The Bribe

Everyone bribes their kids: to do their homework, clean their rooms, and be nice to annoying relatives. Sure, you can call it rewarding good behavior or an 'allowance'. The truth is, it's just a bribe. It works. And I for one, don't argue with proven systems - well, once I've tried them out for myself.

Something everyone might not do though is bribe themselves, mostly because people just go out and get what they want. Whether you can buy it right now or you have to save for it; you just get it. No bribe necessary.

My major malfunction in this area is that I never want to spend 'real' money on myself. I'll nickle and dime you to death, and Steve can testify to this. But I am incapable of going out and spending hundreds on myself with out it eating away at me with guilt. And it's not because I'm a stay-at-home mom. I was the same way when I brought home the bacon.

So, when I see something I really want - and it rarely happens - I find a nearly impossible goal and make myself a deal. If I can reach this goal then I can have the whatever. I've been doing this my entire life, unbeknownst to anyone, and it works great.

In my new health kick the last few months I have managed to loose over 20 pounds. I'm very excited about it since it's not been a diet per say but more about learning what to eat, what to avoid, and what a serving size is (and it ain't Super Sized). So for the first time in my life I'm looking at actually keeping the weight down and probably continuing to drop more. If I don't self destruct along the way.

I chose a weight that is still 35 pounds lower than where I currently stand. The weight will be harder to loose as I get closer to the milestone I picked. The longer it takes to reach the additional 35 pound weight loss the more the chance I'll just give it up and go with the flow. After all, how long can I keep Steve from bringing in cookies, pies, or cakes . . . and avoid them when he does?

So if, dare I say when, I loose an additional 35 pounds, I am going to . . . what? I've been thinking about this for weeks, trying to come up with the perfect bribe. Something worth fighting for. The only thing I could think of was another tattoo. I love mine and I'd probably like another. The issue there isn't so much the money as overcoming Steve's objections. Mr. "That would make a nice lampshade", doesn't like tattoos.

Then, today, we stopped at Allen's Boots in Austin and I fell in love with an entire line of cowboy boots: The Old Gringo. They are fun, flirty, bright, outgoing. They are everything BUT the boots your dad use to wear. I can't say I have a set that I'm more crazy about than the others, I'd wear them all. And wouldn't you know it, the cheapest sets run about $350 - more than I would ever spend on something for myself. Or would I?

Yep! A pair of Old Gringo cowgirl boots has officially slipped into the vacant slot as my reward for loosing an additional 35 pounds. I have no idea how long it will take me, so I'm not lusting over any one pair in particular. But I spent hours today on line drooling . . . and I took an extra long walk.

When I Grow Up

I've always been impressed with people who know early in life exactly what they want to do as adults. Whether that is become a doctor, a stay-at-home mom, work on cars, or fly planes. It's even more awe inspiring when you see these people take every right step in getting where they need to be. When you see them reach their goals and how fulfilled they are.

Of coarse, I hate them a little too. Okay, a lot.

How is it that one person can know from childhood exactly what they are destined to become and the child sitting next to them ever day in school has no clue. Has no clue in elementary school. No clue in Junior High or High School. Hell, how many people go off to college with no clue of what they want to be when they graduate?

I'm a no-clue person. I've always joked that I wanted to be a writer. And if there was a great sign in my life, it was that of writing. I wrote poems, novels, songs, short stories; all through school. I like to blame a lack of encouragement (or even freaking expectation) for my failure to pursue a dream. But maybe it was simply the lack of a dream.

After Becky, my sister, committed suicide a few years back I decided life was to short for "when I grow ups", so in the month of November I wrote an entire novel. Then I spent over a year working on it. At best, I'd say it's half way ready to be shown to a publisher. And I haven't touched it in six months.

My living sister (and yes, that is really how she comes up in conversation), Byjo, says that I have a fear of success. She swears that I seem to blindly go through life stumbling over great opportunities, or making my own, then as soon as it starts looking like it's going to take off I sabotage it. But, according to her, one day I will succeed despite myself. We'll see.

Even thought I love writing, any type of writing feels the need to create for me. The instructions I produce and sell on my website, the blogs I post here. I consider it all writing and it does feel natural. Comfortable. But I still wouldn't swear it was what I was meant to be when I grew up.

Will tells me on a daily biases that he wants to be a fireman and a doctor. He's been saying the same thing for over a year - which is a long time to a five year old. I'm left to wonder if he'll want to be an astronaut, race car driver, scientist, etc, as the years pass. Or, will he grow up and be a fireman and a doctor?

Then I think back to my child hood and realize even as a child I had no dreams. Part of it was that life was just tough. I did well to concentrate on making it day-to-day. Part of it was also that my parents, teachers, and relatives had no expectation that I'd grow up and be anything.

I prefer to think I just missed the big sign. The one-way arrow on the flashing neon billboard, pointing out Misty's destiny.

The good news is I'm not a quitter and I'm not dead. I'll figure it out. In the mean time, I'm still pissed at all of you that caught a glimpse at your signs in childhood.

Conflicting Parenting Styles?

When the girls came to live with Steve and I on a full-time bases, the adjustment was rocky for all of us. It wasn't the finance or space issue. Not the rescheduling to make sure someone was available as needed. It was that the girls had grown up to a certain parenting style; one employed by not only myself, but their father and grandparents. Steve's parenting style was at the opposite end of the pole. Conflict was going to happen and did, often.

The resulting strife nearly tore Steve and I apart and definitely damaged his relationship with the girls. My thought at the time was that they were mainly raised, they were use to a certain way of dealing with authority figures. It worked. They were not bad girls. They worked hard in school. Besides, Steve had never been a parent . . . so I figured it was just something he didn't understand.

When we talked of having a child together, I realized I would have to back up off my "this is our way" and allow Steve's child to be raised more as Steve saw fit. And I have. (Although, I doubt he thinks so.)

For five and a half years I have been the main parental figure in Will's life. I do the best I can. With my background and experiences, my main goal is to see that he enjoys childhood. I set guidelines (though not as many as Steve thinks he needs), and when I think Will needs it, I discipline him (just not as often as his dad would like).

A lot of things Will does, I see -- as a parent of multiple children -- as stages of growth and development. Yes, they are irritating, but if you just hang on for a few months they grow out of them.

Today, Steve and I didn't do too well as parents. Steve spent all day laying into Will for one thing after another - constantly. And his voice would raise each time. I left the room twice because I did not want to physically be a part of the conversation. And I want to point out that in each instance I totally understood why Steve was irate with Will. I just think you need to pick your battles. If you fight ever scrimmage, your kid will either never listen to you or you'll get so blinded by the trees in your way you'll miss the forest fire until it's to late.

After Will was in bed, Steve and I talked. He things I don't discipline Will, that I allow him to walk all over me. That hurt - as much I am sure, as what I told him.

I left him in bed and came to the computer, feeling doomed. Will is only five. How are we going to make a relationship, with this type of growing strain, last through his teenage years?

Searching the Internet for answers (and God, don't you love that you can do that?), I found that there are four basic types of parenting styles, and as you would expect, Steve and I have different ones.

The type of parent Steve is often results in well trained little soldier type children. They follow directions, do well in school, find a job. BUT, they are not happy, don't deal with with people, and are prone to depression - sounds a lot like my loving husband.

The type of parent I am often results in happy children with less depression, but no appreciation for authority figures or desire to exceed at anything. (Boy, I loved reading that.)

The surprisingly good news is that having conflicting parenting styles can actually be very beneficial for a child. They grow up feeling loved and supported, regardless of their behavior or accomplishments, but doing well in education and with choosing and sticking to a career.

But the parents have to learn to compromise. To never over step each other at the time of discipline. To discuss things outside of their children's hearing range.

Good for the child, hard on the parents.

Flax Whaaaat?

When you use the same grocery store for years you know where everything is located. Well, until you start eating things you've never eaten before. (Or, ever heard of.)

With my determination to improve my health and establish better eating habbits for Will, I've done a lot of research on the type of things we should include in our diet.

Side Note: I hate that word - diet. In this instance it was used to mean the food we partake of, not a restrictive way to loose a few pounds that will be back next month.

For the first time in my life the change in eating habits isn't about reducing so much as changing the quality of my life and the lives of my family. I'm learning to make smart choices and say 'no' to things I'll regret half an hour later. It's also a change I plan on making permanent. There is no goal-weight or event that I'm working towards.

I've been scouring the Internet for healthy recipes and information on eating better. I also purchased a new cookbook based upon the same concept. After spending hours determining this weeks menus and preparing a shopping list, Will and I were off to HEB.

Not only was our list long, but it was filled with things I've never purchased before. Things like flax seed. After my research I knew how good it was for me and I knew how to use it in my meals and snacks. What I didn't know was where the hell to find it; or even what it looked like.

I figured it was a seed, right? So I expected to find it with the baking stuff. Nope. Then I checked with snacks. Nope. I finally located it with the healthy bars - I still think that was an odd place for it. Then to top it off, you can't buy a small bag/box of flaxseed to try out. It only comes in 'choke-an-elephant' size and cost me nearly $10. I just hope I can choke it down.

Will and I spent almost two hours walking, rewalking, and rewalking a store I thought I knew by heart. I now know where egg beaters, soy milk, Kashi cereal, plain yogurt, turkey bacon, crepes, and melba toast(just to name a few things I've never purchased before today) are kept. And they weren't always in logical locations.

I also figured out that if your buying nearly every vegetable and fruit in produce, instead of the head of lettuce and token tomato, you really should save that department for last.

We walked the entire store a minimum of four times trying to find everything on my list. And asking for help? Useless. They had no better idea than I did where (or what) I was looking for.

I came home so exhausted I didn't take my walk to night.

All I can do now, is hope it was worth it.

Priceless

Yesterday was a great day!

It started with Will and I making Steve homemade strawberry pancakes and sausage and taking it to him in bed. Then Will and I went for a walk.

My best friend, Charlene, picked me up about eleven and we stopped by a new coffee shop. Then we hit Micheal's. They were having a great sale on children's activities sets and I stocked up for the summer. We had lunch at Soup or Salad and for the first time in weeks I ate until I was full - and still felt good about my choices. Then we hit a school supply store and half price books.

Took Will to Mc Donald's to play in the afternoon as it was over 100 degrees outside. Had a simple dinner and then had friends over for cards, drinks, and snacks. We had a blast.

I'd have to say it was one of the best days I've had in years.

Nothing exceptional happened. I didn't meet any celebrities. Won no money.

Just a pleasant day with people that matter to me. Priceless.

"Not brown, Momma."

I debated publishing this post as I hate to be seen as prejudice against any race. I grew up experiencing prejudice of many natures: That of being illegitimate in a time when it wasn't acceptable, of being from a family with a bad reputation, of having a mixed race family before that became the norm, of being poor.

While life was tough as a child, as an adult I can thank all the experiences and prejudice I faced for my complete and open nature to almost anything. I care not one whit about your race, religion, native language, sexual preference (unless it involves minors), or political calling.

However, this last year with Will in a prominently Hispanic school has tested my beliefs. Will was the only non-Hispanic child in his class. One of only ten non-Hispanic children in their entire pre-k program of over 160 children.

Most of the family notes were sent home in Spanish. Most of the time they would include a version in English, but you could tell it wasn't translated by a native English speaker. Sometimes an English version wasn't even offered. There were programs and classes offered that were only in Spanish. Now, each time it happened, a note was attached saying that if enough parents requested the class in English they would offer it. As there were only ten of us, it never happened.

Every time Steve and I attended a school party or function, no one spoke to us. Most of the parents would sit aside from us and speak in Spanish. Often, the teacher would join them. It is impossible to list the many ways in which we were slighted and left out through out the school year, but it was significant.

The only draw back I've noticed on Will's part is that a few months ago he started speaking Spanish. Only, not really. He just breaks out in weird noises like, "Sato mayi keppa toldo sepa." Then he translates it for me. He must just hear it a lot.

This afternoon I was tanning in the back yard while Will rested in his room. He came out and found me and asked what I was doing. "I'm trying to get a tan," I respond. To his 'why' I replied, "So I can be brown instead of white."

"No, Momma!" he cried, becoming very upset. "Please stay white. Don't turn brown, Momma."

It took me nearly half an hour to calm him down. Through out the entire afternoon and evening he'd randomly repeat his request that I stay white and not become brown.

Breaks my heart.

My First On-Line Date

I am very excited. Tomorrow night at nine, I will meet a complete stranger I hooked up with online at IHOP for coffee and a chance to get to know each other. She (and yes it's a female) called tonight and we talked for twenty minutes. We have a ton of things in common.

We're hoping to hit it off well enough to spend some time together every week; with and without our children.

Several weeks ago, it dawned on me exactly how isolated I had become over the years and I decided to do something about it. First, I looked for free classes or lessons in my area I might be interested in. Didn't find anything. Then I looked for groups that were near by that I could join. Nothing that interested me. (Well, some of the were interesting. Just not for me.)

Then I peaked in the platonic section of our local craigslist. It was a disappointment too. Every ad I looked at was about sex or hooking up. However, reading them became addictive - the shit some people will say. LOL

I finally posted my own ad and I was extremely descriptive in what I wanted.

I'm an overweight,
stay-at-home mom that just needs
to get out of the house.

Would love to find local female in same boat
who'd like to meet up for coffee
a night or two a week.

And I included my age and location. Three days later I got a response. After a few emails, she called. Tomorrow night, coffee at IHOP.

Oh, what should I wear?