Last year, I wrote a post about chopping up all my credit cards.And I don't think I said this, but I had fully intended to have all our credit cards paid off within a year. Snip, snip, no longer in debt. It would be difficult, but we could do it. That year is over now. And, surprise, surprise, we still are carrying balances.
The good news is that we have paid off a third of our credit card debt. This is embarrassing to even say. That we had so much debt that it has taken us a year to pay off a third of it. But that is the way of it. We were in a lot of debt. And now we aren't in so much debt.
This bothers me. Mostly because I am an all or nothing kind of person. If I diet, I want to lose, oh about fourteen pounds the first day. If I decide to keep my house clean, I want the junk drawer alphabetized. If I decide to pay off our credit cards, I want to pay it all off in a month. But realistically, you can't undue several years of bad financial decisions in one magic sweep of a year. I had decided to pay off our credit cards, but that didn't change the way my mind works. I still love shopping. I would suddenly decide I needed to buy this for the kids, that for Justin, and I simply had to have this. Being pregnant, with a limited wardrobe makes me crave clothes. So I had bouts of clothes buying. They weren't outrageous, but they weren't necessary.
It is a lot-tle bit discouraging. Fortunately, I have the sort of disposition that thrives on making plans. So I have a new one all cooked up. Guess what? It involves having credit cards paid off insanely quickly. I will fail at this plan. Just like I have failed at all my other break-even-quick schemes. But that doesn't matter quite so much, as long as we are making progress. I have plans aplenty up in that head of mine, so if one peters out, I am sure I will find another plan to replace it. And having a new plan motivates me. Hmm... maybe I should make a new plan each week.
I know none of you particularly care what we do with our own money, but I felt like after making such a big pronouncement about it last year, that I had to follow it up. This isn't the follow up story I wanted to have. But in the grand scheme of things, it's not that bad.
It was a pretty great year. We had a darling baby. Our kids are a year older. We bought a van. We have a guest room now. Justin started finding jobs and working for himself. And doing all that while paying off debt means that we are doing all right. Not fabulous, not perfect, but all right.
And this year is another year. Here's to frugality.
October 17, 2012
October 16, 2012
Sunday Mornings and Milking
When I was a kid, Sunday mornings were a mix of lazy and frantic. Depending on who was milking and doing chores, I was either up at five or cozied down into my blankets as Dad woke Lindsey and I rolled over and slept in until 8. Mom always, or mostly always, made scrambled eggs with bacon on Sunday. She tried to make the eggs so that they would be just finished cooking when we came in from the barn. All hotsy-totsy and yummy. And if you didn't milk, you could still have eggs, but only with the full awareness that you had better leave enough for the three people in the barn. Oh those days of only having yourself to get ready on Sunday morning. Leisurely eating breakfast, standing in front of your closet, spending half an hour trying outfits on and switching them around. The only stipulation we had was that we had to be out of the bathrooms/showers when people came in from the barn. Or else get hollered at through the bathroom door by your earlier to rise sibling. Those days, if you milked, you were king. Or queen. Somehow, it never felt like it when you woke up at 5 AM. But by the time you got back in, you were the important ones. People had to do stuff for you. If milking went longer due to some problem, you were allowed to order people around to get stuff for you. Mom would be running around trying to get everyone whipped into shape, cook lunch, and get out the door in time. Generally she would be standing at the sink peeling potatoes 10 minutes before we had to leave. Dad would always kindly remind her that "We are supposed to be leaving in 10 minutes!" And then there would be a mad scramble for hairpins, socks, shoes, and biblebags while Mom got dressed and tried to remind everyone of what they needed to get/do. Cody would inevitably be walking calmly out to the car/van/bus carrying his socks and shoes while everyone (or most everyone) else sat in their seat and watched him. And listened to Dad sputter about how if the house was burning down, Cody would still be moseying out with his socks and shoes in his hand as if he had all the time in the world. Then on the way to meeting, Mom would fret about how late we were going to be and Dad would switch sides and tell her we had plenty of time. And then he would ask who was going to help Ralph choose his tie while the rest of us set up the chairs. Which is hilariously funny, since we always got there with seconds to spare and Ralph had better tie sense then most of us Vaughans.
This past Sunday, as I stood at the sink in my flannel nightgown peeling potatoes 15 minutes before we had to leave, Justin telling me to get ready, and running through my to do list before leaving (take shower, choose clothes, get dressed, do girls hair, feed Elsie, micromanage Justin (He looooves this), do my hair and get everyone in the van) I realized I had become my Mother. I'm not trying to manage a farm and four more kids than I have, but other than that, I am my mother. Dad always wanted to know why she couldn't get dressed before peeling potatoes. And as a teenager, I always thought, Yes, why not? I still don't know why not. I just know that for whatever reason, I still think I should peel potatoes before getting dressed. Even if that means getting dressed in under 2 minutes. Which, in case anyone is interested in knowing, I can do.
Despite what my Mom thinks, being her isn't a terrible thing. Even after raising 8 kids that are mostly decent, contributing members of society, she still feels bad about her inadequacies as a mother. She apologizes for us kids having had to milk, for making us work, for giving us a life of drudgery. As a young teen, I certainly appreciated my potential role as over-worked, but loyal, faithful drudge. But as an older teen, I liked milking. Mostly. It wasn't my most favorite thing to do ever, but once I was plonked down in the midst of quiet, patient, uninterested in my teenage problems, cows, I enjoyed it. The tick, whoosh of the milking machines; the mindlessness of the work; the quietness; watching the sunrise/sunset; thinking about the meaning of life; taking care of animals completely dependent upon you (I am using the generalized you here, since I know my brothers will mock me about how I singlehandedly saved all 100+ animals from sure death on a daily basis.) All of that does something for you. Takes you out of your complete self absorption. Makes you realize you are just a part of the world. Makes you understand that the little you are doing is important, even if it is only important to animals that can't talk to you. I was needed. And I think that may have been what made us decent, contributing members of society. You can't take yourself too seriously when a cow slaps you across the face with a manure-y tail. You have to have compassion when you see a brand new calf shivering in the cold stall. You have to appreciate nature, it's beauty and greatness and your smallness in comparison, when you watch the sunrise from the back alley, see the storm chase the haywagon down the road, and watch a cow give birth. You can't think of yourself as unneeded when you are awoken on Christmas morning to help muck out a barn that has had a pipe burst and flooded overnight. You can't feel poor and put upon when you have to milk 20 cows by hand because you don't have power and their poor udders are near bursting--they are hurting more than you are inconvenienced.
So Mom, get over it. Milking and doing chores saved us from ourselves. It gave us space to think and be and feel. And to sing really loudly. As off key as we wanted.
And since this post has devolved from Sunday mornings to farmness, I am going to take this opportunity to share some of Olivia's farm related pictures that I love.
All pictures below are courtesy of my talented sees-tir Livie. Her blog is livietess.blogspot.com.
This past Sunday, as I stood at the sink in my flannel nightgown peeling potatoes 15 minutes before we had to leave, Justin telling me to get ready, and running through my to do list before leaving (take shower, choose clothes, get dressed, do girls hair, feed Elsie, micromanage Justin (He looooves this), do my hair and get everyone in the van) I realized I had become my Mother. I'm not trying to manage a farm and four more kids than I have, but other than that, I am my mother. Dad always wanted to know why she couldn't get dressed before peeling potatoes. And as a teenager, I always thought, Yes, why not? I still don't know why not. I just know that for whatever reason, I still think I should peel potatoes before getting dressed. Even if that means getting dressed in under 2 minutes. Which, in case anyone is interested in knowing, I can do.
Despite what my Mom thinks, being her isn't a terrible thing. Even after raising 8 kids that are mostly decent, contributing members of society, she still feels bad about her inadequacies as a mother. She apologizes for us kids having had to milk, for making us work, for giving us a life of drudgery. As a young teen, I certainly appreciated my potential role as over-worked, but loyal, faithful drudge. But as an older teen, I liked milking. Mostly. It wasn't my most favorite thing to do ever, but once I was plonked down in the midst of quiet, patient, uninterested in my teenage problems, cows, I enjoyed it. The tick, whoosh of the milking machines; the mindlessness of the work; the quietness; watching the sunrise/sunset; thinking about the meaning of life; taking care of animals completely dependent upon you (I am using the generalized you here, since I know my brothers will mock me about how I singlehandedly saved all 100+ animals from sure death on a daily basis.) All of that does something for you. Takes you out of your complete self absorption. Makes you realize you are just a part of the world. Makes you understand that the little you are doing is important, even if it is only important to animals that can't talk to you. I was needed. And I think that may have been what made us decent, contributing members of society. You can't take yourself too seriously when a cow slaps you across the face with a manure-y tail. You have to have compassion when you see a brand new calf shivering in the cold stall. You have to appreciate nature, it's beauty and greatness and your smallness in comparison, when you watch the sunrise from the back alley, see the storm chase the haywagon down the road, and watch a cow give birth. You can't think of yourself as unneeded when you are awoken on Christmas morning to help muck out a barn that has had a pipe burst and flooded overnight. You can't feel poor and put upon when you have to milk 20 cows by hand because you don't have power and their poor udders are near bursting--they are hurting more than you are inconvenienced.
So Mom, get over it. Milking and doing chores saved us from ourselves. It gave us space to think and be and feel. And to sing really loudly. As off key as we wanted.
And since this post has devolved from Sunday mornings to farmness, I am going to take this opportunity to share some of Olivia's farm related pictures that I love.
All pictures below are courtesy of my talented sees-tir Livie. Her blog is livietess.blogspot.com.
October 12, 2012
Good Things
1. Not to brag (which means I will) but I have kept my house neat for a week and a half. As in I wouldn't mind have people walk through the door. This is marvelous.
2. Ironing. Who knew? I discovered that most of my hatred for ironing is in the setting up, not the actual ironing. So now I plop a towel on the counter and iron away. It is very calming. I ironed cloth napkins this week. Really. Move over Martha Stewart.
3. Elsie giggles.
4. Potlucks on Thursday evening. It feels so... spoiled to have a potluck with everyone and Barry smack dab in the middle of the week.
5. In case you haven't noticed, accomplishing things makes me happy. So here is another accomplishment. Am I bragging too much? I don't mean to. I just have a woefully under accomplished life, so actually accomplishing things make me feel pleased as punch.
Accomplishment:
2. Ironing. Who knew? I discovered that most of my hatred for ironing is in the setting up, not the actual ironing. So now I plop a towel on the counter and iron away. It is very calming. I ironed cloth napkins this week. Really. Move over Martha Stewart.
3. Elsie giggles.
4. Potlucks on Thursday evening. It feels so... spoiled to have a potluck with everyone and Barry smack dab in the middle of the week.
5. In case you haven't noticed, accomplishing things makes me happy. So here is another accomplishment. Am I bragging too much? I don't mean to. I just have a woefully under accomplished life, so actually accomplishing things make me feel pleased as punch.
Accomplishment:
I got the girls bags from H&M for 50 cents. But I had to make them different, so we weren't always confusing them. So I appliqued for the first time ever. And it didn't seem fair to give the girls meeting bags and not have one for Gilbert. So I made him one. It is reversible to tools. I love them. And yes, Gilbert's is now slightly dog hairy. We need to lint roll that there bag.
October 9, 2012
Columbus Day
Christopher Columbus. It is a good phrase. One you could say in surprise at something. "I just saw a unicorn." "Christopher Columbus!" Like "goodness gracious" or "great day in the morning." This has nothing to do with anything, it is just something I was thinking about this weekend, as we celebrated good ole Chris. To be honest, I don't even know what we are celebrating when we have Columbus Day. His birthday? His death? His discovery of the Bahamas? What happened in October 400 some years ago that we need to celebrate now?
Out west, they don't celebrate Columbus Day. I think the post office is closed, but no one really pays attention to it. No one has the day off from school. No one even really knows why the post office is closed. I asked them about this and was met with blank stares. Very curious. An Eastern conspiracy.
A good Eastern conspiracy. Because even if it turns out that Columbus was a bit of a pain in the neck and wasn't the first to discover America, we modern Americans know how to throw a good sale in his honor. Maybe we are celebrating the European's brilliance at bargaining-- the whole of Manhattan for a few strings of beads. And hey, Columbus just declared the Bahamas and various other parts of the Americas for Spain. That is free-ish. Makes my JoAnn fabrics haul look a lot less impressive. (Another tangent, but interesting--what would Manhattan be worth today? Full retail price. Is there even enough money in the world to buy all of Manhattan? Isn't there only 4 trillion dollars worth of gold in circulation throughout the whole world? I doubt that would buy Manhattan.)
Still, I love Columbus Day sales.
We went down to Clover and Evan's this weekend. It turned out to be a toned down weekend. Clover and I had been planning on whipping up tons of meals for the coming weeks, but then Justin and Evan had to work Saturday morning. So then we planned on going to the Farmer's market, which we did do. And then people started getting a stomach bug. Justin and I still went out Saturday evening for a few hours of just us and Elsie. I felt pretty bad. Clover wasn't actively sick, but she wasn't 100% and we pranced away, leaving her to deal with 7 children alone, since Evan was out of commission. We were supposed to be going out to eat, but instead, we went to Carousel Mall and shopped sales. And then went to McDonalds. I don't think Clover is ever going to let us live that one down. It isn't that we didn't want to eat at a nice place, it is just that I spent 2 and a half hours shopping and that seemed like all the time we could, in good conscience, presume upon Clover's niceness. I mean I can make food at home. I can't shop the bajillion stores at the mall in my kitchen.
It was a good weekend. Except the stomach bug thing.
Out west, they don't celebrate Columbus Day. I think the post office is closed, but no one really pays attention to it. No one has the day off from school. No one even really knows why the post office is closed. I asked them about this and was met with blank stares. Very curious. An Eastern conspiracy.
A good Eastern conspiracy. Because even if it turns out that Columbus was a bit of a pain in the neck and wasn't the first to discover America, we modern Americans know how to throw a good sale in his honor. Maybe we are celebrating the European's brilliance at bargaining-- the whole of Manhattan for a few strings of beads. And hey, Columbus just declared the Bahamas and various other parts of the Americas for Spain. That is free-ish. Makes my JoAnn fabrics haul look a lot less impressive. (Another tangent, but interesting--what would Manhattan be worth today? Full retail price. Is there even enough money in the world to buy all of Manhattan? Isn't there only 4 trillion dollars worth of gold in circulation throughout the whole world? I doubt that would buy Manhattan.)
Still, I love Columbus Day sales.
We went down to Clover and Evan's this weekend. It turned out to be a toned down weekend. Clover and I had been planning on whipping up tons of meals for the coming weeks, but then Justin and Evan had to work Saturday morning. So then we planned on going to the Farmer's market, which we did do. And then people started getting a stomach bug. Justin and I still went out Saturday evening for a few hours of just us and Elsie. I felt pretty bad. Clover wasn't actively sick, but she wasn't 100% and we pranced away, leaving her to deal with 7 children alone, since Evan was out of commission. We were supposed to be going out to eat, but instead, we went to Carousel Mall and shopped sales. And then went to McDonalds. I don't think Clover is ever going to let us live that one down. It isn't that we didn't want to eat at a nice place, it is just that I spent 2 and a half hours shopping and that seemed like all the time we could, in good conscience, presume upon Clover's niceness. I mean I can make food at home. I can't shop the bajillion stores at the mall in my kitchen.
It was a good weekend. Except the stomach bug thing.
It is times like this that we wish the Oregon Vaughans shouldn't live so far away. If only we could shrink the USA so Oregon was next to NY. Who really needs Ohio, Iowa, South Dakota, Montana, or Idaho? We need our sweet little Vaughan cousins!
There was a walkway along one of the brick buildings, so we did cousins pictures.
It is really hard to choose which ones to put up here.
Gymboree--I saw these skirts at $32 each and wondered how I could justify them. And now they are $8. Yeah.
H&M--all mark downs were an additional 50% off. I got everything here, plus a headband for Elsie, a shirt for Gilbert, and two little meeting bags for the girls for $48.
Darling little shoe-boots and baby converse high tops. $2.50 each. So I got some for now and some for later.
And then because we are prompt parents, we had an Easter Egg hunt. I forget what happened, but we were supposed to be down there around Easter and the kids were going to do this then. But we couldn't make it. So here we are doing it in October. Since October doesn't involve enough candy already...
Eggs hidden around the family room
My husband has a potty sense of humor
All ready to hunt up some eggs
Orianna wrote this for Cheyenne I believe. Love.
Their booty
Leaves
And then it was home again. To a cold house, cookies (we had to warm the house up!), popcorn, snuggly jammies, a mousie (!?!?) dentist appointments yesterday morning, a lazy afternoon, Northern Lights last night....
and this morning, frost.
So we broke out the slippers.
And planned on a day in warm clothes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)