereal and rice milk for breakfast. He usually eats a lot more than me, devouring at least one fruit, a handful of baby carrots, etc etc by mid-morning. I, on the other hand, nibble on a few things I’m feeding him but don’t have another meal until dinner. I also usually eat after he goes to bed, a snack and maybe a glass of wine.

Today’s work agenda proves to be a typical Monday- one which begins around noon and ends around 11pm. I’ve got a newsletter html site to reformat, a portal page and recipe page to create, and a 100+ slides PowerPoint presentation to finish. I’ll take a break around the time Hubby comes home, hopefully take Lil’ E to the park for some good ol’ large-motor movement, likely Frisbee. Until then, Lil’ E will occupy himself with a DVD from the library, some free play with his toys while we listen to music, and an art project I’m going to set up for him with some tracing and cutting exercises. I have no idea, as usual, what I’ll cook for dinner until about 5pm, when I wander into the kitchen and see what I can come up with. After awhile the chickens will go back in their coop for the evening, Lil’ E will bathe and have stories and songs and then be tucked in around 7-7:30pm (probably Hubby’s job tonight, with my workload). I’ll continue to work and finish my day with a shower and crawl into bed, likely around midnight.

So, that’s it, a little snapshot into a very typical Monday for me. If I were to create a pie chart of how I divvy up my time, days like this are a little skewed towards work. But then some days I only work 2 hours, so it kinda all evens out in the end.

Things will be changing soon, when I begin child-swapping TWO days a week at the start of June. I hope that giving myself three days to get all my hours in for the entire week will help me consolidate my time and allow Lil’ E four days of more activities, and a playmate to boot. If I can reclaim most of my late evenings and my weekends in order to spend more quality time in relationships, it will be a huge blessing.

Muy interesante, si?

Whew! The weather firefox add-on at the bottom of my browser is reporting “Now: Sunny, 76 F”, but I just don’t believe it. When the back of your knees are sweating, you know its hotter than hades.
Lil’ E is at nanny Anna’s today, having a ball, no doubt! The chicks are the backyard about to pass out. I am safely tucked away in the house at the moment, where the cool night temps linger. It seems like just last week I was worried about freezing out my newly planted tomato starters- and now the record high temps threaten to burn them up! Tomorrow it is supposed to reach nearly 100 degrees!

All of this is so full-circle, it really is. This time last year, I was selling the last of my belongings that weren’t already packed up. I was preparing to send Hubby off with our car on a 3,000 mile road trip while I finished up the house cleaning before Lil’ E and I flew not far behind him to our new home, Portland, on May 21st. Everything about Portland this time of year was captured by my senses because it was so new and exciting. I familiarized myself with all of the smells, like the lavender, rosemary and sage growing along the sidewalks, as if they were the encapsulated in and only in Portland. The summer heat was familiar, since in many ways the last 23 years of my life was one big summer in Florida. And the evenings were pure bliss, when the skin on my shoulders would tingle as the temperatures dropped off, giving me an excuse to grab a cute shaw and relishing the strange feeling of having stolen extra time by enjoying sunlight until at least 9 pm.

Then I made it through Portland’s grey, drizzly winter. I even made it through the up and down days of early Spring that can play mean tricks on you. I thought that the shift towards Summer would be mighty welcoming, but instead — I must admit — it is bittersweet. This time last year I was saying goodbye and hello so much that my soul was just buzzing from it all. Now the cycle of one year brings all the sights and smells and sounds back again, and all I can think about is that its been 12 months since I have been able to hug my dad, to share a good cry with Steph, or laugh a loud, tipsy laugh with my sister Rachel. And perhaps more depressing- I have no idea if it will be another year, or two, or five, before I will be able to do those things again. This economy and life have left us all pretty darn broke and busy, making the seven hour plane ride seem more like a trek on the “Oregon Trail”, where one will inevitably die of dysentery, or in the very least, lose twelve oxen along the way.

There is nothing to look forward to this time around. While I’ll enjoy the different aspects of Fall, Winter and Spring again, it just won’t be the first time. It won’t be the honeymoon- it will be the marriage. And we all know what marriage is like

Of course, there’s more to it than all of this. There’s a new presidency, (maybe a boost to the economy will create a new job for Hubby), or perhaps we will decide to do something wild and crazy together, (like have another human being with our DNA combination enter the world). Even the low-key, hum drum days of life will no doubt gift me with a nugget of satisfaction or drama, if I keep my eyes open.

Anyway, I’m waiting for June to settle in. Something tells me the grass will look greener in June.

Today is Mother’s Day- woot!
I still can’t believe sometimes that I am a mom. I was putting Lil’ E’s sneakers by the door the other day while he was at the nanny’s so I could get some work in, and I had to do a double-take. Little miniature sneakers? Which belong to my son? Weird…

Yesterday I got to rent a Zipcar and bop around for some errands, which was really nice. It’s great to know the work of hauling bags of groceries on your sore shoulders, but sometimes the luxury of a vehicle is like getting a facial or something. Which I really wouldn’t know because I have never had a facial. I’ve never even had my eyebrows waxed. Amazing, I know. Just can’t justify the cost of stuff like that.

Ironically, what I CAN justify the cost of is truffles. Glorious little black mushrooms that rock my world. I finally got a 1/10th of an ounce sized truffle for $3 at the Farmer’s Market yesterday. Truffled sea salt on your popcorn- better than sex. (Okay, slight - only SLIGHT- exaggeration there.)

So what are my grand Mother’s Day plans? Well, you guessed it! Work! But first, I will point out that Hubby got up with the kiddo today, made me coffee and eggs with tandori naan (delicious bread!). He’s taking him out to the toy store today so I can work (so I might garden a little first, it is Mother’s Day after all!). Later tonight, Misty and I plan to have a light salad dinner with a bottle of Trout Trilogy 2004 Cab, a “splurge” on a $10 wine for Mother’s Day!

Hope all you other hard workin’ mamas (so if you are a female and have kids, that’s you) have a superb day!

Many of you know, (and you can just check out my postmodernity blogroll category for further proof), that I kinda have some interest in the “emergent” conversations (I use the word “conversations” because it seems that most emergent leaders/writers would rather this term… using the word “movement” or something similar strikes up the typical “you’re either on the boat or off the boat”, us v. them, bla bla bla that we just can’t seem to help doing as humans, heh?)

I use the word “kinda” because I was introduced to it while pregnant several years ago and having a kiddo to run after and a bazillion odd jobs seems to limit my time to devote to my thirst for spiritual knowledge. I now say my daily service to my family is my theology, which is either true or a cop-out. I guess you’ll never really know, will ya?

So I finally woke up in time to make it to church (late) this week, but not too late to hear the announcement that Doug Pagitt is in town this week. I haven’t actually read any of his books, mind you, (need I refer to the second paragraph’s excuse again?!), but I recognize the name from… again… “emergent conversations”.

The scoop is here. I have emailed Bob (you know- Bob. Everybody knows who Bob is.) to see if there was still a spot open for little ol’ me.

I would like to point out for all obvious reasons that I should get to come to this shindig for free. Doug and I go way back, we have a connection. I work for John Wiley & Sons, who owns Jossey-Bass, who published A Christianity Worth Believing.

Like I said, we’re practically siblings.

Ahh, but that’s okay. This sounds like it’s well worth my ten measley dollars. I’ll just deduct it as a charitable tax right off. (SO joking, sheesh!)

For a chuckle, here’s my parting gift.

UPDATE: So I went downtown to switch Lil’ E with Hubby, grabbed an overpriced Nathan’s hot dog for a super nutritious dinner, and then waited at the bus stop far too long before calling the Trimet number and tracking the schedule. The darn thing must have come early because the next bus out there was 45 minutes away! WHHAATTT? (I felt like I was in Lakeland again. ) So I gave up and headed home, figuring I would have missed half the darn thing by then. Well, shoot, ya win some ya lose some.

Okay, I debated a little about sharing the following story with you all, I really did. In the end, I have to just get it off my chest.

So after leaving my purse on the Trimet bus last Friday, I found myself goofing up again not two days later on the MAX light rail. Hubby, Lil’ E and I were on our way home from William’s birthday party on Sunday when it happened.

Lil’ E had begun to snooze on my lap, and I wasn’t far behind. Sure enough, another passenger thinks I look like the ideal Chatty Cathy to strike up a conversation with. With all the politeness I could muster, I responded to the man’s questions.

“Oh, he is two and a half”, I replied with a weary smile.

“Oh, that’s a lovely picture of your daughter,” I went on.

The passenger had a heavy set build, a business casual outfit and a OHSU badge (Oregon hospital), along with a bike helmet. That’s about as much as I can remember. He went on to tell me the heights of EVERY MAN in his daughter’s family tree because I was dumb enough to comment that she looks older than 8 in her school photo. Enough, I was thinking, how can I back out of this conversation. Why can’t I be like Hubby and be fine with just completely ignoring people!?

“Wow”, I continued to remark, gradually getting more and more obvious (I THOUGHT!) that I wanted to do just about anything but talk at the moment.

And then it happened.

“That’s crazy”, I said, with a complete lack of enthusiasm. Then I heard myself say, “And how tall is her mother?”

…

First, Hubby jerks his head sideways at me in horror.

Second, the marathon conversationalist takes on a whole new tone.

“Excuse me?!

-I’m a girl!”

…

OHMYGOD. Oh.my.gggaaaaawwwddddd.

It doesn’t even stop there. Had I retained any brain cells, I might have covered up my faux paux with something like, “Oh, sorry, I meant to say her father… heh heh… whew, it’s been a long day!”

But no. No, that’s not what I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I — I couldn’t tell…. your…er… hat…er”

(I still contest that there was not one defining feminine trait to this character. NOT ONE!)

I felt like I was melting. I wanted to get off at the next stop and wait for the next train, but I was frozen in my seat.

The man woman ended up shrugging it off and continued to go on and on about his her tall daughter, which only made the whole thing more awkward. I was like three feet off the bus already when he she was still calling out to me the name of the preschool his her daughter attended. I MEAN - HOLY CRAP!

I have no idea how I could have avoided this run in with the anonymously gendered passenger, but sometimes I need to keep MY BIG FAT MOUTH SHUT and let the weirdos talk to themselves.

EDIT: Thanks to the folks at www.trimetiquette.com for agreeing on just how embarrassing that was.