No Direction Here

I've been away from this blogging business for a little bit. I spent two weeks up north for Christmas and just kind of fell out of my routine. When I got back, I had little motivation to write anything. I couldn't figure out why. I mean, I always have thoughts circling around in my head - sometimes good, sometimes bad - and I actually did type up a few posts but they're still sitting in my "drafts" unedited and unfinished. But again, I have almost zero motivation to do anything with them. Why? I'm not really sure.

I've been picking up in terms of freelance work, which is fantastic. So I've actually been pretty busy with that during the precious free time I have when J is actually taking a nap. And if I'm not blogging for my freelance gig, I just don't really feel like blogging here.

This job also requires that I watch my fair share of reality tv **comments to yourselves...I'm getting paid***. One night, while binge watching an entire season of Kendra On Top, my husband asked me what I thought it might be like if we had our own reality show. And do you know what? It would be pretty flipping boring. Seriously. I am probably one of the most uninteresting people I know. Which is another reason why I can't seem to figure out a direction for my own blog.

Going back and taking a quick look through some of my older posts, I am, for the most part, all over the place here. It started out as a pregnancy/mom blog. But there are a million of those and all of the good niches are taken. I'm not crunchy, nasty or funny. Nor do I really want to slather Baby J's face all over the internet no matter how adorable it may be. I really just do my own thing in terms of parenting and it's not very interesting.

Then it kind of turned into cooking. I love to cook and I love being a stay-at-home mom. So then I thought, maybe just an average stay-at-home mom's blog. I mean, a lot of people do wonder what SAHMs do all day long (one of my unfinished posts was written after hubby made a comment about how I get to nap during the day. Yes, he seriously said that and I almost hit him). And then I got on this Wheat Belly diet kick and messed that whole thing up.

So I think the fact that I just don't have a solid direction here is making it really hard to pick back up.

Although, now I feel like I do have a lot going on. I realized that we are basically going to have to start saving up for a house from scratch. So I have spent a lot of time this past week trying to teach myself how to really budget. I've always loved saving money - finding a great sale gives me such a rush! But the problem is that because I save so much every time I shop, I really end up spending too much because I get ALL the deals! Like, I buy things I really don't need just because I'm getting such a great deal. No good. Basically, we need to make huge lifestyle changes and since payday was today, today was officially Day 1.

So maybe I'll share some of the things I learn along the way. And please feel free to comment and share any tips or tricks that you may have!

How Did This Happen?

I wrote a post about being born in the wrong era, and I figured I would explain it a little bit more for those of you who think I'm crazy. There actually was a time when I wanted a career and a family.

Once upon a time I had a dream.

Ever since I could remember, I loved animals (a love which I am hoping to pass on to J) and wanted nothing more than to work with them. I was going to be a veterinarian. Yes, a lot of little girls want to be vets but I really wanted it. My high school required all students to complete 40 hours of community service over the course of four years in order to graduate. When I heard this in the very beginning of ninth grade, I immediately got to work.

I sent letters to all of the veterinary practices in my small Connecticut shoreline town explaining who I was and asking if they would let me come and volunteer. I would clean cages, feed animals or just spend time with those who needed a little something extra. I heard back from one. They told me that they didn't need the help right now, but I could check back in in a few months. I followed up and they took me on.

I loved working at the animal hospital. I took it seriously and I was good at it. When my 40 hours were up, I was offered a paid, part-time position and by the time I was a senior in high school, I was doing everything a licensed technician could do. They trusted me! I had absolutely no doubts that this was what I wanted to spend my life doing.

When I started college, I knew that I was horrible at math. I had struggled with it throughout high school and grew to hate it. However, in college I did my best to change my attitude. I needed math and I wanted to be good at it. I took advantage of professors' office hours, TAs, and even set up tutoring.

When I was working through problems with someone, I got it. When I sat down to take my tests, I was confident. And then I would get the test back with grades in the 20s. Once I even scored a 14. I just kept failing. The second algebra professor I had, Professor Don, announced on the first day that she did not allow the use of calculators under any circumstances. I immediately started to panic. I stayed after class to talk to her. I explained that my goal was veterinary school but math was a huge obstacle for me. Instead of giving me some tips, she laughed in my face and told me I was setting myself up for failure. This made me want to try even harder and I refused to drop her class. I was going to show her. Well, she was right. I failed. Again.

I took Algebra four times in college before I passed it (the last time I took it was at a local community college so that I could get a C+ and only the credit would transfer over to the University). It was awful. My parents told me that they weren't paying all this money for me to be on academic probation (I kept failing Chemistry too because it required lots of math) and if I didn't find a new major, I was going to have to find a way to pay for school on my own. That's when I started majoring in English.

I was good at English. I loved reading (I had loved reading my entire life) and writing papers. My GPA went up significantly (I was only .4 points away from graduating Cum Laude) and my parents were happy. Then came the big question: what am I going to do with an English degree? Someone suggested becoming an English teacher. Since vet school was now out of the question because of math, I literally shrugged and said, "Okay, I guess". Becoming a vet was the only career I had ever considered for myself. There were no other options for me. And so I just picked teaching because I had to pick something.

It took me years to get over the fact that the one big dream I had in my life was dead and gone. And even now, if I really think about it, I can't say that I'm completely over it. Any drive I had to be a successful career woman died with my dreams of veterinary school (I had wanted to build my own practice like the amazing one I worked for in high school). Teaching was a job. Nothing more (I don't even think I was really any good at it) and nothing less. It wasn't awful; I met a lot of great kids, but it wasn't anything I was passionate about.

I look at one of my best friends now. She is a machine, working her way up the corporate ladder in a world I know nothing about. But I hear her stories - most recently about how she just negotiated herself an office so that she could do some freelance work during her down time and not be bothered - and every so often I feel a pang. A little pang that wishes I had her drive to be a successful businesswoman negotiating an office for myself. And then I feel a touch of inadequacy. For the first time since I was 14 years old, I don't have a job. I don't have a career. What could I, or should I, have done differently?

The pangs do go away, eventually. I love being a mom and I'm sure that someday I can use my failure to teach my daughter about perseverance; to follow her dreams no matter how hard the road.

One thing I know for sure is that I will do everything I can to make sure that she follows her dreams. If she happens to develop a passion for helping animals and wants to go spend a summer volunteering at The Lion Park in South Africa (I wanted to go work with the hyenas after watching a special on Discovery Channel), then I will make sure she gets on a plane and goes. I want her to have passion, and I want her to be driven. I never want her to feel as though she missed out on something or settled for a career because she just had to pick something. I want her to feel like she is good at what she does, and that it is worthwhile. I want her to feel all of the things I would have felt had I not let failure get the best of me.

Right now I don't understand why, but I guess it was all a part of God's plan for me. Maybe He needed me in that school. Maybe I helped or changed a student and still don't even know it - or will never know it. I just have to trust that my failure was all part of a grander plan, and hope that I can use it to teach J.

A Mom Born in the Wrong Era

Seriously. 

Growing up, one of my favorite shows was I Love Lucy. I absolutely loved Lucy and Ricky: her antics, his impatience, their NYC apartment, her clothes (oh my gosh how I loved her clothes), and the loving relationship that existed within their adorably imperfect little world (I was devastated after reading her biography and learning that the marriage between Lucy and Desi was actually horrible). Watching reruns of I Love Lucy led me to believe that I belonged in the 1950s. 

It was about ten years ago that I decided I would be the best housewife/stay-at-home mom ever: 1950s style. I once made a promise to my husband that if he ever allowed me to stay at home I would cook, clean, and even greet him at the door with his slippers and a drink (thankfully, he has long since forgotten about the slipper/drink deal). How well have I held up my end of the bargain? I'm far from perfect. I suck at cleaning (really, I'm just not good at it. I never have been.) But I cook and I'm cheerful for hubs when he gets home from work. 

I found this little gem (among others) that I just had to share. 

An article from a 1955 edition of Housekeeping Monthly

• 
  

• Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
• Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
• Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it. 
• Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. 
• Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dust cloth over the tables. 
• Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash their hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. 
• Be happy to see him. 
• Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him. 
• Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first – remember his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
• Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you.  Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
• Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit. 
• Don't greet him with complaints and problems. 
• Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.
• Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
• Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember he is the master of the house and as such will always excercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
• A good wife always knows her place.

I left out a few, but yes. These were the "rules" for being a "good" wife back in the 1950s. I know, I know. Most of you are probably squawking thinking that these are crazy. Feminists are surely chomping at the bit to tear apart whoever wrote this article and probably me for posting it. But in truth, I don't think it's all crazy (some of it, maybe, but certainly not all). 

My husband not only uprooted his life so that I could be home with J, but he works hard so that I can stay home. He's still learning a new (and very demanding) position which sometimes has him working 12 hour days AND weekends. I am so grateful for the sacrifices he has made and will continue to make so that we can make the best life possible for J which starts with having her mother home to raise her. Therefore, I am happy to have dinner ready when he gets home and have J cleaned up and ready for bed (if not already in bed). Also, I don't find that it requires effort to show hubs that I'm happy to see him when he gets home - I really am. 

I read a lot of blogs and have read a lot of forums written by, for or about moms. I've come across a lot of "open letters" in which the writer relates to the unkempt mom struggling to survive each day. The recurring theme appears to be that it's the norm among moms (especially new moms) to live in spit-up covered sweats, keep her hair in a messy ponytail and banish all thoughts of makeup. Not only is it the norm, but it's expected and it's okay. It's relatable. 

Maybe I'm crazy, but I just can't relate. Why can't you take a shower while the baby is napping? J doesn't always nap, but I have no problem with strapping her in her bouncy and putting on Baby Einstein while I take a quick shower and shave my legs. Sometimes she cries, but I know that letting her cry it out doesn't make me a bad mom. I'm showering - not blowing lines. She's fine. The same goes for hair and makeup. 

I have really long hair which will frizz out to Timbuktu if I don't blow it out or put it in a messy top knot. It takes close to half an hour to blow-dry so when it's not blown out, it's because of sheer laziness and not inability due to a crying baby. Again, those Baby Einstein videos are great because they have a repeat play option. 

As for make up, that takes me all of ten minutes to do and makes me look more human than cave dweller. When I don't put it on, it's usually because I know that I won't be able to be bothered with taking it off later (sometimes I just sleep in it). And when J spits up or flings baby food onto my shirt I change it. Especially before I go out, and it's just not that difficult.  

If women from years ago (like my grandma, who had five children and never left the house without "putting on her face") were able to keep themselves put together, have dinner on the table and raise kids all at the same time, why do so many people struggle with it today? I honestly don't know. And like I said earlier, I am so far from being a perfect housewife; my house is lived in - not immaculate because cleaning is just not something at which I excel. I'm not as crafty as I would like to be and I cannot fold a fitted sheet. But I try hard, and my husband really doesn't seem to have too many complaints. Ultimately, I think Lucy and I would have been great friends.

Chicken Pot Pie

Mmmmm.....comfort food. 

This is a great recipe because you can pretty much use what you already have in your fridge or freezer. I had celery and carrots that weren't looking so pretty anymore, so this is what I came up with. 

I don't always measure things out but I think I kept pretty good track with this one. 

Ingredients:

• 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut up with my new favorite tool - Pampered Chef's Professional Shears
• 3 carrots, peeled and sliced
• 4 celery stalks, sliced
• 1 onion (I never chop these by hand. I use my amazing manual food processor)
• Salt and pepper
• Two frozen, deep dish pie crusts (because I absolutely hate making pie crust from scratch). I took them out of the freezer just before I started cooking and they were perfectly defrosted by the time I was ready to use them.
• 1 1/3 cups chicken broth
• 1 stick of butter
• 2/3 cup milk
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour

You can add whatever floats your boat - peas, potatoes, corn, whatever. I prefer to stick to plain old onion, carrots and celery. 

Directions:

• Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
• Chop everything up. Season chicken pieces with some salt and pepper.
• Add butter (1 Tbsp at a time - I think I used about 4-5 Tbsp) to 12" executive skillet  until melted. 
• Sautee onion, carrot, celery and chicken in butter until cooked (add more butter if necessary).
• Once the chicken is fully cooked, move the mixture into one of the pie crusts using a scoop 'n drain.
• I put the pie on a baking sheet just in case anything bubbles out while cooking.  

• In the same skillet, make a rue (this is 5 Tbsp butter plus 1/3 cup flour and whisk into a clumpy mess. See top left picture)
• Add chicken broth and milk to the rue (top right)
• Whisk over medium heat until nice and thick (bottom left)
• Pour the thickened mixture over the chicken mixture in the crust. You may not use all of it - I had some left over that I discarded (bottom right)

• Take the second pie crust and loosen the edges. Drop it on top of the filled crust and let it sit there for a minute or two. I think the heat from the bottom crust will help loosen the top just enough so it falls right out. 

• Using pre-made pie crusts doesn't yield you the most beautiful of creations, but it works. Pinch the edges of the top and bottom crust together. 
• Put in the oven for 30 minutes. 
• When it's done, let it sit for 5-10 minutes (my husband couldn't wait and cut into it before I even had a chance to take a picture of the finished product!!! I was putting J to bed. But you get the gist.)

Enjoy!

Becoming a stay-at-home mom: Expectations vs. Reality

I poo pooed moms who whined about how hard it is to be a stay-at-home mom. I mean, how freaking hard is it to stay home and snuggle with a sleeping cherub all day every day? Being a stay-at-home mom was my dream job. I imagined my days as follows:

Wake up, feed baby, cook a delicious and healthy breakfast for me and my husband and then give him a kiss as I hand him his homemade lunch and send him off to work. The afternoon consists of walks in the park, playing and lots of cuddling. Then around 5pm the baby will be playing or sleeping happily while I get dinner ready and on the table just as hubs walks in the door after a long day at the office. Then we put the baby down together and relax with our wine and some tv before heading to bed for a good night's rest. I would be the BEST stay-at-home mom/wife EVER!

That all lasted about three weeks.

Being a stay-at-home mom is hard. Especially when you are taking care of a floppy, demanding little person whose lack of patience rivals your own. Seriously - this kid makes me look like a saint. When she wants something you had better hustle because it's only a matter of time before the volcano erupts.

Baby J is now five months old and every time I think I've got a good routine going, she switches it up on me.

So our days now look something like this:
Wake up, feed baby, scrounge up some breakfast for myself (hubs is a big boy - he can fend for himself), and sneak in a kiss goodbye while we both hope that there's no spit up or baby food getting in the middle of our oh-so-romantic peck that we hope lands on the other's lips and not the cheek or chin. Hopefully Baby is still happily playing on her mat. If so, it becomes a mad dash to get as much done as I can before her good mood expires and it's time to get her down for her morning nap. This morning nap lasts, if I'm lucky, about two full hours. Just enough time to shower, get dressed and put on just enough makeup so that I look like an actual functioning member of society as opposed to some prehistoric cave dweller.

When she wakes up, our afternoons consist mainly of errands and playtime. On Tuesdays we go to Mommy and Me where I get to interact with other adults, and on Fridays we hit up story time at the library. If I have a healthy meal ready - even almost ready - by the time my husband gets home, it was an extraordinarily productive day. While he eats, I bathe Baby J, get her into her jammies, hand her off to Daddy for a bedtime story and then nurse her to sleep before cleaning up from dinner. By the time all is said and done, somehow it's 9:00. And I'm beat. By 9:30 my husband and I are both in bed. By 10:00, we're out cold.

Is it easy? No. Glamorous? Absolutely not. Would I rather put Baby J in daycare and go back to work as a teacher? Nope. Because despite the fact that my days are a whirlwind of....stuff, and my tiny little boss doesn't always allow lunch breaks, I wouldn't trade being home with my daughter for the world. Watching her change, grow, develop and discover is truly worth it.

The Calm After the Storm

I had every intention of getting this blog off the ground...and then life happened.

I wanted more than anything to be a stay-at-home mom, but living in New York would have made that almost impossible. Why? Well, imagine this: 

• Owning and living in a 1,700 sq. ft. condo (you do not own any of the property that is "your yard". 
• Paying $360 a month (plus an additional $140 a month during June, July and August) in maintenance fees (and special assessment fees) which basically covered lawn care, snow removal, and the concrete hole in the ground otherwise known as the pool. 
• Paying almost $8,000 a year in property taxes. Again, the only thing you own is the inside of your tiny condo. 
• Childcare was going to run about $2,000 a month. We checked out daycare facilities and a private nanny - the cost was going to be about the same.  
• Extras like Mommy & Me? These could run you an additional $200+ a month. IF you could find a place that tailored its hours around working moms. 

So, would it have been possible to stay home and live in New York? Probably. I certainly wouldn't have been the first to make it work. Would it have been ideal? Absolutely not. It would have been extraordinarily difficult. But, we were prepared to make it work one way or another. Then God stepped in. 

After years of hardships, God finally decided that it was time to make our new life a little easier. My husband, the amazing man and father that he has grown to be, was willing to make his work life even crazier than it already was by going to work in Manhattan. The hours would be longer, the commute would be torturous, but the money would be better and I could stay home with our daughter. In May, he had started interviewing and was seemingly about to be handed a position when this other opportunity landed in his lap. This new opportunity was for a position that he hoped to attain in the next 5-10 years of his career. 

Not only would this job put my husband exactly where he wanted to be professionally, but it would also relocate our family to Florida - a place with a much lower cost of living, real suburban communities, and, best of all, no more harsh winters - and allow us to live much more comfortably on one salary than if we were to stay in New York. 

At first, the answer seemed easy - let's go! We were excited and optimistic about the idea of moving. My husband submitted his resume and waited to hear back. And waited....and waited....and waited. 

I had practically forgotten about the job, and my husband hadn't actually expected to get it (according to him, he was too young and lacked the experience that was necessary). So you can imagine our surprise when he got a phone call in June from the head of the company asking him to fly down to Florida the following week for an interview. The rest happened with lightening speed.

I won't bore you with all of the details, but long story short we are now living down in sunny Florida! Moving from New York to Florida with an infant actually wasn't as bad as it may seem, and despite a little touch of homesickness, we have been transitioning pretty well. 

Truth be told, Florida is not AS cheap as I thought it would be, but we are definitely better off than we would have been up in New York. If we were in New York, I would be at work right now instead of writing this blog and our daughter would be somewhere doing God knows what. Her dad would probably be leaving for work before she woke up in the morning and getting home after she was already in bed asleep. 

I've only been here about a month and a half, so it still gets a bit lonely at times. But this new life is good, and I have faith that everything will fall into place just as it should.