Random SAHM Thoughts

With Immense Gratitude for the GI Bill

I enlisted in the Army at 24. The main motivation for doing so was because I felt intellectually starved and emotionally stuck where I was – too smart to keep playing the paycheck to paycheck game, but not disciplined enough (nor financed) to make the necessary life changes myself. What in high school would have seemed like an impossibility became my best shot: the military.

The Montgomery GI Bill was an optional part of my contract (now called Post 9-11 GI Bill and I don’t know what new enlistees sign), but strongly recommended for good reason. A $100 a month docked paycheck for my first year of service, plus honorably completing my enlistment contract, meant the government would pay for the equivalent to a 4-year degree at any public or participating private college when I was out. There’s all sorts of generous addendums and understandable restrictions, but bottom line, it’s a great deal.

4 years is based on traditional semesters with summers off and is tallied by time enrolled, not workload. Taking one class a semester would mean I’d run out of funding before earning a degree. But I could stop and start every other semester if I wanted, the time in school didn’t have to be continuous. Thank goodness, because I tapped the GI Bill between 4 different colleges over an 8-year span.

So here I am, in that 4^th college where I’m finally completing a bachelor’s program – accelerated into 30 months or I would have run out of funding… honestly my time runs out a month before graduation this October, but I’ve been assured it’s all paid up, I just can’t fail a class. Making it by the skin of my teeth as my mom might say.

I’ve taken the GI Bill for granted for 8 years. I don’t even know what the 3 other colleges charged per class, and I only recently bothered to learn that my current college in total will cost $81,000 between classes, books (which run a ludicrous $300-$700 a semester), and random fees. I Googled the average online college cost for a baccalaureate degree. Turns out it’s only $30,000. Wow. I am so incredibly grateful for that GI Bill. Its somewhat flexibility didn’t let earlier depression struggles make my drop-outs devastating, and its real structure helped kick my butt into gear to really make it with the time left.

I’ll earn my Bachelor of Business – Accounting days before turning 40 and 2 weeks before my second daughter is due! My first was a week late, I hope her sister doesn’t go the other way and come early. Hubby and I were actually trying to time this baby to come mid-degree so I could take a 6 month break from school before going back with an infant, which would then make my graduation date closer to when I’d be job hunting, but what can ya do?

It’s been quite an educational journey for me. It would take a much longer blog post to do more than scratch the surface of my path from naturally smart and getting through high school easily, then balking at the overwhelming pressure to do well in college. Cycles of a honeymoon “school’s fun again” period to dying motivation, drop out, shame, and depression plagued my teenage attempts at college then again in my mid 30’s upon first leaving the service. This degree’s a big deal for me, and there would be no way I could have gotten here without that GI Bill, my daughter who gave me someone else to succeed for, and husband for the additional support and encouragement.

I suppose posting this now as opposed to after graduation could be seen as jinxing myself to wind up failing, or baby comes early and makes me have to drop out of my last classes, but I’m calling it a motivational push to finish strong. “Senioritis,” where motivation falls flat because I’m almost done, is a real threat to me, and seeing just how much this college costs really shocked me when I reflect upon the quality of instruction I’ve had… they didn’t deserve that much money. But, it’s about that diploma, right? Employers need that paper to justify paying you something you can live on… ok, I’m risking a fall off a sarcasm cliff into cynicism when this was meant to be a post about gratitude.

Thank you, writers and maintainers of the GI Bill, truly and sincerely. I’ll drop a resume off at one of your offices in about a year, whadayasay?

Play It Again, Mom – We’re in That Phase Now

So I’ve been indoctrinating my almost 3-year old with my favorite cartoons a while now and I’ve experienced a wide variety of feelings throughout the process. Disappointment when she’s not interested, irrational pride as though I wrote the movie when she loves one, very real pride when she empathizes with the characters, and a few surprises with whoops – didn’t remember that being so violent or sad – skip! (Total side note here… dude, Disney’s 1999 Tarzan would NOT get a G rating today… the entire intro musical number then first non-musical scene, whoo-e intense!)

Pixar’s 2006 Cars is now requested multiple times daily as, “Racing cars show?” We do not give in to every request, but it is pretty close to once a day. There are certainly worse things to listen to so frequently, and I think it’s really funny that she’s latched onto the vehicular alternate universe when “Moon-a” (Moana) and “Ah-na-Essa” (Anna and Elsa of Frozen) are favorites too, and seem more typical for a little girl. We even have a lot of Moana merchandise DeeDee absolutely loves. Anyway, back to Cars. She likes every Mater outburst and of course the tractor farts (she raspberries her arms, giggles and says, “toots”). She gets all excited at the “let’s cruise” scene and will climb into my lap and push my chin to make sure I’m looking and say, “Happy! They happy!”

DeeDee tucking in with some die-cast cars to watch Cars

I folded and got Disney + when Covid prevented my husband from going to work just to add variety to what we already had, and while I don’t believe I’ll continue the subscription once we’re finally done watching Marvel, Star Wars, new releases missed since having a baby, and nostalgic cartoons, I have appreciated it. Cars 2 is a fun story, loyal to the feel of a live action spy movie with the humor and warmth of Pixar, and I was very impressed with the passing-of-the-torch and girl-power-without-beating-“girls can do anything”-over-your-head themes of Cars 3 (I’m actually going to buy that one). DeeDee will grumble when I put the “wrong” racing cars show on but settle in to enjoy it once it starts.

I remember my little sister had a repeat movie phase with the classic Disney cartoons Pinocchio and 101 Dalmatians my mom and I hated. Well, I’ve never really liked Pinocchio because I found it a creepy and scary… I wonder if my sister only liked it because I didn’t (we’ve been very different people our whole lives). And I have a distinct memory of my mom complaining about Cruella Deville and mocking the “Idiots! You imbeciles,” line. Now, hubby and I take turns demonstrating how well we have Cars memorized and pointing out little details to each other – like the Adult Drip Pans sponsor on a yellow car, ha! We have real conversations about these “people” and complain about how Lightning never got a phone call when he was arrested, and where does his money come from when he starts patronizing the town’s shopkeepers? I know it’s just us making do with a near daily dose of Cars, and you know what, it’s still fun a few weeks later. But I do hope she starts preferring variety soon…

What a Weird Place in Time

So this post is a bit of a motivational exercise to force me to do something that I can call productive… I should be doing schoolwork… or renovations… or tackling a parenting milestone like potty training… or exercising my overweight self… Anyway… I didn’t really want to do a virus post but it’s the new normal and not addressing it would look like a weird, deliberate omission.

My 100% online school hasn’t made any changes, and as a stay at home mom, this virus hasn’t changed MY typical routine (except my husband does the weekly grocery pick-up now). But my routine has changed. I slowly click around headlines with a sort of simmering anxiety reading about Covid tragedy, stupidity, fears, politicization, and silver linings. I play a lot more phone games just avoiding, well, everything… weakly staving off anxiety, depression, and motivation problems. My coursework isn’t avoid-because-its-hard or tedious, or too easy. Just… I… don’t… care? I’m chugging along and still getting consistent grades, but they’re half-assed at best, I know. Facebook motivational posts talking about how it’s ok to not be ok, and not to beat yourself up over not being productive are both somewhat encouraging and somewhat patronizing. What a weird place in time we’re in.

My husband’s restaurant sent all but salaried people home with 2 weeks of their average paychecks before our state mandated they stop sit down service and I think that says a lot about their corporate office. Unfortunately, he’ll be out of work more than 2 weeks and no predicted back-to-it date. He’s bored, and while he’s not complaining, there’s an edge to his normal laid-back personality that comes up from time to time and I get it. Adjusting to my stay at home mom status had an ebb and flow between grateful, feeling useless, and pull-my-hair-out boring.

He’s cramping my routine in a big way! Not maliciously or anything, but his presence makes me self-conscious of some of my normal behaviors. Like being lazy for hours straight then cramming an assignment into 30 minutes as Deedee watches Tumble Leaf or Boss Baby. And my posture sitting hunched on the couch cross legged with a laptop on my lap really exacerbates my fat rolls and double chin. Or how I fill the sink with soapy water and wash 5-6 pieces at a time over the course of several hours. And how I feed Deedee a real lunch and then pair a bunch of grapes with a protein shake and call myself taken care of. All stuff I’m low-key embarrassed to do in front of hubby. Not because he judges me, mind you… but because I judge me. (Old relationship scars don’t help, either)

We were eating pretty well for a while, actually. Hubby doesn’t have his restaurant kitchen right now so he’s taken over much of the cooking and its restaurant level beautiful. When we were due groceries and Walmart pickup was booked solid, he shopped himself at Publix. I’m a practical, frugal shopper. I mean, we’re lowest middle class and food expenses add up fast. Hubby came home with brand names, specialty items, and three meals worth of fresh fish. It was a fun splurge, but no lie, I was grateful I could schedule the next pick up with my normal off-brand items and staple ingredients that make a variety of meals.

The novelty of complicated home cooked meals wore off after a while (I blame dishes), and frozen pizzas and lunchmeat sandwiches have steadily increased to before “stay-at-home-order” regularity. The borderline apathy makes everything harder. I did make chocolate chip cookies from scratch yesterday which made myself disproportionally proud!

Intellectually, I know the lethargy is normal, understandable, and excusable, but it’s still hard to not feel guilty about not being more productive. I’m going to try and assign myself fun essays to break up my schoolwork, avoid headlines, and possibly reach a more frequent posting schedule around here. No promises, because if it doesn’t work I’ll feel more guilty, but we’ll see…

Stay healthy, and whatever you’re feeling… remember you’re living through a weird time right now, so not feeling like yourself isn’t weird… but talk to people who can help you keep tabs on yourself… depression is no joke.

Cats in the Trailer Park

Pulling into my neighborhood just before midnight last night, I slowed for the first speed bump and two cats ran into the street. One changed course and doubled back right away, the other, a mottled grey, black, and brown, hunched down in the middle of the street unconcerned by my presence. Turns out, it had a mouse! I inched forward, the cat flinched and seemed to lose the mouse. Nope, scamper, scamper, pounce—got it again. Mottled was clearly playing with it, and my husband and I chuckled while watching and said the moment needed a British narrator. I kept creeping the car along, but the cat and mouse game remained in the street—maybe Mottled appreciated the headlights and/or audience? Scamper, scamper, pounce—mouse pinned. Mottled let it go… bat, thwap, pounce. I did momentarily consider saving the mouse, but it’s the circle of life. The mini-fleet of cats that live among the mobile homes provide a service by keeping the rodent population in check. My poor dog in the car did his anxious whimper whine thing, wanting a piece of the action—the cat, specifically (a vole got into our house a few apartments back and he had zero interest in it… but he’d beat up a cat if given the chance). Finally, Mottled picked up the mouse in its mouth and left the road. It didn’t look like a kill shot—looked more like a nonchalant “let’s just take this elsewhere,” move. The performance was over.

When I say there’s a mini-fleet of cats in the community, that means there are a lot of cats here, but it’s not overrun or a nuisance. They don’t clump into clowders so I don’t even know if I should try to name what they are. Anyway, one memorable late dusk in my first month living here, I was creeping down the 10mph street and dozens of glinting eyes stared up at me. It looked as though a cat for every mobile home was lounging in the roadway, presumably soaking up the last of the asphalt’s warmth. Not bothered in the slightest by the vehicle, they all just watched me drive past. If I wasn’t a cat person it might have been creepy, but I thought it was cool. Distances respected, territories appeared clearly decided, and the few that were paired up might have been siblings that were willing to share.

One of my neighbors not only has a few strictly indoor cats, she fills bowls on both front and back porches with dry cat food and water (I wonder what she spends on cat food annually). In the year since buying our trailer, I’ve noticed at least 6 different cats (crows, squirrels, and one HUGE opossum, too) that regularly eat from her bowls that I don’t see wandering my yard, then there’s two more cats that eat her food and do wonder my yard so I figure I’m part of their territory. The neighbor’s food bowls must be a sort of neutral zone since it’s too abundant to be worth fighting over. They don’t eat at the same time, mind you… the food doesn’t make them friends.

As a stay at home mom, I could totally be the nosy neighbor keeping tabs on the people around me, but I’m tucked into a very private spot in the community—halfway down a dead-end road, woods behind me, and a row of trailers between me and the street. Even if I wanted to people-watch, I couldn’t be sneaky about it because I’d have to hang out away from my house. Good thing I’m not a busybody… I just keep tabs on the cats.

Here’s a view of my backyard. I call this big guy Tom (creative, I know). He’s friendly, but nobody’s pet. Clearly not neutered, he also gets in a lot of scraps because when I see him after he’s been missing a few days, he’s got obvious war wounds. A little orange and white cat we mostly just call Kitty (trying to transition to Cake for Adventure Time’s Cake the Cat) claimed my yard and family as her own and sleeps under my porch (she’ll have her own post eventually), but Tom here is allowed to visit. They don’t fight, but they don’t cuddle either. I’m hoping they don’t make kittens because I’ll be emotionally compelled to care for them, but my dog would hate me.

I Miss Having a Dishwasher

But Almost Don’t…

I didn’t have a dishwasher growing up. According to my dad we actually had 2: me and my sister. Ha ha haaa… Like many technology related goods and services, this tail-end Gen-Xer or first of the Millennials (I was born in 1980, so depending on the source defining it, I could belong to either cohort), had to bring it home myself, or wait until I moved out. At 21, I finally had a dishwasher!

I can’t remember if I’ve ever lived somewhere without a dishwasher since. The up/downsides of owning a dishwasher as I see it (with a focus on roommate living)

A dishwasher is a good storage spot for dirties—out of sight and out of mind, and also out of smell! Until everything in the house is dirty and you’re eating off a Tupperware lid.
A dishwasher is a good storage spot for clean dishes. Why bother unloading when you can just take out what you need—until the sink is full of dirties, and the washer is still half full of clean.
When you realize you’ve done your roommate’s dishes consistently for weeks, passive aggressively going on dish-strike and hiding paper plates in your room will really teach them a lesson (provided they even notice).
If food sticks to a pan, or you’re too lazy to completely scrape food off a dish, that first cycle acts as a distribution system. Now, each dish is sharing a small percentage of food particles, so the next wash cycle should do the trick and clean them all. Should. Third time’s a charm. Try to avoid this in homes that bill separately for water consumption and be prepared: someone’s bound to get stuck with a cold shower using this technique.
Better safe than sorry and keep those not-dishwasher-safe dishes like color changing design coffee mugs in your room, because when a roommate ruins it, you may never know for sure if it was a well-intentioned mistake or a petty act of vandalism. My experience bets on vandalism.

Washing dishes—even while owning a dishwasher—was the most frequent fight topic my ex-husband and I ever had (until the divorce-worthy issues developed. Then those fight topics took over). I’m married again and I vowed to myself not to let dishes be a fight topic with him. Not to mention, hubby and I lived with roommates for 3 years while dating so we’ve both been the “bigger person” cleaning up after others and have vented to each other… so we already know how we feel on the matter.

Despite all internal mantras, “this really isn’t that hard,” “it’s a throw-back to your childhood and your parents are still together,” “he does so many other things it balances out,” I still find myself getting irrationally resentful from time to time… I do dishes a lot. But I’m the stay at home mom. I have more time to wash them. And hubby is a cook at a seafood restaurant and pulls double duty as dishwasher on slow nights. He cooks at home often, and some really fancy stuff. My point is, most people don’t relish doing at home what they have to do to pay the bills.

But then there’s the days that hubby steps in without dirty look, discussion, or being asked and does everything. The whole mound of dishes that has been accumulating for days while I was only washing 80% of the dirties for a week running. Then he cleans the whole kitchen, Deedee’s toy explosion in the living room, washes a load of linens, grabs the drill and puts another dent in renovations, tends to our toddler, makes a restaurant-worthy lunch and delivers it to me, all while I crank out a few college assignments, and all before he heads in to work a 10 hour shift. He’s no slouch at home, this is a partnership, not a 1950’s “he works, she cooks and cleans” setup. When I confess to feeling guilty about not doing more around the house, his reassurances are genuine… I’m in online college and caring for a toddler (and dog, but he’s fairly low maintenance).

Dishes are the worst chore… even with a dishwasher, but honestly it feels worse after having a dishwasher for so long. I think molding the habit to wash them more frequently will be good for me by introducing a much-needed routine into my lifestyle. Since they’re the only source of irrational, internal grumbles about my husband, I’m pretty thankful—it’s a reminder of just how good I have it. A daily chore that I won’t be able to hide not liking–but doing anyway–will set a good example for Deedee, and when she’s old enough to do chores, washing dishes is a good lesson in responsibility and I can start telling her that she’s the dishwasher so she can roll her eyes at me. Tradition.

Reflecting on a Foundational Lesson from my Dad

Aren’t memories funny? Sometimes, vivid memories get preserved into little snapshots of time, and serve as a reference point to compare new situations or lessons to which only strengthen that foundational memory. Context of why that moment happened and what followed the moment may be lost. Significance of the moment may be small and quite silly, other times it’s a life lesson born from a seemingly ordinary moment. Anyway, a memory of my dad has been needing an outlet so here we go.

Backstory: my dad (is still alive, just retired) was a bricklayer throughout my childhood. Steady, reliable, gruff, built like a brick shithouse (his words), and loud. As one of 8 children, he was a strong believer in fairness, making your own way, and family. I’m his oldest child, a total daddy’s girl and a rough and tumble tomboy. He coached my park district soccer team for almost 10 years and the highest praise we girls could hear from our coach was a hearty, “Beautiful!” after a well-executed play (that part’s not relevant to the story, just bragging about my dad).

Anyway, even as a tomboy, I loved conventionally girly things. Disney’s renaissance trio of The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin have been among my favorite movies since they came out. When Beauty and the Beast came out in 1991, I connected with Belle. I too was a brunette bookworm with few friends (shy, not misunderstood) and that was as sophisticated as the connection needed to be for my prepubescent self. I saw it first in the theater, but watching the VHS at home later, my dad (I’m thinking it was his first viewing) made comments about Gaston that have stuck with me. “If all he wants is arm candy, any of those three (referencing the blonde triplets that swoon over him) would do.” A little while later after Gaston tells Belle his version of her future and then physically pins her against the door, my dad sucks a loud breath inward and says, “oof, that is sexual harassment.” We had to pause the movie to talk about it. I don’t remember actual dialogue, but the gist of the conversation was even though women have more rights and freedom than they did back then, there are still people that think women are less important, even to the point of ignoring their safety, comfort, and dignity. My dad stressed to me that if a man ever made me feel unsafe or disrespected, those were my feelings, no one had the right to tell me they weren’t real or didn’t count. Even though Gaston thinks he’s complimenting Belle with his attention, Belle is uncomfortable and said no. Gaston needs to respect that and change his behavior, not try to change Belle’s mind. Doing something like that to a woman he worked with would get him fired today. I’m fairly certain that was the end of that particular lesson, just a few short statements made in a serious tone, and we continued the movie with Dad’s under-his-breath running commentary. More mature lessons about assault, rape, and domestic abuse would come later but honestly, the mini speech given within the Belle and Gaston context served as the foundation those future teachings would be built upon. I doubt my dad knew just how strong his point was that day. (And I have no idea why the arm candy comment has stuck around… mysteries of the mind.)

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Gaston?file=Gastonproposed.jpg

I remember that moment a lot when I’m watching cartoons with my daughter today. Just because something is rated G, or considered suitable for children, doesn’t mean that everything shown is an action worthy of emulating, or that the moral is obvious to a kid, or even that a life lesson couldn’t be tucked inside. Shoot, in looking for a photo to share on here, I discovered blogs/threads with adults trying to argue that Gaston wasn’t actually a villain, so even something rated G can have adults missing the point.

My dad’s strong reaction to how Gaston treats Belle served to warn me that men do things like that in real life, and it’s highly unacceptable. An additional take away was that my dad would have my back if I ever found myself in an uncomfortable situation with a man. That’s a powerful confidence boost to handle things yourself when you’re on the meeker side and shy. Kindof ironic to look back and know I’ve never taken any shit from men but got bullied by females starting in middle school and more than once as an adult in the workplace (in my defense, female bully tactics are quite different from sexual harassment). I hope to use Gaston as a foundational lesson for Deedee too (well, I’ll encourage it to come from my husband since she’s also daddy’s girl). I wonder where I’ll find a lesson about avoiding the ways women hurt each other. Mother Gothel in Tangled comes to mind. That one might be a more sophisticated lesson to try teaching, and I’ve got time to figure all that out, but she did turn 2 in the blink of an eye so it’s best to be prepared…

My Toddler TV

I admit to letting my toddler watch TV. To the parents (like my sister) that manage to shield their little ones, I am awestruck and have a deep respect for them. I don’t know how they pull it off. In online college, I have to be able to devote real brain power to my studies beyond what my Deedee gives me during naps. She doesn’t play independently for very long stretches of time, so I turned to TV for help. Some of what we’ve tried is mind-numbing for an adult but entertains and teaches numbers, colors, and the like. Others are sweetly geared towards toddlers but too slow to hold her interest. Some shows I let her watch are for the next age bracket but demonstrate social niceties while entertaining, and are less tedious for me to have to hear and/or watch with her. Because OMG kids programming can be so annoying!

Streaming services are great for keeping commercials from kiddos, but if there’s a way to build a playlist or shuffle episodes instead of a single show marathon, I haven’t figured that out yet. I try to hop around to create variety for both Deedee’s and my sake. Here are some top programs we’ve watched/still watch in my house:

Used to watch one 50-minute episode almost each day, but its dropped to once a week or less. Little Baby Bum – a British, computer animated, nursery rhyme and more compilation show. Wikipedia tells me its life began as a YouTube channel and success eventually led to Netflix. Recommended to me by a family member, at first the show was almost hypnotic for Deedee and it made me feel guilty to put her in front of it. However, each episode allowed for private mom-and-dad time and I could complete small homework assignments and full exams without interruption. At 2.5 years, now Deedee sings and dances along and will insist I watch with her (she physically pushes my head to face the screen) so she can show off what she knows. Its usefulness to me as a distraction has passed. Now we watch it so rarely (because the repetitive songs get on my nerves after a while) it’s special again, but it doesn’t hold her attention tightly enough for her dad and me to have sexy time anymore. I give it credit for reinforcing my lessons to recognize shapes, colors, and numbers, and wish they did letters too. We haven’t given season 2 a fair chance yet (it released after we were already mostly done watching the show) so for all I know the alphabet’s there.

Pocoyo – from Spain and re-dubbed with British narrator, I find this little show really charming. In a gently magical universe, a little boy (3 or 4?) named Pocoyo interacts with the never-seen narrator, a few human-like animals, and martians. Yep, they have a spaceship! Wikipedia calls it a preschool comedy, and it truly is silly without being stupid or relying on bodily functions. My husband likes the 4 legged red octopus Fred and I like Elly the pink elephant best myself.

Tumble Leaf – Amazon puts out this beautiful stop-animation show. When we first tried it, it was too slow to hold her attention. Several months later, we tried again with success. It moves at a peaceful pace, but is visually interesting enough for Deedee and a good one to wind down to. The ambitious underlying plot is figuring out simple STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, math) tools like levers and gears through play. The later episodes aren’t as good, but they’re probably running out of ideas… I certainly can’t think of any new ones for them.

True and the Rainbow Kingdom – found on Netflix, it’s easily my girl’s favorite. It really is a cute show, both in story and in all its colorful visuals. There are no traditional villains–conflicts are caused by accidents, misunderstandings and thoughtlessness, and the heroes employ calm reflection and problem solving skills to save the day. True, the 8 year old main character, is friendly, polite, and helpful with no expectation of reward. There are no direct toddler lessons like letters and numbers, but good manners are certainly worth celebrating. There’s a lot of unanswered questions for an adult watching and I’m half tempted to write a fan-fiction back story for this series.

There are more tossed in for variety I may go into later, and I keep trying Sesame Street since that’s a big one from my own childhood, but she’s just not into it yet. Interestingly enough, my husband and I got into Master Chef Jr (judges are nice to the kids) and then branched into the “recommended for you” cooking show titles that resulted and Deedee appears genuinely interested in them! Maybe she’ll be on the show if it’s still around in 6+ years.

So if you’re a parent feeling guilty about the whole TV thing, here’s a few ways I justify away most of my guilt. I watch everything with my full attention with her the first time (I’m in the room for future viewings but trying to do schoolwork) to screen it for appropriateness and use the show to create dialogue–well, more like running commentary (“Wow, she’s so nice, look at that!” “Oh, he’s sad. How can his friends help him be happy?” “What color are her shoes?” “That was bad, you can’t do that.”). I also balance TV watching with music and quiet times. As long as you’re paying attention to what they’re watching and not using it to completely replace human interaction, don’t feel bad, you are not the only one with TV-watching toddlers. At least, that’s what I tell myself, and it has to be true, right? The number of children’s programming is staggering! Doth she protest too much? If I wasn’t questioning every little thing I did as a parent wondering if it was right or good for my child, would I even be a mom? 😉

Side note: I am aware that handheld screen use by toddlers do have scientific studies linking them to developmental delays and brain chemistry similar to adults with addictions. While I won’t promise we’ll never use tablet learning games as a small child for my Deedee, it hasn’t happened yet, I don’t see it in the immediate future, and I’ll go into any screen-game well informed and cautiously. I’m curious about ABC Mouse, anyone willing to weigh in on that for me?

Adventures With Mobile Home Ownership and DIY Renovations

It’s almost been a year since my husband and I made the serendipitous discovery of where we now live. Frustrations with our former apartment complex reached a peak and we were emotionally ready to get out, but finances seemed a little bleak. In the Richmond, Virginia area, apartment locations and/or rental rates are not friendly. The apartment hunt was not going well, and on a whim I changed my web search criteria to “for sale” and found a mobile home trailer for sale with rent-to-own mentioned in the listing.

We didn’t like the listed trailer, but the property manager brought us to one she hadn’t listed yet. Older and water damaged, but on a better plot of land and affordable if we did repairs ourselves… we bought it! We asked a ton of questions first, got my future in-laws to look at it (FIL is a big do-it-yourself guy), and took out a personal loan (the only kind of loan a mobile home qualifies for, sadly) for what we didn’t have outright. Exciting, though! Our own place (well, there is lot rent), a yard beside us and wooded property behind us, neighbors with lots of children, and the freedom to make it our own. Bills added up to the same as our old place, so once we finish paying off the personal loan with this year’s tax return, we start saving money (as compared to apartment life) and I intend to fully commit to creating a Countdown to Home Ownership plan.

Mobile home living has differences I wasn’t prepared for but in perfect honesty I should have figured. Walls are thin so you hear things you’re not used to… like acorns and sticks falling on the roof (still spooks me sometimes) and all rain is loud. The thud thud thud of heavy heeled children running around next door is almost as clear as apartment neighbor-noise. Thankfully voices and TVs don’t carry though. It’s really drafty–every cold snap this winter has inspired an exploration of where I need to stuff more insulation. And we had a mouse for a while… I was cleaning poops for a few weeks while it evaded my humane trap. I think the outdoor cat that lives under my house finally killed it because I haven’t seen any poop in well over a week. I’m avoiding the word “stray” because she’s friendlier than many pet cats I’ve met, the soft-hearted neighbor lady puts food out for it so its healthy, and it loves my family. Our dog doesn’t like it around so it’s highly doubtful it’ll ever be our pet, but we’re emotionally attached to it enough to let it live under the house this winter. Hubby wants to build it a shelter so we can close off the crawlspace eventually.

DIY renovations are slow, and I knew that going in… my dad is a jack-of-all-trades, made his living at masonry. He built a new garage, and did all the household repairs and upgrades in my childhood home. Finding time and motivation alongside his paying job of course, so some projects took a long time to complete–and that’s even with all the right tools and training. I have sadly discovered that watching drywall get hung and finished as a child did not mean I was destined to be good at it myself. The only thing we hired done so far was demolition. Tearing out moldy, tobacco-stained drywall and paneling was not something we wanted, nor had time to do. Plus, the walls turned out to be put up with a million staples and glue… broke into so many pieces and was such a mess. The guy we hired wasn’t as thorough as we would have liked, but he was a nice man and didn’t charge much.

The photo collage includes a few before shots and then during the demolition when things looked pretty bleak. I don’t plan on making any instructional blog posts (because I’m cutting too many corners to be worth emulating), but I’m sure to show off a few things, brag on products I may fall in love with, and vent a bit about the bad stuff (like drywall mud).

Despite the frustrations of DIY, it is coming along and I don’t regret moving here. Trailer parks don’t have the best reputation within the general public, but for me this place sure beats apartment life. There’s community if you want it, privacy if you want that. And while I’m certain high-brow parks exist, having the occasional neighbor with an old fridge in the yard takes the pressure off manicuring your own area. The only side notes I’m compelled to toss in here is if you’re browsing a mobile home for yourself, remember a broken anything is your job, relocating a trailer can cost more than buying a new (used) one so if you want leave the park, you’re more than likely selling your trailer, and they don’t increase in value the way a house does.

My stay at home mom life doesn’t match the the ideal.

There are a bajillion mommy blogs out there, all full of well meaning advice and anecdotes, but what most of them have in common is they mainly present the ideal, then offer the trials, oopsies, and more controversial stances as little side offerings to the “nobody’s perfect” creed. But common, nobody is perfect, we’re all trudging through life at the pace we’re capable of, occasionally faster or even on hold, but my point is we’re each on our own journey. Judging others and yourself to unfair standards is, well, unfair.

Obviously, I’m a stay at home mom right now. My mom was a stay at home mom, too, and I did want to be like her because my childhood was really nice. Actually, I suspect I’ve romanticized my early childhood because I think my mom was pretty perfect. The house was always clean, we had routines, organized activities, and only watched Sesame Street and Mr. Rodgers’ Neighborhood. However, the kind of stay at home mom I am is different than I had imagined, and I’m having a hard time feeling normal and forgiving myself for not being like the memory of my mom. Every time I’ve turned to a mommy blog for support–especially with sleep problems–I keep pulling up articles that describe a household where the kid has their own room, the working parent(s) has a 9-5 schedule, and any typical problem is handled with common sense and patience. Maybe I’m using the wrong key words with my searches, because I know I can’t be the only household that doesn’t have a room for their child yet, wakes late and goes to bed later, doesn’t have a strict routine and the house is dirtier than it is clean. Having a support structure in place with people that are similar to you can help greatly when the journey hits a rough spot. If you’re more like me than the ideal, chime in please!

My husband works at a restaurant so our standard schedule is waking just before noon and going to bed around 2 AM or later. Deedee typically wakes with us, naps around 5, and when she’s being nice will go to bed around 1. That’s not every day, unfortunately for we adults… My husband and I co-sleep with our daughter. That wasn’t planned, it just sorta happened. We were in a 1-bedroom apartment when she was born, and her crib fit in our bedroom. When she went through a phase where she fought sleeping in her crib, I took the front rail off and pushed my bed against it. The height difference in mattresses were so that she couldn’t climb out but she didn’t feel trapped. She started sleeping again. Then she got strong enough to climb out onto my bed and my hubby and I would wake in the middle of the night with her sneaking between us and we’d just doze back off. Then we moved into a 2-bedroom mobile home that needed some serious renovations. Our budget allowed us to buy the trailer and supplies to fix it up but not hire it done, and the DIY pace is SO sloooow. Deedee’s room became storage for the slabs of drywall and various boxes. My bedroom size doesn’t allow for her bed to be set up too, so we just keep co-sleeping. She’s over 2 years old now and the cute factor of sleeping with her is having a hard time keeping up with all the downsides… but we’re nowhere near done with the remodel after 6 months… And she IS really cute, but I do miss having more space in my bed (and morning sex).

I’m still nursing twice a day. Now this I’ve seen plenty of blogs about. Breastfeeding advocates can be very vocal, kindof like vegans. I’m not against it at all, but I had hoped she’d be done by now… I want another baby and nursing mucks up fertility hormones. But as a stay at home mom who co-sleeps, attempting to outright cut her off causes tears I can’t handle. I have greatly reduced the duration of nursing sessions, but she still asks for the boob. The “cry it out” method of sleep training was NOT something I could stomach.

She watches TV. OMG I’m evil, right? Well, my husband is a gamer and I’m in online college so she was bound to get exposed to technology sooner than later. I use toddler programming to help distract her while I work on assignments, and just putzing around the house I like having the background noise of some unoffensive show. We do a lot of nature documentaries and reruns of my favorite, Big Bang Theory. She doesn’t pay much attention to the TV unless its her shows (or she’s shouting, “bang,” with me at the end of BBT’s opening song), but there’s still many things I won’t put on when she’s awake.

So this little rant got longer than I intended, and undoubtedly I could continue, but I have other things I’m meant to be doing. Who else is afraid they’re a “bad” mom? I know we’re all doing what we can, so those “Teach your baby to sleep in 3 easy steps,” articles can make us feel pretty awful… I’m glad for those Facebook parenting support pages that share funny and sarcastic posts because those feel more like what’s normal than many of the blogs I’ve found. Somehow the ideal is still the Beaver Cleaver era family structure when we all know society has changed drastically since then.

Why this blog exists

Notice my heading? I like writing, think I’m kinda funny and have ideas worth sharing and could certainly use more friends, but I’m not up for making friends with the universe without the shield of online relative anonymity and being able to share at my own pace. Socializing is exhausting! I’m not shy in the secretive sense–one on one or in small groups I’m more than willing to share–but I’m not going to draw attention to myself in a group of strangers and being put on the spot, embarrassed, and/or humiliated can lead to a mild panic attack, frustration tears, and/or defensive bitchiness. Un-diagnosed anxiety? Perhaps… but I do have a Depression diagnosis I wrestle with and I’m sure there will be blog entries on the subject.

I won’t be everyone’s cup of tea… I’m vulgar, have a gutter brain and my humor can be a bit dark-but I’m also a wanna be optimist that likes cartoons, sunshine and rainbows. My full bio will have more to say, but I predict this blog will consist of bragging and venting about stay-at-home-motherhood, product and media reviews, and sharing online business college content that I find particularly interesting, annoying, or I believe should be general knowledge. Anyone familiar with online college should be able to relate to my gripe that classroom participation topic threads don’t truly satisfy when you’re honestly interested in discussing a topic.