A Tumbling ENTJ

Yesterday, I got a CALL FROM THE SCHOOL! I thought, "Oh no! Either the Firecracker has broken her arm, or there was some sort of early dismissal that I forgot about (again), and she's been waiting for me for two hours!" 

Oh no.  It was even better. 

My daughter, my precious one, my Firecracker,  my little ENTJ, had gone to the office to request that SOMEONE CALL HER MOTHER because there was a Tumbling class after school, and she was supposed to be in it. I needed to be there in five minutes with twenty-five dollars, a signed permission slip, and some gym clothes. 

She's six.

I was driving on the highway beside The Firecracker's school as her secretary is telling me this.  I might have had a little trouble understanding...after all, I had just taken Baby Chaos Theory to the doctor because she'd kept me up most of the previous night, screaming her tiny little lungs out.  (The doctor's prognosis? "Your guess is as good as mine.")  I wracked my sleepy ADD-brain trying to think of WHEN the Firecracker had told me about Tumbling Class....

(Cue the Dream Music...)

"Hey Mom! Mrs. Liebhardt is teaching a Tumbling Class again this year!"
(Baby Chaos theory blows out her diaper)
"Oh, that's great honey!"

Now, at the time, I was actually thinking, "Oh great, I hope she can do that class, I think she'll enjoy it, now where's the Desitin?  Are we out of diapers again?  Ooooh....time to change the baby's clothes...ewww!"
 
In her mind, I said yes!

On the one hand, I'm thrilled that she took the initiative.  I gave her $25 from my little Dave Ramsey cash envelope system, signed a permission slip, and told her teacher she'd have to "tumble" in regular clothes today, because class would be over by the time I got back with the gym outfit. 

On the other hand, we're going to have a talk about what "Yes," actually sounds like....

Changing Our Family Tree

The other day, the Mathman and I were trying to wrangle some medicine into our new baby.  After about 10 minutes, we were covered in baby spit, baby Prevacid, and baby cries, but the meds were in her tummy.  We laughed out loud and said, "We did it!"

Then The Firecracker, our incredibly articulate 6-year-old, ran into the room and said, "Are we debt free?"

It won't be long, baby!

Then today, The Shy Violet, our incredibly tender 3-year-old, was watching a movie.  When she was done, I said, "I'm going to turn on Dave Ramsey now."  Before I could, she started humming the theme music. 

I'm 100% certain that none of our kids will get student loans.

I freaking hate Jillian Michaels

But I'm absolutely certain that's the point.  I did this video today, and Shy Violet, my 3-year-old, pulled her little rocking chair up to the computer to watch me.  Between Jillian shouting, "You don't get these abs for free!" and knowing Shy Violet would remember if I quit, I finished the whole video.  I now hate Jillian Michaels. 

And hopefully I'll hate her tomorrow too.

One more dig--working out.

I learned a new word: fitspo.  (Yes, it's an actual word.  It's kind've related to doubleplusgood.)  A fitspo is a fitness inspirational photo, and during my 40-day Facebook fast, I started collecting fitspos on Pinterest.  <--This whole sentence is kind've wacky, since both the words and the activities didn't actually exist ten years ago.  Strange. 

Anyway, I'll write about the 40 day Facebook fast soon. This particular fitspo challenged me to think outside the box a bit:

That baby will learn to count to ten quicker than mine, I guarantee it!

The constant excuse for being overweight in our culture is, "Well, I had kids!"  I've used that excuse myself, and hated it. 

Even worse is the dynamic excuse duo: money and weather. "Well, I can't afford a gym membership, and it's ten degrees below zero outside!"  If nothing else, this fitspo challenged me to think around my excuses, and find a way to make exercise a part of my life. 

This morning, I took a baby step towards actually getting in shape:

And now the baby's awake and screaming her little head off, so I'm glad I got it in! :)

Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Syrup---at home!

I live my monetary life by a simple motto: if I need to buy it, there has to be a way to buy it CHEAPER!

Starbucks is one of those things that I'm trying (unsuccessfully) to learn to live without as we get our debt snowball rolling.  Well, they're getting rid of they're Pumpkin Spice syrup, so  now they've justified my abstinence a little more.  (wink)

Angela Hayman has one of the best frugal blogs in the universe, and she posted this find on her facebook page. The Copycat Recipe Guide has an easy way to make the syrup yourself, and save the 4.68 cents that you would have spent getting the tall soy latte Starbucks version.   Not that I know anything about that...

Photo courtesy of www.randomoriginal.com.  Nice!

When we don't feel like being lovey dovey.

"I love you." "Oh, I love you too." <smooch> "Yeah, we're disgusting."

 

 (A hat-tip to http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/jennifer-scout-duffy-o%27malley for the photo!)

There's no way around it, most of the time, my husband and I are totally disgusting. Maybe I'm exaggerating, maybe I'm over-stating, or maybe I've created a relationship-monster, but 8 years after the wedding, we're still madly in love.

Then baby makes three.  And four.   

With lightsabers, of course.  Cause what's childhood without magical toys that can cut you in half?

 And five!

Milk-drunk baby. ;) 

 All of them have been sick over and over again in the past month.  And we're tired.  We're tired and we're drained.  We don't freaking feel like being lovey-dovey.  It doesn't help that he's an INTJ, and his emotional expression looks like this:

...while I'm an ENFP, and mine looks like this:

This is a recipe for miscommunication. 

The net effect of exhaustion plus sick kids equaled this:

However, today he came over and sat on the couch with me, and said, "I just want you to know that I love you, and I'm so thankful to be with you.  Do you want to go have some coffee today?" 

Yeah, I love him.

Video Class

I took a video production class with my church yesterday.  Now the aliens can land...

The Mathman brought the baby to me during lunch, so I could nurse her--he gets Man of the Year for that.  And for wrangling all three girls so i could go to a seven-hour class. 

In other news, my husband also dreamed that he was teaching his class how to disarm a Terminator last night. 

 

"Ok, first you shoot them until they're disabled, or crush them under a large object. Then you unscrew the port in their head, remove the memory chip, and you're done."

Digging with a spoon?

---

Abbe Faria: With two of us digging, we can cover twice the ground. It'll only take us, oh... 8 years to reach the outer wall.
[Edmond laughs]
Abbe Faria: Ohh... and does something else demand your time? Some pressing appointment, perhaps?

Nothing I want in life comes overnight.  I want  to be a good wife, a good mother, a good cook, a good writer/musician/artist, and I want to be debt free.  None of that comes instantly.  I am building skills slowly, over time.  I will be all of those things, if I'm willing to measure my life in years--years built of smaller moments.