I am a bit of a nut. Okay more than a bit of a nut. I am like a whole package of assorted nuts. Each bite of me would be different. Sometimes sweet, sometimes tart, and sometimes salted.
There is one thing that I realized, just within the mad scramble, especially in this economy, that you do NOT have to pay full price for anything. I mean in the beginning (two suitcases and a 6 week old baby off an international flight, arriving into an empty apartment that didnt even have a light in the bedroom) we had no choice, we had to buy what we needed when we saw it, and when we could afford it cash.
Now that we are established in our little cocoon, the girls each have a bed room, the husband has his tv room, I have my kitchen and laundry areas (also known as the slavery portal and entrapment area), and we have clothes and shoes on our feet. So everything else is a luxury.
Of course there are things that we want (the human part of us can never be denied)... and then comes in the mommies wacky crazy nutty personality and the purchasing guilt (always feel guilty when I buy anything)... plus an amazing outlet mall and Amazon.com.... and I would like to tell you that being cheap never felt so good!
We have always had tiny budget for xmas. Our first year here we didnt have an xmas budget. It just wasnt a possibility. Then it was like $100. Then $200. Then this year its $300. And we have 10 people to buy for! Two children and eight adults. And I must say I am VERY CLOSE on target.
I take great pleasure and buying things like gorgeous plaid shirts for the husband from Macys for $5.97. Please do not let him know or he will never wear them! Its all about timing. Its about that incredible deal that you just can not pass up. My kids wear Osh Kosh and new clothing off the shelves. It just depends which shelf. The babies party dress for next year cost $2.40. So I dunno... but I think this is my new hobby :)
How nutty am I ?
Friday, August 20, 2010
Ducklings in open water
My eldest left the safety of the nest, and happily paddled across the parking lot to her new proxy mother (Kindergarten Teacher) and her proxy siblings. She bit all of her nails down to the quick in the days preceding her departure. I wanted to say 'Dont do that, its ugly', but I didnt want her to feel ugly. I wanted to say "Stop it, its naughty disgusting behaviour", but I didnt want her to think she was naughty or disgusting. So instead I showed her how my grandfather Graham Ebden Long used to rest his fingers upon each other, and twiddle his thumbs. She now does this in the car, as we round the long slow loop of the car drop off lane. She smiles at me, pony tails bobbing, and I have never seen anything so beautiful. I love her anxiety and her excitement. I love how her whole world is new. I love her endless possibilities and her openness. But what I love most is knowing that at 1h45pm I will leave work to go and collect her and her sister and my arms will again be full.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Quicker than you will ever be prepared for...
So my eldest daughter, five years and seven months full of life, size 10T or 11T shoes, little wiggly piggies, sparkly blue eyes, light like mine, the colour of the seven seas, and crystal white shores, not as dark as lapis or sapphire as her sisters, but light like the tranquil waters of the med... has outgrown her baby book!
I found myself today just stupefied. I have new pens that dont go through the pages and that dry the second you write, perfect for harried memorized fleeting treasures and quick pen and parchment capturing.
I turned to the next page only to find there were none.
I turned to look for the next mile stone only to find I had already recorded it.
Yet I read the book like a stranger.
All the wonderment is like that of a voyeur.
The memories escape me like the sweetness of this breath exhaled to the next.
You can try so hard to hold on. I have photographic chains onto every day with my kids. I have them on my hard drive. Backed up to Carbonite. Backed up to the Walmart photostudio. Backed up on printed copies of all my luscious memories that evaporate like smoke through my fingers.
Our feelings change. Our memories are altered and swayed. We believe what we WANT to remember. The memories are enhanced by how we think they should be. Its so gratifying to speak to a sibling or a parent and to find out your memories are almost the same. It seems to give them more credence. I dont necessarily trust my nostalgic recollections. I romanticise everything, remove the harsh light, trade it in for rose coloured glasses, rose coloured petals falling from heaven, everything seemed so easy and peaceful by contrast to today, today was more gruelling, today I cried harder, today was not as satisfying as yesterday, always trying to gain the elusive plateau of satisfaction that actually never existed, we just believed it to be, so therefore it was and is, indelible in the photo album of the mind....
My daughter has long legs like a gazelle. When she grows up she wants to be a mermaid. But she already knows they dont exist. And she has plan B ready and waiting. She can be a mermaid for halloween instead or she can be an actor and pretend to be a mermaid in a mermaid costume.
I bought her her first pair of shoes today with a little one inch heel. They rest at the foot of her bed, whilst my daughter, the girl, dreams of her new school.
I found myself today just stupefied. I have new pens that dont go through the pages and that dry the second you write, perfect for harried memorized fleeting treasures and quick pen and parchment capturing.
I turned to the next page only to find there were none.
I turned to look for the next mile stone only to find I had already recorded it.
Yet I read the book like a stranger.
All the wonderment is like that of a voyeur.
The memories escape me like the sweetness of this breath exhaled to the next.
You can try so hard to hold on. I have photographic chains onto every day with my kids. I have them on my hard drive. Backed up to Carbonite. Backed up to the Walmart photostudio. Backed up on printed copies of all my luscious memories that evaporate like smoke through my fingers.
Our feelings change. Our memories are altered and swayed. We believe what we WANT to remember. The memories are enhanced by how we think they should be. Its so gratifying to speak to a sibling or a parent and to find out your memories are almost the same. It seems to give them more credence. I dont necessarily trust my nostalgic recollections. I romanticise everything, remove the harsh light, trade it in for rose coloured glasses, rose coloured petals falling from heaven, everything seemed so easy and peaceful by contrast to today, today was more gruelling, today I cried harder, today was not as satisfying as yesterday, always trying to gain the elusive plateau of satisfaction that actually never existed, we just believed it to be, so therefore it was and is, indelible in the photo album of the mind....
My daughter has long legs like a gazelle. When she grows up she wants to be a mermaid. But she already knows they dont exist. And she has plan B ready and waiting. She can be a mermaid for halloween instead or she can be an actor and pretend to be a mermaid in a mermaid costume.
I bought her her first pair of shoes today with a little one inch heel. They rest at the foot of her bed, whilst my daughter, the girl, dreams of her new school.
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