Tis the Season

I have one question, who's idea was this "Elf on a Shelf" idea? Because we might just need to rally against them and burn them at the stake. Busy, working mothers unite!!!

The holidays have always been a chaotic time, always. Since as long as I can remember it was a lot of running, crowds, money, clutter and forced visitation with the family you prefer to spend the rest of the year apart from. I'm not trying to be a scrooge, because I love Christmas. It is definately up on my favorite list, but it is just a crazy time of year. So apparently some mother somewhere thought, "hmmm, wonder what new tradition I can add to Christmas?" because Santa, food, shopping, decorating and so on wasn't enough. So this mother created the grand "Elf on a Shelf". This little elf is assigned to your family for the rest of it's life, which basically is as many Christmas' as your child believes (and who wants to be the parent to inform them that "I am Santa"?). They show up around the first of December every year and watch your kids during the day so they can report to Santa at night. This is a genius behavior manipulation idea! I mean these sneaky little elves keep our kid's elbows off the table, require please and thank you and Grace has even started randomly picking up stuff around the house when the elf is there. This will be the 3rd Christmas "Lil Red" has been there, but oh my gosh the pressure.

The first year we got him, you sit down and read the story, name the elf and place him somewhere inconspicuous to spy, then move his location every morning. That's easy....I can do that, especially if it's going to keep the brat side at bay. However, with the recent invention of Pinterest and Facebook and Instagram, this stupid little elf thing has gotten so out of control it has required an entire board on my Pinterest page dedicated to it's misbehavings. What am I talking about? Well....again....the elf wasn't enough, we couldn't stop with placing the elf on the shelf and leaving it be. Some mother somewhere (I GUARANTEE a stay at home mom with a maid and lots of free time on her hands) decided to add to it. "Oh, let's roll the living room in toilet paper and have the elf at the scene of the crime." "Let's make him a many fishing pole and let him go fish for gold fish out of the gold fish cracker box." "Let's let him roast many marshmellows over a tea light votive." Come on!!! Who has time to do this stuff?! I'm lucky to get my child to bed with her hair brushed and clean clothes for the next day. By the time I get the kids and come home, cook dinner, clean up after dinner, do laundry, the kids homework checked, pick up the house, shower the kids, tuck them in, walk the dogs, feed the dogs, clean the litter box, wrap presents, address Christmas cards, etc....it's already like 1 am. I crash at this point and that stupid elf is the furthest thing from my mind. So I wake up at 5:45 to get a shower, walk the dogs, feed the dogs, dry my hair, wake up the kids, do breakfast, get ready, get them ready, teeth cleaned and out the door....only to hear on the way to the car "My elf didn't do anything last night...." come out of my sweet child's mouth. I have to hurry and make up an excuse as to why the elf was so well behaved and chose to stay in the Barbie car with Barbie and hurry to work to write an apology from the elf to give to her in the morning. I HATE THIS ELF!! Are you kidding me? I'm not that creative, nor do I have time to make a mess, blame the elf and have to clean it all up only to make a mess again. Why, oh why do we have to complicate something so sweet?

Incase you have forgotten, which I think 98% of Americans have, Jesus is the reason for the season. Not Santa, not the kids, not this stupid elf. We put so much time and effort into planning this elaborate celebration for the kids and everyone to see that we lose it completely. I don't even enjoy Christmas anymore. We buy things no one needs just so they have as many presents as the other kid does. We get so far in debt that we pay for it the rest of the year and sometimes it even carries over into the next. We have to put on the biggest light show so we can show up the neighbor. We have to wear the prettiest Christmas clothes so we can show up EVERYONE. AND....we have to make this elf do elaborate stunts so we can show up the mothers that have nothing else to do with their time! If we don't, our kids have to deal with the peer pressure and awesome stories of what Santa brought them, what their elf did last night and all the Christmas memories they make every year, from other kids at school. Quite frankly my child's not old enough to understand that it's not nice to brag anyway, but rather wonderful to be humble and kind. She does realize it's Jesus' Birthday, but also thinks Santa comes to both her Daddy's house and ours for her every year, so we are rather confused as well. This may be the last year with the elf, it may even be the last year with Santa....I haven't decided yet. I want to get back to simple. I want to cook and bake and give, not out do, out shop and out spend. I'm not in Church every Sunday and I'm not going to beat you in the head with The Bible or judge or condemn (Lord knows I'm far from perfect), but my faith is strong and I believe what I believe and it would take basically God Himself coming up to me and telling me differently for me to change my mind. However, this stupid elf is the furthest from the true reason for Christmas that I've seen yet and quite frankly I am tired of trying to keep up with the Jones'. (Boy this post went from funny to serious fast) Again I ask, why do we have to complicate something so sweet?

30 something

So the count down continues to the big 3 0. Three months and I will have passed my twenties and moved on to bigger and better....numbers. I've tried to see why it's such a big deal to move on to another digit....especially 30, but other than you're not a twenty something anymore, I haven't found much. I know a woman that shut herself in the bathroom for the whole day on her 30th birthday. She sat in the tub, ran hot water everytime the water turned cold, drank wine, cried and pruned....for the whole day. WHY? What purpose did that serve? It's not like she skipped it and will forever be 29. It still came, it happened, she's 30 something now and she's fine. I'm not going to react that way. There is though, and I can't help it, a certain amount of anxiety and sense of urgency to accomplish the world looming over me. I am trying to decipher if this is just because society makes such a big deal about it and it's rubbed off on me, or if it's real and I need to accomplish something before February. What would/could I accomplish in 3 months? Clearly since I have no idea of where to start with all of my accomplishing duties, it's probably not going to happen, but...WHY DO I HAVE ANXIETY ABOUT 30?!?!

Maybe I could focus on paying off certain bills. Maybe I could go skydiving (haha, yeah right). Maybe I should plan to just get drunk and party like a rock star the day of my birthday. Maybe I should treat it like New Year's and make resolutions. Isn't there a country song about doing that? Why can't I just enjoy turning 30 and celebrate leaving my horrid 20's behind? Maybe it's because I don't want to relive the hell that was my early 20's. This is ridiculous. So anyway....I turn 30 in three months. I have no idea how that happened.

Double Date soon?

My best friend in high school and I became best friends in 8th grade while sitting on the brick wall at the practice field and watching girls pair up and talk about their hair and shoes. We literally looked at each other and said "I like you, wanna be best friends?" It was like something that happens in Kindergarten at recess. Whatever, it happened and it stuck. We were inseparable until we graduated high school and went on about our lives, staying in contact occasionally still through Instagram, Facebook or random texts once a year or so. After her and I split (it was like a break up almost), my boyfriend at the time became my sole relationship. We got married, had a baby and lived happily ever after....wrong, we isolated ourselves, got pregnant, got married and a year and a half later, divorced. We had poured our souls into each other and nothing else, for four years and when it ended we were both more alone than we ever knew possible. We had no one. No friends came to the rescue, he was my only friend, and I his. So years pass....we both have remarried and learned our lesson. However, finding friends is hard. I don't mean aquaintences, I mean FRIENDS. The kind you call crying after a fight and she shows up with wine and a sappy movie. The kind you can talk about your periods and poop schedules with. The kind that you become their kids "aunts" because you are together more than actual blood aunts. Don't lie, you know you want that kind of friendship. If you already have that kind of friend, you know how important it is. I had that kind of friend, and want that kind of friend again. Not that my precious hubby isn't enough, because he is. He will forever be my best friend, BUT....sometimes I need a girl to go shopping with and tell me, honestly, if those pants make my butt look big. I can't just sit on a wall though and say "wanna be friends?" anymore, because people are crazy and it's just not that easy. So what do you do? How do you approach the subject as a 30 something adult needing a girl's night?

I have recently began stalking random couples that might have similar interests as Mike and I. Yes, stalking is the correct word, unfortunately technology makes it to easy now a days to learn all of someone's dirty secrets....but it still requires research (aka, stalking). So today I decided to message an old friend...his ex-wife and I grew up together, they went through a nasty divorce, she made all our friends choose sides, and so I remained acquaintences with him and not her (don't make me choose between you, we are not 12). Anyway, he has recently remarried, she likes to cook (I like to cook), they have kids about 12 and 8 (we have kids about 12 and 8), ding ding ding....(there are more points, but this post is getting to long) winner, winner, chicken dinner. So I messaged and literally just said, "double date soon?". Technology is a scary thing, that went down about 30 minutes ago, she is already texting me, we already are making plans, and I know her full name, birthday and history (not really). So we have a double date soon....I'm nervous....that's dumb. It's hard making FRIENDS, it's like dating. You have to put effort in and get to know the person and trust them. You have to put time in, and sometimes you have to MAKE time, but in the long run what you gain is so important. Let's see how it goes.

A Fur Coat and Pearls

The vanity is off white with a tri folding mirror. The bench is only big enough for me to sit and has a rose pink velvet cushion. The top of the vanity is covered with make up brushes and perfumes with the little squeeze puffs at the end (I have got to get one of those). It sits up against the middle of the wall and to my left is a huge bay window from floor to ceiling. The ceilings are ten to twelve foot and the room is massive. It's dark outside and cold. The lighting in the room is low, but the candles help fill the room. I am sitting at the vanity in a long, silk, evening gown and my hair is in a formal up do. My shoulders are bare and kind of cool. I am wearing a multi strand of pearls and I am trying to choose what lipstick to wear. I can see myself in the mirror. I don't know where this place is, or why it comforts me, but this is my go to, in my mind, when I am feeling insecure. Which is often. It gives me confidence, it gives me stillness.

I started going there at about 16 years old. It was my way of coping with personal tragedies that I couldn't escape. I have walked all over that room in my mind, gazed out the window, placed my shoes on my feet, even laid on the bed and read a book. I never left the room, and no one was ever there with me. There were times I felt more at home there in my imaginary room, than I did in reality. I felt pretty, I felt undamaged and protected. People in my life have never known the demons I face on a daily basis. The insecurities that take over very quickly if I let them. Or the dark place I cover up with rainbows and butterflies. I would like to place blame and tell you a long sad story. I have a story, but so do you, and the person sitting next to you does too. It's life and we all find ways of coping with what comes along. This place keeps me from going down and keeps me from getting to dark and twisty (quite frankly people couldn't handle it). In moments of inner crisis, I tend to lose myself. I would give everything I had to solve/save the situation and in the meanwhile lose touch of who I am as an individual. I have recreated myself many times on the basis of I simply forgot who I was. The only thing that remained the same was my room in my head. I feel like maybe I am getting ready for a night out, with fur coats, music and dancing, friends and the man that gave me the pearls. Whatever it is, at the moment I need to be in the room, the room is much more inviting than life.

I realized the other day that I had never told anyone of my room. Pure honesty scares me sometimes. I would rather hide who I am and how I feel so as to escape judgement. But I also realized I hadn't visited it in awhile. There have been times in my life where I swear I spent more time in that imaginary room than I did participating in life, daily....hours a day. Almost to where I was worried if I had multiple personalities. But...I can't remember the last time I went there. I think for the obvious reasons, I am happy, I am content. My husband is the only man that has ever tried to help me overcome insecurities I might have. He's the only man that has tried to dig deeper than what I allowed on the surface, breaking walls. He is the only man that saw me for what I was and not what I was "trying" to be, or "expected" to be. We haven't talked about my demons or "my room", we haven't had to, he knows. So many times I start to sink, dwell on things and running starts to sound fun. I never have to tell him. I never get very far underwater before he saves me from myself. He knows me, maybe better than I even know myself. No one sees that side of us. No one sees the times he has held me and just let me cry. No one knows the depths of the pain that other people have put on me, nor will I ever tell (there are just somethings you keep to yourself). He is not a perfect man, but he loves me perfectly, and for that I would marry him again, everyday for the rest of my life. For the first time in almost fifteen years, I don't need my vanity, I don't need the pearls, I don't need the make up brushes or perfume with the squeeze puff (although they are awesome). For the first time in a very long time my reality is allowing me to breathe more than my room.

Banana Nut Bread Recipe

It's fall (as we all know). Although people are trying to infringe on the season by putting up their Christmas trees already, my mother included. I am still enjoying the leaves rustling and crisp mornings rather than cold mornings. I am still looking forward to Thanksgiving and quality time with my family. Oh, and food, I'm looking forward to the FOOD! I don't want to make this a food blog, mainly because they are a dime a dozen, but I just can't help myself. I love food. I love to smell it, look at it, prepare it, try new things and I love to eat it. I love it. It's one of those things that I know I am supposed to be doing, but can't find a way to make enough money to survive off of just doing that yet. Maybe one day I will open a deli, or bakery, but until then I will write random food blogs and run my family's sugar levels out the roof.

So last night I come home to fruit flies, although annoying, I was semi excited to see them knowing my bananas had ripened enough to bake banana nut bread. This is a family favorite. My husband loves it for breakfast and my daughter would eat it every meal. So after dinner I started my favorite past time, BAKING :)!!! The results of this recipe rendered the best yet. I am constantly trying new banana nut bread recipes because they are never the consistency I want or sweet enough.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F and grease and flour two loaf pans.

Assemble all of your ingredients, a big mixing bowl, measuring cup and big wooden spoon.

You will need....

1/2 cup of vegetable oil
3/4 cup of white sugar
1/2 cup of soft brown sugar
2 eggs
3/4 cup of milk
3 very ripe bananas
2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp salt
3 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup chopped walnuts

Mash your bananas and mix in with oil, eggs, sugars and milk.
Add salt, baking powder, flour and vanilla and mix well.
Last add your walnuts.
Some people like to add golden raisens too, I hate raisens, but you add whatever you want.
I think coconut would be good, maybe even some chocolate chips or cream cheese.

Pour equal amounts into each prepared loaf pan.

Bake at 350 for about 50 minutes to an hour.
The actual recipe calls for an hour and a half, but I baked mine for less than 55 minutes and any longer would have burnt the goodies. So this depends on your oven and location.
When a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean it's done. (This is true about most desserts)

Let cool and serve with milk and butter. Yummy.

"Black cat or white cat: If it can catch mice, it's a good cat.”

When witches go riding, and black cats are seen, the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween. ~Author Unknown I am not particularly fond of Halloween, but not for the usual reason. I am a huge fan of black cats. I have two myself; one named Mystery and the other Frosty (oxymoron, get it? It's funny.). So Halloween brings fear in my household for my poor kitty cats. Because some ignorant, supersticious people of the world (some) still fear black cats. Both of my beautiful, furry pleasantries are rescue babies and both from around Halloween. Mystery was frozen, literally...just because she was black, and it was Halloween. She has zero feeling in her rear extremities, you could cut off her feet and she wouldn't flinch. Frosty was born around Halloween time, and thrown out because he was black. Come on people, prejudice against a cat? Really? So anyway....I keep my cats inside and under a close eye around this time of year. I do partake in the disease that is fall though. I am slowly getting into the decorating side of things and orange everything. Pumpkin flavored eye drops seem to be the only thing that hasn't hit the shelves yet. It's fun, fall in general is a fun time of year. The kids really enjoy it. With festivals, crafts, pumpkins, decorations and amazing food, it makes an everlasting happy memory for most children and adults. (Unless you're a black cat) So the origin of the fear of black cats....(I kind of took a side note about fall, my bad) Back in Europe, in the Mid Century, cats were not really kept as pets, but rather pest control. Those that kept them as pets were considered witches, and we all know how people feel about witches. So, for the most part, they all were basically barn cats, and served their purpose well. If you google artwork and paintings from the 1350 time frame, you can see how people viewed life and how they were driven(by fear no less) by dark, evil and demonic ideas. Because of this, black cats were seen as evil. Why? Because they're black, and black is associated with evil. So the obvious idea to conjure up is, duh, black cats are evil. Solution? Kill them! Kill them all! Not just the black ones, but all of them, because they could birth black ones. Shortly following the mass exorcism of....well....cats apparently, Europe saw a huge population increase in rats. So much so that it also brought diseases. You may have heard of "The Black Plague"? Yeah about that, you see, with no more pest control (cats), the rats (which populate at about ummm....up to five litters a year and can have up to about 14 babies per litter) never reached a top out. The plague is thought to be spread by rat fleas found on BLACK rats and killing anywhere from 75 to 200 million people at it's peak. This is a ridiculously large number of people killed by....ignorance (personal opinion). The people automatically feared the black cat after such horrific circumstances, seeing as they killed them all, the cats are cursing them from the grave. Never seeing the corrilation between the giant burn pile of cat carcases and the influx in rat population. So thousands of years later, stories have spread, grown, twisted (kind of like the game of telephone you play as a child) and ended up still that black cats are bad luck, evil and you will certainly die if one crosses your path. Can we lay this myth to rest yet? Rats...and rat fleas....that's what's evil, talk about a possible evil and deadly animal. Run, run for your life. Happy Halloween to all!

Cave men are hot.

There was a glitch yesterday in technology in my household. It caused quite a ruckus and could have ended badly. Sometimes I want to go back to days before cell phones and texting, it was so easy to get lost and have some peace. In todays technological world, peace is a word that has almost went by the wayside in it's meaning. It's kind of like the old word gay. Now don't get your panties in a wad, I literally mean the original form of the word meaning "happy". Now a days if someone was to say "that little boy was so gay" clearly our minds would all go in a different direction, than that of what it actually means. Sort of like peace is quickly becoming. People, especially the younger generation, have lost all contact and understanding of a truly peaceful life, or even just a peaceful evening (let's start small). I'm apparently included in this statement, because yesterday had my world turned upside down. I was having a frustrating morning and wasn't feeling well to boot, and decided to text my husband my frustration. In doing so my phone decided it didn't want to send the text I had actually typed in it's entirity but rather pull up a really old text (that I had sent to my husband months ago) and add the last two lines from my new text to it. Of course he didn't remember getting the other text, we've slept since then. And he didn't even get the text I actually sent him, so the conversation was completely out of control. He still thinks I was texting someone else and meant to send it to them. Clearly we have some trust issues to work through, but we're fine. Some normal growing pains in a new marriage. However, this argument would have never occured had their been no "smartphones" or technical glitches. I was ready to throw it out the window. I want peace again. I want zero distractions and no possible avenue for accusations. I want to be able to take a nap and not worry about my phone going off and waking me up. I want to be able to go for a drive and not have to stress over if I have service or not. My family is very bad about wanting to know your every move. And that's fine, we're close, we all love each other very much. It's not a nosey thing, but a "I want to be a part of your life, be there for you, help you, know you" thing, so I'm not complaining.....just stating a fact. When I get a text or a call from my mother, I better text back immediately. Do it! Don't hesitate! Because if I don't then my husband gets a call, or texts, or both, "where is she?, Is she ok?" It's even possible that a cop show up on my doorstep for a well check. I admit....it's annoying at times, but she means well. There are times though, especially here recently when I just want to shut my phone off and go about my life. Technology is not necessarily a good thing, it's not a necessary evil either, it's just not necessary. We are talking about a very new convenience, texting has been within the last 10 years or so. Mobile phones within the last 25 maybe. And in the grand scheme of things with humanity being around for "how many years now?", this is a very new commodity. I think we will survive if something happens and technology goes to the wayside (oh how sweet the sound), or at least I and mine will. Maybe that should be our new goal as a family, to weed out technological distractions. We already are without cable and internet (I type this at work, shhhh), maybe we should eliminate smartphones next.....hmmmmmm

The American Dream can kiss my.....rear end. (Do kids read this?)

I'm going to be 30 years old in four months. I realize that is not old, but I remember a time when 30 seemed ancient to me. My husband being fifteen years older than myself, cannot wait for me to turn 30 so I will be a decade closer to him....or so it would seem lol. I wonder sometimes how my daughter feels and thinks when it comes to my age. I try to be so well put together and under control for my entire family, especially her. I wonder if sometimes I'm only fooling myself though and she can see right through my mask. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm putting on a total act about my life and I secretly want to be living in Paris painting. I am exactly where I want to be, who I want to be with and doing (for the most part) what I want to be doing. It's just 30 maybe getting to me more than I realize. Thirty years of nothing really to show except divorce, bankruptcy, broken hearts and a beautiful blue eyed little girl that had to endure all of the above with me. I don't believe in the American Dream like our forefathers have so sweetly expected of us. Two cars in a garage, two kids tucked in their beds, in their cute little rooms, a beautiful husband that kisses you goodbye in the mornings, at the front door, on his way to work (yes this is a run-on sentence....you will learn I don't care). You stay home, cook, bake, decorate and shop, take a yearly vacation to the beach and go to ball games on Friday night. Quite frankly, that makes me want to vomit. My life is a little more chaotic than that, and I prefer it that way. It fits us. I don't know what secret tool measures success, but I feel as if ultimate survival and refrain from total insanity seems pretty successful. Especially when we're facing government shut downs, debt ceilings, religious wars, recession, soaring gas prices, need I go on....I'll admit I don't know, nor do I care much about that BS, I care about whether the ones I love will survive it (I'm a little bit of a prepper, not extreme, but enough). To me, I feel as if I have been fairly successful in my 30 years. I have a roof over my head, food in my fridge and on the table, clothes on my back and enough money in my pocket to occasionally go blow it on junk at the antique store. Yet, there is this looming spirit of failure over me recently. I watched my daughter walk up the stairs into school this morning, I remember when I walked up the same stairs, am I capable of doing more for her? For my husband? For his kids? I feel no different than I did when I was 17 and freedom seemed like a tangible object. I still have the same desires and dreams, just much more self control and responsibility. I was in deep thought as I was watching her go in, then she reached around and fixed an apparent wedgie, turned around to me, smiled, waved and blew me a kiss. Guess what....I am going to be 30 years old, and I'm still here. That's pretty awesome :). Success! (applause, applause, taking a bow)

Hello my name is

I like wine and food. I like to read long novels and do crafts. I love to spend money on things I find interesting. But, mostly I enjoy long walks on the beach with fruity pink umbrella drinks. Who am I kidding? I work full-time with a household total of four kids (only one that claims me as blood mother), a Yankee husband, three dogs, two cats, a bearded dragon....oh and no door on our bedroom. I live south of the Mason Dixon line, and think it's the prettiest part of the country. I don't believe in the "American Dream", but rather survival of everyday life. I do love wine (mainly because of it's effects). I do thoroughly enjoy food (but struggle daily with not wanting to weigh 200 pounds). I like to pretend I have time to read and buy books, but then sell them with a perfect, unused binding in a year or so and talk about how much I enjoyed it. I have craft supplies out the wazoo and yet I don't think I've ever finished a project. I do love to spend money on things I find interesting, that is true. Therefore I have a house full of unneccessary vintage junk, that's only purpose is to collect dust. I hate the beach (sand gets in "don't mention" places). I'm creating a blog just so I can voice my frustration about everyday, mundane, routine activities and maybe serve as friend to fellow borderline insane mothers (just remember, insanity is not allowed my dear). Hello my name is Ashley