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.

The Woes of Technology

Saturday, November 5th, Nanni, G, E, and I went to the Elizabeth Kaiser Meyer park which is near Nanny's house in Houston Texas. We had a picnic and then E played on the playground while G biked on the paths. It was really nice, but in the 2 hours I was there, I must have exerted too much energy because by the end of the trip, I was beat. Most of the time, Nanni was involved with taking care of E, but I did walk to the pond twice which is about 500 feet from the playground.

When we got home from the park, we all took naps. Obviously, mine was not as restful as I had hoped because after I awoke at 4pm, I never quite fully had the energy back like I usually do when I have had a nap. J did remind me tonight...I'm in my 7th month of pregnancy, so it's normal to feel zapped all the time...especially now that I'm older.

At 5pm I began checking emails. I'm behind in them on account of the migraines that took over my life from August to September so most just sat in my in-box unread. For two hours I delegated, deleted, read, and responded to a bunch of emails. When I felt that I had knocked out as many as I could without my brains bleeding out of my ears, I went back to count how many I had answered. Twenty emails. Two hours and I was able to read and answer twenty emails. I know I'm a slow reader, but seriously, how slow can I be? Granted, I had plenty of interruptions from E and G as well as I was tired, but it made me realize why I don't often check my emails. It sucks so much of my day away. If it takes 2 hours to read 20 emails and I receive at least 20 non-spam emails a day, this means I am spending 14 hours a week reading and responding to emails. Technology is a blessing...and a curse.

At 7:45, I crawled into bed and fell asleep. Nanni bathed and dressed E and G. I was exhausted and was relieved she volunteered to take care of them. Unfortunately, at 10:00, G woke me up and I've been up ever since, trying to read and respond or delete more of my backlog of emails. Finally, at midnight I decided that spending an additional two hours of reading emails was going to kill me.

I know, I know. Checking emails is a necessity, right? It's also beginning to feel like a chore and I'm thinking, I'm going to start guarding my email more and rely more on texts as it's a little faster. If I can think of any other solutions to the current 15 emails a day problem, I'll certainly be here brainstorming!

24 hours in a day:
8 for sleep
2 for hygiene
10 for other

Doubt.

The last time I wrote, it was short. I had actually wanted to write about my trip to Villa De Leyva, which we went to the previous Monday. Instead, all Friday, Saturday,and Sunday (when I had the energy), I worked on several bins that I had stashed in our bedroom and closet. These items had collected over a period of months, things that had homes in the house, but I never made it to their proper place because I felt so nauseous or had migraines. I terribly dislike this pattern that I do...I see a cluttered room, pick up the items, but then something happens that prevents me from putting the stuff away...so I toss it in a box. Then other things are piled on top...mostly by me since my husband is hardly ever here. It's not that I like this process, it's just something that happens when I am not feeling well or feel that I don't have time to finish the entire process.

My husband, J, says that the stuff is mine. Perhaps. Sometimes it's not. It's stuff that collects around the house as other individuals are using it and it's not put back in it's home. Like nail clippers. And screw drivers. This isn't something that I can really toss since we need these items. But there are things that are specifically mine that add to the clutter of the house that I need to just toss. Although I can't recall exact times, I did grow up in a house where my parents were very frugal and nothing was wasted because they were working very hard to become middle class. We used everything. We saved everything because there might be a use for it.

This idea is great except when it becomes too much. Instead of writing about my wonderful trip to Villa De Leyva, I spent 3 days going through several bins, sorting stuff, and putting away items. There were items for the animals that live with us, items for my children, items for the office...name a room and there was something from each room in those bins.

Now, about doubt. Last week, when my friend (you know who you are) didn't come to my going-away party (leaving Bogota, but not this blog), I had doubts about the 10 small boxes that I set aside for her. Inside were all those little toys that I had separated for the poor children in Colombia. When she didn't show, there was a moment of doubt that I should give them away. There was a little voice that said...

"...you could keep them and in a year, let your child open one as a 'present' to keep her from being bored. You know, something new."

That little voice of doubt was persistent. All week that voice kept nagging at me. I tried not to listen, but it was hard. Habits are hard to kill.

Then Saturday night, when I was so tired from pushing my pregnant self to finish, I remembered that I hate the life of organizing, shuffling things around over and over again while the rest of the family could care less how much time I spend on trying to keep the house clean and organized.

I waste my life moving stuff around. It's like when I worked in an office. I wasted my life moving papers around. File this. Pull it out, photo copy it, file it here. Boring dribble of a life. Now I do it at home as well.

That little voice of doubt was quickly squashed on Sunday morning when I woke up to face another room littered with stuff. My youngest daughter had played a lot the night before and her room showed it. Again, I put things away. Fortunately, it was much easier since it wasn't little pieces everywhere.

Even though I wasn't able to finish my daily tasks on account of being so tired from working with the bins, I felt that I had at least accomplished something. Those 10 boxes are going. Doubt was gone. Life is not about things that we own. Life is about experiences (and hopefully good ones!). I'm not a very religious person, but I end with a few thoughts....

"What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." -Albert Pine

2 Corinthians 9.7 Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.


Maybe if I didn't have so many little things, I wouldn't pile those little things into bins when I'm not feeling well or am tired.

Attack on clutter! Steps to minimalism, a change in my lifestyle

Today I was sick, again. Headache, terrible nausea. This has been going on since July 14 when I returned to Bogota, Colombia pregnant. I was actually pregnant before I left, but didn’t know it.

While I laid in bed hoping to feel better, I heard my 6 year old being mean to my 18 month old. I came out to see what was the problem. The living room was covered in toys. All 3 very large baskets were empty as well as a box that had already been organized as a donation. My son said he was looking for a special toy of his. I asked why he was looking in the donation box if he had already approved of the items inside. He didn’t have an answer, but now the entire floor was littered with toys. I debated on taking a picture and posting it to my blog, but since I’m a luddite, I didn’t want to waste the time trying to post such a depressing picture. Instead, for the next hour, my son tried to clean up his mess and while I tried not to throw up, I tried to encourage him. Finally, the sickness overwhelmed me and I went to bed. Hours later, the mess was still there.

Update: Just now my son comes in smelling like sweat. He had been downstairs playing with two friends in the enclosed park of our complex. He said, “I’ve had the best day of my life! I have two friends and guess what, they…” and he proceeded to talk to me about his day outside, on the trampoline, and on the playground…no little toys involved. This is the way it has been most of his life, it’s just how he is. Now it gives me incentive to do something about the baskets of toys that just sit (and occasionally get scattered by him).

1. Oldest child-she’s 14 ½ years old and has become quite aware of her clutter (she lives in my clutter, so why not?!), but every 4 months or so I ask if she wants to make a donation to the embassy or to our church. She’s always good to let at least something go.

2. Second oldest child-he’s 6 years old and has a habit of doing some major damage to his toys (dropping them out of our apartment window, breaking it open to see what it looked like inside, microwaving it, cutting parts of it off) so after the 5th time that I explained to him that a lot of children in Bogota don’t have any toys (and he seeing them working the streets), he has really become quite generous lately. I still give him the choice as to what goes as I know this is key in fostering a sense of giving. It’s hard to give away what you want to keep. Believe me, I know this pain all too well from my own childhood. I like repeating history that’s good for us.

3. Third child- she’s not quite 2 years old, but she still has a say in what stays and goes. I listen to her and watch her as I don’t want to give away anything that she likes playing with. I obviously keep some things that I know she’s going to grow into as well and if she doesn’t, I have to keep the items as they were played with when my husband’s family were little (and I have a few toys from my childhood as well!).

An On-going Attempt to Becoming a Minimalist…with Kids! (part 3)

What happened? What changed this happy moment? Nothing changed at first, but we moved four times in 9 months. Initially, the bulk of our stuff was sent out to Bogota, Colombia and we lived in a 2 bedroom 700 square foot apartment for 3 months in Washington DC while we waited for to be sent to our next adventure. It was tight with 2 kids, a newborn, and now my husband to boot. But this wasn’t the culprit. We spent a lot of time at the playground, at the library, and at the bowling alley. We visited museums in D.C and family in Maryland. Then we moved to temporary quarters in Bogota, Colombia where we lived out of suitcases for a month. Still, this was no biggie. Then we moved to our new home and my husband suggested that I let the packers unpack us. I had never done this before, but with a 5 month old strapped to my chest, I figured it might be good to try something new.
Big mistake. They unpacked everything all at once. When I say everything, I mean everything. I found stamps from my stamp collection removed from the wax paper envelope they were stored in. I had purchased quite a bit of entertaining dinnerware and every piece was unpacked, but then scattered around three rooms rather than left together matching their pattern. It was a nightmare and one mistake I will never repeat! A lesson horribly learned well. All my art paper was unpacked from their original packages, but instead of being stacked in one room, for some reason I found them all over the house. I spent 4 months getting the house in order and felt like it would never end. I tried to live life at the same time, but I felt like I could never truly relax until it was done. Instead of keeping to making sure that we pared down on stuff, I found we were receiving quite often. I was shocked by the amount of bins filled with toys. I couldn’t figure out where to put it all in spite of the fact our home was over 2600 square feet. Also, as I unpacked our stuff from the states, I was receiving items as well. In a way, this was a blessing as we didn’t get many things from Bogota as items are much more expensive. Still, with new things coming in and old things not going out, it can quickly accumulate. Finally, in December, I felt like I could say I had finished. One month later we found that we were moving again. Mid February we moved to our current house. I allowed the packers to pack, with supervision that they didn’t mix rooms, but I refused their generosity when they offered to unpack.
Four months later, I was almost finished unpacking. I took a month off while I was in the states visiting my family and broke the rule, hauling many goods back with me. I had become greedy and forgotten all the previous minimalist rules that made my life so much easier. When I returned, I realized that not only had my greediest caused our house to become slightly overrun with toys, I was wasting my valuable time picking them up. I could be spending that time with my family, but instead, every weekend I spent picking up…over and over again. It was like a replay of my past life.
Here in Bogota material things are very expensive, but help is quite cheap. I had hired a wonderful woman to help me with my daily household chores and as I was quickly turning spoiled, I also realized that by not being “hands-on” with our stuff, I had lost connection with what and how much we had. I had read about families struggling with excess amounts of stuff and why they wanted to have less, but I found that most blogs and books that I read didn’t tell me how to decided what to keep and what to toss. Fortunately, I found it a lot easier to get rid of toys as there were many needy children living in Bogota. There’s a different between needy children in the United States and needy children in Colombia. Sure, we’ve all read about it and seen news reports, but it’s nothing like seeing children working the streets in dirty clothes. At Christmas, the Catholic Church that I was attending, asked that each child give Santa, who had happened to come visit us during our potluck, a present for a Colombian child. We gave three small boxes and then I secretly gave an additional four small ones. I didn’t want the other families to see because I felt slightly embarrassed that we had so many boxes, but I really wanted those children to have toys to play with. I was happy to think of the toys actually being played by the children (hopefully) and wondered if the parents weren’t cursing me for now littering the floor of their hut! Maybe their children would respect their toys and not scatter them all over for someone to step on and break. Or maybe it’s universal, no matter how rich or poor a child is, to scatter toys everywhere.
(next post talks about HOW to become a minimalist with children, really!)

An On-going Attempt to Becoming a Minimalist…with Kids! (part 2)

My husband and I differ in our ideas of what childhood toys should be. I’m thinking kiddie pools for wading in, sand boxes to dig in, chalk to draw with, and perhaps little people for a house to play in. My husband, on the other hand, is thinking Play Mobile (something that’s really fun to look at!), Legos, GI Joe figures, Barbie’s, and basically, anything that has little tiny pieces to it that can get scattered all over the house. We’re both working from our childhood memories except now we’re both parents and one of us escapes pick-up time by working at an office. Actually, even when I worked in an office at various times over the last 14 years that I have been a mother, I still come home to pick up and sort the toys. My husband would argue and say that he does the same, but it is impossible that he has spent the last 7000 days of his life picking up and sorting little toys as I was the one there and believe me, no one was with me. No one. The kids scatter and disappear. It’s really fun to look at toys in the catalogue and in the stores, to rip open the boxes, and to play with the toys for an hour (or if you are my son, for 20 minutes). No child really likes putting away those toys afterwards. Why put it anywhere but where you are playing with it? That’s a grownup concept and just doesn’t make sense. If you put it away, you have to start over the next day setting up the stage to continue where you left off with the story. Granted, you start to feel bored with that story so you move onto something else and pretty soon, you’re going to have to climb over the mountain of toys to get to the door. Still, the thought of putting something away is miles ahead of your time.

I happen to know this is at least the way one kid thought. I was and am still notorious for not wanting to put away my projects that I am working on. I would rather leave my work out if I’m not finished as it takes longer to set up than to actually work on it and as I have acquired more kids, thus having less time, I have become more aware that to re-set up a project sucks up a great amount of time. I know my husband’s workbench reflects the same idea and so I can’t really expect my kids to be any different. Still, when crayons are stepped on and ground in the carpet and there isn’t a clear path to the bed, it’s time to rethink things.

In 1999 I had my first yard sale. Unfortunately, I also visited many yard sales and thrift stores. The concept for me at the time wasn’t having less, but having different things for my children. I thought this was the way that they would stay engaged with their toys. When I learned that different didn’t mean better, I started working on the idea of having less. At the time I didn’t know that there was such a thing as a minimalist and although there was a “green” movement, it wasn’t as “mainstream” as it is today. Now it seems like the popular thought is to brag about how small ones house is or how little one has in material things (or at least in some circles).

Every summer since 1999 I have had one yard sale. In 2007 we moved from Silver Spring, Maryland to Norfolk, Virginia. The two packers that came to our single family 2000 square foot house spent the entire day packing. As evening slipped in, we opened the attic. I was shocked to find yet another room packed with more items. I knew that with two kids I needed to change my thinking. Even if we were going to have more kids, we needed to stop keeping stuff for that next baby, assuming we were going to have one. In 2008 I had a mega yard sale, then packed up most of our stuff, squeezed it into a storage unit, and downsized our living quarters to 500 square feet for 6 months. Two dogs, two cats, and two kids shared this space with me while my husband worked overseas. It was tight and quite the learning experience. Everything had to have its home. Just before my husband returned, we moved into a 1200 square foot home where we had yet another yard sale before we moved in. We lived there for another year.

Our 3rd child was born there and although it was a little tight, I was the happiest. No longer did I spend my spare moments cleaning and picking up a huge home. Without the extra space, I was forced to rethink of what we spent our money on as well as what could come into the house. It was the best time for me as I saw more of my kids, spent more quality time with them, and just wandered through life enjoying the simplest of moments. We painted. We played in the rain. We dug in the sand box. We swung on the tire swing. We went hunting for dandelions. We played with the dog. Even my husband sometimes joined in this fun when he wasn’t at work or watching his television shows. I walked to work. We walked to the library. We walked to the park. Life had become about moments, not materialism.

An On-going Attempt to Becoming a Minimalist…with Kids! (part 1)

I have been a Mom for 14 and ½ years. I have lived as a gypsy, by choice, moving with my husband many times. We have travelled from the West to the East, North and then the South of the United States. With all the moving, I would like to label myself as a minimalist, but it wasn’t until we have lived in Bogota, Colombia that I am really attempting to change our family habits. It wasn’t the size of our quarters; we live in the largest home ever. I’m just tired of spending hours picking up and putting away our children’s toys (or fighting with them about doing it); now that we’re on our 4th child I know that if I don’t do something a little different, my life will continue to be like this for at least the next 10 years.

In 1997, our first child was born. She was the first grandchild for both sides of the family so it was natural that every holiday possible, a new gift or treat was given to her. To make matters worse, we lived out of town so every time we came into town, at least one new present was awarded to her. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings so I kept the toys and stuffed animals. By her first birthday, our daughter barely had room anymore for her bed and changing table on account of baskets and baskets of toys. When she was 4 years old, we decided to move her toys to the basement to make one big play room. Yet where was my daughter happiest? At the park, riding her bike, walking around the lake, or playing on the playground. In the house, it was with the (educational) computer games, painting a picture, or cooking and singing with me. She also loved having friends over and it was about imaginary play, not playing with toys to make imaginary stories. She did play for hours with her toy animals for a few years, but all the other toys sat collecting dust.

I assumed that all kids had their favourite toys, but quickly found out that this was not the case. When my son came along, I was quickly taught that toys were only good for throwing all over the floor. When I do see my son play with toys, I stop and stare as it’s so unusual to see. My son would rather play gymnastics, ride his bike, play futbol, jump on the trampoline, paint, play on the computer, and swim than play with his toys; they sit in his room taking up space. Sure, there were a few favourite toys that he played with when he was younger, but in the last 12 months I can think of only a dozen times where he’s played with his toys, old or new. Fortunately, some of the toys are now being used by his little sister. Again, I see the same pattern. It’s more about the moment which may include scattering the toys all over the bedroom and family room. Tonight I tried picking up the toys that she had dumped all over our living room and my youngest let me know in a heartbeat that it was not acceptable to put them back in the bin. She’s not even 2 years old and already she knows that toys belong all over the floor, not in a basket, even if she’s moved onto another activity.