Time.

It's been over a week since my last entry and there were many times I wanted to write. Fortunately, I listened to my body instead and went to sleep.

Without my two other kids and husband, life is quite mundane. Still, I only have so much energy and if I put off writing until night time, there isn't any energy left.

Now it is 10am which seems to be a much better time, but it's harder to write as I know there are chores to be done. Yes, even living in a room instead of a house, there are chores. In addition to E being herself and having to keep behind her in the tidying department, I am also amazed by how I can make messes as well. So every day there are chores.

And errands. And food prep most of the time as my parents cooking differs slightly than mine. They try and quite often succeed in making vegetarian meals, but sometimes this pregnancy tells me I have to eat something else.

Granted, this is much better than when I was pregnant living in Bogota. There, I had no appetite.

And still gained 4.5 lbs a week.

Here, I have an appetite and am no longer gaining which means I am losing a little while the baby is gaining a little.

29 weeks. Augh!

Sorry! I just panic a little when I think I only have 11 more weeks. It's no biggie once I have this little human outside of me, it's just the getting out of me part that scares me half to death!

I think my baby wants out now. She kicks, pushes, and elbows the top and lower half of my front belly as if she is doing gymnastics. Maybe she knows she has an older brother to keep up with and is practicing already.

In spite of all these ramblings, I actually have something to write about. It's rather a delicate matter and I wonder if any of my family members who might read this would feel insulted so I am, as usual, leaving names out of this entry. Unfortunately, it will be quick to figure out who I am talking snout, but I feel quite inclined to write anyway because I am trying to figure out why I...let's start from the beginning.

Just before I left Bogota, I cleaned out and reorganized the cabinets in the kitchen. I had not been feeling well to maintain the kitchen and so things were starting to go a bit crazy. Got beans? Yes, but you have to look in 6 different places rather than one place. Have crackers? Yes, but they are going to be stale because no one put them in a ziplock bag and sealed out the air. I began working in the cracker/snack pantry and found about 20 sandwich-sized bags filled with misc. crackers. The crackers were not stale because they were exposed to air. They were stale because of age. I tried tasting a few, but tossed the whole bunch when I found that the ones I randomly tasted would probably be rejected by the local ducks. I asked J if suddenly our empleada started keeping everything and why would she start to do that. He reminded me that we had family living with us and it reminded him of the stories I used to tell him about another family member who did this all the time. Let's call this person Susan. Ephiany! I just thought this person did this because it was a characteristic trait of this person. Use it up until it is gone. Don't throw it away because you paid for it, now use it. I understand this, yet if the food no longer tastes good and has technically gone bad (even though it's not moldy), it's time to let it go. Also, saving one fourth of a cookie and one cracker and half a slice of bread isn't going to save any money, not really. What are we talking about? Pennies? And is it worth trying to gag it down just to save a few pennies? Getting sick and having to buy Pepto-Bismo would waste the whole wad of money you saved from keeping the old food.

I had always thought that the keeping of tidbits was part of Susan's ability to manage the day on so few calories. Susan didn't keep the morsels of food in her bags because she wanted to save it to munch on it later only as a form of dieting, but also because she saw this habit from when she was very little.

And really, what does it hurt to keep leftovers? It doesn't, but it is just part of a bigger picture which I am slowly getting to. Actually, in a sad roundabout way, it explains why I am always trying to become more like a minimalist.

I am not trying to become a minimalist to save money. I am trying to become a minimalist to regain some of my time.

But I feel that I have jumped too far ahead! Just like my taste buds demand better food, my eyes demand better clothes. This pertains to me, my hubby, and my children. I don't want to wear clothes that have stains on them and I don't want to receive hand-me-down clothes that have stains or holes all over them. Why? I have been asking myself this for days now, trying to figure out why I was being so snobby. Then it hit me. Sure, those clothes are free, but then I am not so dirt poor that I and my children have to wear stained clothes. If we were poor AND lived in a 3rd world country, I could see how I might be grateful and wear stained clothes. But I don't live in a 3rd world country and can go buy non-stained, non-stretched out, non-hole-y clothes at a thrift store for a dollar. I know that if I thought that I was not poor, at some point this would slip out in my speech when I was trying to explain why I don't want my children to dress in stained clothes. I would quickly be reminded that if I spent 'willy-nilly' I would never be rich, that I would always be one step closer to living in the 'poor house'. I would be reminded that this was how my family climbed out of poverty and were able to have what they have now debt-free because they waited and didn't buy things at regular prices.

They were very poor and literally pulled themselves up by their bootstraps.

They climbed out of poverty, but the idea of it hangs right behind them. This is often the case when people struggle to live. Look at 'Betty', another family member. Until the day she died, she kept everything and used it over and over again. Coffee grounds were used two or three times. Shampoo was monitored. Dryer sheets were a waste of money, but if given as a gift, they were used over and over again until they fell apart. Granted, Betty grew up in the Depression era and when her parents lost everything, they had to go pick oranges in another state to survive.

So both families struggled to get out of poverty and therefore, their children learned the value of the dollar. And now their children must live with the idea that they, too, are just one step away from extreme poverty. I assume the children were constantly at war with this which is why I should gratefully wear stained shirts and eat morsels of old food because I am one step from being '3rd world country' super extreme dirt poor.

I'm not, of course. But instead of being able to live and think like a person who has achieved status and wealth, my family and I are chained to living like those that were extremely poor.

Most of my family has been able to enjoy some of their purchases, but there are still members in the family, like Susan, who are not able to enjoy spending any money that they have earned. Instead, they would rather tape up their shoes, wear stained, stretched out, faded, hole-y clothes than to buy some new gently-used ones because it saves a few more dollars.

What is ironic is then these dollars are still uses elsewhere. Gas has to be bought to drive to the store to buy food to eat. I'm surprised cars are a necessity. I thought that was for well-to-do people, not people that are one step up from extreme poverty.

Yet, the rules aren't this simple. Some things are fine to spend money on. A regular coffee at Starbucks is fine. A second car is okay, trips to the beach (gas prices, anyone?) are fine, pets are okay...trips overseas are also cool. And that's just my own family that I am talking about!

So as I try to figure out why my family members think like they do (both sides, including the in-laws), I learn a lot more about myself and my "quirks" on spending money and am quite grateful...

that I have had John in my life for the last 18 years. Sure, I used to feel that he didn't put that much thought into his purchases, but now I realize that he does.

Quality over quantity.

Buy what you want, enjoy it, but limit yourself.

I like this a lot better than some of the other lessons that I have learned from both sides
Of the family.

As for those stained clothes, I will just graciously accept them and then like any good family member should do, I will graciously accept them.