If self-doubt were an Olympic sport, I could medal. I mean, I think I could. It depends on the competition. Maybe I wouldn’t even compete. On second thought, I’ll sit this one out.
While I constantly beat myself up about everything under the sun, something jarred me out of my self-judging recently.
I’m beginning my seventh year as a writer and photographer for a local television station. I work alongside some talented people and enjoy reading their reports and seeing their stellar photos. I typically feel as though I don’t belong, even though I do have years of experience and they have been nothing but kind to me and treat me as an equal, which I certainly am not.
But recently I was looking for an article in the archives and started reading something that I really liked. I admired the writer’s style and the photos peppered throughout the article and tried to guess who the author might be. Then I reached the end, the byline.
The author was me.
Until this point, every story I wrote for this job stressed me out. With usually an hour or two allotted for turnaround time, I worried I wasn’t telling the story well enough, that I misrepresented the sporting event I observed entirely, that I just wasn’t all that good at what I do.
Even when a writer I hold in high regard told me he enjoyed my reporting, I was flattered but figured he was just being kind.
Now, when I sit down to write or edit photos, I focus on telling the story to the best of my ability and leave it at that. Maybe I won’t wow anyone but myself, and maybe not for years down the road, but sometimes that’s enough.
My husband, Matt, tested positive for Covid-19 in mid-July. We’ve now been out of quarantine for more than a week, and as I’ve mulled over documenting this experience, this is pretty much all I’ve got: it’s a weird virus.
For example, Matt still has symptoms, now 25 days later, but can no longer transmit Covid to others. He will wear a heart monitor when he returns to work to ensure the virus didn’t cause life-long issues.
My kids and I had a few days of very mild symptoms, including headaches and fatigue, and my lymph nodes hurt. It wouldn’t have been enough for us to stay home from work or school if we hadn’t already been in quarantine. We waited about a week after we first experienced symptoms and all four of us tested negative, although we were told it sounded like we had mild cases and recovered quickly.
We spent a lot of time on our deck, talking about life and watching sunsets.
But Matt, who was eventually upgraded to a moderate case, started out with extreme exhaustion. At first, he thought he became overheated at work. The next day, he felt worse, and he ended up spending three or four days in bed, barely waking. When he was awake, he realized he had lost his sense of taste and smell and couldn’t detect a cut clove of garlic or a bag of coffee directly under his nose. His headaches were intense. While each of these three symptoms have improved, he still has them today.
A strong metal taste also lingers in his mouth, which is thankfully no longer filled with painful sores.
He never had any upper respiratory issues, although his oxygen was often low and still is sometimes and he would feel out of breath navigating stairs. For a guy who runs several miles per week and lifts weights almost every day, this isn’t normal. (I’m out of breath navigating the stairs because I like pasta and fresh mozzarella).
Matt’s Covid contraction was also noteworthy. He was never around anyone visibly ill. He went nowhere except from work to home and back each day. He wore a mask and took temperatures of every person coming in the door each day, and no one ever had a fever. He never had a fever, either, except for the day we were all dangerously feverish until we found a thermometer that worked.
We were very lucky that our household could miss nearly three full weeks of work and only because of the timing; this would not be the case for many people and would have been more detrimental financially for our family if this had happened in the fall.
We were grateful we hadn’t seen any family during this time frame and knew we had contained the illness to only our household. Since March, we’ve taken every possible measure to be sure we protected our families and we have no regrets there.
Also, the “if you’re sick, stay home” narrative wouldn’t have applied in his case; he wasn’t around anyone visibly ill, but contracted Covid from an unmasked, asymptomatic carrier. The value of “your mask protects me, my mask protects you” is more evident, especially since those around him didn’t have to quarantine because he wore a mask and thus protected them from exposure.
We plan to send our kids, at least the older two, to seated school in the fall now that they should have antibodies for at least a month or two, and they will happily go with masks. Also, Matt has to go to work either way, so it seems like the thing to do.
The kidlets
We took the kids to a local theme park yesterday, partially for fun, partially to see how they would do with masks all day, and partially to see if Matt would be ready to return to work. Fun was had, the theme park was almost empty, and no one seemed harmed from the day’s events. Also, we finally left the house for something other than work or food, and it was a glorious thing.
In short, if you can take simple measures to prevent contracting or passing on Covid-19, take them. Be well!
Affiliate links are used at no cost to the reader.
I’m not much of a shopper, but if I can’t find what I need locally, Amazon Prime is my jam. I wanted to share what I’ve purchased (and a few I’m still considering) for Prime Day.
If you need a way to back up your data, it’s the perfect time to buy a solid state drive. I’m buying this one, as well as an external hard drive (I’m a data hoarder).
This is my camera body and I love it. Those savings are incredible!
That’s all I’ve got for now. As I mentioned, I’m not a fan of shopping, especially since my life goal has been simplifying for a while now, but for those things you have to have anyway, it’s a great time to scope things out! I’ll update anything else I find over on my Instagram stories (@listlemon). Thanks for reading!
Despite being the parents of three Disney-appreciating children, my husband and I never explored the option of a Disney World vacation, assuming it was too pricey for us. Then, an opportunity fell into our laps, and a few months later we were driving home from an epic vacation without cashing in our 401ks. Here’s how we did it.
All opinions are my own and affiliate links are used at no cost to the reader.
Timeshare Tours
I called to book a room through a major hotel chain for our anniversary and found myself on the line with a vacation planner. This person was in charge of scheduling discounted vacations in exchange for a tour of one of their properties, coupled with a two hour-ish sales pitch. If you like what the company has to offer, you can become an owner, and if not, you say no and still stay at your hotel at the discounted price.
It just so happened that several timeshares were located in Orlando. We had months to book the vacation, as well as other incentives like a free night on the hotel in another city. I’ve since studied about all the benefits of staying on property at Disney, but the timeshare was a fraction of the cost of any other option we found in Orlando. Plus, they fed us on the day we were touring, so one less meal to purchase!
Enchanted Tales With Belle was one of many experiences included in the price of admission. The whole family enjoyed this one!
The Gift of Experience
We talked to our kids about going to Disney, but the oldest rightfully assumed it would cost our family a lot of money. So the kids agreed this trip could be in lieu of Christmas presents for 2018 (Santa still treated them well, though). We told our extended family of our plans and also received Disney gift cards for Christmas.
We bought our snacks and meals in the park with gift cards, although we always ate breakfast in our hotel suite. I bought a few Disney gift cards with my Target Redcard (it’s linked to my debit card) and automatically got 5% off those purchases.
I also was a new consultant for Thirty-One when we booked our vacation. I had joined for the discount, honestly, as I wanted a few more organizing pieces (that I’ve written about previously). But, one sales incentive for new consultants is paid in Visa or Disney gift cards. I earned enough and watched my spending enough to have money left on the gift cards when we returned home. I used those funds to purchase a new Belle dress and plush dolls for my daughter for her birthday. (So you know, maybe consider joining my Thirty-One team, too).
Oh, and we also purchased our souvenirs with gift cards. We found out The World of Disney in Disney Springs has allllll the souvenirs, so we allowed ourselves to only window shop until our final day. Luckily, we found everything we wanted on that day inside Epcot’s shops, but Disney Springs was a nice option in case we needed it.
Finding the right souvenir
Ticket Purchase (Plus, a Note on Universal Tickets)
Our biggest cost on this trip: the tickets. Our youngest is still two, so he got in free. No, he didn’t need a birth certificate to prove it. Still, four park tickets for four people for three days wasn’t cheap. My husband’s membership in a professional organization offered a discount on tickets, which did help a little. At any rate, ordering online ahead of time through a reputable vendor seems to be the ticket here (har har).
My daughter and I spent one late afternoon and evening at Universal, mostly on a whim, so I purchased discounted tickets at our hotel. And let me first be clear here; I didn’t immediately realize Universal was NOT part of Disney and would require a different ticket.
We took an Uber to the park (free with a code I found online) and breezed right in with our tickets. After a day in Disney, I was used to Disney’s FastPass system – each ticket holder receives three fast passes per day to use to jump to the accelerated lines, and I was personally a fan.
Two tickets to all of the Harry Potter attractions at Universal would cost roughly the same as four of us going to Disney for a day, so we only went to Hogsmeade (which meant we couldn’t go to Diagon Alley on the Hogwarts Express) and had no regrets.
But at Universal, this free pass concept is not a thing. An Express pass will add a hefty fee to each ticket, but the passes do help ticket holders to the front of the lines for each ride. Which is great for them, and terrible for those of us who paid the normal ticket fee and waited in line for one coaster for over an hour as the express people breezed past us.
Plan Or Panic
As my friend, a seasoned Disney traveler, and I planned out an itinerary for this trip, I began to feel less overwhelmed and more excited. I looked over park maps (Kenny the Pirate’s were fabulous) and plotted our course for each day, starting with booking FastPasses in the Disney app. We made plans for potential lunch spots and where we might want to grab snacks in addition to where we would be riding rides and watching shows. I perused menus to jot down not only food items but also costs.
And then, right before the trip, my daughter ended up in the hospital and vacation planning went to the bottom of our list. Add my son’s burst eardrum to the chaos and we were amazed to finally have everyone healed and on the way to our destination!
Which reminds me of one additional savings: we drove 16 hours to Disney. We split this up between two days and stayed in Choice Hotels so we could take advantage of a free night after a few stays. After we finished at the parks, we drove four hours north and hit the beach for a few days. Even with all of these additional costs, we spent less than we would have on plane tickets for our whole crew.
Trials of the Temple: included in admission price at Hollywood Studios. Just sign up your kids as soon as you arrive at the park!
Anyway, those early plans served us so well as we stepped into the Magic Kingdom, breathed in the grandeur of Cinderella’s Castle, then said things like, “Ooh, look! There’s that Peter Pan ride! A carousel! Do you see that Dumbo ride? There’s a Mickey ice cream bar! Let’s go meet that princess! Wait, isn’t that Rapunzel’s tower?” But instead, we went back to our list and followed the plan (with some flexibility, of course!) so that we didn’t waste time or spend money in places we didn’t really wish to spend it.
And next time, my plan won’t include Dole Whip. That stuff is soft-serve sherbet or something. Hard pass from us and money savings to boot.
Splurges
We really only had one splurge, aside from the Dole Whip: The Star Wars Dessert Party at Hollywood Studios.
We each had a hei hei cone but not one of us really was a fan.
I carefully researched character dining and asked my friend’s advice to determine this splurge, and I think we chose well. The freeze-fried chocolate hazelnut mousse and the Lightspeed Margarita each made this experience worth it for me, as well as the Storm Troopers keeping we citizens in line, and the exclusive viewing area for the fireworks and light show was nice. All of the other events we did that day, for example, were included in the cost of admission, including Jedi training, meeting characters and riding rides.
Next time, I think we will splurge on character dining.
In Conclusion
Before we left for vacation, I was searching message boards and online groups for advice on all things Disney, such as what to bring into the park and what to leave behind. (Ponchos were nice for rain, by the way, and cheap enough that we had multiples so we could toss them when one set got too soaked…extra socks were also an amazing suggestion). But I became pretty distressed when veteran Disney-goers said over and over, “Just bring more money.”
There’s a theme park more local to us called Silver Dollar City, which is affectionally nicknamed “Steal Your Dollar City.” I grew up going to that theme park several times per year, and aside from the ticket cost and the occasional bag of saltwater taffy and a frozen lemonade, I rarely spent much at the park and still had a blast. My Disney experience was the same; you must purchase tickets, but after that, you can even bring your own food into the park and not spend another dime there if you so choose.
I can see how it is easy to spend all the monies in Disney, but with a plan in place beforehand that included splurges, we were able to arrive home from our road trip without being too shell-shocked. The only problem: now we have to start saving our pennies as we plan our return trip.
(Not when Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play).
On February 13, 1999, Matt and I went on our first date.
I asked him if he would pick me up in a red Mustang convertible and waltz in carrying roses and a box of candy, just like he did then.
“Stop,” he said. “I can’t compete with 16-year-old me.”
Glory days
But I did drag out the dress I wore back then (one of the few I kept, which fits only because stretch) and we went back to the restaurant where our first date began. We didn’t try to relive the dance we attended back then. I’ve been through with partying like it’s 1999 for a while now.
We reminisced a bit about the past 20 years over our crab rangoon. Every personality profile we’ve ever taken has marked us incompatible, and yet we still make one another laugh and generally enjoy life together. We agree on the important things, like family, faith, and buttered popcorn Jelly Bellys.
And when we finally decided to abandon our fortune cookies and return to our kids to craft Valentine’s Day boxes, we realized our sweet friends had picked up our tab. 💕
First date at Winter Ball
Thanks for being mine for 20 years, Matt! You infuriate me and bring me joy and gave me three lovely kids. I think I’ll keep you for at least 20 more.
This site uses affiliate links at no cost to the reader.
I called my Granny this morning, on her 89th birthday.
She told me her greatest gift so far was her license renewal, asked if I could pick up a bouquet of flowers for her (she has been a florist for as long as I can remember), and asked if my husband was going to the AFC Championship game.
“We are Chiefs fans,” she said, “but your Aunt Betty is in love with Tom Brady.” Aunt Betty, Granny’s sister, is 90, and their brother Claude is 92.
Aunt Betty on the left, and Granny on the right.
Granny has always modeled the value of hard work for me. She says she would rather wear out than rust out, and she’s the busiest octogenarian I know, at least aside from her siblings. She raised five kids and helped her late husband operate a market gardening business, especially after he retired from his day job. Every grandchild has spent time with Granny at the Farmer’s Market, peddling homegrown fruits, veggies, and homemade jams and jellies.
Bringing in her garden treasures.
But one of my favorite things about my Granny Marguerite: she has always had time for me.
I spent a sick day at Granny’s when I was young. She turned on Saved by the Bell on her gigantic wooden tv on the floor, kept juice flowing in the sippy cup, and made me one of her famous hamburgers (my cousin calls them stove burgers). When I felt better in the afternoon, I attacked her candy collection, all lined up in glass containers on a hutch in the dining room.
In junior high, I walked to her house every day after school and hung out until my dad picked me up after work. My cousin and I continued that tradition when he moved to our town in high school. Gran always stopped whatever she was doing to chat, then turned MTV on for us while she made stove burgers. Now in my thirties, she still drops whatever she is doing to sit down and listen to me when I stop by (now there’s just no Jay-Z in the background).
Gran with some of my people.
One of her favorite places is Branson, Missouri. Some of my favorite childhood memories went down at Silver Dollar City, where my Granny and Aunt Betty dropped me and my cousins off and told us to meet them at the gazebo at 5. No one was ever abducted, so it worked out pretty well for a bunch of kids who loved the freedom. She also took a crew of us for ear piercings once, which did not go over very well with our parents, but we were elated. Gran also put in a pool at her house when I was about four. The whole family jumped in for pool basketball and whatever odd games my uncle made up for us, and Granny would finish up in the garden or in the kitchen and jump in, too, usually fully clothed.
I’m the cranky-looking one in the strawberry jumper.
She has a pretty great sense of humor. My dad tells a story of getting in trouble in elementary. The students were saying the Pledge of Allegiance, and dad was holding his hand under his chin, flapping his fingers along to the pledge as though his hand was talking. The school called his mom to report the incident. She laughed.
Granny has lived in the same house for most of her life; her parents moved to the home when she was a kid, and she remains there still. She hosts meetings for women of her church and works in her floral studio and picks berries in her garden. Gran never makes me feel like she needs anything from me; when I’m ready to catch up, we pick up right where we left off. She’s always fun, always cheerful, always hospitable. She’s a constant in my life and I’m grateful for her.
Affiliate links are used at no cost to the reader.
Most of my goals were abandoned in the summer of 2018 as we went through surgeries and health challenges with two of our kids. Once everyone recovered, my girls and I wore swimsuit bottoms instead of underwear for a full week; the laundry piles languished while we played catch-up and raced to and from jobs and activities. It’s Christmas break here for the rest of the week, and I’m finally reading the notes from our kids’ teachers that were sent home months ago. We are fighting to come out of what we call “First World Survival Mode” (because if I’m writing a blog post right now, this isn’t real survival mode), but yesterday we abandoned it all to spend the evening with our friends to welcome 2019. I have no regrets about that.
I did check a major item off my to do list this fall: I started an amateur photography business and, you know, put myself out there. As an introvert (any fellow INTJ females out there?), I find it difficult to declare a skillset to the general public and to set myself up for evaluation. But after over a decade of working in photography and undergoing frequent/ongoing training (and having a portrait photographer in my immediate family), I decided to go for it, and I’m glad I did.
So while I carefully thought out all of my goals and divided them into 90 day increments previously, I haven’t accomplished that on this first day of 2019. I could start listing out all the usuals: decluttering, eating healthier, getting more sleep (hahaha). But I’m nowhere near that frame of mind yet, if I’m being honest. I want three things in the next 90 days:
More quality time with my family.
Less of a quest for perfection.
Clean laundry (perfection is allowed, although totally not expected there).
I’m also allowing myself to pick up all of my good intentions and run with them. I forgot to send a thank you note? Sending it now. Intended to bring friends baked goods for the holidays? Doing it now. Never filled out the volunteer form at church and have neglected to give to my friend’s charity? No time like the present.
I want to head into 2020 knowing that I gave my best efforts and that I cared for my people well. Maybe I’ll declutter along the way, and maybe I won’t, but I’ll try to at least make sure we all have clean underwear.
One of my favorite subjects.
Affiliate links are used at no cost to the reader; purchases made when following said links, however, will benefit the author of this page.
Dearfoams provided me with a pair of slippers in exchange for my honest review; all opinions are my own.
I’ve declared my love for Dearfoams before (see here). But the new Fireside collection has made my heart grow a few sizes.
Did I know I needed slippers lined with Australian sheepskin in my life? Nope, but I did. I’ve practically lived in my original pair of Dearfoams since spring, but they’ve taken a backseat to my luxurious new loves.
The craziest thing is my feet don’t overheat in these, and they are ridiculously cozy. Curling up beside the tree for an evening of The Great British Baking Show is even more idyllic than usual now. And I can wear them to fetch the mail. And they are cute. What’s not to love?
Dearfoams under the tree: perfection.
So insanely cozy. Now I just need an actual fireside.
Check out dearfoams.com for 20% off and free shipping on your first order, or check out my Amazon link – you can use Prime shipping for some of the pairs, and they are the perfect gift for that person who has everything. You are welcome to thank me later.
Aurelia is a part of our story that I often find difficult to tell.
Getting to her took four years of failed fertility treatments. It took a nutritionist who analyzed my lack of protein. It took a surprise pregnancy discovered in the ER six months after IVF failed. It took multiple scares of loss during that pregnancy, one which landed me in L&D at 19 weeks with the threat of staying until I delivered.
It took 9 days past my due date, when I was so swollen that my cankles could not bend and I could not wear shoes, my nose was twice it’s usual size, and I literally had to have the rings cut off my fingers.
And while I did end up in emergency surgery following her birth, everything about my dear, long-awaited daughter was perfect.
Somehow we’ve already traversed eight years together, which feels almost as baffling as the nurse telling me in the ER I should have mentioned I was pregnant. No, lady, I’m having chest pains. You’re in the wrong room.
Named after my great-grandmother and aunt (and me), Aurelia Jane wore a “Worth the Wait” onesie as a newborn because duh. She is a seriously cool human.
Her Daddy bonded with her on day one. He was the king of swaddling and loved dressing her every day. He and I looked at each other with heart eyes and knew we had hit the jackpot, even during the days of colic and no sleep.
She was the child that walked at 9 months and spoke in clear, full sentences way before she should and let me place bows on her bald head.
As a toddler, she loved to shop with me and we spent most of the time trading kisses as she sat in the front of the cart. She talked non-stop, and when her pediatrician called her loquacious, she added that word to her vocabulary. My mom reminded me of the time I was shopping with Aurelia and she asked a woman nearby, “Excuse me, ma’am? Can I have your marshmallows?”
She’s always had a daily agenda and loves to experience new things. Dresses have been preferred since she was half her current age, and Halloween has been her favorite holiday since then, too. So much so that I once had to enact a moratorium on speaking about Halloween plans in January.
She is observant and forgets nothing. She loves to help and is strong-willed and independent (she might get some of these qualities from both of us), learning most recently to bake on her own.
Aurelia is a great big sister, or at least she is when she isn’t holed up in her bedroom with her nose in a book. She brought home a Harry Potter book yesterday and said the librarian told her, “Oh, sugar, I don’t know,” when she first wanted to check it out. American Girl dolls, unicorns, LEGOs and Roblox are her current favorites.
Her sense of humor is one of my favorite things about her. She gets me and my own warped sense of humor and her giggle is contagious. She is kind and generous and eager to please.
The beach is her happy place, and she often tells me she is saving her money so she can return. She has a plot of land picked out where she will one day build a house. Art and storytelling are her escapes from the toils of being an elementary student. Her “Aureliaisms,” as my friend coined them, keep us laughing, as do her attempts at “The Floss.”
In short, she’s a gift and a joy and I’ve yet to come in contact with someone she spends significant time with who doesn’t tell me she’s special. And we agree. HBD, AJP!
This sure uses affiliate links at no cost to the reader. I receive a small commission if you make a purchase after following an affiliate link.
Not long ago, an article was passed around social media like wildfire. It involved the idea of parents cherishing the last time they performed a task with their child, such as washing the child’s hair or cutting food into tiny bites, because children grow quickly and we don’t want to forget those milestones.
And I cherish the heck outta those milestones usually because I am so glad whatever we’d been doing for said children is finally over. I’m not exactly into lamenting the loss of those tasks completed for my children; nay, a thought bubble containing raised hands emojis may be seen above my head.
When my kids graduated from purees and breastfeeding to table foods and sippy cups, I thought, I’m so glad we’ve moved on, because those early stages were tough.
Two of the three are all-systems-go in the bathroom and I feel no sadness that I now have only one diapered child.
I’m lone wolf parenting tonight and just transferred the youngest to his crib as the middle finally stopped screaming because she hates to be alone (her sister was already asleep on the top bunk) and drifted off. She only woke her siblings twice each with her freak outs.
This sleep brought to you by a 40 minute fit.
Someone possessing slightly more than my own number of years will take this opportunity to tell me I will miss nights like these.
False.
I will miss three kids under my roof, sleeping or awake. But I will not miss fighting an unruly octopus with cold feet who is itchy and thirsty and takes 8 hours each night to nod off and screams her lungs off if she has to try without us. When she calls me as an adult and says, “I can’t get my child to sleep!” I’ll say, “I don’t know, kid, but you were the WORST EVER at sleeping,” and then I will go to my retirement bed where no child will sleep with a limb over my face and be thankful, at least for that one moment, that my octopus is now traversing her own waters.
I look forward to leaving behind the high chairs, the car seats, trying to take all three of them anywhere and hoping I can track them and avoid being on the evening news. Everyone sleeping through the night. Zero knowledge of Mayor Goodway’s shenanigans and Paw Patrol’s need to rescue her purse chicken.
Sometimes an acquaintance will point out I am guilty of oversharing, overdocumenting, overphotographing all the moments of my children’s lives. But if I’m cleaning the closet and find an outgrown and beloved outfit my baby wore and feel the tears rise up, I ask myself: do I have a photo of this? Have I documented my memories associated with this precious time I feel slipping? If the answer is yes, and it always is, I vault that memory and move along. We came, we saw, we conquered, now we retire the onesie. What’s next?
He’s adorable but he didn’t eat this popsicle. I did.
Don’t get me wrong, I tend to enjoy many of these tasks as they are ongoing. I fought my own body for years in an effort to bring these crazies into the world and regret nothing. All the tears I shed were worth the outcome, but that doesn’t mean I’m not also thrilled the school kids dress themselves.
As the 1990’s philosophers of the band Semisonic said in their classic ‘Closing Time,” “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” (Just kidding, Seneca said that before Semisonic did). But I think maybe Seneca knew that when it comes to raising kids, focusing on the past is fruitless. There’s always something exciting and fun to look forward to, some new beginning springing forth from some other beginning’s end.
This site uses affiliate links at no cost to the reader. I will receive a small commission if your make a purchase after following my affiliate links.
