Clutter free=happy me!

Last night I commented to Bob how happy I was since we took out all of the extra "stuff" that was around our home.  We've been in the process of trying to remove anything non-essential before the move.  The house has never looked better.

But then he said something that made me pause and think a little.  His word were, "Yeah, but now this place has no personality.  It went from a home to a house.  It looks staged and there isn't anything here that is 'us'".

I was surprised by this statement, as he and I share a dislike for clutter.  If I'm being totally honest, I've fantasised about what would happen if all the boxes of "stuff" that has been transferred out into the garage were suddenly gone.

But, maybe he's right.  Maybe there does need to be a sampling of "items of flair" to remind us who we are, the things we've experienced, and what knits us together.

As we move into our new home, I will be doing a careful evaluation of what I pull out of the boxes.  I don't want to fill a bigger place with trinkets just because they will fit.  I do find more peace in a simple home.  However, I will be mindful not to go overboard.  If the Star Wars figurines are important to Bob because they remind him of his childhood, I need to find a place for them.  If the drawer full of Dollar Store mementos are important to Sydney, I won't throw them out.  And if Hannah finds comfort hanging up drawings, posters and sketches up on her walls, why should I care?

I will likely need to be reminded (or supervised) as I unpack to avoid the strong urge to toss it all.  But, the attitude of "happy with less" is an important lesson that I do want to instill into my children.  In a few weeks, if you visit our new home, you'll have to let me know if we were able to balance each other out.

A long time gone

My goodness it has been a long time since I've had an opportunity to sit down and write.  What has been taking up my time?  Well, moving.
After much prayerful and deep-thoughted (is that a word?) consideration, we decided to take the plunge and become landlords.  Not for the fun of it, but for an investment into our future.  My job, though I love it, provides no retirement, and I have grown nervous thinking that we might be relying on the State of New Mexico pension plan to make ends meet when my husband retires.  The nervous part comes when I see articles and analysis of the state pension plan indicating that there isn't enough money there to cover all those currently working toward retirement.
So, we decided to be pro-active (just in case).  After considering buying a property to rent out, we came to the conclusion that our current home would be an ideal rental.  This in and of itself is a bitter-sweet statement.  I have grown to love our house, that I begrudgingly moved into almost 8 years ago.  We have put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this home.  It's the home that my children have grown up in and the home that a majority of the memories from my married life are housed in.
I will miss this home.
The new house (which we are scheduled to close on in less than 2 weeks) is a dream.  Almost too good to be true.  It has almost 1000 sq. ft. more space than our current house.  It has a master closet the size of one of our bedrooms.  It has skylights and radiant heat.  It has a pool!
When I first saw the new house, I couldn't help wondering why it was set at the low price that it is.  We've had inspections done, and while there were a few issues, nothing so big that it explained why this dream home was in our price range.  Two thoughts entered my mind: either the Lord was blessing us in a huge way, or there had been some crazy crime there with many people being murdered.  Yes, I know those are about as juxtaposed as you can get, but hey, that's how my mind works. 
Having found no evidence of a mass murder, I am of the opinion now, that this has been a gift.  Things have gone smoothly with the home buying process.  We got an outstanding interest rate.  We got repairs done before moving in.  We get new carpet!
But now begins the process of finding a family to love and respect our "old" house.  I've heard the rental horror stories.  I know that this is a risk.  I know that Dave Ramsey would tell me that we made a bad decision.  But, I also know that there is wisdom in a multitude of councilors, and Dave (while knowing his stuff) isn't the final authority on all money decisions.
I'm nervous.  I don't want to come back to find this little home that I love beaten and abused.  But, it's a risk we are going to have to take.  We have been praying that we will find a family to love and care for this house as much as we have.
So amidst packing, paperwork filing, Internet posting and utility managing, I had to take a moment to pay tribute to this little piece of ground that we call home.  We will miss our neighbors and miss these floors and walls, but trust that the Lord will continue to guide our steps and bless our new adventures. 

Mean Mom's Guilt Trip

As I slid my card through the credit card machine, I said nastily to my daughter, "$74 because you didn't put your glasses away."  The cashier looked a bit embarrassed and apologized for the long wait we had just endured.

My "little" girl stormed ahead, mumbling something about that fact that I shouldn't have humiliated her.  She was right.  I stoped in the isle and asked for forgiveness.  My guilt trip wasn't going to solve this problem.

I was mad--maybe even rightfully so.  However, my treating her like a jerk just compounded the frustration I was feeling.

Teaching responsibility and/or real-world consequences to my girl(s) is proving to be so much more difficult then I ever imagined.  For example, when Joey the hamster died, I ended up buying the replacement, because she didn't have enough money, and needed one for the 4-H project that had been ordered while the hamster was still alive.

Today, she forgot to go to band after school.  Today also happened to be the day that we got to order new glasses after the original pair didn't get put away, and have subsequently been lost in the black hole where missing things go to die.

We don't give our kids an "allowance".  They have the opportunity to earn a few dollars each week by doing housework, but they never want to save it for anything of value.  Instead, it's blown on dollar store nick knacks and the occasional candy or ice cream. 

There has never been an item that they wanted enough to save up for.  So, how do I teach the value of hard work?  How do I instill in them the worthiness of saving for a large goal?  And when they lose, damage or distroy someone's (or thier own) time or materials, how are they to make restitution?

I know that there aren't any pat answers to these issues.  They will likely require new and creative techniques to address the root problem each time.  But one thing is for sure: my guilt heaped upon them will serve no good purpose.  If I could remember to parent like God (a very tall order), then the stage would be set for heart change, rather then groveling sorrow that lasts only for a moment.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.  Romans 8:1

Super Birga-o's World

This blog needs to have sound effects.  Since I don't think this site can accommodate me, you'll need to use your imagination. To begin, please start humming the "Super Mario Brothers" song.  Now, imagine me (or yourself) walking through the overly simplistic video game world.  You'll need to jump out of the way of (or shoot fireballs at) the mushrooms, turtles and Venus fly traps (??) that come out of the green pipes. 





If you have survived the level, and made it into the tube that takes you to the underground world, please change the song in your head now.



This slightly sinister melody has been playing for me this afternoon/evening as I try to make my way back to the surface.  The irony of this "world" is that I know how to defeat these lesser enemies, but they often get the better of me as I get distracted by other tasks. 

As a kid (and teen) I always loved to go over to any friend's house that had a Nintendo.  We didn't have any type of gaming system at our home, and any time I got a chance to play Super Mario, I was as happy as could be.  But, I was terrible at it!  I always died in the most careless of ways.  I'd fall off a cliff or be killed by a turtle (with or without throwing hammers).  I never seemed to learn (or remember) when/where to duck, jump or avoid danger. 

Now, as a big kid, I find that I make many of the same mistakes walking through real life.  I know the problems, emotions, personalities and situations that knock me down.  But for whatever reason, I don't do a very good job of avoiding them, or learning from them.  Confronted again today by a repeat problem, I didn't duck.  Instead, it hit me square in the chest, and (cue the shrinking Mario sound effect) I felt quite a bit smaller then I had moments before.

So, now I need to recharge.  I know where to look to get what I need to be restored to full size.  And, if I keep going, I can add on some Fire Power!

Though I never won the game, I did on occasion complete a level.  There was always that little tingle of excitement when I got to jump on the flag pole and raise the banner of victory.  So (cue the last musical jingle of the blog), lookout world, I'm going to press forward.  It's only a matter of time before get to the castle!