What not to wear, or what to wear…..

            I come to you, valued readers, for some really important advice.  I have been pregnant or breastfeeding since March of 2008, and here we are, in 2011, and I find that I am almost 30, the mother of three small children, with no idea how to dress myself.  Grace, at 2, has more fashion sense than I do.  She knows exactly what she wants to wear every morning.  “Mommy, I wear a princess dress- a pretty dress for a princess.”  When I got married I dressed primarily from Ann Taylor Loft since that is pretty much the young teacher’s uniform store.  Every time I walk in there now I shudder a little to myself.  My husband thinks I dress like a child, but caring for babies is hard work, and I don’t know how to do it in a skirt.  My uniform is usually a tank top, jeans and flip flops… sometimes sneakers if I know I will be walking a lot.  This is not a sexy uniform.  I am not interested in being sexy most of the time, but now and then I would like to look a little more “put together”.

            So the question is…. Where do you shop as a 30 year old mother-of-three?  I have lost all the baby weight from #3, so all of my “fat” clothes are too big.  My clothes from before all my children look ridiculous.  I basically need an entirely new wardrobe.  I really wish there were a service out there that could just tell me what to wear.  I am not interested in being creative or standing out of the crowd.  I just want to look pretty.  I guess my only option is to go wander around the outlets going from store to store… too young, too old… and then buying my kids some new clothes because at least they always look cute…

Telephobia...

My mother and sisters are afraid of spiders.  I don’t really mind them if they aren’t crawling on me.  My brother is afraid of people who don’t make maintaining themselves a priority. My husband is afraid of vegetables.  We all have our fears.  The thing that gives me the heebie-jeebies is the phone.  I hate it and I am afraid of it.  There are more people with telephobia out there than you might think. Here are my top 5 reasons why:

5. There is no escape. The cell phone can reach you anywhere.  In the past, when I wanted to avoid someone or a responsibility, I could just stay away from the house and they could call and leave messages, which isn’t the same as saying “no” on the phone.  Most of the time I have to mentally prepare myself to make or receive certain phone calls.  Cell phone calls are kind of like a sneak attack.  I have trouble saying “no”.  Some people can say this word without even thinking about it.  I have found that I can only say it on special occasions and rarely on the phone.

4. Phone stalking.  Everyone has their personal phone stalker.  Sometimes it is that friend that just calls and calls, and other people are married to them.  Sometimes when I am alone I want to be ALONE and the phone makes that impossible.  Rather than take the hint that I have not answered the phone, these lovely individuals just call repeatedly until they get through.

3. I count rings… When I was in high school I worked at a Chinese restaurant called the Lilac Blossom.  The boss was a total tyrant and used fear and humiliation to get us to work harder.  When you were a hostess you were only allowed to let the phone ring three times.  If it rang more than that you KNEW she was going to be right around the corner to tell you how lazy you were, [loudly] “Izbae (she couldn’t pronounce Elizabeth), whya your sista smarrta than you?  What you do up there?  Maybe I call your sista and she do your job? The phone ring 4 times, disturb whole restaurant, you answer right away.”  So at home, when I am running for the phone, I am counting wondering if a short, dictatorial Chinese woman is going to pop out of one of my closets if I don’t answer it in three rings.

2. You can’t read people over the phone.  They say that 80% of communication is visual.  You can see people’s expressions and their eyes to see if they are agreeing with you or just paying you lip service.   I put my foot in my mouth constantly and I count on visual cues to let me know that I need to apologize, retract my statement, or retreat.

1.  I learned it from my mom!  Ok, so we blame a lot of things on our parents, but this one I can definitely claim.  When we were little it was our job to answer the phone.  I don’t think my mom ever did it.  We had to say, “Hello, this is the Rennix residence, how may I help you?”  We would then tell my mother who was calling, since the phone was rarely for us.  I think we eventually saw that my mother would tense up when she was on the phone and use her “mom on the phone” voice.  When I was older I could even tell who she was on the phone with based on how natural her voice was.  I think every mom masters that transition of, “(angry/frustrated) Haven’t I told you… ring ring… never to… ring ring… climb on the furniture.  Go to your room…ring ring… (sweetly) hello?”  I will say that caller ID has made phones much easier to navigate, but I always feel terrible when I screen a call…

So now that everyone I know that reads this blog knows I am neurotic, and that it is my mother’s fault, I am ready to overcome my fear.  On Friday I will officially become a Pampered Chef consultant, and I will have to use the phone every day to call people I don’t know and ask them things.   I am hoping that my anxiety will eventually ebb, and maybe by the time I am ready to re-enter the work force I won’t have to filter my job search by phone use…

The Debt Monster

About two months ago I was looking at our budget and I thought to myself, “Things have got to change.” We can never seem to get ahead.  When we moved to Williamsburg the economy was just starting its downward spiral.  We went from making money every time we sold a house to not being able to sell our house.  We went from steady raises and big bonuses to no raises and smaller bonuses.  When we bought our house we bought down points and got an interest only loan.  It seemed smart at the time.  We didn’t plan on living in it for more than 5 years.  We had our sights set on a gated community.

Now reality…

We are not irresponsible with money.  We have never bought anything we couldn’t afford the payments for… but we also have always spent ALL of our money.  We always planned to put more away for retirement and save for the kid’s college, but unless we find a money tree, the likelihood of us finding hundreds of extra dollars isn’t too high.

So things needed to change.

We bought a book, started a debt snowball, and we are now about a year away from paying off all of our debt.  When that is done we will start seriously saving for retirement and the kid’s college funds.  While I am grateful that we are moving in the right direction, the only thing that I keep thinking is that I wish we had started this sooner.

This is why….

I will use my brother Christopher as an example… he is 25 years old.

If Christopher would like to retire at 65 he as 40 years to save for retirement.  If he would like to retire on, let's say 50,000 a year (which wouldn't go too far, but it is a round number) he would need 625,000 to have that amount per year when he retires.  In order to save that money he needs to put way 178.75 EVERY month until he is 65.  He SHOULD be contributing at least that into his 401K but it is important, even as young as he is, to open a Roth IRA as well.

Paul is closer to 40 years old.  We would like to retire on 100,000 a year (hopefully the house will be paid off by then).  That means we need a nest egg of $1,250,000.   If we want to retire with that amount we need to put $1313.75 away EVERY month... which honestly is not going to happen.  Do you see how important it is to save early?  If Christopher wanted the same retirement he would need to put 357.50 away every month....  We already put 400 a month away, but we are going to up that to 700.00 a month when our debt is paid off, which will give us about 60,000 a month when we retire.  Hopefully, when I start working again we will be able to put away more.

We also need to plan for college…. We have three children and I would like them to be able to go to school relatively debt free.    We will promise the kids 4 years of college and 15,000 every year.  If they want to spend more it will be on their dime. 

60,000 per kid…  249.48 a month for Ford, and 155 each for Grace and Lily.  We need to put away $560 a month for college. 

And the GRAND TOTAL is… $ 860 extra dollars a month for retirement and college savings.  Any money left over will be put in savings…. I guess the good news is that after our car is paid off we will have that much extra money to work with.  I just wish we had thought about all this sooner!

If you want more information about how we started our debt snowball look here..

Dave Ramsey

Bikini Body

 

Bikini Body

            This year I turn 30 years old.  I am a mother of three beautiful children and a wife to a wonderful husband.  This year I bought a bikini.  Every year my family goes on vacation to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Ever since my son was born I have worn a one-piece bathing suit or a tankini, even though I find them uncomfortable and it is nearly impossible to find a full coverage bathing suit that doesn’t make me look like I am under 50.   

The truth is: I have horrible stretch marks.  

 I slathered on every advertised cream, drank tons of water, and watched my weight with my first pregnancy, but genetics can be stronger than will-power.  I was left with a beautiful baby boy and a completely scarred stomach.  Oh, how I cried when those first stretch marks appeared, somewhere in my 8^th month of pregnancy, and were quickly followed by many, many more.  I thought I was ruined.

            Now that I think back to my pre-pregnancy body I realize I was never satisfied with it either.  I was never skinny enough.  There was always some flaw I was desperate to be rid of.  If I had that body now I would be in 7^th heaven.  I guess that is the curse of youth.  Some time, a couple of months ago, I was looking in the mirror and I thought to myself, “This is the best you are going to look.  You might as well enjoy it.” So I decided to buy myself a bikini.   There are some that are likely to be horrified.  I certainly don’t look like a super model… or maybe I do.  Check out these pictures of “real” moms Cindy Crawford and Julia Roberts.  I am certainly not implying that moms without stretch marks  are not real… they are just very, very lucky.

Julia Roberts

 Cindy Crawford

Here are some pictures of me in a bathing suit.  The first one at the top of the post is from me when I was 15.  I was 19 in the picture directly below. The third was taken on my honeymoon when I was 22, and the fourth was taken the summer before I was married.  I am five months pregnant in the last at 27.

I remember being very upset for this picture, both before and after it was taken.  I thought that I looked fat.  I was convinced there were “rolls” on my stomach.

This picture was taken in Antigua on my honeymoon.  I did not let my husband take many pictures of me, but in this one I made sure that I had a sarong over the “fat parts”.  I wish I had known how lucky I was then.

In this picture I am 5 months pregnant with my 2^nd child.  I was pretty comfortable and confident in this bathing suit.   I wish I could have bottled that confidence for after my daughter was born.

I don’t write this as a pity party for me… more as an awakening that I am finally growing up and into my skin, literally.  I will be worried that someone is judging me, but at the same time I am proud of myself.  Now I won’t look back when I am 90 and wish that I had appreciated my 30 year old self.  30, consider yourself appreciated! FYI I will add a picture once I have a tan and a bikini I love.

Out of the mouths of babes...

    Last year I was pregnant with Lily and watching three kids in addition to my two children, all under the age of 5.  Somehow, only having four children at my house is even more exhausting.   Grace and the little girl I watch are both two, and I thought it would be easier to take care of two 2 year olds rather than two babies.  Instead, they seem to be getting more difficult.  Both little girls are still under two and a half, but they are both potty trained.  Logically one would think that this would be easier than having children in diapers, but it is actually harder.  Both girls go potty every 15 to 20minutes.  This involves toilet paper, dumping, wiping, hand washing, and sometimes shrieking if they touch each other.  During this process, my youngest, Lily, is determined to get in the bathroom and participate in the action.  At nine months she can already throw toys in the toilet.

    There is nothing cuter than little girls singing.  A few days ago, while we were waiting for a prescription for Grace (which is another story in itself), I encouraged the girls to sing.  Grace was trying to touch the little girl I watch, and she was trying to bite Grace.  Grace sweetly started,
“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, go to sleep little…. (devilish grin) poop,
you’re my baby, you’re my baby, you’re my sweet poopy poop…”

These are obviously not the correct words to the song.  The fact that my “not-yet-two-and-a-half” year old can replace words in a song with ones she knows are inappropriate is just beyond me.  Today at a play-date she told me she had to go potty, and since she wore a ridiculous frilly pink dress she needed extra help.  I followed her out of the room where the moms were talking and she stopped and headed towards the kitchen.  She did not, in fact, need to use the bathroom, but wanted a snack and knew that I would get up immediately for a potty emergency, but probably not for a snack request.

    Ford is really not to be outdone by his little sister.  A “bad Ford” keeps coming in the house and doing naughty things.  He also told me before we went to a fundraiser, “Looks like somebody is going to have another baby.”  I am not pregnant, and actually thought I was looking pretty good.  I told him that it wasn’t polite to tell a woman that.
“Do you know why Ford?”
“Yeah, because then the lady thinks that she looks fat.”
“So…”
“Mommy, you look a little fat.”

Gotta love those kids…

When I grow up….

When I grow up….

    When I was a little girl I remember an adult telling me that she didn’t really feel grown up.  “You feel the same,” she said,” even when you get old.  Sometimes I catch myself in the mirror and think ‘Who is that old lady?’” I thought she was ridiculous.  I spent my entire childhood waiting to be an adult, and now, at almost 30, I still feel the same way I did when I was 16.  I remember how 30 seemed so old then, and frankly it still feels old to me, but probably because I am in denial.

    I might feel a little older when I figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I got my undergraduate degree in English and my parents insisted that I get a “practical” degree to go along with it.  I chose a minor in secondary education.  It took me two years to figure out that I didn’t want to be a teacher.  Two pretty miserable years I might add.  I did what any reasonable 24 year old does when they find their first career path to be lacking… I went to graduate school and immediately got pregnant.  I say immediately because I got pregnant somewhere around the second day of classes.  So I finished my graduate degree while pregnant and then with an infant.  My husband was concerned, being in business, that my MA in English with a concentration in writing and rhetoric, wouldn’t have any market value, but I assured him, as any 24 year old would, that there were lots of opportunities for editors in Northern Virginia.  Too bad we moved to Williamsburg, and then later, too bad the market crashed. 

    I have searched for jobs several times in the last three years.  I was hired once, only to be downsized almost immediately.  I had an interview at a local high school, but I can’t say I am upset that I didn’t get that job.  So now I stay at home with my three beautiful children and it is hard for me to think of another way to earn an income in addition to taking care of three children under 5.  I watch another child during the week, and that helps a little, but is hardly a career.  I feel my brain slowly disintegrating. I also have a small editing business, but there aren’t a lot of people looking for editors right now. 

    So now I have been thinking I will start a little sewing business and see where it takes me.  I have been making clothes for my daughter and some Christmas presents.  Surprisingly few people know how to sew and even fewer can make an actual garment.  So I am learning, and sewing, and learning some more.  I have even started to learn to smock.  One of my great-great-grandmothers was a seamstress and supported a whole family with her craft.   So I might just shelve my degrees and become an entrepreneur…or I might change my mind again… I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

Our Elf on the Shelf Disaster…

    I have been desperate this Christmas season to find ways to help my son stay off Santa’s naughty list this year.  He has been atrocious.  My latest idea has been to purchase an “Elf on the Shelf”.  It is a cute idea.  The set ran me a ridiculous $30 for an elf and a book, but as a parent of a naughty boy, there is no price too high for good behavior.  The elf came and Ford named it Elvis.  The book details that there are only two rules: You cannot touch the elf or he loses his Christmas magic and the elf is not allowed to talk to the children.  Ford IMMEDIATELY said that he knew the elf was fake and that he wanted to hold Elvis.  How, might I ask, did I get such a jaded four year old?  Elvis was already on top of the computer armoire when Ford arrived home from school.  I was SURE he would not be able to reach it.  I was wrong.

That evening Ford came running in, triumphantly waving Elvis and yelling, “I have ALL his Christmas magic” in a classic cartoon villain voice.  Nice.  I sent him to his room and hid Elvis and when he came downstairs I said that Elvis had disappeared.  Ford seemed alternately nonplussed and worried that the elf was no longer in the house.  The next morning Elvis was at the top of the Christmas tree with a note from Santa explaining that he was giving Ford another chance to be a good boy.

Unfortunately, Elvis has done nothing to improve Ford’s behavior.    Apparently Ford decides when Elvis can see him and when he can’t.  I forgot to move him to another place last night and Ford was disappointed when he hadn’t moved in the morning.  I told him that the weather had been too dangerous for Elvis to travel to the North Pole.  So at this point I am out $30, am stuck trying to remember to move an elf every night, and my child doesn’t seem to care that Elvis, Santa, God… ANYONE is watching him.  At his age I would have been a neurotic mess trying to make sure I was good for everyone, terrified that Santa or the elf would be disappointed in me.  I can’t decide if I am happy that Ford didn’t inherit my people pleasing tendencies, or if I am just plain tired….

His sister, on the other hand, seems determined to out-do Elvis.  Her climbing skills have really improved in the last month or so, and every time I leave the room I return to find her standing on some piece of furniture, or clinging to a bookcase, or shut in a closet, or emptying the pantry, or stuck behind the couch.  As with her brother, no amount of time out or other penalties seem to phase her.  It is a good thing she is so darn cute.  She doesn’t understand about Elvis yet, but I am pretty sure next year he will be watching yet another naughty child…