deniseerlanger

Eff You iPhone

Today is a big day! It is November 1th, 2017! Not only is it game 7 of the World Series, and arguably the beginning of the holidays, it is also my first day of freedom…I have fulfilled my phone contract! Two years without an upgrade, crack or malfunction! THE SAME PHONE FOR TWO YEARS (this is particularly commendable because I have two toddlers and gravity). Now what? Well, since my phone was officially paid off yesterday, naturally I want to get into debt with a new one (God Bless America). Which phone do I get?

I have a very dysfunctional relationship with iPhones, and broke-up with them for good 9 years ago! It has been one hell of a run since then. I have had 5 phones since parting ways with Apple and only ONE cracked screen. You know what else? They all still work! I could fire up any one of those phones right now and look at texts circa 2008 (not that I want to, I’m not proud of my 20’s). One of those five phones was stolen, so someone scored. If I could display a GIF to represent my relationship with the phone manufacturer I am loyal to, it would be me, on a sunny day, frolicking through a meadow of flowers, taking selfies with my HTC (picture it). Yes, HTC. I haven’t figured out how, but I’m sure the “HTC” must somehow be a highly technical acronym for INDESTRUCTIBLE PHONE. I could go on, and on, about the adventures that my phone and I have been on and all the times it should not have survived, but somehow it has prevailed. It is an impressive machine, like all the other HTCs I owned before it.

You’re probably thinking ‘if you love your phone so much, just keep it.’ The market has spoken, and it told me that if I ever want to have a case that both protects my phone and expresses my personal style, that I must succumb to the iPhone (again). Yeah, Otterboxes and Speck cases are practical and do a great job of protecting phones, but I’m a girl and I want a sparkly case or one with a peace sign, or a saying about Champagne (or just the word “champagne”) or all-of-the-above and I can change it depending on my mood or outfit. Also, the convenience of being able to “airdrop” photos to/from the iPhone users in my house is hard to pass up. Another big draw: being able to charge my phone ANYWHERE! Everywhere you go, you know someone has an iPhone charger (they’re lying if they say they don’t).

There is a good chance you have, and love, an iPhone and you have been wondering what my beef with Apple is. Apple and I definitely got off on the wrong foot. Back in high school, our school was equipped with Macs (never trust technology that relies so heavily on paperclips). Like every 90’s kid, my printer would run out of ink every time I printed something at home. No big deal; I could print it at school. WRONG! My floppy disc was formatted for a PC, not a Mac. The struggle was real. If I was able to recover a file from my home computer, the margins were always wonky, the fonts were different and my mandatory 5 page essay was suddenly only 4.5 (so I could probably blame Apple for only having a 2.3 GPA in high school).

Eventually, I got over my Apple resentment enough to be one of those people who got THE first iPhone, the day it came out (June 29, 2007 according to Google). Like originally came out. It was like my 15 minutes of fame! People were in awe of the sleek design, touch screen and appleness of it. I actually had people ask me just to see it because they wanted to see what they were like in real life. “Be careful,” I cautioned as I handed it over reluctantly. The first 8 days were great. It was so intuitive! I had my music on my phone, I was taking great pictures…then the bottom half of the phone mysteriously stopped working. My phone was deemed defective and replaced free-of-charge. Soon after getting my replacement phone, the screen cracked. I replaced that phone with another iPhone that proved to be defective within a couple of weeks. The next iPhone fell off my bed, and straight into a glass of water I had on the floor (that was some bad luck and I still don’t understand how it happened). My cycle of breaking phones and replacing them with defective phones went on for less than two years. In that short period of time, I had 7 iPhones! The last one had a screen that was so shattered, talking on it made my ear bleed (talk about codependency)! I finally parted with it when I dropped it, shattered-screen-down, into a tuna poke salad. Rather than try to pick all of the raw tuna out of my cracks, I finally walked away from iPhones (and bloody ears) for good. and never looked back…until now.

I was all-in with Apple at one point (so was everyone else according to their soaring stock performance)! I bought a giant iMac which I had equally bad luck with and kept having to awkwardly haul it into the mall, to the Apple store, where it would get sent away for weeks at a time. My trusty iPod from 2005 is still going strong though, and I would run into a burning building to save it. Other than my trusty iPod, I have a really toxic relationship with Apple products. Don’t even get me started on iPads.

More recently, I have taken issue with the size of phones now. I think Apple is to blame for the giant phone trend. I have uncorrected, terrible vision so I would be a great candidate for a giant phone, but I like to keep my phone in my pocket, and my pockets aren’t that big. I recognize the practicality of a fanny-pack, I don’t think one should be necessary for me to keep my phone within reach. Once at a restaurant, I noticed someone whose phone was so big (because they always end up on the table) that there wasn’t enough room in front of him for a plate! If I have to choose between phone or food, it’s going to be food everytime (that probably makes me weird).

Quite possibly my biggest issue with iPhones is that everyone has them (and the screen cracking thing), and I don’t like having the same things as everyone else. I like to feel special and unique (like I did on June 29, 2007). Maybe I can feel special when I can actually get a snazzy phone case.

I don’t know the history on why the company is named Apple, but I can’t help but think of the Garden of Eden, and nothing good happened to Adam and Eve after their apple debacle either.

What I Didn’t know About Being A “Stay at Home Mom”

I must confess, it has barely been two weeks since I quit working (mostly), but the last two weeks have been filled with epiphanies! I’m still a rookie SAHM, but hoping to be promoted to “executive” soon!

Prior to two weeks ago, I was addicted to work–more specifically I was addicted to the result of work: MONEY. If I was not at work, that meant I wasn’t making money. Not making money was terrifying for me. I never let myself truly relax; the line between relaxing and complacency became so blurred. I felt guilty if I wasn’t being productive and, for me, productivity was measured in dolla’ dolla’ bills (I’m a Taurus, I’m programmed that way).

Not working always seemed nutty to me! In 1995, I combined the (limited) powers of a scanner, typewriter and HP Desk Jet to change my birth year on my birth certificate so I could get my first job. A year later I was working two jobs and loved getting two paychecks even though school became less of a priority (I didn’t get paid to go to school after all). Since then I have tried to juggle two, full-time jobs, whenever possible. When I had my first daughter, I went to work on Wednesday, went straight from work to the hospital to be induced, gave birth Thursday, and was back at work on Monday (to be young again). With my second child, I worked past my due date until finally calling in and telling my boss “If you don’t need me to come in, I should probably take the day off because I’m contractions.” I was back at work ten days later. I allowed myself a full four weeks off with my youngest. I couldn’t wait to get back to work to replenish my bank account and have some “adult time.” I have always made work a priority.

My job wasn’t an important one. I wasn’t saving lives or changing the world. I did not have to work much, was paid well and thought I had a great work-life balance. What more could a person ask for? I can tell you what I really felt I was missing: obviously, precious time with my loved ones. I think I was subscribing to the “absence makes the heart grow fonder” approach with my family. In retrospect, that sounds crazy! Another thing I was missing was a sense of purpose or accomplishment (this may be unique to the nature of my work). It chipped away at my psyche, and eventually, I began losing sight of who I was, what I wanted and what was important. Will staying home be the answer? I will let you know!

I knew staying home would be harder than going to work. Maybe that is why I continued to cling on to my job for so long. I eventually realized that my reasons for continuing to work (when it was no longer a financial necessity) were selfish. Everyone in my family had so much to benefit from me being present and giving them the kind of support they really needed. I had no idea how good it would be. Here are some of the highlights, so far, about SAHM life:

I don’t feel guilty about not working. My life feels so balanced now. Looking back, I feel guilty for not making this decision sooner. I realize now that work was getting the best version of me and my family was getting the left-overs. When I was done with work I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I had been talking to people all day. My job left me drained. I put on a good show at work and had nothing left for the people who truly mattered. I was too drained to play with my kids, have a conversation with my husband, or help my teenager with homework.
It looks good on me. Not only do I have more time to focus on my family, but I have more time for self-care. As a busy mom, I have not been able to justify, or find time for, even the slightest indulgence. I don’t even get to use the toilet without an audience. Showering usually comes with a sacrifice relative to the duration of the shower. Within three minutes my kids can scatter an entire package of baby wipes. Five and you can add them emptying out their dressers. Eight means they have probably helped themselves to a snack. Anything beyond that, expect some sort of disaster in the bathroom (the possibilities are limitless there).
Our marriage has gotten stronger. We are no longer living parallel lives under the same roof. Our lives are so much more intertwined than they used to be. We communicate better (now that I’m available) and as I result I don’t expect him to read my mind and get resentful and frustrated if he can’t. More than ever, I want to set him up for success in every way. I feel like we are more of a team now working together for a common goal instead of chasing individual victories.
It is much less stressful. This may seem obvious, but it is not in the way that I expected. I thought “I will have so much to do. I’m still going to be so busy even though I won’t be ‘working.'” This is true, yes. It is different now. I don’t sit in my living room, getting anxious as I look around at all the unfinished projects and the growing to-do list, knowing that I never have the time or energy to tackle a new project, or finish one I had already started (that day when I had too much Pinterest and coffee). Now there is hope. My to-do list is still there, but it isn’t this unachievable, scary thing looming over me. It is filled with promise and that anticipated feeling of accomplishment that I have been yearning for.
My house is still a mess. With two young children I never had any delusions about this, but like my to-do list, my messy house is not as daunting as it was when I would come home from work. Now I hope to get to it tomorrow instead of thinking “how much worse is this going to be by the time I get home tomorrow.” Tasks are more manageable than they were two weeks ago.
I need to keep a calendar. Not just because I forget what day of the week it is. Before, my schedule was set five days a week. I got used to not being able to make plans because I had to work. Now, when someone sends me an invitation, I can finally say “yes,” but I’m losing track of how often, to who and when! It really is a great problem to have!
I like my kids! Of course, I love them more than anything, but I was used to them in small doses and had no idea what to expect from total immersion. As it turns out, they behave a little better when they aren’t fighting over my attention with limited time.

I feel like I’m finally living, and before I was just working. My days off were filled with trying to recuperate from work and prepare for work. I never felt fully engaged with what was happening at home, because home seemed like a temporary place where I existed when I wasn’t working. My job, unfortunately, became a priority over what is actually important. At times, work felt safe and predictable, and it even began to feel permanent.

I know so many amazing working moms that seem to have mastered it. They can work, be available for their kids, run marathons, have a social life, volunteer, bake, all while looking beautiful and not letting their house look like a crime scene. I don’t know how they do it (without hard drugs)! For me, I couldn’t juggle it all. I take so many herbal supplements and still don’t have the energy to accomplish 10% of what some of my (superhero-mom) friends do! You know who you are and you amaze me!

Committing to be a SAHM is not an easy decision, and is not possible for every situation and phase of life. I’m not confident that I will be able to resist those dolla’dolla’ bills for long. For now, I am enjoying this time with my family and keeping my options open. I know staying at home is not all “kittens and rainbows,” (clearly, I’m still in the honeymoon phase) but I’m enjoying this season more than I ever expected to. I don’t know what is ahead, but I have a new perspective on what is important and meaningful and I hope to remember this.

Who Doesn’t Like Playing Doctor?

I haven’t been staying up-to-date on my blogging lately. The truth is: every moment of “screen time” I have had, has been spent on Web MD. I never have “normal” health problems. They’re usually a bit of a mystery to everyone, including doctors. Sounds exotic, right?

Don’t worry! I’m probably not dying (Probably), but the internet sure has me thinking I am! Doctors should have an entirely new form for you to fill out. This form will ask you what kind of research you have done on your condition, and what you determined from it (then, these should be collected and made into a hilarious book). It will save you from having to tell the doctor “I saw on the internet…” (and spare them the eye-roll after hearing that for the millionth time).

Even though we are in a time of instant information and instant gratification, blood work still takes a week! Waiting for test results leaves me so much time to google my symptoms. Don’t do that. Ever. It’s like when I’m driving and using navigation, I occasionally deviate from its commands to see if “my way” gets me there quicker (not that I’m competitive). Unfortunately, there is no shortcut to getting a diagnosis. Not even Google.

My grandma was always sick. She too liked to play doctor. This was pre-internet, and instead of Web MD, she had a giant book (with great pictures) called a PDR, or Physician’s Desk Reference (sounds legit, right?). It was filled with descriptions of every disease, rash, medicine…hours of entertainment for curious children and sickly grandmas alike.

When my oldest daughter was born, the internet was still relatively new, slow and very limited. Google wasn’t even a thing yet! My pregnancy resources were: the book What to Expect When You’re Expecting, baby magazines, wise people like my grandma (and her PDR) and my actual doctor. I was uninformed and naive. It was wonderful! The only thing I worried about was that she might not be a girl like they predicted, and I’d have to take back all the dresses that were waiting for her (and the humiliation that goes along with having a boy who’s boy parts were mistaken for girl parts for five months). If I had questions or concerns, I picked up the phone and called my doctor (weird)!

I’ve had two more daughters since the Google revolution. This time I ditched the book and magazines and turned to the internet. It added so much stress and left me with more questions than answers, but I couldn’t help myself! I managed to have two more healthy daughters despite the internet suggesting that none of us would survive. You would think I have learned my lesson by now. Nope. Still Googling. Still worrying. Isn’t it odd that more information just leaves us with more questions?! It is a strange and vicious cycle, especially when you’re concerned about your health.

Luckily for every disease the internet can help you “self-diagnose,” it also has about 10 cures to guide you to (so I’ve got that going for me). If I go silent for an extended period of time, you can probably find me in the forest foraging roots, plants and fungi to create a life-saving tincture that I read about on the internet.

My Love Letter to HGTV

Dear HGTV,

First, THANK YOU! Not only for entertaining your widespread audience (that includes, I don’t know, EVERY DEMOGRAPHIC) but for making America think they have what it takes to “take on a fixer-upper.”

Because of you, I scour real estate sites (hourly) looking for THE diamond in the rough. Should be easy. All I want is a unique home (mid-century modern please), with a nice fenced yard, privacy, in a good neighborhood with an en-suite and most importantly AN OPEN FLOOR PLAN! Have you ever heard someone say they didn’t want an open floor plan? Remember, it has to be good for entertaining (#dinnerparty)!

Watching HGTV has taught me that if I can’t find all my must-haves in a real-life house (that actually exists), I can find a dump, and turn it into my dream house. All I need to do is take down some walls (as long as they’re not load-bearing, duh), tear up the carpet revealing the original hardwoods that only need a little TLC, paint the cabinets, add new hardware and new light fixtures and voila (#dreamhouse)!

I know, I know, it’s not that simple. I am bound to run into a couple hiccups along the way. Inevitable complications like asbestos, mold, electrical or plumbing may mean sacrificing the expansion of the master bathroom, adding a pergola in the backyard, or putting the kibosh on husband’s man cave. Safety first!

Years ago my parents bought a fixer-upper (I don’t know if they actually used the term “fixer-upper” in 1999). The project got bigger, and bigger, and eventually took on a life of its own. The problems along the way were huge and expensive. It took years. They didn’t have Chip and Joanna by their side. You see, HGTV, you were still in your awkward phase. You were still trying to find your identity (and an audience). For the most part, your programs were, well, boring. My parents didn’t have the shows that we have today. They had Bob Vila. Their only resources were their contractor and the helpful folks at Home Depot (who they were on a first-name-basis with). There wasn’t a relatable, TV version of themselves going through something similar to give them comfort, hope, and inspiration.

Anyone who had the courage to remodel a house pre-HGTV “glory days” was a pioneer. A true hero. A visionary (or a crazy masochist who just loved spending money). It’s different now; thanks to you. Now there is probably an app that will do it all for you (please tell me that is a real thing).

When I embark on my home buying and remodling adventure I will be armed with the courage, knowledge, and comps that you have provided me with (let’s not forget to give Pinterest some cred).

It may sound like I’m mocking you. Au contraire! The cojones I have (and the expertise) for taking on an ambitious project could not have come from anywhere other than HGTV. Because of you, I will have my dream home, and for this, I love you (until I’m actually in the midst of a remodel, then there will be so many obscenities raining down on you that you may want to keep an umbrella handy). If it weren’t for you, homebuyers would be settling for cookie cutter homes, lacking in character and soul. As a result of the inspiration you provide, the bulldozers spare countless homes, with life left in them, so a new generation can put roots there. That is why I love you! Keep up the good work HGTV!

The Curse of Being Awesome

No, this isn’t me bragging (this time). Everyone is AWESOME AT SOMETHING! That one thing (or more) that you seem to be an expert at, your gift, can also be a burden.

If you happen to be a good cook, you will be expected to cook all the time and do it to perfection. If you’re always well dressed and appear “polished,” then you may set a personal standard of looking dapper or glamorous (Jackie O never looked like a schlep). Someone might not even recognize you in grubby clothes. Standards come with expectations. See where I’m going with this?

I have a funny friend, like, an actual stand-up comedian. One day he walked in, sat down and did something he had never done before; he started telling us a sad story about something he had just witnessed (I will spare you the details). Expecting it to be a joke, like usual, we engaged! We leaned in eagerly, grinning ear-to-ear and nodding, waiting for the punch line. He delivered the final, unpleasant, details. “Then what?” we asked in anticipation. He was being serious, and we were all confused! He didn’t understand our lack of sympathy, or why he wasn’t being taken seriously, and we were still trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Awkward!

I guess we all get type-cast into real life roles. Just like Anthony Michael Hall couldn’t do an action movie in the 80’s, my friend couldn’t deliver a sad story without confusing his audience.

There are a few approaches you can take with your predictable identity (I think I have explored them all subconsciously): you could work to change it (that sounds too hard and it’s the option I have the least experience with). You can embrace your role, be a star, and recognize the pressure that comes with performing at a high-level. Or be an underachiever. Set that bar so fricking low that you can step over it, blindfolded. I don’t endorse this, but I can appreciate it.

A little-known fact about me: when I was in second grade, they considered having me skip the third and fourth grade (but I lived in Canada so they called it “grade 3” and “grade 4”). To those of you who know me personally, this may come as a shock to you. I have several theories about why the school administration thought this was a good idea: 1) The principal had a huge crush on my hot mom 2) Canada 3) I was the only non-Catholic kid at a Catholic school and they couldn’t figure out what to do with me 4) I was working at a “grade 5 level” because my brain has been stuck there my whole life. I’m a perma fifth grader! After fifth grade, it was all down hill. Ultimately, I stayed with the kids my age because they were concerned about my social development (little did they know).

Fast forward to junior high and high school. Every single grade, on every single report card, was accompanied by the comment “does not work up to potential.” As a parent, I can see how this must have been the most frustrating thing to read over, and over (sorry Mom and Dad). 13-year-old me thought this sounded great! Not only did they think I was smart, they believed I had potential that I could tap into if I ever wanted to “apply myself.” I’m still not working at my potential BTW.

My immature brain could not acknowledge that I was simply sabotaging myself. Why would I deliberately underachieve (it’s not like I enjoyed being grounded all the time)? It did not make any sense. Now it does. Turns out that maybe mini-Denise was onto something, and predicted the expectations that would accompany good grades. I’d have to do it all the time! Being mediocre was so much easier (until I had to make up for years of slacking so I could get into college).

Despite my less than stellar grades until college, I matured, and I thrived. I became the expert of many things among my peers. I’m still the “go-to” for so many people, for so many things. People trust me. While it’s a compliment, and I love that they hold me in such high regard, it comes with a great deal of (self-induced) pressure. Each product or performance has to be better than the last. That is just how I roll. People know it and they count on me to “go big or go home.” This makes my new endeavor, as a blogger, particularly daunting.

I’m an all or nothing kind of gal; like, if I can’t do it well, I don’t do it at all. Being good at things seems to come with an irrational fear of failure (seems backward). If I don’t think I can do something well, I put it off, make excuses, and hesitate to admit that my procrastination is driven by fear.

Since starting this blog, I have been overwhelmed with the kindness and encouragement of my friends, and even strangers. They keep telling me I’m a good writer. It is such an overwhelming compliment since I’m making myself vulnerable, and exploring something new. While I’m not sure if they’re just being kind, or if I’m actually doing a good job (I’m not digging for compliments here), but if I am, that scares the crap out of me. I don’t know which is more frightening: failure, or the pressure of success.

I’m here to encourage you to strive for awesomeness! If you need a cheerleader, I’ll be all like “Ra-ra-shish-kebab” and high-fives. Sometimes you just want to know that there are people that can relate to you, and to your struggles. Even when you are just struggling with the curse of being awesome. This is normal…right?

Haters Gonna Hate

Only a few days into this journey, and it happened…my first hater! I did not see this coming at all! My intention (for now) is to keep things light, and I had no idea that anything I said could have offended anyone.

I was riding high on an endorphin rush from a super intense workout at Cyclebar, when I looked at my phone in shock! I saw a misguided, and baseless, rant from a grumpy-old-man directed at me! My first thought “I’m doing something right! I got my first hater!”

I spent the half hour drive home from Cyclebar crafting responses to his negative remarks! Some were witty, some I took the “kill ’em with kindness” (aka: the high road) approach, and others I just sank to his level (but better). They were pretty clever, and calculated, which made me think that messing with a fledgling wordsmith (like myself) is a huge mistake.

I refrained from jumping in the ring with this guy. I was flattered that a dear friend of mine had already shut him down. While I was oddly delighted about the idea of having a “hater,” (I had no idea that I had the power to provoke anyone) he deleted his comments by the time I got home (’cause he was a coward).

This was an indication of the power of words. Also, a realization that having a voice could make me the target of judgement, criticism and hate. I was reminded how people are capable of behaving when they are “pseudo-anonymous,” and hiding behind their screens. Would he have said those things to my face? I doubt it.

I’m not a fragile person (at least not right now), so it was easy for me to dismiss. Please remember to be kind to everyone because you don’t know their story, their struggles or if they are going through a difficult season in their life. Words are impactful so please use them responsibly (exceptions are made for when you’re driving–the people in the other cars can’t hear you; don’t worry).

If you are the target of a hater, I have a whole array of responses in my pocket that I didn’t get to use, that I would be happy to put to use. Good words should not go to waste.

I’m Basically Your Grandma

I may not look like your Grandma, but put me in front of a computer or smart phone and you won’t be able to tell us apart.

I’m a very tactile person and I like THINGS. Real life things I can see, touch, smell. This is why I don’t trust “the cloud!” I like my things to be in my hand, pocket, purse you get the idea. You know when you have that panicky moment where you think you lost your keys and you frantically start touching yourself like a weirdo, hoping they’re in one of your pockets (they should really re-think where they put pockets on clothes). A pat on the booty reveals they were in your back pocket all along, and you sigh in relief. The cloud gives me a constant “I just lost my keys feeling.” That is a shitty feeling.

Now the cloud may be a lot for people to wrap their heads around. My disconnect with technology is much more that my trust issues with the cloud. I still prefer taking pen to paper over (*insert preferred writing substitute that I don’t even know exists here). ACTUALLY writing things gives me a chance to show off my penmanship; it is a thing of beauty. I like good old fashioned punch cards over putting my number into the IPad being used as a register. My car has way too many buttons and I don’t even get me started on remote controls. I don’t think our TV’s even have buttons anymore. Luckily I never change the channel (HGTV 24/7). If they do have buttons, I can’t find them. I’m definitely sounding like your grandma now. When I’m trying to checkout at the store I never know whether to swipe, tap or insert (now it just sounds like I’m talkin’ dirty). You get the idea…

Technology has removed so much surprise from our lives. How can we stay on our toes when we know who is calling, we can see who is ringing our doorbell, we get an alert about our package deliveries, know without doubt the sex of our babies soon after conception, etc. (this is all coming from a person who claims to not like surprises). I guess I kind of miss the anticipation of checking the mail, answering the phone or opening the door. We have gotten lazy because of this too. I don’t answer my phone or door when I don’t want to, and I go days without checking the mail because I already know what’s in there. I appreciate all these conveniences, don’t get me wrong, but I also miss the days when things weren’t so simple (which are ironically referred to as “simpler times”).

I pride myself on being a part the generation that used rotary phones, type writers, record players then mastered the technology we have today. We didn’t grow up with it; it grew up with us. Somewhere along the way they started making technology “easier” and accessible to everyone, including grandma. Maybe this is where they lost me. Simple has never been my thing. I like to think that I couldn’t just dumb-down my big, giant brain enough to operate a smart phone efficiently (I’m pretty sure they have even trained animals to do it). Put me back on Windows ’98 and I can show you all kinds of “cool tricks.” Now, it takes me 20 seconds to pull up an app on my phone. I like to play it off as being cute and charming #totesadorbs. Not sure if it is working or not. The good news is: I feel less “addicted” to technology than most of my peers. The bad news is: I’m trying to do this blogging thing, and it turns out it requires me to be more technical than I was prepared for. I really want to get this right, and it is not as simple as just being witty and hitting the “publish” button. I won’t bore you with the details (I couldn’t if I tried because it is pretty much a foreign language to me), but this is more of a challenge than I expected. I hope I’m making it look easy! If so, I’m #winning.

Confessions of an Instagram Failure

To be blunt: I SUCK AT TAKING PICTURES! In every way someone can fail at taking pictures, I do. If I even remember to take them; they’re not good. Someone can be standing right next to me, photographing the same thing and theirs will look like it was taken with an IPhone from the future, then was professionally edited and has a filter. Mine? Mine looks like a child took it with a flip phone circa 2005.

You see the “Pinterest fails” all the time and they’re hilarious! That’s not me though. I make Pinterest my bitch! If Joan Jett, Martha Stewart and Twiggy had a baby, that baby would be me (please don’t get hung up on the technicalities of this. Imagine it’s possible)! I know my way around a kitchen, I practically have a degree in making things look pretty and have my own power tools to refinish furniture (#legit). I’m not modest, so I’m comfortable declaring that I am a creative perfectionist. Unfortunately, most of the world will never know about my talents. When I try to take a picture of my accomplishments, there is no filter that will reverse how butchered they have been in my attempts to capture them. It is a shame.

I have friends/people I follow that make their stuff look amazing! I am starting to catch on that much of it is staged. Cinnamon doesn’t just naturally fall onto the counter in a paisley shape, unclumsily sprinkled with goji berries and chia seeds. I’m on to you beautiful Instagramers! Even though I see your tricks, it still makes me feel inadequate because I’m not capable of fake. Even if I was, it would still look shitty in the picture I took of it.

IMAG3140 Then there are the kid pictures! I love the kid pictures! Seeing your kids is the only reason I go on social media. But, I can’t help but wonder: are those pictures fake too? Are their cute little faces superimposed onto mannequin bodies to make them look like their standing still, or do other people’s kids actually stand still for pictures? Mine don’t. Even the best photographers can’t get a good picture while there chasing a moving target…and I mean CHASING! Any picture of my kids is blurry, unless they’re sleeping. And getting two of them in a picture together (I have 3 kids BTW, but don’t even attempt to sync up all 3 at once)? Forget about it. They’re running, I’m running, my purse is laying in the middle of the road and they are throwing their shoes at me. I give up!

Thank goodness for professional photos (otherwise I can’t imagine what our Christmas cards would look like).

Hey Honey, I’m Going to Quit My Job and Start a Blog

…The phrase every spouse dreads…

Let me tell you a little bit about me. I have always worked really hard and I have always had expensive taste. To me, these things go hand-in-hand. I never wanted anyone to have to “foot the bill” for my shopping habits. I never wanted to feel like I had to justify my purchases, or feel guilty for liking what I like. For me, wanting nice things meant I had to work to get them. In the end, I felt good about what I had knowing that I had earned it. This goes back as far as I can remember.

I attribute my indulgent nature to being a Taurus (I have no control over when my birthday is). My parents are also to blame; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all. In my case, you don’t even have to choose between nature or nurture; either way I’m screwed.

While I inherited my parent’s “champagne taste,” they also bestowed upon me a strong work ethic. They were vocal about their concerns that I would be lazy if they handed me everything, and always made it known that their generosity came with an expiration date (my 18th birthday) and sometimes strings attached. They made me work for everything, even it the task was feeble relative to the reward (I once had to get my dad a glass of milk for a pair of skis. Clearly the principle was more important than the size of the errand). I didn’t mind work. I preferred working, over the feeling that I “owed” someone something in return. Working was easier than having a feeling of debt looming over me.

I remember for my senior prom, I absolutely dreaded the idea of another girl having the same dress as me. My solution? Buying the most expensive dress I could find (it worked BTW). This is what I like to call “Denise logic,” and I certainly didn’t expect my parents to understand my reasoning (even though if anyone would understand it would be them. Remember the apple and the tree thing). So I worked hard to pay for that dress and never even considered asking my parents to help me buy it. This mindset continued to manifest into a another “Denise logic”: the more I work, the more I can buy. So I worked A LOT. Every chance I got, I worked. Having free time made me feel guilty, uncomfortable and unproductive. I have forgotten how to relax, and in my down time, my thoughts are consumed by what I should be doing (to the point of anxiety). Pretty sure this isn’t healthy.

Now here I am, trying to slow down, for the first time in my life. It’s not at all what I imagined when I would joke about wanting a “sugar daddy.” Can I relinquish my financial Independence in exchange for time with my family and a better quality of life? Seems like it should be an easy decision right? Wrong. This is not a new problem. I’m sure every person that has made the decision to stay home with their family has felt all the feels that I’m feeling right now. This won’t put a financial strain in our family, but not only will I have to think twice about buying my next pair of shoes, I may have to ask permission. Something I have never done before. It’s time for me to step back and and let my husband take the lead, celebrate his success, ease his stress and be available to give my family the support it needs. In theory, this seems like it should be simple. Maybe for some people it is, but I will need to be reprogrammed. My life has turned into a cycle of: work, earn, indulge. This has become a vicious cycle and my priorities are all out of whack.

I have been clinging to a job that wasn’t meaningful because I thought that if I let go of it, I would lose some independence and some of my identity. The truth is: I will. But I will gain so much more by investing energy into building up my husband’s career and spending quality time with my family. My “money to buy shoes job” has cost us so much over the years. My husband and I have been “ships passing in the night” with opposite schedules. The schedule I once thought was ideal because my children would always have one parent at home also meant I missed experiencing dinner as a family, being more involved with my community, date nights, holiday parties, sporting events. My kids missed having me home to help with homework, take them to dance, outdoor movie nights, bedtime stories…I could go on forever.

When we were in a time of transition, and husband was just launching his new career, I had to work. I am done missing out when it is no longer necessary. All of this is “much easier said than done,” and a problem I am really blessed to have. I am going to try to embrace being the “realtor’s wife.” Hopefully my shoe collection will continue to grow (if you know of anyone looking for a realtor-send them our way).

I Guess I’m a Blogger Now

When I was a kid, I never said “I want to be a blogger when I grow up.” It has taken years of people telling me a should start a blog, getting stuck in a career rut, and a supportive husband for me to do this. Not to mention that when I was a kid, the internet wasn’t even a thing yet. I have basically had a blog in my head forever, and am now working up the courage to share it with the world. I will turn the appropriate portion of my inner monologue into content that will amuse, enlighten, and inspire. Since I’m limiting myself to what is “appropriate,” I hope to have something to write about…

One of the reasons it took me so long to start this, is I had no idea what to write about! My passions include: family, health, fitness and fashion…like EVERYONE else who has a blog! Those topics are well represented and I didn’t want to step on any toes ;).

As the wife of a realtor, I consider myself a “wannabe realtor.” I get more excited about my husband’s job than anyone who is actually in his profession. Being the spouse of a realtor gives me a unique perspective on Real Estate, and basically makes me an expert (I feel like I need some sort of sarcasm emoji or something I could use until you get to know me). I have also seen enough HGTV to be a pro on all things remodeling. Chip and Joanna are #GOALS. Being a “real estate professional by proxy,” and HGTV poser doesn’t polish up well on a resume. I could let my expertise go to waste, or I could start a blog.

I plan to write about this crazy housing market, marriage, kids, food, fashion, health and anything else that pops into my random brain that could be of value. I hope it will be somewhat cohesive, vaguely informative and undeniably hilarious (maybe I should rearrange those adjectives).

Full disclosure: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING (and I love parenthesis)! I hope to learn as I go (fingers crossed) and years from now, I will look back on this very post, and giggle in embarrassment at what an amateur I was. I also just realized BWI (Blogging while intoxicated) could be a thing, and I’m kind of worried about that. So, if I say anything that you don’t agree with, just assume I was drunk. If you notice a pattern, stage an intervention.