Yard Sale!

Saturday, June 7, 2014

It's Storming Out- Let's Have a Yard Sale!

Since most of you, my two readers, are on Facebook, you already know that my next major goal in this period of change is to get moved out of this city where the borders feel a little too close. I was *this* close to a new home in a better area that was practically central to my family, friends, and work, with a much better school system than this place, but I wasn't able to get the place.

Why? Because my credit was bad? No, nothing like that. It's that there simply is simply not enough income to generate confidence in any of the property managers.

Which is somewhat silly because the cost of living would actually be less down there for me, and I already live within my means.

But, as always, I see things from both sides of the coin.

In the meantime, I'm selling everything. EVERYTHING. I've already discussed this with the ex several times and he has shown no interest in keeping any of it. We both want a fresh start. 

I was going to have a yard sale, an actual one, this morning, but the last week was full of storms. Of course, as I am now writing this the sky is bright and blue and beautiful. I'm justifying my lack of sale by reminding myself that the ground is saturated. 

Things are going to go online for now, until my next weekend or Friday off. Could you help me spread the word? It's going slowly, but it's about to happen. I'll be posting to Craigslist, resale pages, and in a catalog-style blogger page that I'll link here eventually. 

If you'd like to donate things to help the cause, please let me know. I'd be happy to come pick it up. Call it a win-win. You haven't used it in at least a year and need to de-clutter, and my family needs a new home!

Time to quit procrastinating and to get to work. As always, a BIG thank you!! 

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Sacred Space

I don't have much in this life. Not by society's standards. Certainly I have more than many. I have a home that I struggle to keep clean. We have a sacred space in our home that is always clean and belongs
to the children and me.
This is where I chase away the bad dreams. 
This is where they chase the good dreams.
Where they bond.
Where they play.
This is our sacred space. We may not have the material things, 
but I promise you 
we are far wealthier than some may ever be.

Monday, April 21, 2014

A Day to Remember, Though Better Forgotten

Imagine: bright blue skies. Balmy temperatures. Joking with a friend about TARDISes and time travel. Four lanes of morning traffic by the university. And one man. 

A man in a dirty, faded black western-style shirt with white piping and buttons. Rumpled and worn black pants. Disheveled graying brown hair. Starvation thin. Hand raised as if to hold back traffic in a frantic dash across the road. Southbound lanes stop. Northbound traffic.... a large white SUV manages to slam on the brakes just in time. The gold Jeep SUV on the outside lane, coming from behind the white vehicle, unable to stop in time. The man taken down like a rag doll. Not like in the movies. Broken. 

Chaos. The girl in the Jeep stops immediately. People come from everywhere. I pull into the center lane, put on my flashers, dial 911, yell at them not to let him move. People coming from everywhere to help.

Even more people trying to gawk. Blocking traffic. Ogling. I put myself between the people on the ground helping the man and those who only want to nose in. "Move on,"I hear myself yelling. "Keep going! You're blocking traffic. Have some respect and MOVE."

I'm not much of a shield but I am there. This is not a circus. We are not in a zoo. MOVE. 

I feel like a joke. Standing there in my scrubs. Yelling at people. Phone pressed to my face as I pray for 911 to hurry up and answer. In my scrubs while the girl- the woman- that hit the man talks soothingly to the man. Holds her son's baby blanket to the wound on his head to try to stop the bleeding. Me. In my scrubs. Unable to help physically. Medically.

The manager from McDonald's is there, taking over traffic while I stand firmly in my spot. We nod at each other. Both of us silently defiant against the rubber-necked strangers that are looking for the gossip. The story. It's not their story. "You need to keep moving. GO," says the McDonald's manager to the cars. Shakes his head. 

It's a beautiful day and there's a man named Wayne on the ground. Wayne, confused, scared, and in pain. Liz, the woman, is doing beautifully. There's another man there crouched with them. Dark hair, dreds. Holds Wayne's hand when he reaches through the pain for someone, anyone, to bring stability to what must be an ocean of confusion. Liz looks up at me. I think her eyes are blue. They are wide, pupils tight with anxiety. "Thank you for staying," she says.

Wayne is homeless. Wayne is addicted to meth. For a moment in this terrible, terrible set of circumstances, Wayne is the most important, most cared for person on the face of the earth.

The police come. They take my information and let me go. I am three minutes from my house. 

I am home, holding my children. I am holding them close and loving them from the depth of my soul in a way that I have not done in a long time. 

The sky is clear and blue. The weather is balmy. My children's arms hold me tight and their voices chatter, chatter, chatter. It's a beautiful day. 

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Something Sweet

My name is Lisa, and I am so very tired.

This last week has been a flurry of doctor appointments and Pre-K screenings and more doctor appointments (specialist) and oh there may just be another doctor visit next week to stave off a different doctor appointment (different specialist) on the 29th. Did I mention the doctor appointments (back to the first specialist) in three weeks? Because those are a thing, too.

My poor kids must have the most wacked out sinus cavities of all the children in the known world. For the time being two of them are going on 3 weeks of the heavy duty antibiotics to knock out ear and sinus infections caused by- and this is new to me- eustachian tube dysfunction. The youngest boy faces tubes and adenoid removal if he doesn't clear out at the end of those three weeks.

This is not what I came to write about. What I came to write about was this hot mess right here:

Which, of course, immediately made me think of this:

Y'all. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Except it wasn't, because it was actually the last thing I saw related to this insanity as I made my way through sticky floors to the kitchen. What I came home to find was their father passed out on the sofa and the four of them watching a movie, practically sitting in a pile of sugar. There was a sipppy cup that may have at one point been full of sugar but had since been kicked over and strewn across my floors. There had to have been a couple of cups of sugar dumped out here. There were piles of sugar all over the dining room table. Again in the kitchen.

This may have been as good a sign as any to get rid of all the sugar in my home and to follow in the footsteps of the Schaub family. Only problem is: I'm not a stay at home mom anymore, and I'm gone from the house easily 10 hours a day because of my job. My nights are long and my mornings early. Sadly, convenience foods (read: processed) have been making more and more appearances in the home.

After the week I described above and the delightful insomnia that prevented sleep until about 2 this morning, I nearly lost it. But I didn't. I can't blame the kids- they were being kids whose father had passed out while watching them. And I can't blame their father- he had basically been up for 36 hours straight between watching them (our babysitter is out of town) and working overnight. Of course he was tired.

So I loaded them into the swagger wagon and drove. Just... drove. Put the windows down, the music on and went. Not for long, because we still had to have dinner (it was already 7:30 at this point, half an hour past bedtime).

At this point I have wiped down the table and counters twice. I've swept and vacuumed several times over. I am quite certain that there is still sugar on the floor. In the cracks of the hardwood...

And so I am tired. My feet are a little sticky. My blog post is not as quippy and cheerful as I'd like it to be.

But make no mistake. I am happy. Despite everything, these kids have my heart and soul and life would be so very dull without them. Have a good night, y'all. Freshly washed sheets are calling my name.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Gentle Parenting WIN!

As of late I have been trying to counteract years of aggression and antagonistic behavior in my children by attempting to be as gentle as possible in situations that sent me over the edge in the past. It's been easier to filter through the battles and recognize what is truly important. My house is not exactly what one would call pristine, but since trying a softer tone and encouraging words it's cleaner than before. My boys still fight and tussle, but with less rage and more words. We're working on that as well as volume. This house is not a quiet one, and that's ok. It's quiet when it needs to be. They ask for stories and the calming ambiance of calm.com to help them unwind at the end of the day. We're finding a new normal, and while it still has its hiccups, we're getting there.

Here's tonight's GP WIN of note: The Middle has a terrible habit of lying. And when I say terrible, I mean constant lying. It's one of the worst antagonizing behaviors he has. That and randomly smacking/kicking people for no apparent reason at all. One of the cooler things about him though is his other side, completely opposite of this other, negative-attention seeking behavior. This is the side that wants only to be held, cuddled, petted, kissed, and otherwise just simply loved on. He will love on people in a sometimes overwhelming way... And tonight I decided to use that to my advantage. I caught him sneaking a piece of food off of a plate just before dinner and when I asked him what he was eating, he immediately fell back to his defensive lying phase. Even when I told him that he would not be in trouble for telling the truth, that I was not going to be angry with him, he continued to lie. There was kind of this gentle nudge in my mind, and I got down to his level. Holding his hand, I looked him right in those beautiful brown eyes and said quietly, "If you tell me the truth, I will give you a hug." His face broke into a huge grin. "I ate a fish stick," he confessed, "and then I drank some water."

Guess who got an enormous hug?

I thanked him for being honest with me and repeated that I was not angry with him. We talked about asking permission first next time, and he nodded, then ran off to play after planting a huge kiss on my cheek.

Just like that. How amazing this feels!! From now on there is going to be a lot more hugging.

Now... if only I can work out that connection with the four year old....

Monday, April 7, 2014

Stella Maris

As undulating waves breath comes in, breath goes out:
One... for faith
Two.... for hope
Three... for charity.
Cadence and rhythm of words that move like the ocean, 
the rolling waters that cleanse. 

As like a light Peace overcomes sorrow
One... for Joy
Two... for Sorrow
Three... for Glory
Four... for Light
Light that shines as bright as the sun itself, 
The fire that purges.

I'm not really sure where I am taking that. It feels incomplete, but it says everything. 

Sorry to think and run, but today was incredibly busy and I'm ready to call it a night.

Monday, February 24, 2014

These Days

These days my boys are helping more around the house. I come home from work and we all work together to clean. At first it was dreadful. Now it's a game, and Winter  sings and dances the "Clean Up" song.

These days we sit down and read a story nearly every night. Not just the little kid books, but "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe", too.

These days, the planes don't wake me. Things don't keep me up.

These days, I laugh more than I've laughed in a very, very, very long time.

These days, it really feels as though things are coming together. Slowly, but surely, and it's exciting.