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The moral of the story is this: Don’t seek comfort with Taco Bell

Written on December 14, 2011 by Jennifer in Huh?, Quirky Me

If I showed you my calendar you might weep. Everyday there’s a party or someone *ahem the SCHOOL* needs something for a party. There are presents to be wrapped, toilets to be scrubbed, and crafts to be completed. Don’t forget the crafts!

So this calendar o’ mine, I have very carefully coordinated each and every activity, party, and craft into every spare minute that I have. It would all be going swimmingly if it weren’t for the unexpected birthday party invitation my son received for a party on a TUESDAY night (ALL CAPS because it’s SCHOOLNIGHTOUTRAGE). My son, he was so excited about this birthday party.

“It’s at Chuck E. Cheese, Mom! I can’t wait!” he said. His giddiness equally matched my irritation.

Tuesday night I was supposed to go out with my book club and discuss books. And by “discuss books,” I really mean, stuff myself silly with chips, guacamole, and enchiladas while sipping a margarita. Topped with a TUESDAY SCHOOLNIGHTOUTRAGE birthday party, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I mean, I’d already carefully coordinated my schedule just for the promise of Mexican food and libations. I’d turned down other parties so that I could go to this one.

Whine. Pout. Stomp. Frumple Face.

I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner before taking Carson to the party. It just wasn’t scheduled on the calendar, so by the time the party was over (8:00 on a SCHOOLNIGHTOUTRAGE), I was starving. Since my Mexican food bonanza had been cancelled, I decided that the only this that could soothe my sad, sad heart was a quick trip through the drive through at Taco Bell.

This is when a good friend sitting in the passenger seat could have really helped a girl out because a six-year-old in the backseat only serves to egg you on. A good friend would have talked me out of a trip to Taco Bell, but my son thought it was a GREAT idea.

“You LOVE tacos, Mom,” he reminded me. Indeed, that is true. I love tacos, but I really love tacos that come from places that don’t serve food out of a drive through window.

At home I devoured my Taco Bell order, dejected. I even managed to meet my goal of “stuffing myself silly,” but it didn’t take away the fact that instead of having fun at a much needed night away with friends, I spent an evening at Chuck E. Cheese with 20 kabillion very excited children. Instead of feeling better about the whole situation, I just felt gross AND sad.

The moral of the story is this: Don’t seek comfort with Taco Bell. I hope you’ll find this tip very helpful in your times of need this busy holiday season.

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I’m not so sure about Santa

Written on November 30, 2011 by Jennifer in Little Monkeys, Quirky Me, Religimcal Thoughts

I grew up believing in Santa Claus. Hook, line, and sinker, I believed in all of it. From the elves and the North Pole, the milk and cookies left out on Christmas Eve, to the note he left for me to find in the morning, and of course all of the presents, he was THE single biggest part of Christmas for me. The part about it being Jesus’ birthday was kind of an afterthought.

Then I grew older and learned the truth. No, he didn’t exist, but I still cherished the magical feeling the belief in Santa brought to all those Christmases. I can’t imagine my childhood without Santa! It’s a tradition I never considered NOT carrying on with my kids.

I’ll admit that I’m not really feeling Christmas this year. Santa and all his cohorts with their gifts are making me feel overwhelmed. I look around my children’s playroom (and their bedrooms, and my living room, and under the couches, and in closets, and under my feet) and can see clearly that they have too much STUFF. They’re completely spoiled.

They have no idea what it is to want for anything, let alone that other people struggle to have even the most basic of their needs met. My kids will not only wake up in a warm bed Christmas morning and have a filling breakfast while wearing brand new PJs, they’ll also have a ridiculous number of gifts to open from Tate and I, from grandparents, aunts and uncles, and because he’s a part of our tradition, there will be gifts from Santa. We are so incredibly blessed that this is the case, that we can provide their basic needs and much, MUCH more. But the part of this that isn’t sitting well with me is that they EXPECT these gifts and in their innocent, age-appropriate way, they feel ENTITLED to these gifts.

Santa really is just a metaphor for “On Christmas, we get TOO MANY PRESENTS,” to the extent that Christmas seems like it’s just about gifts and that’s it. And WE DID THIS, my husband and I. We are the ones who have allowed Christmas to get out of control and haven’t showed them that Christmas is about giving and the celebration of Jesus’ birth. I get that Carson and Ella are just little kids and we have just wanted to fill them with magic and wonder, but I feel we’ve done a huge disservice to them by showering them with more STUFF and by perpetuating the myth of Santa. Last year in an effort to put a limit on MORE! STUFF!, my husband and I decided that Santa would only be bringing one gift, he and I would give them two more for a total of three. The thought process behind this idea was that Jesus got three gifts, so that’s what they would get, too.

But that doesn’t include the truckloads of gifts that will arrive from extended family. Which? I don’t want to deprive our family from the joy of giving either.

Then there’s this whole idea of Santa. I’m mean, I simply can’t imagine Christmas without Santa, but I also feel like the whole idea of Santa is like an out of control car that we can’t jump off of. It’s too late now to take Santa out of Christmas, and really, that’s not what I want at all. In my heart, though, I feel really conflicted. I’m trying to get my children to love and believe in Jesus, but here in a few years they’ll find out that Santa isn’t real, but oh, that other guy, Jesus? The one you can’t see either? Well, HE is real. Yes, I know I lied about Santa, but I’m not lying about Jesus. You should just trust me on this. Really??

I’m struggling with how to make Christmas magical for my children without giving up Santa, but also stressing the Jesus part. (Or even if I were not Christian, I’d still want it to be more than just about STUFF, you know?) What does the middle ground look like where Santa visits and Jesus is front and center and the kids get a few gifts and they APPRECIATE each one? How do we jump off the runaway car?

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Back when

Written on November 28, 2011 by Jennifer in blogging, Pictures, Quirky Me

I never kept a diary, except maybe a few angsty lines as a middle schooler who’d just made out with a boy for the first time. Five years ago this month, I opened up a Blogger account and began to write the stories of my life. My first post, since deleted, was about my 20 week ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby I was carrying, who is now a sassy four year old sister to a six year old brother.

Tentatively I started to speak, out loud for the first time, about motherhood and it’s challenges. I know now that there’s a fine balance between saying what needs to be said and saying too much, though I’m still learning to walk that tightrope.

My blog was my very own personal space, here’s what I said about it in February 2007,

“Nobody is leaving their dirty socks on my blog. Nobody is pointing and grunting at my blog and demanding a bite of it. My blog doesn’t have a leaky…diaper. There is NO LAUNDRY or dog hair in my blog. My blog has never told me ‘no’. “

I still treasure and feel very protective of this space, five years later. It is still one place that is mine, all 845 posts.

When this blog began:

1. I lived in Alabama.

2. I’d never heard of Facebook because it was only for those young, whippersnapper college kids, but I did have a Myspace account, complete with flashy graphics and autoplay music.

3. I looked sort of like this, just less pregnant:

4. This blog was a secret.

5. I felt very lonely and isolated.

6. I’d gained more than just pregnancy weight.

7. I cussed like a sailor.

8. I never exercised because I thought I didn’t have time. (I really didn’t have time, though.)

9. I was in a playgroup, which is indeed why this blog got the name I gave it.

10. I’d never heard of Google Reader, spent my days commenting on at least twenty blogs a day, and felt a real sense of community online.

11. I didn’t have a paying job.

Since this blog began:

1. I’ve moved twice (to Indiana, then to Tennessee) and lived in five different houses and/or apartments.

2. I’ve started accounts on Facebook, Twitter, and about 32 million other sites that in hopes of making my blog super popular. (Technorati, BlogLuxe, TopBlogSites, Cre8buzz, Plurk, NING groups, Alltop, StumbleUpon…)

3. I look sort of look like this, except most of the time I’m less stylish and my children are squalling:

4. This blog isn’t a secret. I still wish it was a secret some days.

5. I don’t feel lonely or isolated anymore. Well, usually. We all feel lonely sometimes, right? My life is pretty great and I feel incredibly blessed. Motherhood isn’t easy, but the kids are older now and we’re not bound by a nap schedule and they don’t completely drain me of life every single minute of the day.

6. I gained even more weight then lost most of it.

7. I don’t cuss like a sailor on the blog and I try not to cuss now except when the situation warrants it. There are many situations that warrant a good swear word, though.

8. I ran a 10K on Thanksgiving day in 1:01. I am getting ready to start training to run a half marathon. I’m making the time even though I don’t really have time to do the training.

9. I’m not in a playgroup, but yet! The blog name remains the same. It’s too late to change it now.

10. I adore my Google Reader, though I’m ticked they took away the Share function. I rarely comment on blogs anymore, but I want to do better because I miss that community feeling. I mean, the community is there, but I feel like I’m on the outskirts looking in.

11. I have jobs! Real jobs! And it’s all because five years ago this month, I opened a Blogger account and started writing.

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Little Gifts

Written on September 16, 2011 by Jennifer in Pictures, Quirky Me

This week has been full of little gifts. The best gifts all came Tuesday, the day I posted my last post about having a hard go of things.

1. Tate called me Tuesday morning and offered to take me out to lunch. The offer alone was a gift, actually sitting down alone in a restaurant with him was just the cherry on top.

2. A friend and long time reader, mpotter, told me that she had seen me in Redbook Magazine! I had completely forgotten that I was going to be in the magazine. My name is in a magazine because of something I wrote (that was heavily edited and added to, but whatevs. I’m in a real, live magazine!)

3. I was asked by Old Navy and Babble Voices if I’d be interested in shopping at Old Navy and talking about the trip and our purchases on my blog, Southern By Proxy. I gotta say, shopping with $150, courtesy of Old Navy, doesn’t exactly suck.

In fact, it was pretty awesome. Please see below, Ella jumping up and down for joy in a dress she picked out on her own. I felt the same joy and I might have jumped up and down for joy, too. It doesn’t hurt that they are having a huge sale right now, lots of items starting at $5.

Here is my article about the shopping trip, complete with even more pictures of my cute kids in their new clothes.

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It feels good to breathe again.

Written on September 13, 2011 by Jennifer in playing along, Quirky Me

The gray, gloomy cloud lifted from atop my shoulders this morning, taking with it the bricks weighting down my shoulders and the cross words that have spewed from my mouth for two weeks.

Last week while standing in line at the Genius Bar at the Apple Store, I felt the beginnings of a panic attack. I had just come from my Bible study, a study that I’m reluctantly co-leading, so my Bible was in my purse. I was so afraid that I’d melt down right there in front of all these people holding their iPhones and iPads, in front of blue shirted, head set wearing Genius Bar employees, and in front of my daughter. As my chest tightened and I felt like screaming for everyone around me to just shut up for two seconds, I reached my hand inside my purse and placed my hand on my small silver Bible and I prayed for God to help me to get control of myself. I prayed the same prayer over and over, breathing deeply in and out until I felt like I could finally look around at the people around me without my face crumpling into an ugly cry.

My children’s behavior has been shockingly atrocious these past few weeks. I told a friend after a particularly grueling meltdown in the front of Steak and Shake that I think my daughter finally broke me. I continue to feed her daily and tell her that I love her and do all the things I’m supposed to do as her loving mother, but each kind thing I did for her it was with suspicious eyes, waiting for the next shoe to fall. Wary, weary, and desperately wanting a reprieve from their bad behavior, I’ve been running further and further distances just to be alone.

I’ve definitely taken on too many responsibilities at once, too many things that I don’t have to do, but I know that I need to do. Freelance writing jobs, Family Friendly Knoxville, volunteering, and Bible study. It’s funny, though, the Bible study I’m leading, the one that I’m reluctantly co-leading, is based on the book, “One Thousand Gifts,” by Ann Voskamp and it’s an entire book based on thanking God for every thing in our lives, a practice in seeing all the beauty that surrounds us.

In purposely practicing this gratitude, I think I’m beginning to heal from the wounds slashed into my soul these past two weeks. The self inflicted, the child inflicted, the husband inflicted wounds are each healing nicely as I focus more energy on the good instead of sinking further into the cesspool of muck that I’ve created in my own little world.

It feels good to breathe again.

(My friend Heather has started this free writing exercise and I decided to see what would happen if I just sat down and gave myself 15 minutes of uninterupted time to just write. This is what came out. Unedited, except for the red squiggly lined typos.)

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The truth about running

Written on September 1, 2011 by Jennifer in Quirky Me

I don’t always like running, and by “don’t always like,” I mean I sometimes sort of hate running. It hurts, my lungs and my legs burn. I feel like I just can’t take one more step.

One of the good things about running, though, is that you have to make it back to your home/car/where ever you started. So. Instead of giving up, I keep on running because walking those two miles back would take too long.

As soon as I’m done running, I feel like a million bucks — no, I feel like fifty million bucks — and I’m happy that I actually did it when I spent hours before the run talking myself out of going. “It wasn’t really that bad,” I can say so easily as I’m unlacing my running shoes and coiling my earphones neatly for the next run.

I started running with the understanding that runners LOVE running. They talk about that endorphin high. They run and it looks nearly effortless. I think that maybe I’ve had a teeny, tiny taste of an endorphin high, but I know I won’t be the next poster child for how effortless running can look. It has occurred to me on, oh, just about every occasion I’ve run, that maybe I’m not really meant to be a runner. Maybe pilates or even bingo would be more my speed.

I keep on running, though.

I trained all summer to run a 10K, or 6.2 miles. It was so much fun and it was horrible and hot and I’ve never been as proud of myself as I was on the Saturday morning that I ran 6 miles and didn’t die. It was even kind of fun. Two weeks ago I was signed up to run the Butterfly 5K with my training team. “HA! A measly 3.1 miles! Smugness and chuckles abound! I could probably sprint the whole way!” I thought to myself.

One of these days I’ll learn that smugness and chuckling never suit me well. I felt awful during the race. My stride was all off, my side was cramping starting about about the half mile point. I had to walk about four different times. I was embarrassed when I finished to have all my training team cheering me on. I wanted to be the one cheering them on.

Running longer distances takes time and it’s time that is inconvenient for the rest of my family. I feel guilty when I leave to run in the evenings when it’s “cooled off” (yes, the quotes are necessary) and leave Tate to handle bedtime alone. I feel guilty when I wake up early on a Saturday morning to run and leave Tate to handle ravenous children demanding pancakes when I know he has a list a mile long of things to around the house.

There are parallel lessons between life and running, I just know there are. Some days are great while other days are nothing but crap of a cracker. Even though I sometimes sort of hate it while I’m doing it and I feel guilty for doing something for myself, I keep doing it. When I haven’t run in a few days, I find myself craving it, the feel of my feet against the pavement, my face red with effort, with beads of sweat dripping down my back. At the same time I’m craving it, the “you don’t really need to go today, do you?” talk starts in my head.

So I grab my running shoes and go before I can talk myself out of it.

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Opportunity knocked, I answered the door

Written on August 22, 2011 by Jennifer in jennifer and tate battle, Quirky Me, working mom

I feel a little sheepish after my last post, all “woe is me, I lost one of my freelance gigs, boo hoo” and now I’m going to tell you about two new projects I’m working on.

First, I’ve started writing for Babble and their Babble Voices project and I’m incredibly shocked I was asked to write for them. My blog is called Southern by Proxy, a name I’ve mulled over for years and just never had the opportunity to use. I love the logo, I’m so glad they used the little owl that Napwarden from NW Designs drew for me and this site.

My newest post is up over there and it’s a throwback to my old Smackdown series where I need you all to settle a disagreement between Tate and I. It’s all about Macaroni and Cheese so obviously you can see how pressing this matter is.

Also! Also, also! After the loss of my summer freelance job, I moped and twiddled my thumbs for a few days and then I decided to just start my own site. Opportunity knocked, I answered the door. As soon as I can get it all set up, I’m starting a website called Family Friendly Knoxville to highlight all the great family friendly activities, restaurants, events, deals, and more in Knoxville and surrounding areas. If you happen to live in the area, you can already check out our calendar of activities and events, follow us on Twitter @famfriendlyknox, “Like” the Facebook page, and follow our pins on Pinterest.

I’m really excited.

Also, I’m REALLY busy.

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