You can’t afford a baby.

Please read this post, a short-but-slightly-snarky response to Suze Orman, a financial adviser who recently told a couple that they couldn’t afford a baby, with its $700-1000 monthly expense.

I agree wholeheartedly with Connie, the author.

Having a baby in America CAN be expensive, but it doesn’t need to be.  I’ll never forget when I told a former neighbor that I was pregnant with my third and she sighed and said, “You’re so lucky.  I’d love a baby, but we just can’t afford it.”  It was all I could do to not let my jaw hit the sidewalk.  She and her husband lived — by themselves — in a 2500 s.f. house, had an RV, brand new vehicles, two ATVs, two Jet-skis, expensive mountain bikes, and who knows what else.  In other words, they could totally “afford” a baby if they got their priorities straight.  AND, yes:  it can be difficult and expensive if you have to have everything new and fancy and trendy, bottle feed, use childcare for when you go back to work at 6 weeks, and use disposable diapers.  But, heck.  Even name brand disposables will run you about $40-60/month.  NOT $700-1000.

Maybe this is inflammatory, but I also believe our American culture which values independence over community is partially to blame.  We’re disconnected from our extended families, we don’t root ourselves in a church family either, and we value income and material wealth over family.  Even things like baby showers and hand-me-downs are most often provided by our extended community, which we as Americans have less and less of.

Don't YOU need a $5768.89 crib??

I have a wooden cradle that is “making the rounds” between friends from church.  This DELIGHTS me.  I bought it for $40 from Craigslist, used it for my fifth baby (as I had given away a previous cradle), and now a third friend is about to use it for her her newborn, due in Feb. But, if you have to keep up with the Jones’ baby who had a $2,000 Bellini crib (or this $5,800 one!), you’re going to have a pricey infancy.  However, if you breastfeed, raise your own child, and don’t mind having used or hand-me-down things, it’s really quite inexpensive to raise a baby.

EDITED TO ADD:  One other thing… (can you tell this has struck a nerve???) I’m not suggesting that selling baby things is wrong, but I have learned that you get back what you give — sometimes literally, sometimes from elsewhere.  I have given away cribs, strollers, swings, clothes, countless other baby items, partly because I saw someone in need, and partly because I thought I was “done” with having children.  But, whatddya know??  It has ALL COME BACK to me. I have, in return, been given cribs, clothes, toys, slings — I don’t use swings anymore! — everything I need for a baby, when I did have need.  My youngest is three and the goods still keep pouring in.  Someone just gave us three bags of virtually brand-new girls toys — voila! Christmas for my 3 and 5yo girls. Whether you call it karma or attribute it Luke 6:38, or whatever, if you give, you will receive.  We are a panicked, hoarding society, and often fail to recognize that if we are generous, we’re going to be provided for.

Housework! Summer soup! Beef jerky! Computer viruses!

• Fourteen upper cabinets.  Twelve lowers.  Fifteen drawers.  All cleaned, inside and out, sorted and re-organized.  Plus, as they don’t go all the way to the kitchen ceiling, the tops are cleaned off, as well as all the decorative items that reside up there.  ~sigh~  That is a sigh of exhaustion.  And relief.  In our nearly six years of living here, I have never done all of the kitchen cabinets in one fell swoop.  It had been nagging at the back of my brain daily, each time I took something out of a cabinet and saw an accumulation of crumbs, dust, and/or greasy grime.  Note:  Gel Gloss looks fabulous for about ten minutes, but then that gleaming shine washes off super-easily with soap and water!  Not great for quartz countertops in a kitchen that gets regular abuse use.  Bummer.  Anyone have a favorite stone countertop product they love??
• Have you ever tried my Thai Chicken Noodle Soup?  I just updated the recipe.  I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since I originally posted the recipe.   The soup –  more of a meal-in-a-bowl than an actual soup — is a staple in our home, even in summer.  Lots of fresh veggies, tasty and fun.  Mmmm…
• I turned seven pounds of London Broil into beef jerky the other day.  Smoky-garlic and soy-garlic.  It’s in preparation for our vacation.  Jerky comes in handy for snacks and meals-while-driving, as well as made into various recipes (which I learned from this fabulous cookbook for hikers/campers — it’s a shame it’s out of print!  One review says “Invaluable!  Wore out library copy — had to buy my own.”  That is exactly what I did!!)…  Anyway.  What wasn’t fit for jerky got put into a pot of what was supposed to be red chile stew.  Which it was, sort of.  But, I got enticed by a Really Big package of dried chile de arbol at the grocery store last week, and thought, “Oooh, those are the chiles in Cholula [my fave hot sauce],” and I bought it, really knowing nothing about them.  Well, it turns out they are REALLY HOT.  I removed the stems, seeds, and… pith (or whatever it’s called), and my hands burned for hours, even though I think I only used five chiles.  Also, the broth was SO HOT that I had to scoop out all the beef chunks and — sadly — drain the broth, which seemed like such a waste, but I knew if I kept it as it was, it would be inedible for my kids.  I added water to cover the remaining beef (to which some crushed chile still clung), added a chopped onion, sea salt, and about eight cloves of chopped garlic.  After it had simmered for nearly three hours, I thickened the cooked-down broth with some corn starch, and served it with some Spanish rice (which I had made earlier in the week) and some refried beans (from Trader Joe’s — my favorite).  It was good.  Still, lesson learned:  very judicious use of chile de arbol in the future.
• My computer contracted a nasty virus, somehow, a few weeks ago.  It died.  Actually, it would power up, but Windows wouldn’t start.  The virus was called Windows Repair Module, which — obviously — was a fake.  How insidious.  I kept getting warnings from Windows, and it turns out that each time I clicked the “OK” button, I was unknowingly activating the .exe file associated with various aspects of the virus.  A friend of my husband’s took my hard drive home with him and worked on it every night for four nights.  He was able to pull most of my documents and pictures (THANK GOD!  I cried when I thought they were unretrievable), and save them to an external hard drive.  Then, he reformatted my hard drive.  Now, I just have to load a bunch of software that got wiped out… but that’s OK.  I then thanked my oldest son, Ethan, who will be 14 later this week.  Why?  Because “…with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”  Ethan worked a hot and hard day at the home of a friend, laying tile and cleaning…  and with that measure of service and giving, it was returned to us, in the form of a repaired computer.
• If you’re still reading… today is my birthday.  I am 38.    The only thing I really love about growing older is the history, the perspective that it brings to my life.  I freak out less, because I can say, “Look.  We had that really rough patch five years ago, and God brought us through.”  When I was younger, everything was new and untested, and every challenge threatened to topple me.  Now, I’ve had years of tasting God’s goodness, and seeing His faithfulness first-hand.  To me, that’s a really, really valuable birthday present.

Spin

I am a firm believer in NOT manipulating one’s children.  Someone I know used to tell his daughter, when she was much younger, that everything was “chicken,” because the girl refused to eat anything except for chicken.  So, rather than telling her it was, say, watermelon she was eating, or a hot dog, he’d say it was “chicken.”  Hm.  Not into that.

To this day, years later, he laughs over that season in his little girl’s life.  But to me?  That’s too close to lying.  And, too high-maintenance.  My style is more along the lines of, “Eat it or go to bed hungry.”  And, well… I guess both sides have merit, though mine is particularly less merciful, so perhaps I shouldn’t be patting myself too hard on the back for my honesty.

There is certainly a fine line there, I’m discovering, especially for little ones for whom appearance and perception truly matters.  In our home, that would be Audrey.  She’s almost five (gasp!), and this has been the case since she was very young.  I have to be careful not to wield unwisely my power to get her to do what I want her to do.

For instance:

• She used to fight me tooth and nail when it was time to wash her face.  I had a little revelation, and, appealing to her vanity, I solemnly explained that she had so much muck on her face that I couldn’t see her “pretties”.  As I gently rubbed her cheek, nose, and chin, I started to exclaim that, bit by bit, her pretties were shining through!!  Audrey was genuinely excited.  After I washed her, she insisted on looking at her glowing face in the mirror, happily admiring her pink, clean little self…  It stuck.  We’ve been uncovering her pretties, after mealtimes, for years now.  It works with Fiala, too.  Fi is not quite 2½, and has never been quite as enamored with the idea of beauty as Audrey.  So, getting her pretties to shine through isn’t quite as effective, but nearly so.
• About a year ago, I bought a pair of brown jeans for Audrey.  I couldn’t pass up the deal — the cost was less than $2 for them, brand-new!  I anticipated a bit of a struggle, though, with Audrey.  Brown, according to very small girls who have a very persistent “girlie” streak, is not a very feminine color.  She looked very dubiously at them, and proclaimed brown to be a “boy” color, because it is the same color as dirt.  “Oooh,” I cooed conspiratorially, smoothing the rich brown fabric, “These aren’t dirt-colored.  They’re chocolate-colored.  These are chocolate jeans!”  Instantly, Audrey’s face was all delight;  she changed her tune completely.  “Oooooh!  Chocolate jeans!  I looove chocolate jeans!”  And, she’s loved them ever since, calling them “chocolate jeans” every time she wears them.
• I bought Audrey a pack of undies, not too long ago.  There was an assortment of patterns and colors, most a variety of pinks and purples.  One, though, was not to her taste:  The pair featured a number of different sizes of elephants, colored various shades of blues and reddish-pinks.  Elephants, I could hear her thinking, are boy animals.  And, to make matters worse, some of them are blue.  Blue is a boy color.  Everyone knows that.  Disdain clouded her face, and she opened her mouth to protest.  Preempting her, I pointed out, “These aren’t just elephants.  They’re elephant families.  Look.  The larger blue ones are the daddy elephants.  The lighter blue ones are the brother elephants.  The bigger pink elephants are the mommies, and the littler ones are the sisters.  And, look!” I continued with a tiny, tender gasp, “There are itty-bitty elephants, too!  Those are the babies!!”  I do know my daughter.  “Ooooh!” she squealed, eyes open wide, anticipation filling her whole self, “Baby elephants!  Elephant families!  Oh, I want to wear them right now!”  And the pair of underpants which, at first blush, she would have gladly chucked into the trash, unworn, became her favorite in an instant.  They are, still.
• Audrey takes a nap on my bed.  The two girls share a room, and while that works fine for night time, when they both sleep, room-sharing during naptime is not nearly as successful, especially since Audrey actually sleeps only once out of every three or four days.  Normally, I time it so that I’m not doing laundry when she goes down for a nap;  somehow, I knew it would bother her if the sheets were missing.  But, on a recent Saturday, it just happened that the linens were in the wash when it was time for Audrey’s nap.  She walked into my room and balked.  “I can’t sleep on that bed.  It has no sheets.”  Now, I could have put on an old set of sheets just for her nap, but I balked at the extra work.  Instead, looking at the mattress pad — a new one, bright white, soft and puffy — I whispered conspiratorially to Audrey, “Look!”  I patted the bed.  “You get to sleep on a cloud!”  Instantly, her eyes lit up, and I knew I had sold her.  “A cloud?!?” she asked, dreamily.  “Oooh, it’s so soft.  Just like real clouds.  Do you think real clouds are soft like this?”  She napped, like a dream, on a cloud…

Manipulation?  Yes, a bit.  Spin?  Definitely.  Lying?  I hope not.

Feminism, marketing, raising little girls, plus a bit of homeschooling

From the couple of articles I’ve read, and the excerpt of her book, I can tell I’m not nearly as feminist as Peggy Orenstein.  But, I still put her brand-new book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter:  Dispatches from the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, on hold at the library.  We seem to think very similarly, at least on some things.  In one article, Orenstein recounts how her daughter’s tastes radically and immediately changed, upon entering “preschool” at the age of two, discarding her formerly beloved pin-striped overalls and love of Thomas the Train and taking on a new, rabid adoration of pink tulle and Disney Princesses.  For now, let’s skim past the part where people feel compelled to SCHOOL THEIR CHILDREN AT THE AGE OF TWO, to the part where marketing and peer pressure have so adversely affected our society that our two-year-olds reject their “first loves” in lieu of what’s being shoved down their teensy throats by Madison Avenue!

You think I exaggerate?  I do not, fair reader!  It starts even earlier than that!!!

Late last month, the company quietly began pressing its newest priority, Disney Baby, in 580 maternity hospitals in the United States. A representative visits a new mother and offers a free Disney Cuddly Bodysuit, a variation of the classic Onesie.

In bedside demonstrations, the bilingual representatives extol the product’s bells and whistles — extra soft! durable! better sizing! — and ask mothers to sign up for e-mail alerts from DisneyBaby.com.

The above excerpt is from a New York Times article dated February 6, 2011, my emphasis added.

Another disturbing tidbit:

Disney estimates the North American baby market, including staples like formula, to be worth $36.3 billion annually. Its executives talk about tapping into that jackpot as if they were waging a war. “Apparel is only a beachhead,” said Andy Mooney, chairman of Disney Consumer Products.

For those who may wonder about Disney’s intentions to further infiltrate your home,

Beachhead:

1. A position on an enemy shoreline captured by troops in advance of an invading force.

2. A first achievement that opens the way for further developments; a foothold.

I am stridently opposed to marketing directly to children.  I praise the likes of my cousin, Romney, who has campaigned to rid her own preschooler’s school of its McDonald’s affiliation, in which the school receives money in exchange for “events” where children attend mandatory pep rallies with Ronald McDonald, and are given Happy Meals, all without parental consent, all built into the school day.  (And people wonder why homeschooling school days are so short.  Why, because we actually LEARN STUFF during our school day — apparently trivial, outdated stuff like math, and literature, and grammar, and history — and don’t attend baldfaced marketing sessions given by the McDonald’s corporation!!  But, I digress.)

Well, maybe I’m not digressing.  One of the unintended benefits of homeschooling is that my children feel much more free to develop into the people God made them to be.  They’re not mocked (at least, not regularly!) for their interests, nor pressured away from something — anything, be it their Christianity, to their choice of clothes! — just because The Herd does not endorse it.

So.  I’m sure Orenstein, in her book, is not trying to make a case for homeschooling.  But, since that’s a passion in my heart, I can’t help but see that part of the problem might be the pressure to place our children in preschools as early as the tender age of two, schools which aren’t so much a center for real learning, but a hotbed of social conformation, where our wee ones are unknowingly being sucked up into the “invading force[s]” of the likes of Disney Baby!

ALL OF THAT SAID…  Part of me is really pleased that my four year old, Audrey, feels very free to be a girl.  I was startled when she began exhibiting true girlie-girl behavior — coyly flirting with Daddy and having a passion for shoes — before she could even crawl!!  And, I’m glad to give her a home in which she feels confident in her super-girliness.

Just this morning, I laughed delightedly over the Pillow Princess she made.  Onto the floor, she laid a (hand-me-down) Disney Sleeping Beauty dress-up dress, under which she placed various throw pillows, to give it a plumped-out appearance.  Another pillow, fringed, formed the Pillow Princess’s head, onto which she placed an Ariel tiara (also hand-me down), and cut-outs, made from white paper, colored with Crayons, which formed the eyes, nose, and very pink mouth.

There’s a fine line there…  I know I’m treading it with care, trying to give my daughters the freedom to express their femininity — even if it does include an excess of pink frilly stuff! — without exposing them to so much marketing that they feel like they’re “supposed” to love Disney Princess, and they need to discard anything not-pink.

~sigh~

Not in order of importance

• Wish I lived in Minneapolis!  Well, not really, but if I did, I would DEFINITELY be going to this:  A Procraftinator’s Delight, hosted by one of my favorite bloggers.
• When I was in the process of choosing which college to attend, I automatically disqualified any whose promotional literature had misspellings, glaring grammatical errors, sloppy art layout, etc.  With that in mind, one might be leery of a website called The Best Colleges when it publishes articles rife with the same.  Still.  This article, The World’s 15 Most Extraordinary Homeschoolers, is well worth a read.  Tim Tebow?  Who DOESN’T know he was homeschooled?  The Jonas Brothers?  Knew that, too.  But Condoleezza Rice?  Francis Collins (the evangelical Christian and renowned scientist, appointed by Obama, no less, to be director of the NIH)?  The list is inspiring and profoundly interesting.
• 

  The lift pin assembly

  Weird things make me feel old.  Yesterday, it was the fact that my pressure cooker apparently needs some parts replaced, the gasket and lift pin assembly.  Why does this make me feel ancient?  Because these parts are made of rubber, which becomes brittle (and ineffective) with AGE.  ~sigh~  Finding out that these parts would cost me $21 plus shipping made me a wee bit upset.  Doing some searching to find out that

  • a) a replacement pressure cooker would run me upwards of $50, and
  • b) doing some price comparisons online would save me $10 or so (from here) made me feel slightly better about my purchase.  I still feel old, though.
• I am THRILLED to report that Fiala is doing much better. The infection on her face is gone, though it’s having a hard time clearing up, as she keeps scratching the still-healing spots.  The bed situation that I wrote about a week ago or so finally came to pass;  I set up both girls in their new beds yesterday — Audrey in her new-to-us twin bed, and Fiala in the toddler bed that used to be Audrey’s.  Fiala fell out of bed once last night, in spite of a guard rail, and she did not nap well — well, didn’t nap at ALL — in her new bed yesterday, but that was really due to the visit of our beloved nephew Nick and his darling girlfriend PLUS it being a new bed PLUS us working on potty-training PLUS her having diarrhea every 10-15 minutes because of horrid Augmentin due to her ear infection.  I don’t think I wrote about that.  Her eardrum burst on Friday.  Apparently, the bacteria which caused it were not covered by the antibiotics that she’d already been on for more than two weeks.  In spite of the fact that the Solaray BabyLife probiotics that we have for her contain rice maltodextrin, and she’s previously demonstrated that rice is an allergy problem for her wee body, I had decided that an eczema outbreak from the maltodextrin was the lesser of two evils, even though her skin is finally starting to clear up from the six weeks?  two months? of outbreak that she’s suffered through.  ANYWAY.  I was remarking to a friend that the “good news” from her having diarrhea is that it seemed to be giving her a greater awareness of her… elimination process, of which she was blissfully unaware, which made potty-training heretofore impossible.  We’re not all the way there yet with toilet adeptness, but we’re getting there.  I have hope.
• Having local gluten-free friends ROCKS.  These may seem minor to most of you, but I am so thankful for:
  • a neighbor, whom I “met” through the Phoenix Celiac Yahoo group (and subsequently discovered we live a couple of streets away from each other), dropped off a darling little box of goodies:  three truffles, some oat-almond candy crunch, a mini pumpkin pie, and a mini cheesecake.  Usually, treats received from loving friends and well-meaning neighbors receive wistful glances from me, as I give them to my two gluten-eating children, Ethan and Grant.  I can’t recall ever having something dropped off to our home where I could eat every single thing.  I meant to only sample the goodies, but, I confess, I schnarfed down ALL of them.
  • Last night, at the grocery store, I called my friend Kim.  We live across town from each other, but she feels closer.    Even though she was sick, the poor raspy-voiced thing, we chatted about teff and millet, and grinding our own grain, and what grain works well in which application, etc.  She looked up some stuff online for me, as I shopped.  I had a goofy grin the whole time, because it is SO NICE to be able to just pick up the phone and talk with someone about things that are akin to a foreign language to most people…
• I am thankful for:  At least $300 in new or nearly-new jeans, given to me by my sweet friend, Brenda, who had been given them by her sister.  Her sister had recently lost a lot of weight, and now, two pairs of Lucky jeans, a pair of Guess jeans, and five or six other pair, are now nestled happily in my drawer.    I’m set.  That’s a good thing for me, because I wear jeans virtually every day of my life.  I have to lose more weight for some of them to fit better, but that’s a good thing, right?  Motivation.

Fits, chocolate, the Dear Hubby, and composting

A couple of days ago, my hubby very greatly surprised me with an envelope inscribed in his all-caps, neat, architect-style printing:

FOR:  MY DEAREST
KAREN JOY
(OPEN WHEN I’M @ SMALL GROUP)

I was expecting a kind and encouraging note.  We seem to oftentimes communicate best through the written word.  The envelope, however, did not contain a note.

Mmmmm....

I will also mention that my receipt of this surprise came on the heels of me pitching a fit that he wanted a few squares of my horded (in the freezer) chocolate bar, to which I’d been treating myself THREE SAVORED SQUARES, nightly.  I should have just said, “Yes, Dear.”  In fact, I did say something like that, but it it required a Herculean effort to share, and I guess my body language reflected my internal dilemma — not really wanting to share, yet knowing that HE’S MY HUSBAND and he should be able to have any bit of “my” chocolate that he wants.

We ended up having an argument, and I really didn’t think he understood, that, at times, I find it difficult to deal with “all I have is yours”, especially since I have no stipend/allowance/spending/pocket money to spend as I’d like, and instead, have to carve a bit — in this case, $1.50, on sale — out of some section of our budget — in this case, groceries — in order to have a little something nice for myself.

I still don’t know where the right spot is on this topic.  God made humans with the innate desire to earn and own (which is why Communism doesn’t work).  However, the American culture takes that whole concept of earning and owning WAY TOO FAR over the top, to the point of materialism being the defining “god” of our country, and perhaps — Dear Lord, let it not be so! — that has permeated my heart.  I absolutely don’t want to be selfish — my husband and I do have everything in common, and I believe that is Biblical.  But, it would be lovely to have some discretionary funds, to purchase, willy-nilly (or carefully considered), things like chocolate or earrings or a pair of shoes I don’t really need or an additional long-sleeved shirt or two or on a fancy coffee or something decorative for our family room wall or a pretty little candle.  Or something.  Anything.  Without having to make a down-to-the-penny accounting for its necessity.

I don’t regret not being employed, which means, by default, that we have to be careful — very careful — with our funds.

All of this came to the fore, when it felt like I was required to share what I had hoped would be mine.

And, I guess that is a fit.

~sigh~

I didn’t handle it well.  I’m not even sure if I apologized, because, at the time, I felt justified.  NOT in not sharing — I was willing, though unwilling (if that makes sense) — to share.  I felt justified in feeling (and expressing) that it would be lovely to have some freedom to purchase something just because it made my own heart happy, and stymied, because that’s just not in the budget.

Like I said, I’m not sure I have an entirely Godly attitude about this.  I’m not sure what is the right and Godly attitude.  Give all of my chocolate away with no regrets, I guess, and never feel wistful for a cute and entirely impractical pair of shoes.

One way or another, even if I’m not walking in complete supernatural maturity on the issue of sharing, I just wanted my hubby to understand my heart, my thoughts, even my sadness.

In the end, though I felt like he completely did not understand where I was coming from, perhaps he did.

To my shock, inside the envelope was a hundred dollar bill.

I believe it’s from the money he unexpectedly earned for playing guitar at a friend’s wedding.  Every time he is asked to do music for a wedding, which is usually 3-4 times yearly, he assumes it’s for free, and that way, we’re pleasantly surprised if there’s payment involved.  Occasionally, he gives the money back.  He didn’t, this last time.

I remember, early in our marriage, when I was more prone to argue over just about everything, I’d cut into him up one side and down the other, and eventually, he’d capitulate.  I learned very early on that:

a.  This made for very hollow victories
b.  Getting “my way” really didn’t matter much if

• I had a husband who was wounded, and
• who didn’t trust me to be kind, and
• there was no peace in our home.

So, I’m very careful now, over what I’ll argue.  My husband is, himself, so kind that, even if I’m wrong — either in what I’m saying, or how I’m saying it — he’ll cover me with his mercy, and choose to give me (or agree to, or whatever) that on which I was insisting.  That can be much more humbling than losing, lemme tell you.

I was not asking for money.  I was asking to be understood that I struggle with having to say, “Everything belongs to you.  I own nothing.”

I’m not sure if the gift in the envelope was him capitulating (which would be a rather unsatisfactory outcome), or if, upon thoughtful consideration and prayer, he thought maybe I should have some pocket money, every once in a while.  He’s humble like that, and willing to bend, when I am usually not.  ~sigh~  I do so have a lot to learn.

In any case, for the last two days, I’ve been carrying the envelope and its contents around in my pocket, dreamily considering how I might spend it.  His only stipulation was that I not spend it on anything for the kids.

I haven’t entirely decided, but it would fit in with another of my goals — to get my raised-bed garden to grow something other than weeds — if I spent some of the money on a composter.  Every time I send a carrot peeling or the heel of a stalk of celery into the trash, I regret not having a system for composting, and a flourishing garden into which I can put the compost.

I spent some time, this morning, looking into composters.  I’d really like a tumbling one.  But, the composters of any variety which I can afford are flimsy, and seem like a huge waste of fifty or a hundred bucks.  Even used, on Craigslist, most of the good ones are going for $150 and up.  Then, I discovered that the City of Phoenix has a program, in which they re-purpose damaged trash bins, turning them into compost bins — really, just trash bins with big holes drilled in the side.  The city sells them for $5.  I was worried, though, about being able to properly aerate the bin, and mix up its contents.  Then, I stumbled upon this contraption, called The Compost Crank, which, by all accounts is a very effective, nearly effortless way to turn over the compost pile.  I’m still looking for one locally.  I found one shop that normally carries them, but is currently out of stock.  I’ve found several online retailers, but with shipping (it’s an 8 lb, 45″ long, one-piece stainless steel tool), it would run me about $50.

So.  If I went this route, It would cost me $55, tops, to have an mega-environmentally-friendly composting system.  Not just because I’m composting, but because the bin is repurposed — not another piece of newly-minted plastic junk — and the Compost Crank is made from post-consumer recycled stainless steel.  Voila!

I feel very good about this.

It’s something I’ve wanted to do, but hasn’t been in the budget.  It’s for me, but it serves my family, as well.

Seems like a win-win.

(And, if I do some very careful shopping, I’ll still have money left for a cute pair of shoes, and a top, and some nice little trinket or two for our home!)

 

Buying things at really good prices or getting them for free makes me happy.

**NOTE** A while back, an acquaintance read a post of mine wherein I mentioned praying for some needs we had, and she came away with the impression that our family was entirely destitute, and went to my pastor about it, and suggested that she or he or someone should do a fundraiser of some sort for our family.  Um, please don’t do that. Yes, it can be trying, living on one income, and yes, we occasionally have needs that go unmet, but usually, it’s more like wants that go unmet, and I am — by no means — complaining about my lot in life.  God continually provides for our family.

Going over-budget depresses me.  O, groceries!  Why must thou be so expensive??

Offsetting the funk that grocery-shopping put me in, on Wednesday night, are these:

• We have a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down for an entertainment center.  I do not know how old it is, but it has certainly outlived its life-expectancy.  We’ve had it for six or seven years, and we are the third owners.  The doors are falling off (we’ve repaired them countless times), the whole thing is made of particle board, and it’s a light maple color, unlike anything else in our home.  It is a veritable monstrosity.  Still.  It’s hard to say, “Yeah, I really need an entertainment center!”  We need things like kids’ shoes and to pay our electricity.  We don’t need an entertainment center.  I’ve had a search going, via RSS, on Craigslist, for over a year, hoping to find something that is just right and which costs about $50 or less, is a darker shade of wood, has at least some closing doors, and which will fit our TV, which is 30″ wide.  Not too surprisingly, I haven’t found anything.  A couple of weeks ago, though, I started praying for an entertainment center.  Hesitantly, I prayed thus:  “OK, Father.  I know that an entertainment center is not high on the
  

  Freecycle!!

  list of priorities, and I really feel like maybe it might even be… wrong, somehow, to pray for an entertainment center.  But I really need Your help finding one, because I’ve not been able to.”  Well, lemme tell you, I feel really cared-for by my God, because what should pop up on Freecycle yesterday???  The lady apologized for it being five years old and dusty.  Um, I don’t care.  It’s free.  It’ll fit our TV.  And, it’s a whole, whole lot nicer than the one we have.  BLESS GOD!!  And a friend of ours, a strong Phoenix policeman, lives right by the current owner’s house, and is going to help my hubby load it.    I’m tickled.

• There is a song that so resonates with me right now.  I sing it at the top of my lungs in the truck, whether or not anyone else is with me.  It’s called Your Love is Strong, and was originally done by Jon Forman (of Switchfoot), though I first heard it by the Robbie Seay Band.  The song is a summary of the Sermon on the Mount, and there’s a lyric in it that says “…the flowers, better dressed than any girl on her wedding day / So why do I worry?  Why do I freak out? / God knows what I need / He knows what I need…”  This song both ministers to me and convicts me.  Anyway.  So, another thing I recently prayed over, after initially freaking out, is for God’s provision for clothes for my five children for the winter.  Thankfully, we do get a LOT of hand-me-downs, but there are always one thing or another that needs to be purchased.  This year, among other things, we really needed pants and jeans for Audrey, as she had not one pair — lots of winter dresses, tops, tights, and about five jackets, but no long pants.  And, voila!  There was a Craigslist posting, and the lady happened to be literally a mile down the road from where I go to small group.  So, last night, I went and picked them up.  It wasn’t the cheapest Craigslist find, but I feel really good about what I got for the money I spent.  Four pairs of jeans and four pairs of corduroys.  Eight pairs, thirty dollars. And, they’re all nice brands, and in excellent condition.  Two of the jeans are Guess.  New, they’d be $25 each, at a minimum!  Of course, Audrey’s favorite are the hot pink sparkly corduroys from The Children’s Place.  (Same as these used ones on Ebay for $9.99 plus $3.85 shipping!)
• I have begun a (slow) process of trying to eliminate more plastics from our home, especially for food storage.  Glass, how I love thee!  How I have always loved thee!  But, glass… did you know how expensive you are????  ~sigh~  Today, though, shopping at Ross for, among other things, Fiala’s birthday present — She is two years old, today!  Happy birthday to the sweetest member of our family! — I got sucked into the homegoods section.  Goodness.  I could easily have plunked down a couple hundred bucks on all the things that caught my eye!  I was looking, dreaming, yet keeping myself composed until I saw these refrigerator carafes, at right.  There were two of them on the shelf, one with a red cap, the other with blue.  $2.99 each.  They’re rather an odd size, 1300 cc, or 43.5 oz.  But, I’m very happy to have them.  I think they are wonderful.
  • (The company that made the carafe is in Turkey.  Turkish glass.  Who knew?  The website brought to mind Engrish.  Perhaps there should be a corresponding Turklish site.  From Pasabahçe‘s Service Line:  “Genuine piece articles of professionals; resistant, qualified, flashy…”)

Growing up, breastfeeding, and Reagan. :)

• Yesterday was my second son’s 11th birthday.  I am such a mother.  I seriously have thoughts like, “It was only yesterday when I had you!”  I can intimately recall details of his birth.  Wow.  ~sigh~  Time.  It’s fleeting.
• In other growing-up news, I helped my oldest son create a Facebook account yesterday, as well.  I guess I’ll have to be careful what I say about him now!!  Just kidding.  I’m FB friends with a number of his friends already — have been for a while — and am well aware that news and topics that are appropriate to share about one’s toddler (like potty-training, et al), are completely off-limits for older children.
• I have changed my mind about nipple shields.  I had heard all sorts of things about how they can sabotage nursing efforts, so I had avoided them like the plague.  But, I saw one in action and it amazingly and wonderfully HELPED nursing!  My sister’s newborn (who is now four days old) would latch on, and suck-suck twice, maybe three times.  Then, the nurse (who was a “breastfeeding resource” — that is, who had taken some additional classes on breastfeeding education, but not enough to be certified as a lactation consultant), a sweet mother of three name Mandy who was herself breastfeeding her 11 month old still, suggested one, and I held my tongue.  She popped it on my sister, and voila!  Teensy Sage Aileen latched on and stayed on for the first time.  The only bummer is that my sister kept having to prime the pump, so to speak, with some expressed colostrum… but she texted me tonight to let me know that Sage nursed for the first time without herself or her hubby having to compel Sage to the breast with extra milk, dribbled in the appropriate area, with a syringe.  There’s still a part of me that… I don’t know…  I just prefer ALL NATURAL, and all the silicone and syringes don’t sit well with a part of my brain and my emotions.  HOWEVER.  If those things are tools to help a baby keep nursing, I’m all for it.  I’m proud of my sister for keeping at it;  she’s shown more patience and persistence than I thought she had. 
• I don’t remember if I’ve linked here before, but I really like this blog:  Cloth Mother.  The author and I have very little in common, besides being mothers.  But, I really enjoy her honesty and subtle humor.  And, she has an interesting life.
• I want this:
  

  What Would Reagan Do?

Family, baseball, book-writing, and God’s provision

• Taking Fiala off of potatoes was so beneficial, I hopefully thought, “Maybe what I thought was a corn reaction was really potato!  Maybe she can really have corn!”  So, last week, I tried her on corn for three days.  That was dumb.  Ever since, she has been SO itchy, poor girl.  New lesions developed on her face, which she then scratched into oblivion, and are now infected.  So, for the third time in less than six months, she’s back on antibiotics (Septra), as I wasn’t able to contain/control/heal the infection with topical bacitracin.    Bummer.  But, at least we know how to treat it, and at least I know now for SURE that corn is totally off-limits.  Every couple of months, I try it, and I’m just not going to do that again, for a very long while.  Though it would be so handy if she could eat corn, it’s just not worth it.
• Ethan’s Little League team lost in a very close game last night, their first loss of the end-of-year tournament.  The final score was 3-2.  It’s a double-elimination tourney, so they have at least one more game.  If they win tonight’s game — and they should! –  they will play again on Friday.  If they win THAT game, they will play again on Saturday for the championship, because the team they will potentially meet on Friday (which is the team to which they lost, last night) is undefeated.  (Double-elim tourneys are confusing, but I think I finally have it figured out!!!)
• Our dog, Tally, is recovering SO WELL from this most recent bout with Valley Fever.  She is still on twice-daily fluconazole, but it is so encouraging to see her have her energy back, and she’s building muscle tone by eating extra food and zipping about the back yard.
• I’m in my final hours of ghost-writing the book I’ve been working on since February.  Even though it seems like there has been continually “one more thing!” there really is light at the end of the tunnel now.  Even though I have very much enjoyed work on it, I’m ready to be DONE with it.  I hoped to be done yesterday.  Then today…  Nope.  Still need work, probably 2-4 hours on both tomorrow and Friday.
• God provides.  A few weeks ago, after assessing the girls’ summer wardrobes, and finding both paltry, and being in greater need than what we have the budget for, I prayed that God would provide.  Within a couple of days, I got a phone call, “What sizes do your girls wear?  I have a bunch of clothes, size 18 months through 4T…”  Which is exactly what we needed.  Thank you, Jesus.  Another mom tentatively approached me at church on Sunday about some hand-me-downs for my 8yo son, as well.  She kind of danced around the topic, and when I finally figured out that she was trying not to OFFEND me by offering me second-hand clothes, I told her gushingly that I LOVE hand-me-downs, and was very thankful, and completely NOT offended. 
• My husband’s brother, after not living on his own — EVER — for his first 40 years of life, moved to Colorado a couple years ago, and all but disappeared.  But, after leaving a message for him at his church last week, we finally were able to get a hold of him, and are delighted that we will be able to see him later this summer during our family’s vacation.

Christmas, clothes, and too many “Bud Vase”s, year-end video

• I recently was going to post about how dearly I love wee flowers, brought to me by my kids, cheering my world in the bud vase on my counter top.  This sweet image, though, has been overridden by my husband overhearing my 3yo daughter saying, “Bud vase,” and thinking she was saying something naughty… then, him laughing hysterically about it, the all the boys catching on, and now, days later, my husband and me up to our EARS with the boys calling each other, “Bud Vase.”  (Say it aloud.)
• 

  The five best kids ever (and the doggie), Christmas morning

  Christmas!  I have only a few grainy pics from my phone.  Ugh.  However, my Dad tells me that, rather than repairing my camera (which he’s had since… June?  July?), that he’s going to buy me a new one!  That’s fabulous.  We’ve been essentially camera-less since April, and that’s a long time.  Anyways.  Christmas was great — lovely, happy, full of family warmth.  On The Day, we had my Mom & Stepdad, Martin’s Dad & Stepmom, my brother, his wife, and two of their three boys (the other in California with my SIL’s parents) over for the afternoon and evening, eating a non-traditional dinner of Thai omelette soup (I should post a recipe!).  Our home was full, loud, and happy.  And, GOD PROVIDES.  If I went into detail, I’d be typing forever.  So, suffice it to say that our Christmas, which we all thought would be spare and lacking in provision, was overflowing.  Overflowing.  God is so good;  He’s amazing.

• I am now a size 6.  I haven’t been a size 6 since before I had kids.  I now weigh less than I did before I got pregnant with my oldest, who is now 12½.  But, even there, God provides!!  Slacks on clearance at Macy’s for about $10 each, plus some borrowed jeans from a sweet friend who also has recently, unintentionally lost weight and is now a size 4!  So, I have four pairs of jeans on loan from her, two sixes, and two eights.
• 

  The little rosette, the heel height & shape, the rounded toe... perfect

  Not really size-related, but I also found a FABULOUS pair of black pumps on the 26th.  I haven’t been this excited about shoes in a long time… mostly because we just don’t have the money to get as many shoes as I would LIKE, so I typically purchase shoes that are sensible and long-lasting, rather than cute… Then I admire the shoes of my pastor’s wife, Nancy.  However, I found these for $6.99 on clearance at Ross, so I figured I could spend seven bucks on some totally insensible shoes.  I’m so excited about them, I wore them to the grocery store last night.  Hahahahaha!  I have huge feet — size 10.  But, as I’ve lost those nearly-30 pounds, I have discovered that my feet have shrunk a bit.  Who knew?  I had fat feet.  So now, I can wear a 9½ again — and these shoes are even 9W!  They’d be better in a slightly larger size, but this was the only pair Ross had. 

• Our church’s year end video…  FANTASTIC.  Many on here have commented about my church’s dynamics.  If you would like to see it in action, there’s a nearly-34 minute video here.  In a way it’s a best-of-the-year video, and in a way, it’s just really typical as to what takes place.  My whole fam is mixed in there…  Some personal highlights are:  My older two boys quoting Psalm 102 at 1:22;  My hubby leading worship at 5:07 (he’s in LOTS of other places, too); Me leading worship at 5:20;  Audrey being a “PUWH-son” at 12:36… And my son Ethan at the soundboard at the very end.