Milo The Million Dollar Puggle

The overused adage, "when it rains, it pours," turns out to be a very true statement.  This week marks the beginning of summer for me which means reduced hours thus, a further reduced income.  Any entrepreneur knows that it takes time to build a business, but the stress of business slowing down for summer is not easy.  I had anticipated my Kindergarten Readiness program growing quickly after a wonderful first year with positive customer feedback and new community connections now that we've been here a full year.  Unfortunately my in home studio is under construction with the rest of the house, so my hands are tied until we have a certificate of occupancy which adds pressure to an already stressful project.  So just to ensure I don't sleep a wink this summer, our million dollar puggle strikes again!

Meet Milo, the world's most expensive puggle!  J and I fell in love with him at first site 7 1/2 years ago and even got him for a reduced price despite the popularity of this "designer pedigree" because he was the runt of the litter, had kennel cough, and was recovering from hernia surgery at only 8 weeks old.  The first night we brought him home he had us wrapped around his sweet corn chip scented paws!  Refusing to sleep in his crate he quickly took over our bed where he still enjoys burrowing under the covers right between us every night.

The first day he was left alone in our tiny 500 square foot apartment, I blocked him into the kitchen assuming that he couldn't get into any shenanigans since there was nothing he could get into.  I severely underestimated his cunning!  I came home to paw prints on every surface of that galley kitchen and a small puppy happily covered in his own poop!

That should have sent up a red flag of things to come because he only got more creative from there.  Over the years he has jumped from the window of a moving vehicle, swallowed a razor blade which required a major stomach operation, eaten an entire pan of dark chocolate brownies including some of the glass from the shattered pan, almost drowned in a pool despite knowing how to swim, torn his ACL requiring another major surgery, eaten a tub of Crisco during a move and having a near death experience with pancreatitis, and now we have discovered that not only has he torn his other ACL likely requiring another surgery, he also has thyroid disease which requires daily supplements in addition the anti-inflammatory and joint supplements he's already on.  With all of his ailments I feel like he would qualify for medicinal marijuana!  Perhaps they make it in pill form for dogs?

 

Many people have questioned our sanity as we fork over more money for our beloved snuggle puggle, but those people don't have to answer to this sweet face!  When he's not costing us our future retirement he loves spending time at the dog beach where he is content to smell the salty air and meander around the sand for hours.  He loves to snuggle whether it's with his brother Gizmo, J, or me.  He makes noises like The Godfather, brings guests a present when they come through the door (normally toys, but there have been a few occasions where he'll dig socks or underwear out of the laundry basket!), and he uses his paws to communicate by pushing on your arm when he wants attention.  When I had ankle surgery a few years ago he didn't leave my side and when J had Lasik and slept in the guest room for two nights Milo slept outside the door. These are only a few insignificant examples of why our Million Dollar Puggle lives to tell another tale! 

I know we're not the only dog lover's out there! What extremes have you gone to keep your pup happy and healthy?

 

Baby Fever

Baby fever has officially become an epidemic!  Wedding madness has been bumped in favor of baby showers and it shows no signs of slowing down.  I'm usually the one sitting to the side choking on the non-alcoholic punch that is apparently a prerequisite as I endure stories of the birthing process, night time feedings, and insanely disgusting discoveries that have been unearthed in the confines of a pamper! The very thought of carrying a small being inside of me for more than three quarters of a year and then squeezing it out of a sacred orifice of my body causes the room to spin and bile to rise in the back of my throat.  Then when that bit of hellishness is over what is left is a small fragile being who is the very definition of a dependent!

My husband and I have shared ten years of blissful coupledom where we have been free to make decisions based on our own desires without consideration for a third party.  While complaining incessantly about the inconvenience of how our renovation has thrown us off our schedules and put a monkey wrench in our daily lives, I am beginning to realize that living with a child will not be much different than our current situation. Privacy will become a thing of the past, "me time" will be deemed selfish and incite judgment, meals soon revolve around someone else's schedule, and couple time turns into the unicorn of a relationship! 


Check out this spot on article that mirror my own fears of parenthood!

In addition to a baby being life changing, suddenly there is a new interest in what goes on behind closed doors.  The baby police come out in full force offering advice and criticism for everything from sleeping schedules and food choices to preschool selection and college tuition! Even as these words appear on the screen I realize how judgmental I have been of other parents.  How many times have I rolled my eyes at a screaming baby in a restaurant, barely refrained from lecturing a mother for allowing her child stand in the basket of the grocery cart, offered advice for hiding vegetables in food for toddlers, or shaken my head watching parents give in to their little dictators rolling on the floor tearfully demanding a cookie?

The barrage of advice and questions started when I first typed the words that J and I were moving toward beginning a family.  I have already been questioned about conceiving and offered insights on not worrying if it doesn't "take" right away.  Apparently when I explicitly stated that I was not quite ready to throw my pill pack away there were a few eager eyes who skimmed over that sentence!

So as we approach this new territory I would like to apologize to all parents out there that I may have judged in the past.  I would also like to set the record straight that I will not be posting my monthly menstrual cycle results on any type of social media, and close friends and family need not ask when we're planning to start trying because there will be a noticeable absence of a cocktail in my hand and a deer in headlights look in my eyes. The only thing that scares me more than hurdling over the side of a mountain in a motorized vehicle to my imminent death is having another human being that I am responsible for 24/7!

A Life Lesson From The Berenstain Bears

I often get the Gimmies. It seems the more I have the more I want.  Renovating an old home was an attempt to right size, live within our means, and set ourselves up for a financially comfortable future.  This is a wonderful ideal which is complicated by my desire for possessions. 

As the walls go up I am already consumed by what I will put within them.  When we moved across the country we only brought what we deemed our most important belongings and agreed to purchase new furnishings once our home was complete.  Almost daily I pour through online images and design magazines and find myself stressing over whether I will be able to get the high end leather couch I want and if the kitchen table will be big enough to hold our friends and family at our open house BBQ. 

Then I made a fiscally irresponsible decision this weekend that helped me get back on course;  I bought a kayak.  It is a simple, no frills water vessel that I got an incredible price on during the Memorial Day sales.  Last night as J and I kayaked together side by side I suddenly understood why he has owned one for the past 3 years.  It is therapeutic, physically demanding, and incredibly mind clearing.  With each stroke I paddled further away from my obsession and unrealistic expectation of renovating a home and having it completely finished and furnished before we could welcome guests.

It can be argued that the money I used to purchase my small water craft could have paid for a nice chair or nightstand, but those things suddenly seem so insignificant.  A home tells a story of the people who live there.  I realized that I don't want my story to be from a mail order catalogue or website where I one stop shopped for all the "things" in my house.  Our guests may find themselves sitting in a camp chair next to our fireplace or at a card table for our first shared meal, but that is far from tragic. Those Berenstain Bears where on to something!  Saving up and only making purposeful purchases will help us simplify our lives.  I want my life to be less about the give me and more about the grateful.

I would like to begin this new attitude of gratitude by remembering and thanking all who have served for my freedom and liberties.  May our country's gratitude extend beyond this Memorial Day and may we collectively seek a simplified lifestyle and eradicate the greed that has led to too many wars! 

Follow Your Heart... Your Intuition

I am a big fan of Jewel and one of my favorite dates was attending one of her concerts.  I was staying at J's apartment for the summer for an internship and he lived across the street from Oakland University.  That summer we enjoyed walking around campus and listening to live music featured at their outdoor venue.  On a whim we walked over there one night and bought tickets at will call to see Jewel.  That night I should have paid closer attention to the lyrics of her song, Intuition:

Follow your heart

Your intuition

 It will lead you in the right direction

 Let go of your mind

Your intuition

Is easy to find

Just follow your heart, baby

 

 

This song puts so simply what is quite possibly one of the most difficult things to do in life.  Following our intuition seems, well, counter intuitive to what our mind tells us. 

Last night I had the pleasure of going to a local high school senior awards ceremony where my husband was asked to present a young woman with the same scholarship that he received 15 years ago. He did a wonderful presentation and this bright and enthusiastic senior was the 3rd in her family to receive the Evan's Scholarship which gives golf caddies a full tuition and housing scholarship to some of the Midwest's top universities.The school superintendent opened with a story of J.K. Rowling's 2008 Harvard Graduation Commencement Speech.  For those who have not read or watched it I implore you to do so! 

Click to View Her Incredible Speech!

 

In a very abridged version Ms. Rowling did not follow her heart and was led in a very wrong direction.  Her desire to write was superseded by the external push of her parents, spouse, and society to succeed in a more practical field.  It wasn't until her life literally fell apart that she gave herself permission to follow her passion and her inner voice.

 

This reminded me on a much smaller and less dramatic scale of my own journey.  I was an English Major who dreamed of writing.  Since I was 7 years old and I was sent to a reading specialist to "catch up" with my peers, I have been reading anything I can get my hands on.  From Highlights magazine to cereal boxes, then on to Mary Higgins Clark (which my parents did not approve of at 10 years old so I snuck the paperbacks at my grandma's house!),classics, and other fiction.  I still enjoy nothing more than reading and this love eventually pushed me in a direction to write.  While I have never fancied myself a novelist, I love to write short articles and dreamed of working as a journalist or writing for a magazine.

 

It was at 19 years old that I experienced the unfortunate combination of a professor who deemed himself  a writing god and a boyfriend who enjoyed cutting down others that I began to experience the evil presence of self doubt.  It's amazing how easily we let go of our dreams when others criticize us. Writing for a living began to seem unrealistic and I found myself making a minimal effort in school no longer having an end goal in mind. Upon graduating a couple years later I dabbled in retail and management before deciding that maybe I could share my love of reading and writing by teaching others.

 

 

This eventually led me to more college classes which I found myself excelling in.  My passion had suddenly been rekindled.  Now older and wiser, I worked tirelessly to glean as much as I could from my professors, mentors, fellow teachers, and peers.  For the first time in my life I was excelling in school and maintaining a 4.0 GPA at the Master's level.  Despite all of this growth though, it took one vice principle's recommendation that I would be better suited to teach 4th or 5th grade given my personality and enthusiasm for reading, to deter me from pursuing a pre-k or kindergarten position.

After co-teaching kindergarten for a year, I once again set off in the wrong direction and accepted a position to teach 4th grade at a high risk school.  In the blink of an eye I went from loving what I did to hating nothing more than the sound of my alarm clock each morning signalling another day I would have to walk through the door of my classroom.  The entire year I felt like a drone regurgitating lessons from the book I was mandated to "teach" from, handing out two scan tron style tests per week, and filling out endless reports of my student's test scores.  There were no book studies, I had to cut out the 5 minutes a day I spent reading to the kids per the principles request for more writing practice, and the only joy I found was in planning reading centers where I was able to use my creativity for 30 minutes out of the school day. 

Mix this in with an ever changing writing plan created by a paid consultant that was often emailed to me 10 minutes before my writing block, or a few times even dropped off to me 15 minutes after I had begun my lesson (and which was completely different than what had been previously decided upon!) and it was a recipe for heartbreak.  Many of my students hated school, the entire year I only had 3 parent conferences show up (all of which were due to behavior problems), there was 15 minutes alotted for lunch which was often mandated as "silent lunch", several students missed upwards of 20 days of school, recess was not allowed past 1st grade, and the ages in my fourth grade classroom ranged from 9 years old to 13!

While that year was a valuable learning and growing experience, I only endured it because I had once again ignored my natural inclination to work with younger kids.  For some reason I followed the advice of someone who barely knew me and had made a snap decision of my abilities based on the fact that I had been an English and not Elementary Ed major.

So here I am today, once again loving my life as I write these words and am able to express myself through blogging.  Additionally after much soul searching and several long conversations with J, I have struck out on my own to begin an in-home pre-k program which is working wonderfully!  My student's parents are thrilled, my students are thriving, and I am gearing up for the move to our new house this summer where I will have my very own 350 square foot studio space for passing on my love of reading, writing, and learning to young minds who spoil me daily with hugs, pictures, and words of endearment. 

Since this is a new venture I make drastically less income than I did managing or teaching in a public school, but my business is growing and I am unbelievably happy.  Now the only thing my alarm clock signals is another fulfilling day of watching my kids learn letter sounds, recognize shapes, colors, and numbers, garden at the rice table, dig for dinosaur bones, and sing their Macarena Months loud and off key for all the world to hear!  So thank you Jewel, J.K. Rowling, and many others who have inspired me, thank you J, family, and friends who have supported me, and thank you to my heart for leading me in the right direction once I was able to turn off my mind and follow my intuition.

I See Your Jazz Hands and Raise You Pizazz!

Since blogging is new territory for me I have just recently began to follow other people's blogs to see how they set theirs up and what type of content they write about.  My curiosity has quickly turned into a semi-obsession because there are so many wonderful blogs that it is impossible to keep up with them all!  From home decor and fashion to new parenthood and teaching, there are literally endless blogs and vlogs on any topic imaginable. One of the blogs I follow is House of Rose. 

This particular blog piqued my attention because she writes about interior design, marriage, and motherhood.  The first two I can relate to, and the third I am curious about because it will be on the agenda in the near future once our own home is finally built!  A few days ago this question was presented to her readers, "So, I’m curious, what inspires you to pizazz things up around your home? Do you get the itch as often as me?" This was part of an entry about completing her home office makeover.  She is dangling a $100 Visa gift card as the bait for anyone who blogs their answer, and since every possession J and I moved across country with currently sits in an small 10x20 storage unit and we need to furnish an entire home and small business, I am more than willing to bite!

I'll begin by answering the second part of the question first, and say that I definitely get the itch to pizazz things up around my house as frequently as she does!  Those of you who read my blog know my obsession with HGTV and Pinterest, and now that I've added blogs to the mix I have an endless supply of inspiration.  Just ask J who insisted on hiring a painter at our last home when I decided to change our living room paint color for the 4th time in 2 years.  He was convinced that even if a hurricane did rip through southwest Florida, the paint on our walls would keep our house standing!

The first part of the question is a bit trickier.  I just told you my 3 main sources of inspiration when deciding to make a change, but where do I begin?  This part varies greatly.  In my bathroom my muse was a $20 painting I bought from a street vendor during my high school choir's trip to NYC over a decade ago.  My colors were pulled from the smokey hues, and the frame was the exact same stain for the cabinetry I chose.  Then in the dining room I was adamant about installing a tile rug simply because I have a pug who can hold his bladder for 8 hours, but loses control within 8 minutes of encountering any type of rug big or small.  In this condo that I helped a family friend with, my inspiration came directly from the view outside the window.  This one is self explanatory!

With the hours I have spent pouring over magazines, design books, online home tours, and the holy trinity of HGTV,Pinterest, and Blogs, I should have an honorary degree in design and architecture!  So I can assure you that while a $100 gift card does not go far in designing an entire house, it just may be enough to help me find my next springboard of inspiration so I will be able to post my own before and after photos and hopefully motivate others to create a space that they too will love.

Cinderfreakinrella

As we continue to wait, and wait, and wait.... the dust has settled on our renovation in the week and a half that has gone by with no new movement.  At first this time frame had my blood boiling, but then J made the comment that at least we would have time to clean up before the framing crew installs the new sub floor.  Since this is not my first rodeo, I knew we would be shop vacuuming until the cows come home and it came as no surprise that we spent 2 days sweeping and vacuuming only to return to a new layer of dust.

For those not familiar with how homes were built in the 1930's they used "balloon framing" which is no longer used in new construction.  Since we decided to save the main structure of the house, we kept the old framing intact and strengthened the walls, floor joists, and trusses as needed.  A balloon frame means that a single piece of wood is used for both stories in the wall framing.  That means if a standard room is 8 foot tall and you have two stories, the wall pieces could range from 14 to 16 feet tall depending on the type of roof that was used.  That my friends is a tall wall!  This also means that all those treasures typically found in the walls of old homes get there because they fall into the wall from the attic. Since the wall spans two stories and insulation was not used at that time, small items often became wedged between the exterior and interior walls.  Some items we discovered were Detroit Tigers score cards, old Christmas cards, newspapers, advertisements, and even an old family photo album.  This is also the reason why squirrels used our home as their personal Cirque Du Soleil!  They had free range to travel from the attic to the basement and walnut storage galore.

So thanks to the law of gravity, all the plaster we knocked down fell between the studs and traveled from the second story to the main floor, thus all the time spent vacuuming out the mounds of plaster and debris!  Once this was finally done we quickly realized the musty old sock smell had not left with the last remnants of plaster, but was actually in the wood floor boards. Unfortunately these are staying in the house and being recovered with new chip board to make the older section flush with the new addition.  This meant one solution: scrubbing. 

Anybody who knows me well would know that a Swiffer is about as close as I get to "deep cleaning" my house.  Scrubbing on my hands and knees is definitely not my style, but suddenly J remembered two back to back meetings he had out of town and there I was with two days before the new flooring was scheduled for installation, and a floor that smelled like an adolescent boy's locker room.

After some Google searching, a trip to the Dollar General for a $1.99 wire grill brush, $12 in white vinegar, 1 pair of size small rubber gloves and 4 gallons of spring water, I found myself kneeling next to a bucket and cursing the stiffness in my lower back as I scrubbed 83 years worth of grime from the floors.  You may be wondering why I chose a metal bristled grill brush, but let's just say that some of the stuff I pried out between the cracks of the floor boards could only be topped by what a plumber pulls out of a shower drain in a sorority house!  I was pretty certain I would need a second metal brush to scrub my body when I was done cleaning.  In hindsight, a Hazmat suit would probably have been suitable attire.

So two days, a few blisters, and some dry heaves later the floors are fresh and ready to welcome a new layer of chip board without me losing sleep at night wondering what might be lurking under my new bamboo flooring!  Currently this Cinderella is planning on sipping a vodka and soda, slipping between the sheets and calling it a night before I turn into a pumpkin or throw a glass slipper at my prince for conveniently leaving town and leaving me a job even Mike Rowe would turn his nose up at!

Happy Mother's Day

J told me this week that my next post should be about our construction.  That would be fantastic if there was actually construction occurring, but due to a couple mistakes on the window measurements and "management issues," we have seen no movement this week.  So I will take this time to write about a more timely topic, Mothers.

Today is Mother's Day.  Last night before going to bed I was scrolling through Facebook when I came upon this quote by Marianne Williamson on the Soulseeds Page, "When a woman gives birth, two are born; a baby from the womb of its mother and a woman from the womb of her former existence."

This quote beautifully encompasses exactly what I expect motherhood to be, and it makes me both excited and scared to cross the threshold into motherhood from which there is no turning back!  For those that only read half of what I write, NO I AM NOT PREGNANT!  This is just a reflection on the ways life will change when J and I do become parents in the next year or two.

This also makes me realize how different my own mother and I am.  While I am rapidly approaching 31 years old with a loose time frame in mind for motherhood, my own mom was about two weeks shy of 20 when she gave birth to me.  I have had 11 more years of time to evolve, reflect, date, marry, and build a life than my mom had.  She met my dad, dated briefly, got engaged, got pregnant, got married, and then gave birth.  My mom fit more into one year than I have in eleven.

There were times, and still are when my mom and I do not see eye to eye, but I have come to realize that mothers literally grow with their children.  Like Marianne Williamson so eloquently points out, a mother is born from the womb of her former self so like a child she starts from the beginning and grows from there.  There is a plethora of classes, books, and unsolicited advice available and bestowed upon new mothers, however the best teachers are time and experience.

My mother taught me important life lessons from always wearing clean underwear (in case I'm in an accident), to standing for what I believe in no matter what the consequence.  There were funny tips, like not shaving above my knees because it would make the hair grow faster to serious talks about not settling when choosing a life partner.  My mom may not have had an extra decade to think and worry about parenthood, but she grew into her role as a mother and did a wonderful job raising two children which makes me realize that perhaps this role is not one that requires preparation as much as patience and persistence.

After marrying J I gained a second mom and a step mom.  I have been fortunate that my mother-in-law tells me frequently how happy she is that I married her son.  Some women go their entire marriage without their mother-in-law's approval, and it is a great feeling to know you not only measure up to the hopes she holds for her son, but she loves you as one of her own.  Despite the fact that J and I lived in Florida for 7 of the almost 10 years we have been together, when we get together mom and I can carry on a conversation as if only days instead of months have passed. 

My step mom has also accepted me with open arms. She has given me a traditional Italian welcome trying to stuff me with pasta and wine on every occasion and sharing her own trials and triumphs of love and motherhood as if I have always been a part of her family.

So I am very blessed this Mother's Day to have 3 special mothers in my life.  One I was born from and have grown with, one who is the mother of the most wonderful husband in the world, and one who has become a mother through marriage and has added us to her own brood.  To mothers everywhere and as a note to my self in the future, please realize that motherhood is a growing process.  Do not be so hard on yourself because there is no black and white.  Teach your kids to accept and love themselves and others where they are at, to always approach challenges by giving their best effort, to seek happiness but realize sacrifice is sometimes a necessity, and to lean on other mothers because lessons big and small can be gleaned from their experience.  Happy Mother's Day!