The Inklings of Life

I Don't Usually Get Political, But...

2016-07-26T08:12:00.001-07:00

When the shoe fits...
And, this show is awesome! They should cover the election, as it's something made of nightmares.
It's a scary time in our country right now...

~Tatted Mom

Oh, Shit! My Blog...

2016-04-12T10:20:00.000-07:00

I swear I remember that I have one. I remember at like 2 in the morning, when I get up at 6 in the morning, so I decide that sleep is the best thing for me. Then, 6 am comes, and I put on my big girl panties and do responsible things, like run a business, and homeschool my kids, and shower... maybe. Then, before I know it, it's time for dinner. Then more work. Then bed. And as I'm falling asleep, I remember that I have a blog, and... well, you see the vicious cycle.

I have approximately 27 blog posts that I started on my voice recorder app on my phone. The whole just-got-out-of-the-shower (my thinking time) and have-a-great-idea-for-a-blog-post-so-I-grab-my-phone-and-record-the-main-ideas-to-write-later thing. Now, the posts don't make sense. Like, about how I hate shaving my legs, so my kids got me an electric shaver for Christmas. CHRISTMAS!!! I'm already staring to plan for THIS Christmas, and I have an idea on my phone for a blog post about LAST Christmas.

So, that's where I'm at right now. I know this post is very similar to the last post I did... back in November. But, people keep coming to the blog, and I swear I still have stuff to say. So, this is like a place holder post. I'm doggie earing my blog to say, "Hey, I'll be back soon, I PROMISE!!"

Unless you are totally against doggie earing... then it's a bookmark. I swear, I didn't fold the corner down...

I'm still pretty active over on facebook, so maybe catch up there...

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See, What Had Happened Was...

2015-11-29T10:00:00.001-07:00

I'm a bad blogger. It's as simple as that. Life got crazy... I went crazy... and blogging just fell to the wayside. I had ideas. Oh, man did I have ideas. But I just never found the time to take those ideas and put them into writing. So, many of them are now expired ideas. Like, who wants to read about how we accidentally became a Trader Joe's family because of Pumpkin Spice Coffee, which I bought like 2 months ago? No one. No one wants to read that old shit now. Now it's peppermint mocha everything, so my pumpkin spice story is just... old.

So I can recap. That's about the best I can do for right now, until I get my mojo back, find a little more of my sanity, and force myself to sit down and type away at this computer... which so far, has been quite cathartic... already... after just a paragraph and a half. Hmm... I might be on to something again...

In the past few months:

The Ginger turned 11. I now have an 11 year old and a 13 year old... who constantly reminds me that in 4 months, she'll be 14. And then I have wine. Because no. Just no. I'm not the mom of an 11 year old and an almost 14 year old. Because that would mean that on my birthday, I'll be turning 35. Nope. More wine it is.
I went crazy. Did y'all catch that above? I actually did mention it in the beginning stages in a blog post, Being Crazy Sucks. Since then (y'all ready for this roller coaster? Fasten your seatbelts...) I went to the doc, got put on Buspirone, which I took for approximately 11 days before stopping the meds, because, well, fuck meds. They did nothing but make me sleepy and I don't have time to be sleepy. I went to my crystal/chakra/healing person (yep, I have one of those), and without even opening my mouth, she told me my aura was showing stress and anxiety. Yep, I bought that, hook, line and sinker right there. So I had my chakras cleansed and aligned, and I've been pretty good ever since... until I decided to go to her a second time a few weeks ago, and just have the cleansing, like, re-upped, and I almost threw up on her table. She said I held my stress and anxiety in my stomach, and as she released it (mind you, I didn't purge until after the session, and we don't talk during the session, so she had no idea how nauseous I was until we were done), I got sick as hell. Everything inside of me- my breakfast, lunch, internal organs, soul- came out, and I've felt better ever since. So now, I look back at this last paragraph in particular and wonder if my crazy has just reached a whole new level of crazy, or if it made me even more of a believer in my crazy metaphysical beliefs. For now, I'm going with the latter because crazy people logically rationalize everything, and right now, my logical rationalization is that I was crazy because my chakras needed to be cleansed and realigned (read Being Crazy Sucks- it'll make more sense then).
The holiday shopping season started early, which means I've been working like 10-12 hours a day. I actually hired someone to help me, it's been so crazy here. I hired someone to help me with my small, at-home, online store. That blows my mind. Like, when you think small home-based business, you think of 1 person, right? One person who does everything. And that was me, until that couldn't be just me anymore. My kids were tired of bagging spell kits and making free samples, and Hubby pulled the "I work, that's my job, this is your job" bullshit, so I had a choice to make- 1- Clone myself. 2- Go even more crazy and exhaust myself. 3- Hire someone to help. So I chose option 3. And it's been amazing. I make her do all the shit I can't stand (like bag herbs, spell kits and samples) and she doesn't mind at all. And we get to talk and shoot the shit while we work... in my house... in my pajamas if I felt like it. It's a pretty sweet set up so far. I still work my ass off, but now it's doing things to move the business forward, instead of just standing still. This week is going to be super crazy, though. I'm sitting on something like 40 orders just from Black Friday and Small Business Saturday alone. There's going to have to be coffee... copious amounts of coffee... to get through this week. And I'm not gonna lie- I love it.
The kids are still homeschooling. I gave them off the whole week of Thanksgiving, though, because... uh... their teacher is pretty slack and hasn't checked their work in forever. So, I'm giving that crazy bitch some time to check their work and go over stuff with them... which she still hasn't done, and it's Sunday already. Man, I might need to have a parent-teacher conference with her...
We accidentally became a Trader Joe's family because of... oh, never mind. It just doesn't have quite the punch it would have 2 months ago during pumpkin spice season...
We did our huge Halloween thing for the trick-or-treaters again this year. Our theme was Alice in Horrorland. I'm not even sure where the pictures are, nor did I post a walkthrough on youtube like last year. Slack. I'm just slack. But it was fun, and because we scaled it down this year, we realized we can't ever scale it down again. We had people remember the whole garage walk-through from last year, so this year, when there was no whole garage part (just a partial garage, where Hubby jumped out from behind me), I saw the disappointment in people's faces. Even Hubby saw it. So, next year we're back to big and bold again. And I found out I'd rather corral people and get them inside the walkthrough than be an actual part of the scaring- my heart broke when a kid burst into tears this year. I thought it'd be amazing, but apparently I have a heart when it comes to crying kids. So I'll leave the scaring up to everyone else, and I'll be the person who gets them to go inside the garage... the Free Candy Creeper Chick, if you will.
The Girl and I have binged watched 5 seasons of Friends in about 3 weeks. Yes, I was working while we watched about 90% of those shows. And while I think I should feel bad about that, I'm not sorry at all. So many Friends references are used in this household, that now my kids actually get them, and make references themselves. It's great.
Hubby requested we watch the first 6 Star Wars movies before the new one comes out. Now, I watched the newest trilogy in theaters with him, and he's made me watch the original trilogy before, but I have a really hard time staying awake during the Star Wars movies. I guess I just never "got" them... until last night. We started with the original, and it was actually pretty good. today we are supposed to be doing Empire Strikes Back, and I'm actually looking forward to it. And yes, I made the mistake of admitting to Hubby that they weren't that bad. Yeah, don't do that. Gloating happens after that.
You know what? Screw how "old" it might be. So, we accidentally became a Trader Joe's family because of a commercial I heard on the radio for their Pumpkin Spice coffee. Instead of it being pumpkin spice- flavored, they actually roasted the beans with the spices of pumpkin pie (including orange peel) and then grind everything together. I had to try it. So, I walked into a Trader Joe's for the first time ever... and fell in love. I didn't want to leave. There were hippy tree huggers everywhere, and the employees had smiles on their faces, despite the fact that the entire store was packed. There were samples being given in the back. All of their displays were pumpkin related, and when I got closer, I saw most of the products were organic. The prices weren't horrible, considering everything was organic and hippy-dippy. It was amazing. We ended up at a Trader Joe's like 3 times more over the following week or 2, and unfortunately I haven't been back because it's not right down the road from us like the commissary on base is. So, I'd have to make a special trip, and, well, read above to see how my time has been spent lately. But, I'm sold on Trader Joe's. I completely see why the parking lot is always packed. It's amazing.

It's been a pretty packed, pretty busy last few months. I do keep up with the facebook page on a regular basis. Funny pictures, crazy articles, and status updates that explain the chaos that is my life a little more, when it happens. And I do plan to keep up with the blog more, I swear.

Now for more coffee and work. I swear, coffee keeps me going. I'm pretty sure coffee runs through my veins now instead of blood. But it's a necessary evil right now... an evil that tastes like peppermint mocha...

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12 Things Overheard at Our House During Halloween

2015-10-28T20:51:00.001-07:00

Halloween is a favorite holiday of most of the people in my house- me especially. We usually go all out, either all dressing up to take the kids trick-or-treating, or, as in recent years, setting up a home haunt to scare the trick-or-treaters. This year is no different, and as we have been planning for an Alice in Horrorland set up for the yard, many of the things that have been said would cause an outsider to raise an eyebrow.

These are actual things said at one point or another over the last few weeks! You know it's our favorite time of year!!

1. Me: A bag of flesh? Would that be good?
The Girl: That would be perfect!
Me: For only $19.95, too? Hells yeah... Wait. They are sold out. Dammit!

2. Me: Is this hedgehog okay, or does it need more blood?
Hubby: It looks bloody enough, babe.

3. Me: Be a boxer, please!

The Girl: I don't know, Mom. I don't feel like dressing up.
Me: But, if you are a boxer, I can give you a black eye, and I would love to give you a black eye (makeup).

4. Me: Bought a gorgeous red evening dress off ebay. Got it for like $9.
Hubby: Cool.
Me: The question now is, do I shred it or leave it be?

5. (Out shopping) Me: Ginger!! Watch your tail, please. You don't want to knock things over with it, because then I'd have to buy the broken things.

6. Me: Did we already get a bag of cockroaches?
The Girl: Yeah, I think so. Here are some worms. Do we need worms?
Me: Might as well. You can never have too many bugs.

7. The Ginger: I got pet a lot today (wearing a White Rabbit costume).

8. The Girl: Is there enough blood on this flower, or does it need more?

9. Hubby: We need more heads. Where do we get heads from?

10. Me: Why doesn't anyone sell rotten fake food? You'd think this time of year, places would make rotten fake food, right? Now I'm just going to have to paint regular fake food to look rotten. That's gonna take some time.

11. Me (texting a friend): Did you already get your son an axe? We can pick one up if you haven't yet.

12. Me: Do we need a foot or a hand? Which one do we already have?

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Hi. My Name is Morgan, and I'm a Morning Person

2015-09-12T09:22:00.000-07:00

My eyes popped open at 6:45 this morning... on a Saturday. All it did was remind me of a recent conversation Hubby and I had- one that I think I have to finally admit as the truth.

Me: I think I'm a morning person.
Hubby: (bursts out laughing) Are you serious?
Me: What?
Hubby: Are you just now figuring that out?
Me: What's that supposed to mean?
Hubby: You've been a morning person for years now.
Me: (in complete denial, shaking my head) No I haven't been.
Hubby: (still laughing) Yes you have. And you definitely still are one.
Me: NO I'M NOT!! I HATE morning people. They're all perky and "Hello, morning! How amazing is this day?!" and shit. I am NOT a morning person. I don't want to be a morning person!
Hubby: (still laughing) Baby, you're a morning person. You wake up at the ass crack of dawn, make coffee and immediately start working. And, you can't stay up past 10 at night. You are a morning person.
Me: I just like the quiet in the morning, thank you. And I like my sleep at night.
Hubby: That makes you a morning person.
Me: Shut up!
Hubby: (still laughing) I can't believe you are just now figuring this out.
Me: Shut up!! I don't WANT to be a morning person, dammit!

I've fought it for days now, since our conversation. Every time I come up with a logical explanation,
my brain goes and plays devil's advocate...

Reveille wakes me up at 7 (we live on a military base). That's why I get up so early.
(Reveille doesn't happen on the weekends, though.)

It's insomnia.
(But you fall asleep just fine, and sleep through the night. You just wake up early. That's not insomnia.)

I HATE getting up that early, but it just happens.
(The coffee you make when you get up doesn't "just happen". The work you happily do once you get up doesn't "just happen". The fact you completely enjoy the quietness of the house doesn't "just happen".)

ALRIGHT, FINE!

I naturally wake up somewhere between 6:30 and 7:30 and get out of bed to start work, in a quiet house, enjoying my coffee.

Dammit, that makes me a morning person.

There's no use fighting this anymore. Admitting it is the first step, right?

(Clearing throat)

Hi. My name is Morgan, and I'm a morning person.

It pains me. I WANT to be the night person I used to be; stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning, roll out of bed at 10. My kids are homeschooled now; Hubby works an evening shift- WE CAN BE NIGHT PEOPLE!

But no. Not me. I'm a morning person.

Grrrr.

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Being Crazy Sucks

2015-09-04T09:14:00.000-07:00

I believe we're all crazy. Crazy comes in different types, symptoms, quirks, whatever you want to call it, but we're all a little crazy in some way. People who have been diagnosed with a particular type of mental health disorder are crazy. People who haven't been diagnosed with a particular type of mental health disorder are crazy. We're all a little crazy, and I tend to use the word "crazy" as a blanket term. It's not meant to be offensive; it's meant to make you embrace and smile about a subject that normally causes tears.

Amen!

If you don't agree with that statement above, or take offense to it, then it's probably best that you don't read further, because you won't understand my post, or how I view this sensitive subject. That's your disclaimer right there. Take it or leave it, it's up to you.

I was first officially diagnosed as crazy when I was 18 or 19. Adjustment Disorder is what the therapist called it, meaning I didn't adjust well to change. You graduate high school, get married a month later, become a military wife and move to a different state all in the process of one summer, and I'm sure you wouldn't adjust well to change, either. But, unlike most people, who can just bend and adapt to change, I had a nervous breakdown... at work... in a crowded restaurant where I was a waitress... with everyone watching. So I started my first stint in therapy (yes, stint, as in- I'm comparing it to jail... why? If you've been in therapy before, you know that some sessions feel like you were sentenced to attend), which lasted over a year.

Fast forward about 4 years or so, and I felt another breakdown coming on. I entered therapy again,
and told the new therapist that I had been previously been diagnosed with Adjustment Disorder and considering we had just moved back from an overseas tour in England, and I now had 2 kids, I'm sure it was just my Adjustment Disorder flaring up again.

Yeah, makes sense because of my extensive background in psychology and the human mind, right? Pfttt. I'm rolling my eyes at myself, don't worry. It's what they call logical rationalization, which is what crazy people do to convince themselves they aren't as crazy as they really are.

That therapist asked me how long my last stint in therapy was, and when I told her like 2 years, she kind of snickered. She called my old therapist's office, pulled my chart for our next meeting, and then informed me that Adjustment Disorder is a short-term diagnosis, only to be used for up to 6 months at a time. My actual crazy diagnosis was Depressive Disorder NOS (not otherwise specified), which meant I suffered from a general type of depression.

Well, shit. Adjustment Disorder didn't sound so bad. Depressive Disorder sounds way more crazy. I was like officially crazy now, or had been for years, but my previous therapist didn't warn me, or society.

What makes this even funnier
is that I have a Happy Bunny
tattooed right above my ass. =)

Fast forward almost a decade to present day, and I've done 4 total stints in therapy with 4 different therapists. I know Depressive Disorder stuck in my chart for a while; I believe one therapist further categorized me as Major Depressive, and the word anxiety was thrown around quite a bit. One therapist convinced me to see the psychiatrist, who put me on Klonopin for my panic attacks, but after that shit made me pass out like I had been roofied, I handed that over to my doctor real quick. I've been given Valium for flying anxiety, which has also helped tremendously when I feel a panic attack coming on, but for the majority of my crazy mental health past, I've been fortunate enough to control it with things like yoga, meditation, herbs and lots of days cuddled in bed, watching random shit on TV and sleeping.

I was talking with a crazy friend of mine yesterday, and started telling her about how frequent the panic attacks had been coming on lately. As I was telling her about the shit that's been going on in my head, tears started to form in my eyes. She watched as a mild panic attack started with me, simply because I was talking about my panic attacks.

She told me this: There comes a breaking point in every crazy person's life where they have to make the decision to seek help or continue trying to deal with the crazy on their own. She told me the story of her breaking point and then said, "Honey, I think you might be at yours now."

I think I might be.

My crazy isn't manifesting itself as it has in the past this time around, so it's been difficult for me to really figure out what's going on. I know depression. I know panic attacks. Those things, I'm familiar with, and can feel them brewing deep down inside myself. I know how to deal with those.

This time around, it seems to be more of a general anxiety that manifests itself in stomach issues. The more I look back, the more I think it's been there for the last 16 years, just misdiagnosed as IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) when I was 18. I flew for the first time when I was 18, and was in the bathroom on the airplane the entire flight, everything in me purging wherever it could. The docs back then just diagnosed me with IBS, a generalized digestive disorder at the time, and that was it. No one bothered to try and understand why I was nauseous and had diarrhea ONLY when I left the house to go somewhere new, or somewhere more than an hour from home. I've dealt with this "IBS" for 16 years now, having to take a cocktail of over the counter drugs just to take a road trip.

Anxiety, my friend told me. She has the same thing, and she was actually brave enough to get it further diagnosed for real- Agoraphobia. Our stories are almost identical, as to what happens when we both go to leave the house, but she went through this years ago, and I'm just now piecing it together, so her advice to me yesterday was invaluable.

This is how I need to view my current situation.
It makes things much more amazing!

And I'm worried. Whatever it is, is getting real now. The stomach issues used to not be triggered unless we were going more than an hour from home. Now, last weekend, we just went to a water park 30 minutes from home, and I had stomach problems the whole way there. I was fine at the water park itself, but as soon as we talked about heading home, I was back in the bathroom again. So, now I've gone from multiple hours of a road trip, to about an hour from home, now 30 minutes. What if it gets so bad I can't make my daily trip to the post office to run my business?

My kids witnessed a full on panic attack when we took our trip to San Diego a few weeks ago. I made it to within 60 miles of our destination, and that's all my body could handle. We found a shopping center, and in between trips to the bathroom, I sat in the car, drinking Pepto Bismol, hyperventilating and crying my eyes out. My kids had to watch that. They had to watch their mom break into pieces.

Even now as I type this, my chest is tightening and tears are forming in my eyes.

So, I think I'm finally there, at my breaking point. It's time for me to make an appointment, and see if I can't get myself sorted out. And I'm scared this time. I've pretty much always been able to control my crazy without meds, the occasional Valium when a panic attack starts, but what if that's not enough now? I always giggle at those prescription drug commercials on TV- here's a pill that will help your anxiety, but the side effects of that pill are bleeding gums, bad breath, nausea, diarrhea, a skin rash and uncontrollable flatulence, so even though you are now able to go in public without anxiety, you won't want to because you're scared you'll uncontrollably fart and shit your pants, while your mouth is bleeding all over the floor.

Urgh!!

Maybe this is just a spell. Maybe this is happening because we've been doing so much lately- flew home to Virginia, then a short vacation to San Diego. Maybe if we just stop doing so much, I'll be fine.

That's that logical rationalization I told y'all about before. I'm trying to convince my crazy ass that I'm not as crazy as I probably am.

I can't stop living my life, and I can't have my children sit helplessly and watch me chug Pepto and cry. It's time.

Being crazy sucks.

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You Know You're Raising Your Teenager Daughter Right When...

2015-09-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

We ventured to the local water park this past weekend, in an attempt to squeeze in a little bit more of our summer. When we got home, wet clothes came off, a shower was taken, and comfy clothes went on- that's just how it goes, right?

The questionable tank top.
And I thought the most offensive thing was
my crazy lazy day hair...

Well, since my girls (you know, the two below my chin) had been cooped up in a bathing suit all day, it was time to let them free. I showered, found a comfy pair of palazzo pants and a tank top with a built-in bra, and was very at-ease.

It just so happened that the tank top was from Victoria's Secret. Back in the day, when I was a tattoo artist who relied heavily on tips, my wardrobe was a bit... questionable. I purchased these tank tops then, with a plunging neckline, and it helped with my bottom line... feel me? Since leaving the tattooing world and becoming a work-at-home mom, those tank tops got lost in the back of my closet somewhere... until this past weekend.

I came downstairs, Hubby on the couch, The Girl playing on the computer. She turned around, took one look at me and said:

"Whoa, Mom. Put those away!" And she started giggling.

I stopped dead in my tracks, as I had no idea what she was talking about. She gestured to my chest
region and continued, "Seriously. that's a revealing tank top. I've never seen you wear that."

I walked over to Hubby and said,

"Did our teenager just tell me to put my boobs away?"

Hubby replied, "Yep, I think she did."

I immediately shot up my hand to Hubby, for a high five, which he graciously obliged.

You know you're raising your teenage daughter right when she tells you to put your boobs away...

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Perspective is a Great Thing

2015-08-16T10:27:00.002-07:00

The reality hit us recently that we are stuck. Hubby has 3 years left in the military, and if he doesn't make the next rank, that's the end of his military career. With 3 years left in his current rank, he lacks what they call "retainability" which means we probably won't get orders out of the desert before his career is through.

See. Stuck.

I went into panic mode. We are used to moving every 3-5 years. Hubby has been here 5 years now, the kids and I have been here for 3 years- that Moving Itch had set in.

And remember how we had orders to Japan last year, and then they were cancelled? Every single person we talked to said, "Oh, just wait. Whenever they cancel orders like that, you always get another set of orders in the next cycle. You're fine."

We waited. And waited. Like 5 cycles have passed now, and no orders. They double screwed us.

So, we're stuck. When that realization hit, I did what any crazed person who feels backed into a corner does-

I started house hunting for a place off base. If the military won't give us orders, then at least we can take it upon ourselves to change our environment to make the next 3 years exciting again.

So let's talk numbers. I'm going to throw everything out there, and before you non-military people
think I'm disclosing some top secret info about military life, everything I share today is completely googleable. Pay charts, housing allowances, housing prices, everything. I'm just laying it all out here so you can fully understand my frustration.

Right now we live on base. Housing is subsidized, meaning some housing company owns it and runs it, and contracts out with the housing office. So, we get a housing allowance each month, and it is automatically paid to the housing people- we never see that money.

Pause for a second- when military subsidizes housing like this, non-military people want to say our housing is "free," which, in reality, it's not. We pay rent every month like everyone else, it just gets automatically taken out of our check.

Resume. Our entire housing allotment is paid to the housing people each month, and our entire housing allotment pays for the house, electric, water and trash. What sucks (when you really think about it), is we pay our full housing allotment for this house (which is roughly $1270 a month right now), but the people in the other half of our duplex (exact same house, same number of bedrooms, same floorplan, same square footage) is a few ranks below Hubby, so they pay their full allotment (in the $1100s somewhere) for the exact same house we're paying $1270-something for.

Yeah, the housing people make out like bandits, right?

So, this angered me. I decided we needed to live off base, actually get paid that $1270-something each month, find a house UNDER our budget to where we could pay rent, electric, water and trash and have money left over to save (which you can do when you live OFF base).

The kids and I made a list of must-haves in a home- things we currently already have in this base house, that we'd need in a new house under budget, in order to move. 3 bedrooms. 2 baths. Either a 2 car garage or some type of room for Hubby's workout equipment. An extra room for my office and the kids' homeschooling room.

We needed all of that in a house that, according to my estimation, would need to be about $900 a month to be able to pay the extra bills and still pocket some of the housing allotment each month.

Easy enough, right?

Yeah, I live in my own little world, and reality sucks.

5 days of online house hunting, 3 days of driving all over Tucson looking at houses, and I have now realized that our house, and what we pay for it, is amazing.

Perspective; It's a great thing.

We started out with the $900/month houses in Tucson. They were either in the ghetto, or so far from the base that our gas budget would need to be doubled, thus making it pretty ridiculous to move. The purpose was for us to SAVE money, not spend it out of pocket.

We moved to the $1000/month properties. They either lacked the space we needed, or again- were so far from base that we'd have to increase our gas budget.

Moving onto the $1100/month properties, there were a ton, and they were nice. We'd definitely be upgrading from our current situation. But I called the electric and gas companies to get estimates from the past year for each property, and we'd be paying at least $300 a month in utilities- there goes our budget of $1270-ish.

So we came home, completely defeated.

I talked to a friend of mine about everything, and explained to her my frustration. "Well sure, honey, think about it. Property companies around here know what the housing rate is and what they can charge for a house. They just price the houses around what the housing allotment is, and they'll get it from someone, regardless of what the house might actually be worth."

More perspective. Well shit, right?

So I sat and thought for a while on what type of compromise I could reach to scratch this Moving Itch that hit the kids and I, without actually moving. Thanks to my new friend Perspective, I started re-looking at our house- 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, 2 car garage, extra room as an office/homeschool room- everything on our list. Safe neighborhood, and though our neighbors suck, we've been used to them for 3 years now- we don't bother them, they don't bother us. The Ginger can play the drums during the day, and no one can say anything. And our gas expenses are next to nothing. All within our budget- a budget we've had for 3 years now. No surprise expenses, no budget reforms.

Well damn.

Once all of this hit me, I started to appreciate my home a little more. I took a look at the current furniture arrangement, and realized I could switch around a few things to optimize the spaces more- and let's face it- rearranging furniture makes things new and exciting again. So the kids and I spent yesterday cleaning and making new living spaces, streamlining the office/homeschool room, and organizing our existing home. I've talked with Hubby about landscaping our back yard so we have an additional outdoor living space with the "colder" months approaching (you know, when it goes from 110 degrees each day to like the 80s in the winter).

I'm pretty damn happy right now.

I don't have the headache of moving, of cleaning out our savings for deposit, first month's rent and pet fees, of worrying if our budget can handle the new house, of wondering if the neighborhood is safe.

Perspective is seriously a great thing. I thought what we had was crap, until I saw the alternatives.

Hell, one house in our budget had the high school football field in the back yard. The Girl just stood there and watched high school boys at football practice while the rest of us looked at the house. Oh hell no, right? Right!

I saved us an assload of money and frustration, just by educating myself and switching my perspective, and that's pretty amazing!

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9am, Pre-Vacation Anxiety-Filled Ramblings

2015-07-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

I have been a suck-ass blogger lately. I know this. I've been a suck-ass blogger because I've had to be a non-suck-ass business owner, homeschooler, wife, and mother lately. Which means something had to suck ass, and unfortunately, it was blogging. That's just been my reality lately.

I'm nervously typing this out because I'm anxious as hell right now. We leave for our vacation tomorrow, and while I'm super happy to see family we haven't seen in 3 years, I hate traveling. 6 hours of flights there, 6 hours of flights back, and I'm not a flying person. At all. Yes, I've acquired the necessary meds to help me fly, but it doesn't make the anxiety leading up to the flying any better, because I refuse to take the flying-anti-anxiety meds until we are actually flying. Fun how that works out.

I also have to leave my furbaby, Ariya for the first time since we got her 2 1/2 years ago. This dog is attached to my hip, and I have zero problems with that. That makes leaving her 1,000 times worse. She is getting to stay with some amazing people, who I know will treat her the way I do (like an actual child), but it doesn't make my heart hurt any less to not be around her. It's not even me I'm really worried about- it's her. Will she think we abandoned her? Will she understand we're coming back? Will she be okay? Just more to add to my *lovely* anxiety right now.

They say when it rains, it pours, and lately, you can tell it's been monsoon season here in Arizona, and can totally explain why I've been MIA lately. It started a little over a month ago when Etsy
decided they didn't like metaphysical stores anymore. Considering I own a metaphysical store on Etsy, this was a huge hit for me. They started shutting stores down, deactivating listings, and giving slaps on the wrists of items they felt violated their terms of sale.

Let me paint this picture for you real quick:
They said items like Spell Kits and spells were against their selling guidelines.
At the time, they had a category marked "Spell Kits and Religious Readings" for you, as a seller, to place your Spell Kits into to sell.
When confronted with that little tidbit of information, they said they were removing the "Spell Kits" category, therefore leaving sellers of spell kits in violation of their selling terms.

No lube on that one. Not even a slight caressing of some erogenous zones. Etsy just barebacked all of us metaphysical stores.

Many of them were shut down by Etsy. Many of them left of their own accord. And then there were many sellers who still decided to sell some inventory on Etsy, but concentrated their efforts on an actual website.

I'm in the latter group. Which meant overtime for me, transferring my inventory to an ecommerce program and launching my very own website. Websites are exhausting. I see why website designers get paid some decent moula, because I almost felt like giving up many times.

Once the website launched, I rested... for a week. Then it was time to concentrate on this vacation.

Vacations are supposed to be relaxing, right? They are supposed to help you take your mind off the mundane day-to-day bullshit and feel free.

Not for someone with travel anxiety. It's like putting us in a cage and shaking it every once in a while.

I didn't used to be like this. I've always had some flight anxiety, but it's been okay. It seems the older I get, the worse the stress effects me. I shouldn't be freaking out like this until tomorrow, when we are heading to the airport. But I've been like this all weekend.

Meditating doesn't even help. WTF, right?

I know once we get going tomorrow I'll be fine. And while we have events planned for half of the time we are home (including some amusement parks, which, again, when I was younger I would have been thrilled about- now, I'm scared to death to get on a roller coaster. No idea when that happened or why, but that's annoying as shit, too...), I'm hoping to get some relaxation in, because dammit, I deserve it!

Now's the time I need to go wake the rest of the family up and continue packing, cleaning and freaking out... oh, wait... that's just me. As if that's not enough, we have to head back to the store we went to yesterday, because Hubby's new shorts don't fit. Why didn't he try them on while we were there? "Because I'm a man, and men don't try on clothes," he told me. Why do I have to accompany him to the store to exchange the clothes he bought? "Because you do the exchanges; I don't know how," he told me. I swear, I love that man to death... TO DEATH, I tell you.

Maybe it is a good day to start taking my flight-anxiety meds. Clothing exchanges and packing and cleaning and dropping off my furbaby are all pre-flight anxiety triggers, right?

Son of a whore on Tuesday, when did I become this freaking-out adult? I don't want to adult anymore. I want to kid. Adulting is dumb...

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When the Subject of Religion Pops Up...

2015-05-21T09:13:00.001-07:00

When I started blogging years ago, there were two topics I always swore I'd stay away from- Religion and Politics.

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I have to break my little rule today.

The Ginger came in last night from playing outside with his best friend (a kid he's been friends with for 3 years now), and he immediately trucked it to the back part of the house. He started doing his chores (on his own, without being told- Red Flag #1), and was putting things away in their places with a little too much vigor (read: slamming shit around- Red Flag #2). I quietly watched for a moment or two, to see if he'd open up about whatever was obviously bothering him, but then returned to my office because I know with The Ginger, he'd have to approach me... and he would.

A few minutes went by, and The Ginger popped into my office and asked, "Mom, are we atheists?"

Whoa. Okay. I knew something was bothering him, but that definitely came out of left field.

Of course I asked the obvious question:

"Where did you hear that word?"

The Ginger walked out of the room. He obviously didn't want to rat out his friend, but I didn't feel
like letting this one drop.

Me: Hey! Get back in here. Where did you hear that word?
The Ginger: I just know it.
Me: You are 10. You don't just know the word "atheist." What's going on?

That's when the tears started in his eyes. My heart started breaking.

The Ginger: I was outside playing with [neighborhood kid] and he asked me if I loved God. I didn't know how to answer because we don't go to church like his family. So, I told him I didn't think we were Christians, and he asked if we were atheists. Then, he added, "Oh, and I hate atheists." Am I an atheist, Mom? And, if I am, I'm scared [neighborhood kid] is going to stop hanging out with me because we aren't like his family. (more tears... which broke my heart even more)

Tears started welling up in my own eyes. Then, the anger set in that there was a possibility my son's best friend would no longer associate with him because of this. I calmed myself and tried to quickly figure out how I was going to approach this situation.

Hubby and I decided before we even had children that we weren't going to raise them under the cloud of a certain religion. He and I have very differing views on beliefs, religion, and spirituality, so we decided we would just raise our kids with general morals and ethics, to treat people with respect, be kind, and when they were old enough to truly understand religion, we would help educate them on all religions and let them choose for themselves.

So far, it's worked quite well for our family... until days like yesterday happened. We had a run-in a few years ago with a family member's child telling my kids we were all going to hell because we didn't go to church, but I handled that one with some grace (compared religion to ice cream, and blogged about it).

Now, with The Ginger a bit older and able to understand heavier issues (and seeing an opportunity for a home school lesson), I asked him if he'd like to learn about the different religions. He shook his head No, probably under the pretense that it'd be a lesson that lasted hours. I decided to go the Cliffs Notes route and explain monotheism, polytheism, agnosticism and atheism, and where his neighbor, me, and his dad fell on that spectrum. I told him it's perfectly fine to believe what you want to believe, and that everyone has the right to their own beliefs. I told him that in our house, we respect all walks of life, and as long as the person's beliefs aren't infringing on our own, then it doesn't matter to us what religion someone is. Then I explained to him the decision that Hubby and I made years ago to let the kids choose their spiritual path when the time was right.

He seemed happy with that. He started to walk out of the room, then stopped.

"So how to I answer his question, if he asks it again?" The Ginger asked me.

Me: Honestly? Just tell him we don't have a set religion in this house, and change the subject. The two of you need to concern yourself with Legos, Pokemon and making your videos, not religion. And tell him it's not nice to say he hates atheists, because Jesus should have taught him to love his neighbor.
The Ginger: Okay.
Me: Wait. Don't say that last part.
The Ginger: Okay.
Me: Wait. Say it. No, don't. Yeah, just don't. Just leave it. It's not worth the potential headache if he tells his mom what you said.
The Ginger: Okay.

And he left the room.

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I don't want to go into too much detail about different beliefs and philosophies in this post. The point of the post was to simply tell a story of something that popped up in my family's life and how I handled it- which is what my blog is. With that said, I will say that I am an extremely spiritual person- read: spiritual, not religious. I do believe there is a huge difference between the two, and I do want to raise my kids to be spiritual beings, even if they never choose a mainstream religion. Hubby leaves the beliefs and spirituality up to me, but it makes for some hella adult conversation when the two of us do decide to engage in a talk about religion. But we can debate and talk with respect for one another's beliefs- something I wish more people in the world could do when it comes to religion. There's so much "I'm right, you are wrong" in this world when it comes to religion that it pains me.

My family has friends and extended family who are devout Christians, Catholics, atheists, agnostics, pagans, wiccans, and plenty in the Little Bit of Everything category. We love them all, and that's the overall lesson I want to teach my kids.

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5 Ways to Develop Your Psychic Mom Abilities

2015-05-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

"Have you been playing in my office?"

The Ginger stared at me blankly. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Really? You haven't been playing in my office? At my desk, maybe?"

He took a huge swallow. Slowly shook his head again.

"Are you lying to me right now?"

At that moment, he broke. "Yes, Mom, I was in your office. I was just spinning around in the office chair. I didn't touch anything, I promise! How did you know? I did it when you were in the shower."

"Because I'm psychic. All moms are psychic. We know what our kids are doing at ALL times. Got it?"

The Ginger, eyes wide, hung his head and nodded that he understood. Then he ran off to his room.

This is probably one of my favorite parts of being a mom. How did I know The Ginger had been in my office, downstairs, in the front part of my house, when I was upstairs, taking a shower, in the back part of my house? Am I truly psychic?

That time I dreamed the Pick 3 winning lottery numbers would prove yes. And yes, I played them, but they came up in a different order than what I played, and I had played 'Exact Order' like a dumbass. The clerk at the gas station, however, when I told him my story of how I dreamed the numbers, played them 'Any Order' and won $500 bucks off me. Asshat.

Anyway, no, I'm not psychic. The seat height on my office chair is adjustable, so when I sat down on it, and was about 4 inches too high for my desk, I knew the spinning-chair-loving Ginger had been having quite a fun time while I was otherwise occupied.

Am I ever going to tell The Ginger my secret? Hell no. Kids thinking their moms are psychic has
been going on since the dawn of motherhood. It's one of the ways we keep one step ahead of our children, and always keep them on their toes.

And it's hella fun, too.

Being a mom of somewhat older kids- 13 and 10, I know there are some new moms out there who would love to know how to develop their Psychic Mom Abilities, and I can actually help with that!

Make Note of Everything- Just like the height of my office chair, in order to "develop" your Psychic Mom Abilities, you have to make a mental note of just about everything- how your desk/bedside table/dresser is set up, bookshelves (especially if you keep some smutty romance novels around- curious children get to that age where they might want to see what's so good about that book with the half naked dude on the front that mommy keeps reading late at night), nicknack arrangements, exact placement of the scissors in the drawer or holder, how the video game controllers were last put down- stuff like that. Not dusting is a great way to easily help identify things that have been moved out of place (so, there's your excuse the next time Hubby asks why you haven't dusted in a while- you tell him you are developing your Psychic Mom Abilities... he'll shut up, I promise...). Once you start to CSI-level-investigate the things around you, you'll easily be able to tell when the children messed with something. Then you can call them out on it, state, "I'm psychic" when the look of utter confusion crosses their faces, wondering how in the world you knew, and then drop the mic and walk away.
Know Their Patterns- In a way, you have to stalk your children. When they are being quiet in their rooms, you must peek in on them to see what they are doing. When they go to make a bowl of cereal for breakfast, you must watch their every move. When they say they are going upstairs to brush their teeth before bed, you must listen intently and see how much time goes by. All of this comes in handy later on. When The Ginger is simply playing with Legos in his room, he leaves the door open or at least slightly ajar- something I noticed when I was simply observing his patterns one day. When I see his door completely closed, I know he's doing something he's not supposed to be doing. When the milk has been left out on the counter after breakfast, I know which one of my kids is the culprit because I previously observed their morning patterns and who always left the milk out then. And I know how long each kid takes to brush their teeth, so when they come downstairs a minute early, I know they didn't actually brush their teeth. Knowing your kids' everyday patterns and behaviors helps to call them out when something is out of the ordinary.

If They are Super Quiet, They Are Probably Doing Something They Aren't Supposed To Be Doing- This is just a rule of thumb to keep in mind from the moment your kids start moving around on their own. There's nothing like hearing nothing, throwing the door open to the kids drawing on walls, and have them say, "But we were being so quiet, how did you know?" Exactly, kids, exactly. Oh, and I'm psychic.
Understand Where Your Kids Come From- You have to understand that your kids are an offshoot of you, so if you did it/thought about doing it, chances are, they probably have, too. Your older kid late for their curfew? What were you doing at their age when you were late for your curfew? Thinking like yourself can sometimes be the key to furthering your Psychic Mom Abilities. No need to tell them you did the same thing where you were their age- just leave it a mystery after stating "I'm psychic."
Employ the Help of Psychic Tools- Younger siblings are great for this. Give them a cookie or extra $1 in their allowance, and they'll be happy to share just about anything they heard/saw/found about their older sibling. This does run the risk of the older sibling knowing their younger sibling ratted them out (older siblings have that psychic ability), so use with caution. Also use psychic tools such as GPS trackers on phones and keystroke programs on computers with caution, as well. These are amazing tools for knowing what your older kids are doing without their knowledge, but they should only be used in extreme cases, as they do throw trust and personal rights out of the window. On a much milder note, mirrors and reflective surfaces make amazing psychic tools. If your back is turned but you can still see the reflection of what your kids are doing behind your back, you'll scare the hell out of them by saying, "Stop poking your brother with your finger."

Keeping these 5 tips in mind, you should develop your Psychic Mom Abilities in no time. Use them wisely, and always remember- NEVER let your kids know your secret. Psychic Mom Abilities are good for the duration of motherhood, but they do get stronger with practice. The more you know, the more you will be able to keep the upper hand when it comes to your kids and motherhood!

Can We Really Talk About Homeschooling?

2015-05-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

(Note: This post was written as a rebuttal for an anti-homeschooling post that went up on a pretty popular mom blog submission site earlier this week. The original post was pulled from the website roughly 24 hours after it was put up. I sent in my rebuttal anyway, as they asked for one before pulling the piece, and received an email today from one of the editors saying the author of the post had been verbally threatened, so they pulled it for her safety. The original post was very belittling to the homeschool community, as the author did actually call anyone without an education degree who homeschooled their child an "idiot," but I find it disheartening that she was verbally threatened for sharing her opinion. We're all adults here, and as I understand not everyone would agree with her opinion or mine, verbally threatening someone who shares an different opinion than you is just idiotic.

So here, on my site, let's just all get along, please. Hold hands and sing kumbaya and shit, even if we don't see eye to eye. I felt my piece should be read anyway, as I took the time to put my heart and soul into it, so here it is. ~Morgan, aka Tatted Mom)

In January, I decided to homeschool my kids.

Why are you laughing? Kinda trying to be serious over here. I really did. No, seriously.

No, I didn’t bump my head. No, I’m not on drugs. And no, I don’t have a degree in education.

The public school system, as my family knew it, was failing my kids. We live in Arizona, which is currently ranked #43 out of 51 in the nation. Then, we live in Tucson, which is rated #228 out of 355. Statistically speaking, we’re at the bottom of the bottom here, and despite the valiant efforts of my kids’ teachers, it showed.

Instead of the “old method” of simply multiplying one number by another, my 4^th grader was bringing home some core curriculum BS of what looked like follow-the-bouncy-ball on a number line. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to multiply it, or sing along. And he couldn’t figure it out, either. Note after note went to his teacher from me, stating, “He did the homework, I just taught him the simple way to multiply, because neither one of us could figure out what the paper was trying to teach him.” She was very understanding, unlike my daughter’s 7^th grade math teacher, who just constantly marked her work wrong because she wasn’t doing the 27 step core-curriculum-taught method, but instead was doing the 5 step method that has worked for me for 21 years now.

So, core curriculum- strike one against the public school system for my family.

My kids spent half of this school year in public schools, and when we kept getting notices in
December about some new standardized test in April, I started shaking my head once again. Tucson public schools teach for the standardized tests- that’s about it. If it’s not going to be on the standardized test, it doesn’t get taught. So, my kids’ days were filled with reading, writing and math. Science and history were still being taught, but not with as much vigor as the three subjects on the test. And recess was now no longer an actual lump of time for my 4^th grader- it was grouped in with lunch, so the faster you scarfed down your food, the more time you’d get outside to play… on a full stomach… of food that wasn’t even properly chewed.

Strike two against the public school system for my family- too much emphasis on standardized tests.

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Strike three came quickly and out of left field. My daughter started developing some severe anxiety about going to school each day. We had already pulled her off the bus, as the other preteens on the bus were watching porn on their phones in the morning, and when I reported it to the transportation department, they put a monitor on the bus for one day, who saw no porn watching (surprise, right?) and then basically said my complaint was unfounded. Cool, I’ll put on my Batman pajama pants and drive her to school each day- not a biggie. My daughter was in the GATE program- Gifted and Talented Education, which means she was in a self-contained program inside the middle school near us, of what was supposed to be above-average kids. Once the bullying from the bus kids died down, the bullying from the GATE kids started up, because my daughter refused to be friends with the popular girl in the class who decided to give everyone in the class cute little nicknames that included racial slurs. Yep, these are 7^th graders, mind you. The list the popular girl wrote was found by a teacher, and the child was NOT suspended, despite using words you really only hear in rap songs nowadays. This same child went on causing problems all year for everyone, but the kids just took it- she was the “popular girl” after all. My daughter stood up against her, and as a result, was bullied by her peers for the remainder of her time in public school- something the school did nothing about.

Strike three. That’s it. We’re done.

So, what are my qualifications to homeschool, you ask? Well, I graduated salutatorian of my high school class, never finished my double major bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and psychology, started my own business at the age of 23, and run a successful home business at the current age of 34. No education degree, no certificate (unless you count the World’s Greatest Mom print out my kids gave me a few years ago). We are a military family, so keeping my family stable during multiple moves and bouncing around ups my adaptability rating, I guess. But as far as a piece of paper that some people want you to have that says you are “qualified” to teach- yeah, I don’t have that.

What I do have is a love for my children that the school system could never have. I know my kids’ potentials and it is my sole purpose every single day to help them attain it, and exceed it. They aren’t a number in a classroom, or a last-name-comma-first-name. I don’t have to worry about 35 kids in an overcrowded class, I just have to worry about them, and what they are learning.

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So what does a typical homeschooling day look like for my kids? They each have an online math program that monitors their skills by grade level. They have grammar workbooks and vocabulary with reading comprehension workbooks, both above grade level. They do typing and French each day, and practice their music (my daughter- the violin, my son- the drums). We watch the news each day and pull out maps so when a country or state has events, my kids can find them and know where they are. We do science and history together as a family, and since January have covered the settlers up to the Revolutionary War, dinosaurs and prehistoric life, the Italian Renaissance, ecosystems, the environment and conservation, nutrition, and we’re currently working on the human body and learning about the government and the election process, as this is an election year. If my kids want cupcakes, they have to make cupcakes themselves by following a recipe, and I only give them ¼ cup and ½ teaspoon so they have to do math to figure out how many scoops of everything to put in. My 13 year old daughter recently showed an interest in crime scene investigation, and checked some books out from the library, so as that was my interest in college, we’ll further that subject area as a family. My 10 year old son just recently started his own YouTube channel, on his own, after teaching himself how to do stop motion videos with his Legos, and my daughter currently has her own hair bow business on Etsy. She taught herself how to make them, and I guide her along with marketing, business math and how to run a business, as it’s something I’ve done for pretty much the last 13 years of my life. Both of my children have blogs, where they have to post their creative writing assignments, and anything else they feel like sharing with the family members who can see it. Every month we cook an ethnic meal together as a family, and learn about the culture of the country whose dish we are serving. And my kids get science and history subscription boxes in the mail, which they look forward to doing each month.

This is homeschooling.

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I spent a lot of time in the beginning justifying my reasons for homeschooling to family and friends. At one point, I decided to stop justifying and just let the kids speak for me. I shared pictures online, and links to my kids’ YouTube, Etsy and blogs. The questions stopped; people could see the positive changes in my kids, and in our family as a whole. No stress, no anxiety, just happiness and a love for learning again.

If you talk to every single homeschooling family out there, you’ll hear a different story each time. Some kids have never been to a public school. Some families tried public school, were disappointed, and left. One family I know of was actually bullied by the school officials. And in my local homeschooling group, I even found a family with a story similar to ours- son in the GATE program at another school, GATE kids were little a-holes, they pulled their son in January. We live on opposite sides of the county and pulled our kids from what was supposed to be the top programs for our children, for the same reason- come on, now. You can’t tell me that doesn’t PROVE that the school system as a whole is failing our children.

If nothing else, homeschooling has taught my children and me both that every family is different, and what works for one family does not work for another. I have never seen an instance of bullying in the homeschool group in 3 months of being a member. Homeschooled kids seem much more open to diversity and the differences in people, and embrace new members. My kids have found friends, and I’ve found friends, too- open minded, free thinking, intelligent women from all walks of life.

We love our switch to homeschooling, but I know it’s not for everyone. It’s what is best for my family, and that’s all that matters, really.

The Great Coffee-to-Tea Experiment

2015-04-23T13:33:00.003-07:00

A few weeks ago, I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to perform an experiment. (I seem to do that a lot in my life, can you tell?)

I switched my morning coffee for tea. Me? Mrs.Kids-Cats-Coffee-Tatts in my blog's slogan? Yeah, I know.

I completely understand that this has been done before. You can google it and 719,000 results come up, many of the posts are bloggers just like me. But, Inklingers, I haven't done it before, which means you all haven't been able to read my take on what happens.

It all started with an episode of the Good Witch TV show on the Hallmark Channel (hell of a reason to make a huge change in your life, right?). Cassie Nightingale was pushing her herbal "coffee" on everyone one episode, and when her next door neighbor (and eventual love interest- we all know it's coming) commented on how it actually did taste like coffee, she revealed that it was really roasted dandelion root, chicory root, and beet root.

I googled. The shit exists.

I decided to make a trip to my local herb store to see if they had the ingredients, and they actually had a blend already made, minus the beet root. They had it labeled as "Herbal Coffee," but then had a very peculiar thing written next to it- Caffeine Free.

What is this tomfoolery? Caffeine Free? I'm willing to perform the experiment of switching coffee to
tea, but there are some things I can't handle, and caffeine-free is one of them. I tried cutting coffee completely from my diet once, and it led to migraines for me- not good. My body needs caffeine, and save the preaching about how caffeine is a drug, and I need to let my body detox from it. I'm perfectly fine being addicted to caffeine. I don't smoke, don't drink regularly, don't do drugs, don't hook on the street corner- leave me my caffeine, please.

I purchased the herbal coffee anyway, just in case, and decided switching from coffee to English tea would be my best transition right now. There's still caffeine in black tea (anywhere from 14-70 mg as opposed to the 95-200 mg found in coffee), and because I lived in England for 3 years, I grew quite fond of English black tea- with milk and sugar, of course.

I won't lie to y'all- the first day I drank tea as my morning pick-me-up, it was awesome. Instead of a heightened burst of energy and then an interesting crash a little while later (second cup, anyone?), I received a steady stream of energy with pretty much no crash. My body felt cleaner, my stomach didn't kill me like it normally did after a cup of coffee, and no headache. I thought I was sold- converted from coffee to tea, right then and there.

What I didn't take into account was how that first day, I stayed around the house and lightly worked all day. That ended up being a pretty important variable in this experiment.

Day 2 started, I excitedly poured my cup of tea and got ready for the day. The kids and I had errands to run and our home school park day to attend. Normally on this day, I'm good. I drink a big cup of coffee in the morning, and I don't hit a major crash until after we get home from the park. That particular day, however, did not go as it normally did. I hit a wall, energetically speaking, about halfway through our time at the park. I couldn't form words into sentences, my brain quit processing what people around me were saying. I wondered at one point if people thought I had had a stroke. I had majorly caught a case of The Dumbs, and then I quickly turned into a toddler who desperately needed a nap.

Ohhhhhh, gotcha. This would be the reason why most coffee drinkers don't make a successful switch to tea.

We hit up a Starbucks on the way home that day, for me to get a hit of my drug, and the rest of my day was fine.

The rest of the week I stuck to drinking tea in the morning, in the name of experimentation, and by the end of the week, I was seriously craving the taste of coffee. I missed the dark, earthy roast of coffee and the sweetness of my fru-fru flavored coffee creamers. I decided to give this Herbal Coffee a try, and was pleasantly surprised by how much it actually does taste like coffee. Even Hubby agreed that it was pretty comparable. The aftertaste is a little rooty, and if you let it steep for too long, it's a bit bitter, but it tasted enough like coffee to satisfy my cravings... for that moment.

Pic Courtesy and Herbal Coffee Recipes

Fast forward a couple of weeks to today, and while I did drink English tea when I woke up this morning, I'll confess now- that's the first cup of morning tea I've had in a while. If I'm staying around the house, and don't need that major burst of energy that coffee gives me, I'll drink tea. Most days I'm either running errands or swamped with work, so I need my coffee for my sanity, or there's a chance I'll shut down midday. I still do my Herbal Coffee at night when I want a night cap, and try to fit in some herbal teas throughout the day, more to feed my hippie tree hugging side than anything else.

So, I'm not a complete convert. I do love my coffee, so while I understand all of the nerdy health benefits that come with completely switching from coffee to tea, I just don't see it in my future. I will take a little time off here and then to let my body chill out from coffee intake, and I am thankful to the people who make the Good Witch series for throwing in that little factoid about dandelion and chicory root being an "herbal coffee." It worked for me.

And of course, as I'm finishing up this post, Hubby handed me a fresh cup of coffee and said, "I see you didn't make coffee this morning. Here, you'll need this."

Thanks for feeding my addiction, babe. Love you!

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The Evolution of a Super Mom

2015-04-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

I couldn't figure out the best way to start out today's post, so what I'm going to do is give y'all the 3 possible intros I have floating around in my head, and we'll go from there. And yes, they are all related...

So, I had a small mental breakdown last week...

I thought I was Super Mom until...

and

I finally had to come to terms with an important life philosophy of mine this week...

Yep, those are some pretty good stepping stones, so we'll just move full steam ahead, shall we?

I've always wanted to be "Super Mom." Back when I used to take my toddlers to work with me each day, and converted the back room of my store into a playroom for them, I started with this irrational idea. I could be the woman who worked a full time job, raised the kids, kept a clean house, was always on top of things, had an amazing marriage, cooked healthy, gourmet meals, was a milf, and was happy. That was my goal.

Uh, have I ever mentioned how much of an overachiever I am? If you are new here, then Hey! I'm Morgan, aka Tatted Mom, and I'm an overachiever. If you've been with me for a while, I'm sure you are just nodding your head right now.

My kids are 13 and 10 now, and while I took a break from the "Super Mom" ideal for a year or so back in 2009 when I decided I didn't want a family (my About Me page explains that huge mistake of mine in a nutshell), I've once again made it my personal goal for the last 5 years.

This year, I decided to put my ideal into overdrive. I already had an online store that wasn't doing too
bad for itself, and was a work-at-home mom, filling orders and running my store, along with cleaning house and just doing everyday homemaker things, during the day while the kids were at school. The school system started bugging me, and affecting my children negatively, so we decided to homeschool the kids, starting in January.

Let me rephrase. I decided to homeschool the kids. Hubby said, "Uh, Morgan, your store is doing pretty well, keeping you busy, and you blog, and you keep the house up, and cook, and run errands. Are you sure you want to add homeschooling the kids to that?"

Pffffttt. Duh. Of course I do. And, no, Negative Nancy, I won't drop any of the balls I'm juggling. I was made for this. THIS is my ideal goal, sitting right in front of me. So, Hubby agreed.

That was back in December/ January time frame. Fast forward to early last week. I climbed into bed about 1:30am or so, completely exhausted from just an average day, and tears started rolling down my cheeks.

Cue small mental breakdown.

I started word vomiting to Hubby about how the house was a wreck, I had 30+ orders piled up just from the last 3 days, the kids and I were behind in the lesson plans I had put together for us, we hadn't had sex in I couldn't even remember when because I was too damn busy during the day, and tired at night, and how I was still trying to read "Lord of the Flies" for the kids, but the book was SO difficult to get through, so I didn't even have enjoyable "me time" reading a chick lit novel or something else that I wanted to read, and how I had been in hella stupid pain for the last few weeks from extremely tight shoulder and back muscles- something that my prescription muscle relaxers (which I had to take every night, mind you) weren't even touching anymore.

Hubby simply said, "What part of this did you not ask for?"

Yes, yes, very assholish move on his part, speaking those words while his wife was in the beginnings of a small mental breakdown. He managed to escalate it quickly to the middle of a small mental breakdown.

He went on to say that I used to be a stay-at-home mom who cooked, ran errands, cleaned and blogged while the kids were at school. I was bored, so I started my online store. My online store started really becoming successful, but I decided homeschooling would be best for the kids. Now an average of 7-12 orders per day roll into my store, the kids are at home with their education in my hands, and the house, cleaning, cooking, grocery buying, laundry, running errands, etc. is still under my domain. By the time I'm done with ALL of that, it's 1:30 in the morning and I have no energy to read or have sex. All of these things, I made the decision to do.

I didn't want to believe his words. I wanted to tell him that he was being a big butthead and that I'm Super Mom, and I CAN do it all, dammit. I wanted to say these things, but I couldn't.

For the most part, he was right.

GASP! I know. Fingers crossed he doesn't read this particular post...

After I calmed down, and tried to logically process his words, I did bring to his attention that the only thing he really did was go to work in a day, so now that my store was becoming a full-time job, which neither of us could really predict happening, if he could start helping me out more when he sees something that needs to be done, that would ease my stress. I told him I'd start delegating more everyday household things, and then I asked him one of the most important things I could ever have asked him; something, I needed to do myself...

To lower expectations.

I am human. There are only 24 hours in a day, and for my own health and safety (and the health and safety of others around me) I need to sleep at some point during that 24 hour period, and illegal drugs that keep me going like a speed demon just aren't a good thing. I had this ideal, this unreachable goal, that I needed to do everything myself; that if I fell short of running a successful home-based business, keeping a spotless home, running all the house errands and executive household dealings, perfectly homeschooling my kids (above grade level, of course), cooking amazing meals every night, having time to workout and read, and have a healthy, happy marriage and love life, I was somehow a failure.

WTF, right? Talk about some self-torture.

The very next day, everything changed. I woke up with the weight of the world off my shoulders, pain free for the first time in weeks. I didn't ask anyone for help, or explain how things were going to change around the house. I just decided to change my perspective, to lower my expectations and see what happened. It was a pretty amazing experiment.

In about a week and a half, these are the differences I've noticed, since shedding the Super Mom expectations I set for myself:

~ My house is acceptably clean. The kids have had friends over, and I wasn't embarrassed when they walked in the door. The floor is wet swiffered, the counter tops are clear-ish. The carpet is vacuumed and the toilet seats have been wiped down. The kids and I spend 30 minutes on either Thursday or Friday to speed clean, and The Girl now knows how to use the electric floor mop. When something spills, someone cleans it up. If the floor is sticky, both of the kids have grabbed the wet swiffer and gotten it up. Everyone seems to be pitching in now, and not after I've yelled and screamed. There's a layer of dust on the entertainment center, and if you move any of the furniture, be prepared to be attacked by a dust bunny. My house may not smell like freshly squeezed lemons 24/7, but it doesn't smell like ass, either... unless Hubby has gas. But we have air freshener for that.

~ The kids actually ask to watch documentaries now. Before my experiment, I had exact lesson plans mapped out for each day, which included powerpoint presentations, worksheets and quizzes. The kids hated it, and tension grew in the house whenever I told them it was time to start schooling. I threw all of that to the wind, and the kids and I adopted a more relaxed homeschooling environment. They know the core items they have to do in the morning (math, grammar, typing, French and reading), which they do without grumbling, and now we watch videos and engage in question-and-answer based conversation to discuss what we watched for science and history. We had to watch the first half of a documentary on early colonial life the other day, and when we got to the middle, I turned it off because we had already covered pre-Revolutionary War. The kids asked to keep watching it. I was shocked, and happily obliged, of course. Learning has become fun again, and I don't need a test to tell the kids have learned it; they can have a conversation with me about the subject, which is pretty fun.

~ Sex is back on the table again... well, not the on the table per say. Y'all get what I'm saying, right?

~ I *finally* finished "Lord of the Flies" and happily started a witchy romance novel. Which I'm enjoying, very much, and I actually make time to read it.

~ I haven't taken a muscle relaxer in a week. My shoulders are still a little tense, but nowhere near compared to the tighter-than-a-whale's-blowhole I had going on before.

~ My orders are going out by their shipping date, which is all that needs to happen. Before, I was trying to get them out within 1-2 days of order, even though my ship time states 3-5 business days. I was killing myself to get orders out 3+ days early. I made an announcement on my store's facebook page that orders were taking the full 3-5 day turnaround as stated, and for some reason, business increased. I'm good with that.

~ I cook non-crockpot meals maybe 3 days a week... okay, 2 days a week. Hubby cooks on the weekends. And on "free-for-all" nights, the kids have been eating chef salads and other healthy shit that they make themselves. I know. My mind is blown, too.

Ooohhh la la...

~ I fit a short run to the grocery store into my daily post office run, just to pick up a few things we need. It has saved a HUGE headache of spending 2 hours in a grocery store to get everything for a pay period. I'm in, I'm out, and I'm not elbowing some snowbird in aisle three.

~ Did I mention I'm getting laid again? Yes? Well, it's effing important, thank you.

~ I'm seeing friends again, hanging out, laughing, drinking wine. Before, I was "too busy."

~ I work twice a day now on store stuff; before the family wakes up in the morning with a little bit of time into when the kids are doing their core studies, and again later at night after dinner, after family time with the kids, after about a 15 minute recharge nap, but before Hubby gets home from work. I'm awake when he gets home, and can spend time with him. Before, I was working 7-10 hours straight during the day, couldn't help the kids with any help they needed, didn't spend time with Hubby before he went to work, and was too exhausted to even be awake when he got home at night. Breaking my work day up into 2 smaller shifts was genius, and way more productive, not to mention way more stress-free.

~ I meditate again. Especially when being around the kids 24/7 finally gets to me. I light some incense, a candle, sit my ass down and my Zen state going.

~ I haven't worked out in over a week, which means I haven't lost any weight in over a week. But, I haven't gained, either, so that's a plus. I'm slowly coming to terms with my extra 10-15 pounds. Let's face the truth, anyway. I loathed working out. If it was anything more than a gentle yoga routine, I had to fight myself to do it. Now, there's no self-fighting, which is a good thing.

~ I do manage to squeeze in a blog post a week, now. Before, I was "too busy" to blog, too. And, I definitely keep the crazy going over on the facebook page.

~ Overall, the family and I both seem happier, the atmosphere in the house is calmer, we laugh more, are more productive, and want to help each other out more. The house is not spotless, the laundry has sat at the foot of my bed, waiting to be folded for a week now, I don't bust my ass to cook a time-consuming dinner every night, and there are no quantitative tests being taken by the kids. But because of the overall result of this experiment, I'm caring less and less about those things that just 2 weeks ago, I obsessed about.

No arguments occurred for this change to happen. I think a lot of the stress from before was completely self-induced. I wasn't happy with how I couldn't juggle everything, so I yelled and screamed, creating a tense environment. The kids picked up that energy, bickered, refused to help with things, and fought me every step of the way on everything I asked them to do. Hubby resented never seeing me, so he pulled away, causing more stress on me. I'm not saying I was completely to blame in this vicious cycle; my family could have offered to help before I had my meltdown. But, they didn't have the same "priorities" I did; they didn't care about that one spot on the floor, or the fact that dinner may not have covered all of the food groups. Those were my stressors, brought on by my attempt to obtain this ridiculous status of "Super Mom."

Whoa. I just went all crazy couch doctor on y'all, didn't I? Mental breakdowns are good sometimes; they break the existing thought patterns and give you new ways of looking at things or processing them. My breakdown was exactly what I needed, and exactly what my family needed. I restructured my "priorities" and found out that many of the things I thought were important, that I almost killed myself to achieve, weren't even important in the grand scheme of things.

That overachiever inside me is okay with all of this, because I see the positives more than I see the negatives. I feel the amazing energy in my house, which causes me to not see so many of the dust bunnies. And, I figured out a loophole in the whole "Super Mom" status I'm so desperate to achieve.

Gone are the days of "Super Mom" being used to describe the woman who practically kills herself to live up to some ridiculous ideal that she has to to single-handedly make everything in her life and her family members' lives perfect.

Now, "Super Mom" needs to mean the mom who is great, awesome, magnificent, cool, groovy, incomparable, sensational, glorious, etc (yes, I totally googled synonyms of the word "super"). "Super" is not to be measured in the number of brownies you make for a bake sale, or how spotless your house is. It's not to be measured in how fast laundry is washed, dried, folded and put away (wait, we're supposed to put it away?), or how many food groups are covered at dinner.

"Super" is now going to be measured in the laughs of your children, the cuddle times with your family, and the number of arguments that are no longer happening at your house. It's now going to be measured in the minutes of relaxation you have, the number of ice cream dinners you make, and the number of times "I love you" is said in your home.

So, by this new definition of "Super Mom," I'm still rocking my label. And so are all of you moms out there. We're all "Super Moms" because we are doing the best we can for our family, and striving for happiness and stability in our children's lives. Now, "Super Mom" is completely obtainable, and something you all have already achieved.

That's the Evolution of a Super Mom, right there, and boy does it feel amazing!

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The Killer Bunny Story

2015-04-03T10:31:00.000-07:00

Last week, my Mom Skills were put to the test, and let me tell you, when you are facing down a ferocious beast, and your kids are near, you learn things about yourself that you never knew prior to that intense moment.

The point of entry for the intruder.

Or something like that...

We have a gap in our screen door. We need to put in a work order with the housing office to have someone come out and fix it, but let me tell you- fixing a gap in my screen door is not a priority in my life right now, so it's been like that for months.

The kids and I were leaving the house one morning last week, and The Girl and I were both at the front door. She unlocked it, grabbed the knob, opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks. She was looking down at the floor. I followed her gaze, saw a small brown, furry thing curled up in between the screen door and our house door, and...

Took off running down the hallway, shrieking. No joke. Not my proudest moment, let me tell you that.

It took approximately 2.5 seconds (and 14 feet of hallway) for my brain to process the image, compare it to the different files in my head, and find a match- long ears, soft and furry, fluffy butt- a baby bunny.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. The Girl, still standing at the door, matter-of-factly
stated, "It's a bunny, Mom," and proceeded to burst out laughing.

Yes, yes, when faced with potential danger, I ran like a scared little chicken. I didn't throw myself in between my child and the beast, I didn't push her out of the way for her own safety and tackle the creature head on; I ran, as if that little guy was really a killer bunny- but not a killer bunny I apparently want to protect my children from. Good grief, right?

Why on Earth did I run?

Because I'm not a fan of tiny, furry living things. I have cats, yes, but they are totally not included. Hamsters, gerbils, mice, rats, ferrets- not a fan of any of these things; they freak me out. So, when I saw a furry small thing curled up in the corner, my first instinct was to run away, which I did, and quite quickly, I might add.

As I approached the door again and marveled in the adorableness that was a little bunny curled up, the little sucker decided to flee, himself (or herself- we never got that acquainted). He took off down the wall of our home, under the windows, where one of our cats was sitting. Then, as The Girl tried to rescue the little furball, he took off into the closest open door- my stockpile closet.

The Killer Bunny

A few minutes later, The Girl had captured the intruder in a small box (the box in the picture is 7"x 4"x 4", just to give you a frame of reference), and as she walked outside with him, he must have smelled the fresh, outdoor air and jumped right out of the box and ran away. I didn't blame him; with 2 cats a dog in our house, I'd fear for my life, as a small, furry being.

The kids and I continued on with our plans for the day, but as soon as we got into the car, of course I got ragged out majorly by my hellions. "Mom ran from a baby bunny... HAHAHAHA... Did the cute, little bunny terrify you, Mom?" Ha ha. Yep, I deserved it.

At least for me, it was a decently sized baby bunny. I've seen Hubby scream like a girl and run from a tiny spider before. That always gets some hella laughs in our house.

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Not Prepared for Parenting Older Kids... Or the Zombie Apocalypse

2015-03-24T04:30:00.000-07:00

When you become a mom of older kids, like I am (mine are 13 and 10), and you see a mom with younger kids, I'm sure the same thing goes through all of our minds...

"Oh, thank goodness I survived that section of parenthood."

Now THAT's Being Prepared...
Pic Courtesy

No more diaper changes, no more wordless temper tantrums (now they are silent altogether, except for the sound of marching off and a bedroom door slamming), no more mandated nap times screwing up schedules, no more bottle feedings/stopping to breastfeed, nothing. Just older kids who can express their thoughts and feelings (somewhat) coherently, who you can tell to disappear if they are angering you, and who can wipe their own asses.

Bliss, right?

Yeah, not exactly.

Yesterday, we went on a field trip with the homeschooling group we are members of, to a waste water treatment facility. The tour was supposed to start at 10, but as this place was very difficult to find (everyone's GPS had us doing some crazy u-turns in subdivisions and crap) and somewhere around 50 of us total showed up, it took a while to get things rolling.

I *thought* this was the field trip that was supposed to last between an hour to an hour and a half. Come to find out (the hard way, yes), the timed one was not this particular field trip, but the one we have in 2 weeks. Not knowing this when we left the house, the kids asked if we should bring anything with us.

Why? We'll only be gone like an hour and a half max, we'll be home in time for lunch and to spend time with Hubby before he goes to work. Easy peasy lemon squeezey.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The guy heading the tour started his presentation (what? There's a presentation with this? Just thought
it was a tour...) around 10:30. Now, our homeschooling group includes kids ages 6 months up to high school age- huge variety. The guy giving the presentation was really enthusiastic about his job, and wanted to explain, in great detail (like, adult-level comprehension detail) exactly how the waste water was processed and treated through the facility.

I found it quite interesting. The 3 and 4 year olds in the room, not so much.

Over an hour this presentation continued. Younger kids were getting up, running around, playing with latex gloves, scribbling on the handouts- chaos at its best. All of the older kids just sat and ~~tried to stay awake~~ contained themselves.

In the back of my head, I'll admit it- I was giggling. Here were my older kids, sitting still (well, The Ginger has been known to have ants in his pants from time to time), listening (or pretending to listen), getting a little restless, but so were the adults, quite frankly. Gone were my days of running after a bored toddler, or trying to quiet a fussy baby. I just sat and smiled.

Please understand that I was not judging these other parents and their predicaments. I completely understood why the younger kids were acting the way they were, and they weren't bothering me in the least- they were kids, doing kid things, making the best of a 90 minute presentation that interested them none. My heart went out to these tiring moms, but it seriously made me thankful to have put those years of parenting behind me.

I was smiling on the inside, thinking I was on Easy Street with having older kids. If you think that's a little rude to say, don't worry; I got knocked off my inner-high horse soon enough.

Soon it was time for the outdoor tour of the facility to start. The tour guide said he'd cut the tour down to about 45 minutes (thanks?) because his presentation had run so long. So far, we'd been at the facility for 2 hours now. I texted Hubby and told him I'd just see him when he got off work that night, and told the kids to perk up and try and learn something. There, my parenting was done... right? That's what I have to do with older kids, right?

Yep, that's about right for Arizona...
Pic Courtesy

End of March in Arizona, around 12 noon, it's about 90 degrees outside. As we started walking the facility, I'm noticing the moms of the younger kids slapped hats on their children. Hmm... hats would have been good; hell, even sunglasses would have been a great thing for the kids to grab before we left the house. One mom commented that she was glad she put sunscreen on her little one before leaving the house.

Hmmm.... sunscreen.... Yep. That would have been good, too, especially considering I'm a pale ass white girl, I have a ginger for a son, and The Girl already had a mild sunburn from yard work this past weekend. Sunscreen would have been amazing...

20 minutes into the walk or so, a mom of a younger kid near me pulls out a granola bar for her kid. Yep, snacks. Snacks would have been good too, as it's approaching 12:30 and breakfast was over 4 hours ago for us. Why didn't I think of that?

Why? Because I'm a mom of older kids. Our days of carrying around diaper bags with everything needed for the apocalypse are long gone. I carry around a baby snatcher for a purse, but prior to leaving the house, my brain thought, "Hey- you're going to be walking around, so how about you empty out some of your purse so it's not so heavy?" THAT, I thought was a great idea. Not, grab some sunscreen, or get some snacks, just in case. Nope, those ideas didn't cross my mind.

Suddenly, I found myself a little envious of the moms with younger kids. They came prepared for this shit. Meanwhile, my kids were getting more scorched by the second, and our stomachs were eating through our backbones.

Me, On My High Horse
Pic Courtesy

Reality smacked me in the face, and down I came, tumbling off my high horse named Having Older Kids, that I thought was *so* amazing.

Now, I understand there are moms of younger kids who don't go everywhere with a Mary Poppins bag of wonder, and I understand there are moms of older kids who live by the motto of the Boy Scouts- Be Prepared. For the rest of us- moms like me, we ditch the apocalypse diaper bag as soon as we can, and the older our kids get, the less prepared we are for anything.

So, as a result of yesterday's ill-preparedness, I'm sporting a hell of a V-shaped sunburn on my chest (just HAD to wear the V-shaped t-shirt, didn't I?), the kids and I stopped at the first drugstore we could find on the way home and bought candy bars (amazingly healthy lunch appetizer, right?), and I've been immensely humbled.

Being a mom of older kids isn't "better" or "easier" than being a mom of younger kids. Each age group presents new obstacles and parenting lessons. I think the key is to carry with you what you've already learned in parenting, and use it when it comes time to tackle the new things.

Very important realization occurred for me yesterday, huh?

I also realized that I want to pack my purse with survival items, just in case. With my belief in the impending Zombie Apocalypse, I'm disappointed in myself for not being prepared already. I should have had a poncho, energy bars, sunglasses, and a machete in my purse, waiting to be used if needed.

Great- I'm not prepared for the curve balls of motherhood (or field trips that take longer than originally thought) OR for the Zombie Apocalypse. I just need to go hang out with the moms of younger kids if the Zombie Apocalypse starts- they'll have everything we need to survive...

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I'm Not Screwing Up My Kids for Life... I Think...

2015-03-19T11:33:00.001-07:00

Every parent worries at some point if they are screwing up their kids for life.

When you start homeschooling, that fear and worry seems to triple.

Two and a half months now, the kids and I have been trying to find our place in the homeschooling world. At this point, I feel like Goldilocks:

We started out with an online school-at-home program "porridge"- Too Strict
We moved to unschooling- Too Relaxed (according to Hubby)
We started a more relaxed daily online curriculum program- Too Easy & Boring

At this point, I've thrown the homeschool porridge against the wall and am currently pouting in the corner, wondering if there's any porridge out there that's "just right" for my kids and I.

Two months now the consistency has been rather spotty. They do math at Khan Academy everyday, we've found literature and grammar curriculum that we've stuck with, and they write posts for their blog each week, but as far as science and history are concerned, we're just bouncing around.

I'm totally screwing up my kids' lives, aren't I? Why did I start homeschooling in the first place? Why did I think I was qualified to do this?

These thoughts stay in the back of my head like poison, seeping forward every once in a while to drive me bat shit crazy.

Needless to say, I've been stressed beyond belief lately.

My readers and my friends tell me that we'll figure it out. They say homeschooling takes adjustment
time. They say everything will fall into place when it's meant to. They say my decision was a good one.

I'm glad they have so much confidence in me, because most days, I feel super lost.

I fight with myself constantly, it seems. My brain is still in my-kids-need-to-be-on-or-above-grade-level mode that's hammered into us through the public school system. So, I looked up the standard curriculum for each of their grades, and they aren't covering it, in history and science. The Ginger hasn't started the solar system yet, and The Girl is supposed to be working her way through genetics and heredity (one of my FAVORITE subjects, by the way), and moving on to evolution soon. The Ginger is supposed to be up to his eyeballs in explorers and world history, and The Girl is supposed to be somewhere in the 1970s with American history.

Nope, nope, nope and nope. Is there an option E- None of the Above? Because that's where my kids are right now.

Now, when my inner Negative Nancy starts to scream at me, she totally overpowers the small voice saying, "Hey- your kids learned about the events leading up to the Revolutionary War since they started homeschooling. They learned about the European Renaissance prior to going to the Renaissance Festival a few weeks ago. You've started the different types of ecosystems with them and watched documentaries- and all of this, the kids still remember, instead of memorizing for a test and then forgetting, like in public school."

Nope, that voice is drowned out by "Could my kids pass a standardized test right now, if they were tested?"

And let me tell you- I HATE standardized tests. It's because of the over-emphasis on standardized tests that I pulled my kids from public schools in the first place (well, one of the reasons). So why in the world they pop into my head like that is beyond me- unless I just like to beat myself up when I'm already down. How masochistic of me.

I thought the de-brainwashing would be easy for me. I thought I'd shed the philosophy preached by public schools, and standardized tests, and the US education system as a whole, of grade-levels and teach-test-retest and pass-fail pretty easily. I mean, I'm pretty Damn the Man on my own as it is, so I thought this would be easy for me, tough for the kids, because public school is all they've ever known.

But damn, it's sure throwing me for a loop, that's for sure.

When I started homeschooling my kids, I wanted our days to be filled with fun and learning. The things I still remember from school fall into 3 categories for me:

Topics I was actually interested in.
Topics that I use in everyday life, so I have to remember them.
Topics that maybe didn't interest me at first, but were taught in a fun way that stuck with me.

This is how I wanted every day to be for my kids. I know subjects like math and literature/grammar are crucial to function in everyday life, so these would probably be met with some grumbling from the kids because they have to do them, but I wanted them to get done with the core subjects early in the day, so the rest of our day could be fun. I envisioned science experiments at our kitchen island, and teaching the kids yoga and meditation; Learning about the Roman Empire and then watching "Gladiator;" Field trips to the zoo after spending a week or two learning zoology; The Girl making money with her bow business and understanding business money basics and how to run a business; The Ginger making successful stop-motion videos and learning the history of animation. THIS is what I wanted homeschooling to be for us.

And what's wrong with my vision?

...

(Blink. Double blink. Smack myself in the forehead.)

NOTHING! That's what! It's time for me to kick Negative Nancy in the ass and send her on her way. It's time for me to stop doubting myself as a mom, and as a homeschooling mom.

It's time to make my vision a reality.

And it's definitely time for me to stop thinking I'm screwing up my kids for life. Hell, I'm not off smoking crack, leaving my kids to fend for themselves, exposing them to the horrors of the world. I'm trying to find our place in the homeschooling world. Major difference there.

Homeschooling is a hell of an adjustment- one that apparently doesn't take less than 2 months like my over-achieving mind aimed for. I need to relax more. I need to meditate. Take a dose of my own medicine of free-flowing, hippie tree-hugging, stress-free beliefs. But when it comes to my kids, I just want to know that I'm making the right choices; that I'm not screwing up their lives forever.

That's what every Mom wants to know.

Regaining My Nerd Status

2015-03-11T22:17:00.001-07:00

I was a nerd in high school.

Pic Courtesy

Ha! Who am I kidding? I'm still a nerd now.

I'm a nerd, though, with a pretty big secret that was revealed to my kids this week. While they didn't fully understand the scope of the secret, Hubby looked at me like I had grown a second head and said, "Seriously? Whoa."

I never read 2 of the books that are some of the top books on pretty much any required reading or greatest books ever written lists...

"Lord of the Flies" and "The Catcher in the Rye." Never read either book.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Every single conversation in the last 15 years or so where either one of these books has been brought up has gone something like this:

Person: You know, like in "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher in the Rye."
Me: Oh, yeah, I understand, but I've never read it.
Person: (blank stare) What?
Me: Yeah. I've never read it. But I know the concept of the story and all.
Person: (continued blank stare) What do you mean you never read "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher
in the Rye?" It was required reading in like 9th grade.
Me: Yeah, it was. But I picked a different book on the list, so I never read it.
Person: (seriously, the stare is getting old) Aren't you supposed to be smart or something?
Me: I guess. I graduated salutatorian.
Person: (blank stare turning into a look like they smelled a fart somewhere) And you never read "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher in the Rye?"
Me: Yep. That's right.
Person: That's messed up.
Me: Sure... I guess...

And that's it. End of conversation. Whatever they were talking about that caused them to make reference to the book, is gone forever. Conversation ends there, and 9 times out of 10, the person just walked away.

I wish I was making this up. I had no idea, 20 years ago, when I chose to read a different book on my summer reading list (which was either "A Separate Peace" or "Of Mice and Men") that it would have this much of an impact on my life now. I didn't think it was a big deal, but numerous conversations (I wish I could say it's only been 1 conversation, I really do) have proven me wrong.

Apparently I'm a freak for never having read these books, especially when you factor in how much of a book-loving geek I am.

This subject came up this week because the kids started reading classics. I looked over the recommended reading lists for their ages, and we picked out books we could agree upon. The Ginger is reading "From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler" and The Girl is reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" (yes, I read both of these in school, thank you). They have worksheets and questions to answer as they read, and certain chapters due at the end of each week.

This week, their first week, is apparently what I've now dubbed the Complain Loudly About Doing Something New week. It seems to happen whenever I introduce some new homeschooling item, and reading classics has been no different.

As The Girl moaned and groaned about not understanding the language of "To Kill a Mockingbird," and then moved on to how absolutely boring the book was, my eyes were strained from the amount of eye rolling I was doing.

A light bulb came on- a light bulb I'm kinda now wishing would have just stayed dim.

Me: Once you get into the book, it's amazing. A lot of classics are like that, honey, especially the old ones. They just take some time.
The Girl: But it's soooo boring.
Me: Not every book is going to have glittery vampires. Classics are important because of the messages they give and the way they make us think about the big picture.
The Girl: Okay, so why can't I just read books I enjoy reading?
Me: Because you need to expand your horizons. And, you can't be an adult and have "To Kill a Mockingbird" brought up in conversation, and you have no idea what's going on. Kinda like me and "Lord of the Flies" and "The Catcher in the Rye."
The Girl: What?
(Effing light bulb came on.)
Me: I tell you what. While you are reading a classic novel, I will read a classic novel. I have a copy of "The Catcher in the Rye" downstairs, and I'll even get "Lord of the Flies" from the library. If you are reading a classic, I will do the same, so we are all in the same boat right now. But I want the complaining to stop.
The Girl: Deal!

Yep!!

The next day when we were telling Hubby the story, I got that growing-a-second-head look. Apparently, even Mr.Slept-Through-High-School Hubby read "Lord of the Flies". (I think he skipped "The Catcher in the Rye," too.)

So, tonight I start "The Catcher in the Rye." Every copy of "Lord of the Flies" is in use at the library (required reading lists and all, though with today's shotty curriculum, I'm surprised it's still even on any school's lists- I've picked up over the years that it's a pretty disturbing book), but should be in next week. I'm hoping to have "The Catcher in the Rye" done, move onto "Lord of the Flies" and then I will no longer have to have bizarre conversations that revolve around how I've never read these books.

I'm not going to lie- I'm not really looking forward to this. Like my kids (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree), I enjoy my books- books by Sarah Addison Allen, Sophie Kinsella and my easy-to-read witchy Kindle novels. Switching over to books outside of my realm isn't something I want to do right now. But, if I figure it's better to teach my kids by example, and I'm sick of these damn weird conversations in my life that revolve around how I never read these books.

Seriously, if there are any more I'm missing, please let me know below! Better yet, if there are any books now considered "new classics," let me know what those are, too, so I can make a preemptive strike against future weird ass conversations.

Here's to fully regaining my nerd status...

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Explosions and Chopping My Hair Off, All in a Day's Work

2015-03-07T09:47:00.002-07:00

Yesterday, I lost it.

We are talking full-on, champagne bottle that had been shaken for weeks and finally exploded lost it.

So I did what any woman who fully lost it does- I went and cut all my hair off.

Yeah, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's head back to the ~~scene of the crime~~ beginning.

Yesterday morning started like any other morning. The kids got up, ate breakfast and then around 9-ish, they start their homeschooling. They start out with math, because, let's face it- most people hate math, so if they get it out of the way first thing in the morning, their day can only get better, right? (For the record, I love math. I have this annoying quirk where, if numbers are thrown at me in an equation-like way, I have to compute them. A simple question, standing in the grocery store, like, "Hey, is it better to get the 30 count for $5 or the 72 count for $9?" immediately makes my brain start working to figure out the problem. It gets annoying sometimes.) Both of the kids were on word problem lessons, which compounded their hate of math even more.

I usually work while the kids are on the computer, doing their lessons. So, I headed into the front room to organize my work day and figure out what orders needed to go out. I had barely even walked into the front room (25 feet from the kids), when I heard the first, "Hey, mom...".

I love my kids, I do. I love that they need my help. But I find it very hard to believe they need my help 2.5 seconds after I leave the room, when they've clearly been given directions on what they need
to do.

The Ginger was the first to ask for my attention, then as I walked out of the room, The Girl piped up with "Hey, mom..."

I had checked their lessons for that day. It was Friday, so I wanted an easy day. I had told them to each do 2 math lessons of skills they had done over the week, as a review and extra practice. Did you read that? Review and extra practice. Yes, they involved word problems, but they had already learned the skills needed to complete the word problems, so I figured it wouldn't be so hard on them. When The Girl uttered her "Hey, mom..." my skin started to itch.

35 minutes later, I had yet to set foot into the front room to start my business work for the day. The kids played ping pong with me, one requesting my help, then as soon as I stood up straight, the other shouted out that they needed help. When I think back about it now, I have to wonder if it wasn't some sick game they were playing.

Each time I walked back and forth between them, my blood boiled even more. They both knew the work they were doing. They just wanted my verification before they submitted an answer.

For whatever reason (I chalk it up now to a prolonged moment of insanity), I allowed this to continue for another 10 minutes, even after realizing that the children did not need my help. The straw started to weigh on the camel's back a bit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay. I'm going into the front room now. Y'all have been using me for the last 45 minutes. You KNOW this work. I can't stand beside you and hold your hand while you do it. If you understand it, and y'all clearly do, then do the work. If you get it wrong, that's a learning experience, and just continue on with the next problem."

The Ginger was the first to speak up, as I was walking out of the room.

The Ginger: "But I don't get it, Mom."
Me: "You don't get what?"
The Ginger: "The math. I don't get multiplying fractions by whole numbers."
Me: "You don't get the math that you spent hours yesterday doing, that you could clearly explain to me yesterday and first thing this morning?"
The Ginger: "Yeah. I don't get it."
Me: "You do get it, and you've proven that to me. So, do the word problems and be done with your math."
The Ginger: "I don't get it, and if you think it's so easy, why don't you just come do it for me?"

Straw. Camel. Back. Fractured.

Before I could even utter a retort, The Girl piped up.

The Girl: "GREAT!! I got it WRONG! Now I have to start all over again!
Me: "Well, then start all over again."
The Girl: "If YOU would have just TOLD me if my answer was correct before I hit 'Submit,' then I wouldn't have gotten it wrong, and I wouldn't have to start over now." (Their online math lesson gives them a few practice problems, and if they get them all correct, the program assumes they know that lesson and skips them to the next lesson. If they miss one, they have to continue until they get 5 answers in a row correct.)
Me: "So, are you blaming ME for YOU getting the question wrong?"
The Girl: "I'm just saying that if you had HELPED me, I wouldn't have gotten it WRONG!"

Straw. Camel. Back. Completely Broken.

SNAP!!!

Me: (to The Ginger) I'm not going to DO your work for you. I passed 4th grade math 23 years ago. So suck it up, buttercup, and do the work. (to The Girl) And YOU, Missy. It is NOT my fault that YOU got a problem wrong. When you get to college, do you think your math professor is going to stand beside you while you do math problems that take 20 minutes and 50 steps to do? NO! They aren't. It's not MY fault that YOU got a problem wrong, and if that means that you have to start over, then I guess you have to start over, don't you? But that's not MY fault, it's YOURS. (general addressing of both kids) The two of you have been USING me for the last- now hour- thanks. Today was SUPPOSED to be easy. It was SUPPOSED to be a review. I don't have a problem with you all asking me for help IF YOU NEED IT! But for the last hour, you haven't NEEDED me. You've wanted me to hold your hands and stand over your shoulders while you hit 'Submit'- now, I'm realizing, so you have someone to BLAME if you get the question wrong. I'm NOT your scapegoat. I'm your mother, and your teacher, and I know damn well neither of you treated the teachers in public school the way you treat me. You didn't expect them to okay every answer before you moved onto the next problem. And I damn well know (looking at The Ginger) that you didn't TELL the teacher to do the work for you, or (looking at The Girl) BLAME a wrong answer on your teacher. I'm DONE!!

And with that, I stormed upstairs. When I made it to the bedroom, where Hubby was laying in bed, playing on his phone (yes, still that effing Game of War shit), I told him I was done, he could go deal with his children, and I started peeling my clothes off to take a shower. I had mentioned going to get my hair cut, so he looked at me and said, "You going to get your hair done?" I screamed back, YES! and disappeared into the bathroom.

When I left the house, Hubby was having The Ginger explain to him the process of multiplying fractions by whole numbers, which he could do just fine. Figures, right?

Since the middle of December, I've probably had a grand total of about 6 hours to myself- truly to myself, by myself. The kids started winter break from school, and that was it for me and true alone-time. Hubby left for the academy for 6 weeks, the kids started homeschooling, and I started cherishing my 15 minute runs to the post office, alone. Then Hubby came home, and has been on leave for the last 2 1/2 weeks. I've gotten an hour alone, each week for the last 2 weeks, while he took The Girl to her violin lesson (I insisted he took The Ginger, too). That's it. 4 people, a dog and 2 cats (Bones ran away about a week ago and we haven't seen her), around each other 24/7, in a 1600 square foot house...

I'm actually surprised I didn't lose my shit sooner, to be honest. I've kept it together for almost 3 months now. Under these conditions, that's a little shocking.

I drove to the closest hair cut place, which had an hour and a half waiting time. No thanks. I called this salon I've always wanted to go to, and they had an opening. Now I know why- Fifty effing dollars for a haircut. No prices on their website to warn me. I should have known, right? I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. This morning it looks like a tornado hit the top of my head, but I always forget that about shorter hairstyles; when my hair is long I throw it into a ponytail at night and go to sleep.

When I got back home, a little over an hour after I had left, the kids were "done" with their school for the day (I still haven't gone back and checked if that statement is accurate), and Hubby was getting ready to do a workout session with them. That gave me about another hour to myself to get some orders out the door, bringing my grand total of alone time since mid-December to about 9 hours now.

My emotional breakdown did have a weird side effect that I didn't quite see happening. It gave me new found drive for homeschooling. After I finished my work for the day, I took to the computer for about 2 hours, researching lesson plans and organizing things for the next few weeks for the kids. They both will be starting classics next week (The Girl will start "To Kill a Mockingbird," complete with worksheets, and The Ginger, "From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs.Basil E. Frankweiler," complete with worksheets, quizzes and a project), and I put together a week-long nutrition lesson for them. We have a field trip to wetlands coming up with the homeschooling group we are a part of, so I scheduled in a study of the wetlands ecosystem a week prior to the field trip, and an environment lesson a week prior to our field trip to the waste water treatment facility. I'm hoping a clear, concise plan will help eliminate (or lessen, at least) breakdowns for me and the kids in the future.

Today, I'm feeling much better. I'm good with my haircut, I'm good with the decision to keep homeschooling, I'm good. Everyone in the house is starting to wake up now, though, so we'll see how the rest of the day pans out. Fingers crossed, it's better than yesterday. I'm not even sure I have anything left in me to explode again.

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Silver Linings and All That Shit

2015-03-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the big day for The Girl. Exactly 1 week from her 13th birthday, she's having her braces put on.

Pic Courtesy

And she's excited about it.

WTF, right? So many WTFs right now, it's not funny.

WTF #1- She wants braces. She's looking forward to braces. She's been begging for braces. Not so much because she wants her teeth straightened, but because in this day and age, braces are cool. Which leads me to...

WTF #2- Braces are cool? Since when? 15 (cough)... 20 (cough)... Okay, fine... 25 years ago when I had them put on, they were the devil. No one wanted braces. Braces were a necessary evil your parents forced you to go through; a rite of passage into the teenage years; another horrible part of puberty, as if the pimples, greasy hair and weird ass hair growth (sorry, not weird ass hair growth, like weird ass hair growth... maybe a hyphen is needed for that? Weird-ass hair growth. Better? Fuck it) wasn't horrible enough, your parents threw in braces. And for me? A lovely head gear. I'm just
thankful my parents didn't make me wear it during sleepovers- Thanks Mom and Dad. But now? Now, braces are cool. Braces are a fashion statement. Braces are desired. So bizarre.

WTF #3- My kid is old enough for braces. My oldest has lost all of her baby teeth, has wisdom teeth forming, and is getting braces. Next week, she turns 13. That's the teenage-years. WTF? I can NOT be old enough to have a teenager. I refuse to be old enough to have a teenager. I'm officially turning back the clock on my years.

She keeps asking what she'll be able to eat and what she won't be able to eat. No matter how many times Hubby and I tell her that for the next few days, she'll want to curl up into a ball and punch babies in the face, she doesn't get it. She thinks she'll be fine. She doesn't understand the soreness that IS getting your braces put on. Oh, but tomorrow, tomorrow she will know it in all its glory.

And it makes me giggle. Not because my kid will be in pain, but because Hubby and I, once again, will be proven right. When your kids get to be this age- in the middle of this "I know everything; you can't tell me anything; not even if you lived through it and experienced it first hand- I still know more than you" phase (please, Goddess above, make this phase end soon), you enjoy being right. You especially enjoy that moment when you get to utter those 4 orgasmic words: I told you so.

Just thinking about it, I can't help but smile.

So tomorrow it is, first thing in the morning, we will be spending hours at the orthodontist while The Girl gets exactly what she's been wishing for, for months now.

And I will be feeling even older than I am right now. Then next week, she'll turn 13, and I'll flip out.

I'm not old enough for this. I still wear Batman underoos (with a matching Batman bra, thank you). I have Happy Bunny tattooed on my ass. I still enjoy finger painting, and get covered in clay while at a clay class (this morning- so much fun!). I can NOT have an almost-teenager in braces.

Le sigh. At least I have Being Right to look forward to tomorrow evening, when The Girl is eating the apple sauce I bought for her- the same apple sauce she said she wouldn't need.

Silver linings and all that shit, I guess.

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The Kids Now Blog, Therefore, I Blog

2015-03-02T15:46:00.000-07:00

Lest ye be warned, internet goers. My children now have blogs.

Ye have been warned...

They aren't public (yet- we'll see how this goes), and they were created for homeschooling purposes, but nonetheless, they still have blogs.

I've been reading my ass off lately- homeschooling books, unschooling books, curriculum standards. My poor Sarah Addison Allen novel has been quite lonely, sitting untouched on my bedside table while I reach for the non-fiction books beside her. But at the moment, it's a necessary evil.

I'll run y'all through a quick timeline of recent events, which can somewhat explain why I've been MIA lately.

Beginning of January- Hubby left for school for 6 weeks and the kids started homeschooling with k12.com.
2 weeks later- Kids and I were highly frustrated with the rigors of k12.com, and went to our first local homeschooling group, where I learned about unschooling. Our lives changed forever.
Beginning of February- Withdrew the kids from k12.com and let them start the unschooling thing.
Middle of February- Hubby came home, having graduated with the top GPA in his class (this, from the man who slept through high school- we were shocked and thrilled beyond belief). When his structured-military-trained brain saw unschooling in action, his headache began. He took leave from work, and we have enjoyed family time.
End of February- Hubby and I sat down, like adults, and reached a compromise on the homeschooling/unschooling issue. He doesn't care what we learn, or how we learn it, but the kids just need a routine when it comes to their education.
Today- Started the kids on a slightly more structured program, with relaxed elements added in. So far, I've had a migraine, hidden in my bedroom, and rolled my eyes so much I'm surprised they didn't get stuck. Change is stupid.

We're somewhere in the first 3-4... Pic Courtesy

So, the last few weeks for me have been researching homeschooling styles to find the one that fits us. During this time, my kids have been doing math through Khan Academy, reading and grammar through some books we bought at the book store, and we've tackled science and history together through watching various youtube videos and doing worksheets. I thought we were doing pretty well; Hubby needed some more structure.

I found a great day-to-day homeschool curriculum on All in One Homeschool.com. It's a Christian-based program, which makes my kids giggle a little when they read that there are so many animals in the world because God was creative, but we just skip the Bible stuff each day (no offense intended toward Christians or Christian homeschool programs, but our family just doesn't follow one specific religious path). We started on Day 1, even though the school year is almost over, so most of their math is a review. I just have the kids log into Khan Academy instead. We do the science and history together, and I'm probably going to supplement their reading comprehension program with a KISS grammar workbook, just to make sure the kids are understanding the English language. The idea for them to start blogs to not only cover their Writing lessons, but their Computer lessons, as well, came from one of the homeschooling books I read, and I loved it. For now, we'll share the urls with family members who want to keep up with the children's writing lessons, but maybe in the future, when the internet is ready for it, we may unleash them to the world.

My plan for world domination has begun...

MUAHAHAHAHAHA (cough, cough... Damn. Evil laughing strains the throat a little...)

I figure that the kids have a ~~few weeks~~ month to play around, so come summer time, we'll continue to work while the other kids around here are out in the 117 degree heat playing. We've been getting in a ton of field trips, though, and learning experiences. We start a clay wheel class tomorrow (yes, me included- I can't WAIT to get back on a pottery wheel), and have a trip to the zoo planned for this week. We studied the Renaissance and then went to the Renaissance Festival up near Phoenix. We studied the beginning of the Revolutionary War and then watched the Sons of Liberty mini-series. I still want my kids to enjoy learning unschooling-style, because I'm scared once you start entering in mandated structure, the joy of learning gets lost. Hubby needs the structure, though, so we'll see how this compromise goes.

I do know one thing, though; my kids will have to blog/write for at least 30 minutes per day, so I'll have at least 30 minutes per day to blog, too. I've missed writing. And with only about 30 minutes, I'm sure we'll get some fun diary-style posts out of me, for sure.

I have to be going for today, though. I need to get more work done before my day is through. Did I mention that my business has doubled income in the last few months, and that I'm getting about the same number of orders I was during the holiday season? No? I forgot about that? Figures. My brain is mush lately.

Mush... looks like Lush... Lush drinks wine... Wine.... Yes, please.

My word association chain lesson for today. You're welcome. ;)

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Fifty Shades of... Give Me a Break

2015-02-08T10:22:00.000-07:00

(This post is an opinion piece, but does contain extremely adult material and spoilers of the book "50 Shades of Grey." So, if you haven't read it and don't want it spoiled, or you haven't put your big girl panties on today, then I advise just clicking on, my friend. ~Tatted Mom)

Pic Courtesy

I can't pull up a website, open my Kindle (yes, I have the version with the ads still on it), or watch something on TV without being reminded that the 50 Shades of Grey movie comes out this weekend.

Yippee. Can you see me doing me Excited Dance? No? That's because I'm doing the Annoyed Eye Rolling Dance instead.

I confess now- I hated the book. I can't even say I hated the books (plural) because I didn't read them all. Naturally, I have this ingrained instinct to immediately reject the popular (had it since birth, I think), so when the book went crazy, I vowed never to read it- it was a reflex, sorry. Eventually, curiosity got the best of me (and I wanted to be included in the 5,477 conversations going on about it at any given moment) so I bought the first book.

I tried, Inklingers. I really did. I read the first 40 pages or so... and then skipped through and read all of the smutty parts.

I just didn't get it. The character development was pretty shotty, the characters themselves were aloof and pretty one-dimensional. And the smutty parts weren't even really good smutty parts. I've read better erotica in the fiction section of Penthouse magazine.

Now don't go thinking I hated the book because I'm sexually frustrated and a prude. That couldn't be
further from the truth. My inner goddess and I talk on a pretty regular basis, and I follow the philosophy that whatever floats your boat- be it whips, chains, ball gags and Ben-Wa balls- is fine by me. Let your Freak Flag fly, ladies and gents!

But there is nothing sexy about having a tampon pulled from you by a dude. Sorry, there isn't. Especially (and yes, this is how my mind wanders off on a pretty regular basis) if she had just put it in there. That shit hurts, removing a tampon before it's ready to make its exit. And he didn't even ask first. He just grabbed the string and yanked, like the other end was attached to a tooth or something. Unless the author forgot to inform us that Ana had Vagina Dentata, it wasn't attached to a tooth, and it wasn't sexy.

I think I just found Christian Grey to be more negative asshole than positive asshole. We ladies love a bad boy, but there comes a point when you have to realize that the bad boy is really a mean, degrading, chauvinistic pig and should be sent packing. That's what I found in Christian Grey. Maybe it's because when I read the book, I had just come off of a few horrible relationships where I dated chauvinistic pigs (Hubby and I were separated), and just wanted to swear off men altogether. Or, it's because Christian Grey was really an asshole to his core.

And poor Ana. I'm not talking about the way he treated her, or the things done- I'm talking about the bar that Christian set for her. He took her virginity and slingshotted it so far out the door that she will be messed up for life. From that point of her life forward, sex to her is going to be all about what the guy wants, and how fast she can be gagged and tied up, not about what she wants, and not about a consensual, loving experience. My heart actually breaks for her future, as most men in the world aren't going to live up to what Christian has taught her to be a "typical" sexual relationship. The girl is going to pull out a blindfold and duct tape on her future first dates, for crying out loud.

These are the Ben-Wa Balls I'm
familiar with.
Pic Courtesy

I guess some good did come from the series. Americans have learned to loosen up a little- in general, we're a pretty prudish society. I lived in England for 3 years, where after the 10pm watershed at night, the television is full of boobs and penises flying around- and that's just the regular network channels, not cable. We lived there when Janet had her infamous Super Bowl Nipple Slip, where the Americans raised hell and threatened to sue the television network, and the British newscasters were saying, "Seriously, it was just a nipple..." So, with the popularity of the book, the sale of sex toys skyrocketed, especially the sale of Ben-Wa Balls. These make me giggle the most. I used to sell Ben-Wa Balls in my new age store years ago, only, back then, they were used as a meditation and concentration tool... okay, a different, more PG type of meditation and concentration tool. You put both balls in the palm of your hand and tried to circle them around one another without having them touch, requiring a bunch of brain power. I think it's funny that somewhere along the line, someone thought to stick them in their hoo-ha to strengthen their vaginal muscles. I'm glad it worked out, though, because it doesn't always work out in a positive way. Take the fact that we have the "For External Use Only" warning on the tag of a curling iron, for example. Whoever chose to experiment with that one apparently regretted it and informed the company- hence the warning.

So, people are coming out of their comfort zone, experimenting sexually, and broadening their horizons. All of that is definitely a positive outcome from such a shotty book. The more good sex people are having, the less assholish they will be in day-to-day life, right? Great in theory, at least.

Ha! I wonder how many babies will be conceived this weekend. Everyone needs to pay attention in 10 months to see if there's a baby boom... and an increase in the names Ana and Christian given to newborns. Yes, this is the randomness that is my brain.

As for me, I will not pick up the book to give it another attempt. I will probably watch the movie eventually, just to see if the Hollywood people improved it (they couldn't make it worse), but won't read the sequels afterwards, because I still won't care. I'll stick to entering in 'Free Erotica' in my Kindle search and seeing what gems lie there. Most of the books I've found that way are so much better than the 50 Shades crap. I'll take 75 uses of the cheesy phrase bulging wand of love over Ana having 53 conversations with her Inner Goddess any day.

Did you love 50 Shades or hate it? Let me know your favorite (or favorite-to-hate) parts below!

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My Love Affair... With a Computer

2015-02-02T09:06:00.002-07:00

I might be having a love affair with my kids' computer.

Yes, I have my own laptop. Hell, I even got a tablet for Christmas that I carry around with me pretty religiously... so much, in fact, that at the homeschooling group last week, I went to grab my phone, thinking it was my tablet, to show another mom a book I have downloaded on my tablet. First world problem, I know.

We bought the kids a desktop computer for Christmas because The Girl wanted to play The Sims, along with 37 of its expansion packs- something I did NOT want clogging up my laptop. The Ginger wanted to edit his stop-motion videos and research how to make more realistic ones, again, something I didn't want my laptop taken hostage for.

So Hubby and I bit the bullet and bought a desktop for the kids. We figured, a computer that stayed put in the kitchen desk area would be better than one that could disappear into the abyss that is each child's room, and would also teach the kids how to share. Meanwhile, I would have my laptop back to myself, and with my laptop, the freedom to do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted.

Only... something strange happened between Christmas and now. I seem to have taken over the kids' computer.

There's something nostalgic about sitting in front of an actual computer, the clickety-clack of the
keys, the rolling office chair under my tush, the convenience of the printer right next to me. I feel more business-like when I'm processing orders, and more professional when I'm writing (like now- this desktop inspired me to blog today). With my cup of coffee positioned neatly in front of the mouse (what's that? asks all laptop-exclusive users), I feel...

Like a grown up.

Which is pretty funny, considering that sitting in front of a desktop, typing away, is something I probably haven't done since I was in my early 20s, so, a kid pretty much.

It started when I was processing orders one day, on the kitchen island which is approximately 4 feet from where the built-in desk area of our kitchen is. I had forgotten to print something out when I was at my laptop, approximately 20 feet from where I was standing, so I nudged The Ginger off of youtube with, "Honey, it'll only take a second, let me just print one thing out, please," opened up a new tab, and printed out what I needed. While I was in my store's dashboard, I saw I had a new message. Click. Open. I started typing a reply super-fast, looking over my shoulder to see if The Ginger had realized that I had started a second task after finishing the one task I told him I needed to do. Thank goodness his antsy-pants had him run off to find some Lego piece.

15 minutes later, and several replied emails, relisted store items and maybe even a status update under my belt, and The Girl wandered into the room. "Mom, why are you on OUR computer?"

"I don't know!!" I screamed, defensively. "I just had to print out one thing, and something came over me..."

"Hmm, well, then, I can just get on your laptop, since you are on our desktop, right?" The Girl asked, while making a move toward my laptop.

"NO!" I shouted at her, and I'm pretty sure there was a hint of Gollum's "My Preciousssss" in there somewhere.

I backed off the desktop, hands in the air, saying, "All right, all right, fine. It's yours now!"

But I couldn't stop thinking about the kids' desktop. I heard it whispering to me when I got near it. "Morgan, come back to me. I was made for more than just youtube videos and The Sims. Come type a blog post on me. Come print out orders from me. I was made for adult play, too..." It taunted me.

So, I figured out a compromise that satisfied me, the computer and my kids.

I get up early in the morning, before the kids are even thinking of waking up, and I use their computer. It seemed to be the only logical thing to do, right? The computer and I are getting in our "adult time" and the kids are none-the-wiser that Mom is using their computer. Yes, Hubby and I purchased it for them, but we purchased it for them so they could stay off of our laptops. At the time, I had no idea the consequences of our actions. How was I supposed to know that I'd secretly love to sit in front of a desktop and do work? I thought I was perfectly happy lounging on the couch doing work on my laptop, like usual. I even secretly laughed at how the kids had to sit upright, in front of the computer, to watch their videos or play their games, until I did it myself, just one time, to print out some paperwork. Then I was hooked.

Sure, I guess I could just tell the kids it's a Family Computer and use it whenever I want, but I'm sure, if I was on the desktop, they'd grab my laptop to do their stuff. Nope. Not willing to take that risk.

So, for now at least, I'm having an early-morning love affair with our desktop computer. Typing away, printing orders...

Shit!... I think I hear the kids getting out of bed upstairs. Must end this blog post now, sorry. They can't find me here.

Until the next early morning hours, my computer love...

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I'm Done Being a Military Wife

2015-01-24T08:46:00.002-07:00

I think I'm done being a Military Wife.

Oh, no, Hubby and I are fine- I'm not that type of done. I'm still the proud wife of a military member (and trolls, spare me the "there's no such thing as a military wife" bullshit- I got enough from y'all on my Dependa youtube video; apparently humor is lost on trolls...), but I'm getting so done with how military wives treat each other, that I'd like to withdraw my connection to most of them, please.

Is there a form to fill out? Can I go to Family Support for that?

This morning I woke... early... insomnia is still majorly screwing with me with Hubby not here right now.... so I grabbed my phone and started checking my facebook updates and whatnot. My news feed was filled with pictures, articles, questions asked to various groups I'm in, and then a post from a deployed military member to the base yard sale group, suggesting that maybe extreme couponers could take their stockpile extras and donate them to care packages for deployed military instead of selling them on the yard sale site.

Amen, military chica. Amen.

I'm an extreme couponer myself (need to get back into it, actually, as I've strayed in the last few months), and it makes my eye twitch to see people sell their stockpile items. I understand it might be a way for a military spouse to make some extra money, but they clear the shelves in the grocery store just to sell the items, and when I get to the store to get my items my family will use, there aren't any left. Plus, I'm really proud of my stockpile; we may never use 127 cans of shaving cream, but dammit, I acquired them for free. If I ever needed to get rid of them, I'd just donate. I have sold stockpile items in the past, when I first started couponing years ago, and I felt dirty about it. So, I never did it again.

Anyway, I digress- back to the post. Most of the comments supported the original poster. Of course, you have to have your troll- and the military lists are FULL of them.

Never mind what her negative comment was, the point is she made it. On military wives lists, or yard sale lists, or mom lists, or school lists, or whatever, there's always someone who makes that comment- usually you'll find quite a few of these people. I understand there are trolls everywhere, but there seems to be an unusually large number of them on military-related lists and groups.

I haven't quite figured it out, and I'm not sure if I ever will. Of course, I have many different hypotheses:

Military bases have a high concentration of people from all walks of life in a small area. Statistically speaking, there's going to be more trolls per capita than in areas with fewer people, or where the people are from similar backgrounds.
Military wives are bored and have nothing better to do with their lives than troll military lists.
Military wives are miserable people and just want to bring everyone else down to the swamps, emotionally speaking, where they reside, to make themselves feel better.
The moms of these military wives didn't teach them when they were children, If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
The military did some type of personality screening and purposefully placed all the trolls here, at the base I'm at, to keep them all contained and in one area. Highly unlikely, but still possible. If that were true, though, I'm saddened as to how we got stationed here...

Because I have been a military wife for 15 years now, I do know that #2 and #3 aren't absolutes and do not apply to all military wives. I think #2 and #3 are simply a product of #1- high concentration of people leads to there statistically being more of the women who are bored and unhappy with their lives in a small area. So, for the sake of argument, we'll just go ahead and say that, out of the 5 options above, #1 is probably the most accurate hypothesis, though the other options make me giggle way more. (I love being a nerd.)

Whatever is going on, I'm done with it. My kids and I went to a local homeschooling group this past Tuesday- off base and with very few military families. My kids were accepted immediately by the other children, as was I accepted by the other moms. There were people from all walks of life there, but instead of judging one another based on their differences, these women embraced the differences, shared their stories and learned from others' stories. The atmosphere was loving, relaxed and beautiful.

As soon as the kids and I returned home, and turned down the street that led to base housing, I felt as if someone had just taken all of the oxygen out of the car and replaced it with carbon monoxide. I couldn't breathe. I felt, and saw, this dark, metaphorical cloud hanging over base housing, and as we drove into it, I felt like we were driving into the pits of hell.

Maybe that's what it is- this base sits on portal to a demonic dimension. Well that makes sense...

Energetically speaking, base housing just sucked the life from me, after having been in a place of positive energy and acceptance. I rushed to our home, frantically pushed myself inside and could breathe again. My house may be in base housing, but I've created such a positive haven that it doesn't feel like it's in base housing.

These people, my neighbors (and I'm speaking about all the military families and wives in the area as "my neighbors") are the opposite of what I feel military life, and military wives, should be.

Military wives are supposed to be supportive of one another because we know what it's like to be a military wife.
Military wives are supposed to accept other military wives for who they are, because they know we all come from different areas, with different stories to tell, but we all have at least one thing in common.
Military wives are supposed to be family-away-from-family for other military wives because we know how hard it is to be thousands of miles from loved ones.
Military wives are supposed to be there for one another, because we know what it's like to be a single parent while our husbands are deployed or gone.
Military wives are supposed to make life easier for one another, because we know how much military life sucks as it is sometimes.
Military wives are supposed to teach their kids respect and acceptance of other kids, because they know how difficult moving around so much is to a child.

Great post over here...

But no. I'm surrounded by military wives who'd rather kick each other down than pick each other up. I'm surrounded by women who sit in their homes and pick fights on facebook with people 2 houses down from them, because, well, it's easy or fun to do. I'm surrounded by women who'd rather judge a new family that moves in by the clothes they wear or the size of the TV the movers are unloading, than bake them some cookies and welcome them to the neighborhood. I'm surrounded by women who talk shit about the fact that a mom pulled their kids from school to homeschool them. I'm surrounded by women who don't teach their children manners or how to accept others, so their children turn into bullies and pick on other children. And I'm surrounded by women who call me a bitch because... yeah, still haven't figured that one out yet, as none of them have ever even tried to get to know me, and I've been nice to them in the little interaction I've ever even had with them. Maybe they read my blog and took things personally, which, if they aren't guilty of the action, they should be able to read it, laugh, and nod their heads in agreement like 99% of you all will do as you read this, not get offended. (What's really bad is I actually have more than one post, written in the last few years about my base-life, to support what my post today is all about- click the links above...)

So, I'm done. I'm done being a "military wife" if being a military wife means I have to become a troll and judge my fellow mom/woman/wife. I'm done, if it means I have to hate my life and cause drama for others around me. I'm done, if it means I have to extend the dark cloud over my house, too.

Please don't get me wrong in the fact that I have met some amazeballs women in the last 15 years of my husband's military career. I've met women who have remained my true friends over the years, and who will be friends of mine, probably forever. Ironically enough, the amazing women I've met are all the oddballs of each base; didn't really fit it with "regular" military wives, and felt them to be catty and drama-filled. The amazing women I've clicked with were loners, too, refusing to reduce themselves down into the swamp just to communicate with the neighbors. The amazing women who became my family embodied everything I think I military wife should be, and what I strive to be.

But as for the majority of what I've seen from military wives around here, I'm done. I seem to have found my family in the homeschooling group off base, with the families who accept my kids and I for who we are instead of judging us for being new or different- And with my random few oddball ladies who have become my sisters; I wouldn't ever be done with you all.

It's really a damn shame, if you think about it. So many families and women, with different stories, in one tight-nit area, that could learn from one another and support one another, making life enjoyable for each other. But instead, they put on their troll masks and go to town causing negativity and making life miserable for those around them, to the point where positive people have to go off-base to find acceptance. It's pretty sad if you think about it, and such a waste of a potentially good thing.

Oh, well. For my family and I, we're done. We're on to focusing on bringing joy to those who bring us joy, as life should be.

Today, at 34...

2015-01-20T07:40:00.002-07:00

Today, I am 34.

Birthdays have a crazy way of making you think WAY too much. You think about where you've been, and what you've accomplished, and you think about where you are going and what you've yet to do.

A birthday post wouldn't be complete
without Ryan Gosling... le sigh...

You think about the million things you've done wrong, and the few things you've actually done right.

Birthdays are just crazy like that.

I talked to my Mom yesterday, who called to give me my birthday present early, and just check up on me since I've fallen off the face of the earth this year (this is my first blog post of 2015, and it's January 20th- homeschooling and my store are kicking my ass this year so far, but in good ways). She informed me that when she was 34, my sister was only 1 year old.

Nope. Not me. I see people my age with little kids, or pregnant, and I'm personally extremely happy that I pulled off the bandaid in my early 20s. Now, with my kids at 12 and 10, I can have decently mature conversations with them... if you call debating whether it'd be worse to have your nose above your butt or toes for fingers "mature conversation." (I'd totally go with toes for fingers, by the way.) I couldn't imagine changing diapers, or potty training, or not having any idea why my kid was screaming their head off because they didn't actually speak words I could understand, at my age. I applaud people who are my age, or older, with small kids, because it's something I just wouldn't want to do at this stage of my life. I applaud you, but I'll totally have you in the back of my mind while I'm sleeping in on the weekends, or watching a creepy PG-13 movie with my kiddos instead of "Frozen" for the umpteenth zillion time.

So, my birthday has made me think about what life would be like if I did have smaller kids. And y'all think I'm crazy now...

I've thought about where I've been, and how that road has led me to my life today.

Today, at 34, I've survived a three-year separation from my husband and an almost-divorce, moved about a dozen times
in my adulthood- to a different country and across this country three times, hit rock bottom, put myself back together again, found my faith in myself, my family, and spiritually, and have finally been able to show the world who I truly am on the inside.

Today, at 34, I wear the hats of several people, including Homeschooling Mom, Small Business Owner, Military Wife, Artist, Avalonian Sister, Insomniac, Meditating-Crunchy-Tree-Hugging Hippy, Homemaker, Dog Spoiler, Coffee Lover, Optimist, Writer, Witch, Bitch, Amazon Addict and Netflix Binge TV Watcher, just to name a few. Most of all, I think I'm finally wearing the hat of Me, which took decades to figure out and proudly display.

Today, at 34, I'm not a size 2, or 6, or even a 9 right now, and I'm okay with that. I have bags under my eyes and crows feet starting to form. If I don't religiously dye my hair bright ass red, I look like I'm constantly celebrating Christmas, complete with silver tinsel at my roots. I still have stretch marks that came from my pregnancies a decade ago, and my cellulite has taken out a 40 year mortgage on my ass and thighs- it's not moving anytime soon. And while I understand how finger-in-your-mouth-barfy-motion this is of me to say it, I'm completely happy with all of this, because it's Me.

Today, at 34, I think back to all of the mistakes I've made, and realize I wouldn't be where I am today had I not made them. Then, I decide it's best to concentrate on my accomplishments, instead. My two biggest accomplishments, of course, are The Girl and The Ginger. They are my world, and starting homeschooling with them a few weeks ago has been amazing. Oh, it's been crazy, chaotic, stressful, insane and has put me locked in the closet a few times, but amazing. We're working on a routine, working out the bugs, and figuring things out as we go, which I feel is a great life lesson in itself.

After my kids, my next biggest accomplishment is a theme you've seen throughout this post so far- the accomplishment of me finally figuring out who I am. It's something I've struggled with since I was a teenager- a highly competitive, over-achieving, ostracized by my peers because I didn't want to drink and party with them, spiritually lost, teenager. I graduated 2nd in my class and then gave a huge finger to societal norms by getting married a month after graduation (no, I wasn't pregnant) instead of going to college, getting my degree... blah, blah, blah, as the world expected me to. I spent the following decade purposefully doing the opposite of what was expected of me, in attempt to live up to the Rebel status I had labeled myself in my head. My world came crashing down as a product of my own doing, and made me realize that it was time to figure out who I was, and bring harmony to myself and my family, before I completely self-destructed. I've spent the better part of the last 4 or 5 years redefining myself, my wants and wishes, my goals, and letting the past go so I could make a brighter future for myself. I finally figured out Me, and while it's always going to be a work-in-progress, I've figured out a formula that really helps make it a little easier- forgiveness, acceptance, meditation, optimism and living in the moment.

Today, at 34, I'm happy. Really happy. I'm living my life, doing what's best for my family and myself, and have finally found the compromise between the rebellious teen inside of me and the responsible old soul of mine. Usually, that compromise presents itself through my writing, and my blog. I'm going to need to keep up with it more to keep the peace, huh? We wouldn't want a full-on war in my mind and body... again...

Today, at 34, I will smile a little brighter, because I know that I am the best version of me that I can be, cellulite and all. A very Happy Birthday to me!!

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