My little guy who loves a blankie

Before we went on vacation, and before we came even close to getting things settled around here, I took a few minutes and made the effort (almost herculean to remember to capture this sweet moment–it is brief and occurs early in the mornings!) to snap a few photos:

This is a morning ritual for this guy: a huge cup of warm milk.  Usually he is not happy until he downs a second cup.  He comes down stairs, requests (usually at a loud, whiney volume) some ”worm maylk” and while I am heating it in the microwave, he lets me know he is going to go get his blankie.  I say “ok” and watch him sprint up the stairs and thunder down the hall and into his room to snag his “bwankee.”  Yes, he is almost three and still retains this crazy country-little-boy-speech that others imitate with much humor.  He races back down the stairs and grabs his cup, then wanders over to a spot on the floor that I allow (not on the rug or the sofa, just on the floor–I know, great mommy!).  I say he wanders because he really is lucky to not trip over his feet or the blankie that is longer than he is tall.  That, and he is walking with that ginormous cup square in front of his face as he chugs that milk.  Lately we’ve been doing a half-and-half water and milk mixture.  It helps to cut down on the expense of organic while milk and trips to the commissary.  So once he is all settled with his milk in his face, his legs crossed indian-style (native-american style?), and his blankie in his lap, we get this:

Do you see it?  Let me shed some light…

Yes, he is stroking his blankie.  Why, you ask?  Well, this is a gift from his great-grandmother.  It belonged to Jamie and now belongs to our guy.  Great grandmother sewed hundreds of little knots into this blankie, all of which have been rubbed lovingly, at some point or another, by Jordy.  You should see him when we tuck him in for bed at night.  Even when we travel long distances, his blankie makes the ride with him and he will fall asleep just running his fingers over those knots.  This occurs without fail, every day, at least three times a day: morning, naptime, and bedtime.  We think its cute, but I do wonder when he will outgrow it, or what it may “morph” into.  The blankie is threadbare and little more than two sheets of cotton held together by some ever-weakening thread, but it is his world, his comfort, his treasure.  I am glad I have these photos. 

Got Savings?

Here is an interesting way to get $50 for free…plus a good way to kickstart a savings program for your kids, a vacation fund, the family spending fund, etc.  We currently do not have ANY savings.  As in, zilch.  Rather, we have DEBT.  GASP–I said the D-word!  It’s true…we have three credit cards…all of which we were hoping to have paid off with the sale of our house just recently.  Needless to say, that particular fiasco was not all rhinestones and glitter (post coming soon) as we had hoped.  Instead, imagine turds and locusts, or some other combination of horrid things.  All I can say is THANK GOODNESS we closed two days before the river behind our old house swole up to epic proportions.  Anyway…I just paid off one of those cards today, but I am ALWAYS looking for a way to save a buck, stretch a buck, or earn a buck .  Thought you may be interested in my latest endeavor, since you can get in on it, too (but hurry!):

You can currently go to http://www.ingdirect.com/nofees/ and open the fantastic, fee-free, minimum-free Electric Orange Checking Account.  Here are the easy-breezy steps to get $50 deposited into your account (this is a really popular offer ING does about twice a year…around Christmas they offer a similar account for KIDS–so you can get $50 for EACH kid you have for free, deposited into a savings account–watch for it around November/December):

1.  Visit http://www.ingdirect.com/nofees/

2.  Follow the directions to set up an account.

3.  Use the Electric Orange debit card to make 3 signature purchases within 45 days (think, sign at the register–swipe and run as a credit card)

4.  Look for $50 to be deposited on Day 50.

5.  Save that free $50 or apply it to your existing debt (or go shopping, if you are already smart enough to be debt free!)

Simple as that!  Of course, this fantastic offer had me at “Electric”…and throwing in the shout-out to my first love, the University of Tennessee, with the “Orange” bit sealed the deal for me!  Throw in $50 and I was jumping in my seat!  Hope you get in on this great offer.  What would you do with a cool, free $50?  I plan to let mine sit, and maybe transfer it to a higher-yield savings account.  This account DOES offer interest on your deposits (see all the great benefit’s here: http://home.ingdirect.com/products/products.asp?s=ElectricOrange).  It is always nice to have a “spare” account with no fees and no minimum to maintain!  I love banking online, anyway.  Hugs on this glorious Sabbath day!

Our New Old Diet

Let me paint my children as the tsunami from the sixth ring of Hades.  Imagine two cherubic, blond and blue-eyed munchkins…

 …meticulously and deviously tearing apart any semblance of a living room I had ten minutes prior.  Imagine them sweetly bringing out every (hidden) board game from the closet, opening them, and upending them on the new rug, times six.  Imagine telling your husband HE gets to sort out the 600 mixed up pieces, or else the entire mess is going straight in the trash.  Sound familiar, at all?  Yes, that was my morning yesterday.

Or maybe you can imagine one darling, energetic girl taking off at a frantic pace, through the crowded mall, headed who knows where in her singularly focused drive to be free?  She is lost in the crowd before you can even blink your eyes, and you realize your heart has literally stopped beating as you panic and imagine the worst.  What ignites this sudden blaze of out-of-control behavior?  Well, we are learning, for our kids it may just be the food they eat.  Three minutes after enjoying some mac-n-cheese from the Target food court, my previously serene, (mostly) obedient children are wild, crazed, holy terrors, almost appearing to be marionettes controlled by some voodoo lord.  How does this happen?  They are both placidly requesting chicken tenders to go with the mac-n-cheese while ordering, and, once the first few bites of yellow noodles are consumed, I watch in horror as they start throwing their food at each other, on the floor, and spitting their drink all over the table in a fit of giggles.  Sure, many of you (as I did) would write this off as the result of months of cabin fever, suddenly finding release in our day’s outing.  Maybe you’d chalk it up to “age-related” behavior.  Maybe you’d start questioning your parental authority, too, as you begged and scolded and threatened these nightmare kids in a vain attempt to rein them in.  I have been there.  And never would I have considered that they were simply reacting to the ingredients hidden in that tasty conglomeration of steaming, cheesy noodles.  Would you?  Would you believe that there are data to support the claim that artificial colors, flavors, and preservatives can cause behavioral problems in not only children, but everyone? 

I wouldn’t have even dreamed of it, but I do now.  I know now that the majority of food colorings and flavors are made from petroleum.  That’s right, folks.  The same stuff that leached out of the ocean floor after the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, that poisoned entire ecosystems, that had everyone freaking out, that you put in your CAR.  Didn’t know that, right?  Would not have guessed as much, either, right?  Now imagine pouring a dollop of crude oil on that cupcake you are about to give your kid, and telling her to enjoy!  That’s about equivalent to the frosting that is smeared on the top of that fluffy cake.  Imagine the FDA turning a blind eye to the major food manufacturers who joyfully prepare your Goldfish crackers, your Oreos, your Hamburger Helper with several type of dangerous preservatives, artificial colors, and those tasty artificial flavors we all crave.  These colors, flavors, and preservatives are largely unregulated, simply because the FDA cannot or does not want to investigate their effects on the body and your health. 

We all flip to see fish wash up on our beaches, choking to death on the oil that has leaked into the ocean, but we then unwittingly stuff the same toxins into our mouths and our children’s mouths with each bite of a hot dog.  Is it so hard to imagine that our God-created, wonderful, fragile bodies are overwhelmed by such a foreign, toxic, agent?  It’s no wonder our sweet, pure children can often completely spaz after a few bites!  Is it so hard to think that the enormous increase in ADD, ADHD, autism, and various other social and behavioral problems over the past several decades could be related to our dangerous increase in fake, packaged, preserved foods?  Foods that were unavailable to our thrifty, stay-at-home moms of the 40′s and 50′s?  Way back when toothpaste was always white (yes–colors today are made from petroleum), the biggest treat a child may get was the lollipop from the bank, and the bread was always made fresh in the oven at home?  Imagine what we are teaching our children about food today…Still not convinced? 

Bet that frosting didn't come in a tub!

Check out this post (http://www.llhdesignsblog.com/2011/03/food-dye-buzz.html) to learn what one of my favorite bloggers has to say about food dyes and her trials with two food-sensitive daughters.  Her perspective is honed from many difficult years with her wonderful children who became monsters after consuming certain foods and beverages.  She talks about the Feingold Plan, which we have recently instituted in our home, and have seen results from in as little as 1 day.  At the other end of that stick, we have seen our children literally transform into beasts in about three minutes flat, and we are always able to identify the imposter food they just innocently consumed behind our backs.  We honestly seem to have some chemically sensitive children in our home.  Perhaps you might, as well?  It’s worth the read, before you resort to pulling your hair out, banging your head against the wall, or imposing a regimen of Adderol or Ritalin for your little one’s entire childhood.  Don’t get me wrong, some children honestly DO need a prescription for behavior-regulating drugs.  However, it seems to have become the “treatment of choice” for hyper children.  There IS an alternative. 

I realize I am on my high-horse…and I am about to turn my horse out to pasture.  I am passionate about this issue, if only because I have seen it with my own two eyes.  It is so much more than just about the wild-n-crazy behavior, here, too.  We have noticed significant (I’m talking black-to-white) changes in our kid’s attention, their compulsive habits, and their ordinary abilities.  Cheyanne would literally stare into space before, biting her fingernails and oblivious to me calling her name, over and over.  She would flip at the thought of me punishing Jordan for any reason, or even talking about taking his Blankie.  She would become hysterical at naptime, refusing to go to sleep.  Jordan would repeat the same, irritating, naughty behavior while laughing about it, despite the spankings, time-outs, or any other threat.  Mind you, we almost always try to persuade them to alter their behavior prior to the punishment…threats are not my favorite parenting tool.  It never seemed to have ANY impact, though, and the behavior would just escalate, until EVERYONE was yelling and hysterical. 

I can’t even tell you now how amazing it is to see my children playing.  Period.  Playing.  And playing together.  Playing with toys!  It blows my mind!  They talk to each other, they reason with me, they love reading stories together (something they could not sit still for or without interrupting 200 times, before).  They can happily sit through an entire Disney movie.  They sit at the table to eat dinner (before they’d take one bite and be OFF–racing through the house…we just excused it as “grazing” behavior).  All these things we used to envy other parents for, because their children were perfectly normal (okay, okay…everyone has flaws).  We used to imagine that we were the worst, most ineffective, complacent parents in the world.  Why weren’t we able to control our kids?!  The fears, insecurities, and self-doubt as a mother would keep me up at night.  Literally!  I would fear Cheyanne being abducted almost daily because she simply did not comprehend the idea of being in danger, and would run away from me in a crowded store, the park, a parking lot, etc.  I am so beyond grateful to have been able to make these ordinary changes to our diet and see such tremendous, happy changes. 

My children will hopefully be the ones to benefit the most from this “diet” (the connotation of the word totally freaks me out–I am not the dieting, calorie-watching, fat-lowering type!).  If you are interested in learning more about the Feingold Plan, you can read about it here: http://www.feingold.org/.  It has been a life-changer in our household.  We are blessed to have discovered it.  That always seems ironic to me, too, since it is basically just eating naturally, as our ancestors did, before food was so chemically altered, preserved for long shipping times or to have a long shelf-life.  It seems ironic to be rediscovering the wheel, I guess.  Going backwards in time.  Okay.  Dismounting.

Channeling beachy vibes…

Maybe it’s our preparation to go to the beach in May (hooray for our first true destination vacation in…ever?), or perhaps we have always been wave-watching, sand-castle constructing, hammock-sleeping fools, but I have always been smitten with coastal design…a la distressed blues, serene white and ivory, sandy grays (yes, they exist).  Here are some images in my “Inspiration” file on my computer:

Which brings me to my most recent (as in, a few minutes ago) purchase, at one of my fave flash sale sites: One King’s Lane.  That’s right, this morning I made an impulsive purchase, one which I know I will enjoy (and the hubs will, too, I am certain), every time I see it…curious?

I’ll give you a hint…it is white, hollow, and, as rumor has it, you can hear the ocean when you hold it up to your ear…

That’s right, folks!  I PAID for a recycled aluminum white 10″ conch shell!  Not even the real deal…but my EYE will take it in, soak it up, and cause me to think longingly of the beach and sunshine!  To top it off, I got this little gem to guide my efforts at making this house more beach-cottagey!

So, if you are anything like me and love to constantly tweak and refresh your home and add splashes of your own personality and style, especially BEACH vibes, here’s a link to check out the offerings on OKL today!

https://www.onekingslane.com/invite/ColletteDouglas

Any ideas where I could put that snazzy little conch?  I am thinking in our downstairs half bath…here’s a sneak peak of what I intend to channel in that space:

www.potterybarn.com

What do you think?  Got any vintage maps I can wallpaper with?  Or a large, round, wood framed mirror?  How about tips for painting and distressing furniture?  What moves you?

Just a dream

This morning I was drifting in and out of a state of consciousness, and at some point, I began dreaming.  This was no ordinary dream.  This was one of those dreams that you experience with every inch of your body.  Sometimes this is the type of dream that you wake up from crying.  You know the type?  The type that drives you crazy…because you never knew you could experience such a depth of emotion in your sleep?!  Well, I had a real humdinger of a dream.

It is hard to pinpoint the beginning of a dream, and I don’t really want to give you the high school English outline anyway, so I will break it down for you.  I was getting a divorce.  There.  I said it.  A Divorce.  Something I have only briefly considered in moments of near insanity in my almost 4 years of marriage.  However, I had never even come close to considering the implications of such a decision…never thought through the effects.  My dream made it painfully clear just how awful the whole thing can be.  How, in my subconscious, can I even come up with feelings and thoughts on a life-changing event that I have no personal experience with (parents divorcing is not the same…you can’t possibly know unless you’ve been there yourself, right?  Unless you are the one making the gut-wrenching call and pulling the trigger, so to speak)? 

I was the same age, with the same kids, and the same incredible husband.  I don’t know where we were or even why we were getting a divorce, but we were.  And, in typical Jamie fashion, he was rushing me out the door, reminding me that we had to be there at a certain time, getting the kids ready so that I could get just myself ready.  And, in typical Collette fashion, I was late.  Late to my own divorce.  Except this time I was late on purpose….because I couldn’t bear to actually see it happening, to seriously be putting an end to the institution that I love best: marriage.  I was late, and I distracted myself by attending some dumb cooking class at the local library.  About ten minutes into class, I just said to the instructor, “I can’t be here.  I have to go!” and I ran as fast as I possibly could to the courthouse, which was down the hill in my dream.  I knew I was too late…15 minutes late for my court appearance. 

Colonial courthouse in my dreams

By the time I had arrived, Jamie was walking out the door of the courtroom, talking to one of his Air Force buddies.  I looked at him, like we were both ”in this together” (hard to describe that look…the one that happens in marriage when you are dealing with something huge and scary and only a look is necessary to know the outcome…), and he just shook his head and handed me a piece of paper.  He said, “you got them,” which I immediately knew meant I had been awarded custody of the kids.  I didn’t understand why a mother who couldn’t even appear to her court date would be given sole custody of her three kids, but I had been.  And Jamie was visibly upset.  Like he has done with the worst events and news in his life, he just seem resolute and hardened.  Not disappointed, not mad, just upset, but not broken.  I quickly scanned the paper, and I learned I was given custody, alimony, child support, etc etc…all those little variables that add up to equal one thing: divorce.  It was spelled out in perfect english, even though the word “divorce” didn’t appear anywhere on that sheet of paper.  It was just as real and final as anything in life, and I was so sad.  I had been given what I had essentially ”wanted” from the hearing, the kids, but in no way was I getting what  I wanted.  I was crushed, destroyed, I felt like a shell of myself.  How had I, who had committed to this wonderful, magical thing called marriage, finally been bested by it, and made to feel so certainly that divorce was the only possible option?  How had I made such a decision?  What the heck had Jamie done to possibly make it worth so much heartache?  I don’t know, and it’s not the point.  The point was, I learned a lesson from my brief dream that I feel blessed to have learned.  Blessed, because the heartache and hollowness was so real, and I am not sure that a person can even FEEL those feelings without actually suffering through a real divorce (which I pray I will never really “know”).  I literally felt like a part of my body, heart, or whatever, had been ripped out, and I knew I could never get it back.  I still could look right at Jamie and love him to the end of the Earth and back, but something had changed, and we were no longer together.  No longer Collette and Jamie, just Collette, and Jamie.  We had ruined that precious, powerful gift of marriage, and I knew it was the end.  Even if we had marched right back into that courthouse and signed a new marriage certificate, it wouldn’t matter.  The marriage was over.  The trust and abiding love, gone.  The partnership, the soulmatedness, all gone.  We suddenly and permanently were on different paths, facing different directions, and we could not join each other on just one single path again.  There was no going back.

I was devastated that I was suddenly solely in charge of the entirely livelihood of our three kids, too.  Don’t get me wrong, I am blessed by my children, every day.  They are my greatest gift in this life, and I would never NOT be their mommy.  But to be told, in so many words, that I alone would be in charge of ensuring their every need was met on a daily basis, and solely responsible for saving their life and dealing with any sorrow if anything should happen to them, by myself, with no mutual sufferer, no partner to the pain, no companion in the fight, was horrifying.  I was simply scared.  Scared to take one step on my new path, because I was alone.  I would be the final authority on every decision in their little lives, and that kind of power was just too frightening.  I was afraid of messing one little thing up, because I knew I would then have to deal with the effects, all by myself…a vicious circle of fear, hesitant decision-making, and guilt.  Let’s not even talk about how I could explain to the kids each and every day why their daddy no longer lived with us.  The daddy they adore, who they open the door for when they hear the garage door opening, the one they run through the house yelling for when they fall and have a boo-boo.  I would know, too, that he would be the one that I would want to run to and yell for if I was suffering through some painful moment, even in divorce.  So I stood there in that courthouse, holding that slip of paper in my dream, and knowing NOTHING had turned out right.  The divorce had not made anything better,  it was not the right answer.  I had not gotten ANYTHING that I wanted.  Not one thing was good about it.  It did not diminish any pain that had caused the divorce in the first place.  It was the worst possible feeling in the world, aside from losing a child, which I know nothing about, do not want to know anything about, and yes, I have dreamed about, on occasion. 

I realize that I am in no way a voice of authority, at all, in any of these matters.  I am trying to just put into words the emotions I felt a few hours ago, and try to make sure I don’t ever feel them again.  I am powerfully, wholeheartedly, 10 million percent vested in marriage, and want this family to be together for eternity. I am grateful for my dream, but even more grateful for my husband and children.  I am blessed by that man every single day, amazed by his awesome drive, his unending committment, his patience, his love, his loyalty, his sweet, charming personality, and that tushie is pretty swell, too.  Our kids are, without a doubt, the greatest joy in my life.  They are just beyond words. 

I am glad to have been given a fresh dose of perspective in my dream, and hope that I can remember it when Jamie leaves his dirty socks on the floor or I have to say (for, I swear, the ten trillionth time since I have met him) to please chew with his mouth closed.  I jest–those are just the joys of being a wife!  But seriously, the next time we brawl over one of those rare things we just do not agree on,  I will try to remember this dream.  Thank God it was just a dream.

Diving in!

Hello, everyone!  I don’t know where to begin here, so… I am just going to dive in and give it the ol’ college try!

I have spent weeks wracking my brain as to how I’d like this first post to be written; what my “dream” content would include; what my ideal reader would be interested in reading about!  Just the other day, I was reading a “review” of a book on sewing children’s clothes on Amazon, and found myself marveling at some lady’s words.  This was not because she helped my decide whether or not to buy the book (she did; I did not buy it, despite wanting it for months), but because I found myself so intimidated by her voice, her impeccable grammar, punctuation, diction, and point of view.  She was, without apology, quietly and effortlessly torching that wonderful book.  I had completely forgotten about the book in question, read every last word she had hurled into her review, and, once again, put my bloggy-blog on the proverbial back-burner.  And this has been going on for weeks.  I have all but talked myself out of writing a “first” post, and I think we all know how impossible it would be to have a blog without at least introducing one’s self and giving the readers a glimpse into just what they may expect from this fresh, new blog.  I just want to WRITE, for Pete’s sake.  So here I am finally doing it.

To make things just a tad more clear, I am writing this blog mainly with the intention of keeping family and friends more “in the loop” with our growing family, our goings-on, and our upcoming shenanigans.  And believe me, there are plenty of shenanigans. 

We are a family of five, with the three youngest members being ages 3 and under!  I feel as if my hubby and I are rather young, ourselves, and have MUCH to figure out about this life, parenting, our relationship, our children, our plans, and so much more.  I hope you’ll join me, and us, as we endeavor together in this simple blog.  I make no promises of having superbly written, relevant, or even interesting posts.  I have no illusions of grandeur, fame, or income generation.  This is simply a way for me to write to and for those who may care to read, as well as feel slightly validated at the end of the day.  Most of all, I hope to be able to look back at my blog (maybe a few months or years from now?) and see our family’s progression.  Time passes too quickly as a busy mom of three, and I am so afraid that I may forget one sweet smile, one sloppy kiss on the cheek from my little man, one struggle, one triumph, one milestone… and here will be my best efforts to manage that fear!

I live in the age of tender mercies and beautiful blessings!  I hope I can share just a few of these with you.  Not every post is going to be about my kiddos, my awesome, adoring hubs, or the sunshine that graces our lives.  It may surprise you to find that I have other interests, which I fully intend to write about, each and every one of them, in their own rightful season, and as they occur to me.  I think I even have the first few posts planned…because I need to share and I need opinions!  Having said that, let’s get cracking!