Stress Less: Tips and Tricks from A Flighty, Reactive Person

At one point today I was:

1. Recording minutes during a leadership meeting

2. Receiving texts stating my youngest needed to be treated with a ventilator at the doctor's office

3. Receiving texts stating my oldest was locked out and alone after arriving home from a half-day at school

4. Answering emails about a missing yellow folder that needed vital signatures

5. Responding to a request for assistance with an executive-level presentation needed yesterday

6. Trying to eat a salad covered in high-fat dressing

7. Attempting to ignore guilty feelings about said salad high-fat dressing

I got in the car about an hour past my normal commute time and as I sat in the consequential traffic, I ran through my mental task list. Tick, tick, tick....Yes, did it...yep, knocked that out...waiting on that....finally completed that...totally didn't do that...need to do that....completed that...dang I forgot about that....sigh.

Everyday. This is life, everyday. Go, go, go.....lists and calls and demands and pressure. It's not just me. Change a few words up there in that task list and you've got any person, on any given day, minus maybe that old guy from Up.

After a long day like today, I can think of nothing I'd like more than to relax. Unfortunately, it's not that easy for me. Most relaxation techniques just make me pass out like a narcoleptic.

Oh, read in bed! 

Yes! Oooo I've got this great book I....DEAD.

Take a long bath! 

How nice! Bubbles and....DEAD.

Get a massage! 

Ahh, that feels gre.....DEAD, DEAD. 

I guess it's ok to fall asleep...I mean, I wouldn't fall asleep if I didn't need the sleep, right? But I find myself bummed out about it later.....I don't want to pass out, I want to consciously have that time to decompress...knock some "me time" things off my list (yea...I've even got a list of to-dos for relaxation...I hate you Pinterest...I hate you so damn bad). 

I'm not one to categorize myself into a "fitness" person or a "crafter" (read more about why categories like this suck by clicking here). I'll try just about anything at least once. So I've explored a little, attempted a ton of different relaxation techniques, and tried to stay open to just about anything. What follows is a list of my favorite tricks; all of them keep me awake and completely distract me from the day's chaos:

The BodMan: Move your body in a way it's normally not moved. I'm not saying exercise.....although I do exercise, the very thought of it adds to my stress. Exercise has its place (specifically, the good feeling after you're DONE exercising has its place)..but that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm saying find something you don't always do, but can mindlessly execute...like wrestling a dog, dancing around your living room, sitting at a barstool without slouching, painting a wall, attempting something new with your hair (seriously, that makes your arms BURN!) moving some furniture around, tossing a frisbee, laying down with your feet up in the air...it doesn't matter what it is as long as it feels different and requires absolutely no thinking on your part. Sometimes I lie on my floor and check out what's under my couch. No jokes here, people.

The Task Killer: I have a list that literally haunts me....it's the "house" list. There's ALWAYS something to do around the house. Every now and then, I'll pick one to-do, and I'll actually do it. Moving boxes. It takes no mental effort and I feel good afterwards. Sweeping out the garage, stacking logs, picking weeds, wiping down windows....cleaning and organizing may not be fun, but it takes my mind off the insanity of my day and leaves me with one less item on my house list. I know it sounds crazy, but the next time you're overwhelmed, toss in a load of laundry and then wipe down the tops of the machines. Seriously.

The WalMart: People watching and clearance aisle. 'Nuff said. 

The Outside: This one is obvious, but important to mention. I'm not big on bugs, heat, or extreme cold. I do, however, like taking two minutes to step outside, breathe in some fresh air, and then come back inside. Sometimes just running down to the end of my driveway to grab the mail works. My latest trick? I planted some mums in my front yard. They're pretty and I like looking at them, so I will go outside and walk around, just looking at my flowers. It's not thrilling, but that's the point. I'm doing nothing. I like doing nothing. 

The Gamer: Video games are incredible because they allow you to escape. I love video games. I love them so much, I wrote a blog post about my favorite video games. Check it out by clicking here!

The Pandora: Ever feel like you should have a soundtrack? Me too. So I tried it out once. Turns out, your entire perspective changes with a lil bit of music. I grabbed my earbuds, put on my Florence and the Machine station on Pandora, and ate dinner with my music. It was crazy! My peas were like little green orbs of bouncing joy. I couldn't do it for too long...the fam was kinda getting creeped out by my spastic glares and shoulder shrugs. Nonetheless, it was a neat way to clear my head. Careful which channel you pick, though. Wouldn't want to go all emo.

The Big Bang Theory: Absolutely nothing on this show reminds me of my own life. Not a thing. Glorious. It is creative, funny, entertaining, and plays over and over on the one channel I get with my antenna. Other incredibly distancing shows include White Collar, Law and Order, and How I Met Your Mother. I know TV is not a creative suggestion, but it's a huge standby for me and I would be lying by omission if I didn't throw it in there. 

The next time you find yourself running through lists and wanting nothing more than to run away, try one of these techniques. If you hate it, you've lost nothing but a few minutes of your time. If you love it, you've gained an important tool in your stress-less kit.

Thanks for reading everyone and HAPPY FRIDAY!

Jen

Children vs Childless: Get Your Box Out of My Face

I've been wanting to write this post for a while and finally got the push I needed from a friend's Facebook status. She posted something similar to this:

If you're looking for a good punch in the face,

please remind me about how I don't

understand anything because I don't have children.

The writer? She's a teacher. Before teaching, she was a nanny. The girl knows kids. 

Now as a mom, I know there are certain elements of childcare you never fully grasp until you have a little rugrat of your own....midnight puke sessions....those small, teeny feet taking their first steps....the consuming, ferociously strong pull you get when watching them wave bye-bye. I could go on and on.

But my Facebook friend knows this. She even made mention of it in her post...admitted she may not fully grasp everything there is to know about raising kids....but she's certainly no idiot, either. 

So why is she being condemned? I'll tell you what I think....I think the person who said it shoved my friend into a box lined with flimsy stereotypes and bad experiences. 

Yes, some people are genuinely clueless when it comes to kids....but **hey hey!!** some of these people are also parents. We've seen the incredible actions of the world's worst parents....having kids doesn't mean you're instantly blessed with the complete guide on how to care for them. Any parent who denies this is plain lying...unless that parent has cared for 11 children...should you meet this parent treat them like the golden reservoir of holiness they are and send them directly to my house.

Some of the best parenting advice I've ever received has come from my best girlfriend.....who, no.big.deal, has no children. It's not about her birthing count, it's about her brain. 

The same can be said about a bunch of other boxes people try to shove us into.....wanna know a few of my favs?

Box 1
Southern Girl vs Northern Girl: I love country music, but can't stand those songs about country girls shakin it. I can shake it. What about me shakin it. I was born in Park Ridge, Illinois...can I still shake it? I get the whole "being proud of where you come from"... but shakin it? And looking cute in short shorts and plaid shirts? Hell, I can do that. Gimmie one.

Box 2
Working vs At-Home: Stop, just stop. There is nothing good about this box. I've done both, multiple times now, and it's different for everyone. I don't suck because I work and I don't suck because I don't want to work. I won't suck when I stop working and if I work again I won't suck then either. Enough with the "empowered people keep careers" and "working people don't care about family." It makes me sick. We are all people.

Box 3
Sons vs Daughters: Ooooo I can feel the sting in your eyes as you read this one! Very hot topic. I get it. Boys are different from girls. Raising them, therefore, can present unique challenges. I like to think every child presents unique challenges as every child is a completely different person, but if you'd like to place the bulk of the reasoning on gender, be my guest. Just don't shove me in that box and expect me to sit there quietly and take it. I will destroy that box...because I'm telling you what....parents are parents. Raising a child is challenging. Accept it at that and be compassionate. Tossing out isolating statements like, "you'll never understand, you don't have boys...." is completely nonconstructive and jacks me directly into defense mode.

Box 4
City vs Country: I live in a suburb. I would someday like to live in a place with land, fresh air, and plenty of room to roam. I also love heading into the city...I squeal like an idiot every time I see huge, tall buildings. I guess I don't belong in either box....I don't know how to drive a tractor and I have no idea how to ride an elevated train. Hey, but you know what? I betcha I could learn...just like a city person could learn how to live in the suburbs...and a country bumpkin could learn how to hail a taxi.

Now would they want to? Well, guys, that is the real question.

You see, at the heart of the box factory, there lies a fierce pride in who you are and what you stand for. You don't respond well to young punks running in and turning years worth of work into cheap, easily-attained knowledge....nor should you. Long-lived expertise deserves respect (remember that golden parent of 11??).

No, I'm not saying we should lessen the cornerstones of someone's identity and livelihood, further weakening a crumbling platform of social collaboration....nope. Not that.

I am saying, instead, that the experts should treat the inexperienced with kindness.

Hey, childless person who criticizes parents for "losing themselves" in their kids, be nice. Invite your parent friends to a park near their house. Ask them about their kids. Be a real person.

Hey, parent who criticizes childless people for "not knowing jack" about kids, be nice. Those people can be glorious fountains of unique ideas and perspective, not to mention a welcome escape from kid talk. Ask them about their weekend plans. Be a real person.

I am guilty as charged. This blog is called Flaws, Forgiven, right? Where would we be without a little lesson for Jen embedded in here....

I get impatient real quick. I deal with stupid, stupid people all the time who box me in and make me so mad, I could scream. I gotta get over it. I've found stupid people everywhere...with kids, without kids, with money, without money, friends, family, from all over the country. Ignorance needs to be pitied, nothing more. Maybe they'll someday understand, maybe not. Guess you could try and help them, if you can trust yourself not to kill them. I'm working on that one.

In general, however, you'll find the majority of the population is an expert in one or more things. Identify your expertise, but don't hold it above the heads of others. You never know what they are truly capable of. That city boy could be your best detassler. That choir girl might be a blast at the club. Your mom friends might be awesome at organizing large events and your non-mom friends might be awesome at chalk creations. Stop with the boxes and start giving the benefit of the doubt.

Ending note: The girl in these pictures, while not the Facebook poster I mentioned above, has also never had a baby. Notice...she seems to be doing just fine working her magic on mine... :) Have a great weekend everybody. 

Jen

jen@jenniferludwigsen.com

Concentrated Creativity

Diggin' For Rainbows

I went to my daughter's Curriculum Night last night. Her school hosts them every year, normally within the first week. It's a brief, informative event where parents squeeze into teeny little chairs and try to not act uncomfortable. The objective of the evening is to explore the learning goals for the year. We're introduced to lesson plans, given a snapshot of what a report card will look like, and told about the testing each kid will undergo at multiple points throughout the school year. It was nice and the teacher gave us some good info. 

Have you ever seen the movie Matilda? Remember Miss Honey? That's my daughter's teacher. She's the sweetest, nicest, most beautiful teacher I've ever met...very easy to talk to, highly communicative, and my kid is crazy about her.

Before I left for Curriculum Night, my big girl had suggested I take some time to explore and "look for the owls." She said the whole classroom was decorated in owls because her teacher thought they were all so wise:

It was really sweet. They really did have owls everywhere ~ an owl alphabet, owl cubbies, owl locker stickers...so cute. My favorite part of the whole night, however, was when I went looking for my kid's artwork on the wall. You see, it took me all of about two seconds to find my daughter's contributions. In every assignment she colored a rainbow.

I stood there, staring at how bright and bold and beautiful her little ice cream cone was, imagining her coloring it and using all the crayons in the box...taking the extra time to dig out each individual color and then shove it back again. Such a pain in the ass, but so worth it. I was a rainbow colorist, too. All about it. I ate rainbows for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

I remember thinking: Please don't ever let her stop coloring rainbows.

Big, radiant colors sometimes get lost in adulthood. I work in an office with gray cubicles, brown carpet, and taupe floors. Most of my work clothes are black, brown, or tan. I wore blue eyeshadow once (it was casual Friday, people....and I promise I can rock it like only a true 80's baby can). I was told it was against the dress code policy. My tattoos are also against the dress code policy...even the pretty blue one on my arm ;)

I make up for it by tacking my big girl's artwork all over my cubicle. I mean all. Freaking. Over. No rules against that yet, but I know I'm on borrowed time. The newer offices have rules against personal items at the cubicle. If my office ever moves, I'd be highly limited in what I could hang at my desk.

To spite the corporate thugs early, I go a little color crazy. I've got twenty seven a few pictures up. Bought a couple pads of heart-shaped, hot-pink sticky notes. Use colorful Expo markers to decorate my own personal dry-erase board. I stuck little pink bows on the corners of my computer monitor and refer to it as a "she"...

Unprofessional, in the standard sense of the word? Absolutely. 

Joyful, bright, and enjoyed by those who visit my desk? You're damn right. 

We're taught in school to be creative, use our minds, decorate the world with color. Then, somewhere along the way to "professionalism," we sense the only way to be successful is to follow in the drab, standard footsteps of leaders before us. This can be especially true for women...I mean, let's face it, I don't think most of the guys in my office even know what color my hair is (dark -they would say dark).....on a serious note, though, women are still struggling to break into male-dominated roles throughout the workplace. Why would they want to reduce their chances with "girly" boldness and individuality?

The most memorable people in our lives are the most colorful. Consider the irony in that statement. 

I went to an important leadership development meeting once. Oh yea, it was big time. I would be surrounded by people who owned many leather-bound books. I was a wreck the night before, pressing my business suits (and by "pressing," I mean shoving them in the dryer after dousing them with water from my showerhead), picking out the perfect shoes, practicing my severe hair bun, working on an appearance that really screamed potential!! I got there and was feeling good...my outfit was right on target. Everyone else wore similar garb...black, gray, a little white....We were business people. Power heels as far as the eye could see.

Then, this woman with an enormous, billowing, fringed shawl and a cloud of long, curly, white hair came floating into the room. She had loafers on her feet and bangles glittering up and down her arms. Oh gosh, I thought, she is doomed. These people are going to eat her alive with their eyes. Within minutes, she had captured the attention of everyone on my side of the room. Instead of glares, however, I saw only smiles. Everyone seemed to know who she was...and more importantly, they seemed very, very happy to see her. "Who is that?" I whispered to my neighbor. "Oh she's great!" was the response. "The best doctor ever and so, so funny. Here, I'll introduce you!"

She smelled like mint and cookies. I shook her hand and her blue eyes shone at me. Santa? She didn't look through me, the lowly secretary who was somehow invited to this thing....no. She looked right at me, asked my name, told me it was nice to meet me, asked if we could just skip to lunch. She was absolutely one of those people you wanted to talk to. She was full of life....full of color. 

Without speaking more than a few sentences, that woman taught me the only lesson I learned that day: Be who you are and be loved. 

I'm sure she encountered severe challenges prior to arriving to her current state...she was an older, female physician. Medical school is no joke, especially at a time when women really didn't go to medical school. She undoubtedly needed to cover her colors on more than one occasion.....but you know what? Colors won. 

For all of you feeling suffocated by your circumstances, stop yourself every now and again and remember your passions. Be it a box of crayons, a walk in the woods, or a picture of a hot rod....everyone has something that fills them with joy and life and all the good things. Don't ever stop coloring your world with things that make you happy. Those rainbow prisms of light we call diamonds? They are dug from dirt. Hi-ho, hi-ho, everyone.... :)

Happy Friday!

The Crappy Parent Diaries: Meltdown Alley

A storm moved into our area today. One minute, the sky was overbearingly sunny and bright. The next, it was a dark blanket of rain, lightening, and whipping winds.

Pretty much indicative of my day.

When my big girl came home from school today the first words out of her mouth were, "Mama, I had a bad day." She was fighting a losing battle against her tears and was on the brink of a complete meltdown. I was concerned, but also trying to rationalize her abnormal behavior. She was up late last night. School just started, so she isn't accustomed to the new schedule yet. It's disgustingly hot and sticky outside and I could tell she was exhausted. This must be the culprit, I thought, as she sat down and started to talk.

"The kids at school were mean to me." Now my big girl is smart. Very smart, actually. I'm not one of those crazy moms who is uber-interested in benchmarks and development. You've gotta believe me, this kid is very, very smart. As she's saying these words to me, I'm thinking about my past reactions to comments like this. I was bullied as a child and overreact quite quickly when I hear things like, "kids...mean.....cry...."

So I thought, hmmm....maybe she's saying this to mask what really happened. She knows how Mommy will react and obviously wants Mommy's full attention and sympathy. So I let her tell her story, listening with a biased ear and trying to tune out the list of things I needed to get done. She was cut off by her little sister, though, and soon enough we were whipping around the house trying to get out to the store and back in time for dinner.

On our drive home the storm hit. It knocked the power out. I panicked....we have well water and a septic system, but no backup generator. Our basement flooded twice this past week and I couldn't stand the thought of more water rushing into our home. We'd just purchased lunch meat and I needed to blog. Did I mention the youngest one doesn't sleep without her noise machine? I was on edge.

At some point, for whatever reason, my big girl asked me if I was going to be home from work this coming Monday. I will be, for the holiday. I told her as such and her face fell, just slightly. Confused, I asked her what was the matter. She said, "Nothing, I've just had a really, really bad day. I thought maybe I was going to Grandma and Grandpa's on Monday." My heart broke, at that moment. You would've probably heard it, had you been there. Her face had fallen because I was going to be home...which meant that her normal day-off-of-school caretakers, my in-laws, would not be watching her. "She'd rather be with them" rang through my heart and my head and it took everything inside me not to burst into tears right then and there.

Working moms, or moms who have worked, or even moms who have taken a long weekend away from their kids, all share one thing in common: they understand the heartbreak and physical, gut-wrenching pain of leaving their kids. I think about my daughters all day, every day, wishing like hell I could have the best of every world and painstakingly agonizing as to how my absence will affect them. To have that time with your kids, even if it's just for a day, is something you look forward to for weeks. To say I am sensitive about working or staying home would be the biggest understatement of the century.

But instead of reflecting on this known part of myself, and fighting against unnecessary negativity, I gave in. Oh boy, did I ever give in to my insecurity.

"Is that why you're looking sad? Because you will be here with me instead of over there?" She shook her head no and started crying. "No, I'm crying because I had a hard day." I started to ask her questions again....what happened at school, why were the kids being mean, how did your day get so bad.....and she couldn't give me a straight answer.

Now at this point, I'm thinking she is either 1) hiding something or 2) afraid of hurting my feelings. I began to get frustrated and the situation quickly deteriorated. Within minutes I was yelling, "Why won't you just tell me what's the matter!" and she was hysterically crying, "I can't tell you! I'm crying too hard!"

Would be a great time for a break, yes? Oh yes, Jen, let's take a break! We'll feel better after everyone calms down.

Nope.

Instead, this is when all my hurt, irritation, fear, and exhaustion of the day came catapulting through my brain. I reached out, grabbed her face, brought it directly in front of mine and shouted, "ENOUGH! STOP crying and TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!"

I wish this could be the point in this sad story where I tell you how awesome my maneuver was and how quickly she calmed down and opened up to me.

This is not that point.

My yelling frightened her and caused her to start crying even harder. Sobbing, she choked out the reason her classmates were mean to her. She had put her folder on someone else's desk. They tattled on her and her teacher had to speak to her. "All----d-d-d-day," my big girl said, "s-s-s-someone was yell-yell-y-yelling at m-m-mmm-me, either my fff-f-riends, or mm-mm-m-my teacher, and now y-yy-yyy-you."

She started to breath very fast.

"She looks like what I look like when I'm having a panic attack," I thought. "Dear God in Heaven, I'm causing my baby to have a panic attack."

I reached for her, pulled her into my lap, and just started rocking her. My sweet baby. The beautiful girl who had a hard day and tried to tell her Mama about it. The good student who wanted to make her teacher happy. The socially-deprived sweetheart who wanted to please her peers. The adored baby who just wanted to be loved on by her grandparents.

I've done some serious self-loathing, but nothing comes close to the harsh, searing pain of realizing you've wrongfully put yourself before your kids.

My bad day, my inability to focus, my over-analytical brain, my sadness and hurt, my my my my my.....

My failure.

I've done it before. I'll do it again. And so will you. This is the most blessed part of life...learning.

All is not lost, contrary to that overwhelming feeling of "ALL IS LOST" when something like this happens.

Take your kid, wrap them up, and apologize. I took mine, snuggled her in my bed, and dabbed her with a cool cloth. I told her I was sorry for yelling at her and acknowledged how hard her day must have been. An awful day for my wee little angel.

She was giggling within minutes, slapping the wet washcloth over my eyes and getting a kick out my funny faces when I peeled it off. I could still see those red eyes, though, and my guilt cried tear after tear inside my heart. But this wasn't about me. This was about her, making her feel better, putting her first. I would find another outlet for my pain after she was tucked safe and happy in her bed.

Congratulations, you, and the six ounces of Moscato next to me, are my outlet. Merry Christmas.

After everything settled down, Aaron and I developed a plan to reduce her anxiety by really accentuating the good she does and taking time everyday to sit down with her and let her vent. We'll never be a meltdown-free home, but we can be a home of acceptance, compassion, and most of all, forgiveness.

Not too bad for a house full of crazies.

Enjoy the weekend, everyone :)

The Perfection of Imperfection

I'm guilty of consistently comparing myself to others. Frankly, I think everyone is guilty of this, but perhaps a lucky few of us take it one step further...

You see, I brutally compare myself against people I perceive as "perfect" and in areas I'm truly sensitive about. Success. Marriage. Parenting. Overall happiness. I look at pictures, read blogs, hear stories....and find myself drowning in "what ifs" and "why nots." Had I made one decision differently, had I chosen just one alternate path....where would I be today? Would I be the perfect wife? The perfect parent? The critically-acclaimed blogger who has nothing but incredible things to say each and every day and huge, clear pictures with perfect, catchy captions? 

No way. No way will I ever be perfect. Wanna know why? 

Because the perfection I see in others is designed by my imagination. It doesn't exist. 

The ideas are planted in my head with the flip of a magazine page:  hard-working, successful couple wants to escape the hustle-and-bustle of the city, so they pack up and move into a perfectly-situated country home with a wrap-around porch, and fix it up with vintage, re-purposed antiques from all over the country, and forever spend their days plucking peaches right out of their orchard and walking that invisible line between sober and tipsy while drinking handmade cocktails from Great Aunt Midge's glassware.

Or maybe the inspiration comes from a blog link: stay-at-home mom wants to help out with the household income, so she starts taking buttons and gluing them together, and then sells them on the internet, and people love them and buy them, and she works in her blue-and-white home office, and cooks dinner grown from her own backyard, and washes laundry with green, handmade soap, all while balancing a perfectly content baby on her size 4 hip. 

I even find imagination fodder on Facebook. Yep, I'm that chick: another stunning pose from the beautiful bride and her bridesmaids, at a tropical beach location made affordable by the couple's fantastic financial planning and the standard, responsible evolution of their relationship. New baby delivered by sweet, beautiful mom already fitting into her pre-pregnancy jeans. A fantastic trip to Europe, Asia, South America. 

Like a match, my mind ignites these things and turns them into smoke and mirrors. My perspective, warped, tells me these people have that thing I'm missing. That thing that makes me the best at everything I do. That thing that balances independence and connectivity. Freedom and restraint. Wild and grounded. 

It's one of my flaws, you see. Do I really think everyone who portrays a perfect life actually has a perfect life? No. I know that's not true. But I get carried away with the what-ifs. 

I have to stop myself. I get so wrapped up in what I perceive to be perfection and happiness, I miss the happiness right in front of me. I have to force a reality check. 

Martha Stewart poops too. Right in that expensive, perfectly coordinated toilet. And I bet it stinks just like my poop, your poop, the Presidents poop, and Brad Pitt's poop.

Perfection is what you want it to be. 

I drink Coke Zero in the morning during my commute every single day sometimes. At some point last winter, while cruising in the dark, early hours of morning, I grabbed my can of Coke and cracked it open. Took a huge swig. Gagged. NOT COKE. Hops...lots of hops, rushing around my mouth. What.

So what did I do? I busted the heck up. I sat in my car, driving down the road at 5:45 in the morning, laughing my ass off, holding a full can of some weird, random beer in my hand, repeatedly saying, "what. what. WHAT," going about 55mph, not entirely sure what to do, my eyes scanning the road ahead for anything even slightly resembling law enforcement, wondering if beer froze at the same temperature as water, thinking the whole time I was dead meat and doomed to burn in hell for grabbing the wrong dark-colored can out of my fridge. It splashed on my clothes as I hit bumps and I cracked up all over again, thinking about how Jen the responsible administrative assistant was going to show up to work stinking like skunky beer.

At that moment, my happiness, my laughter, my racing heart and watering eyes and freezing cold hand...they might have been perfect. Jen's perfection. It didn't come from an award-winning display of perennials, or overnight financial success, or a lakeside vacation with all the bells and whistles. My real-life perfection came from being thrown into a completely unexpected, ironic, awkward situation I unknowingly brought upon myself. This is my trend, my historical timeline, my thing.

Take their idea of perfection and throw it out the window. 

Your imperfection, like mine, is perfect. 

A side note from me...

I am so lucky to have my readers. I treasure sharing my mistakes and tales of woe with you and hope you rest easy knowing you're never alone in craziness. I've decided to change things up a bit and post to my blog only once a week, on Friday nights. I am already looking forward to next week :) Happy Friday and weekend, all! :)

Throwing a Garage Sale? Some Tips from Your Shoppers!

I thought I'd make tonight's post a bit lighthearted as my Grass-Fed Beef post has generated quite the stir! I love me some debate ;)

I took the day off from work and decided to hit some garage sales today with my oldest baby girl. She starts school again soon and ever since her sister came along, she's been getting the third-string version of my attention. She jumped at the chance to be with Mommy. Alone. In the car. Without a whiny baby sister (my words...she only refers to her baby sister as "oh-so-cute!").

We didn't do the whole "plan your route" thing. We didn't even check Craig's List first. No way, nope. We were rebels. We literally jumped in the car and headed out. Luckily, this method still works. We looked for signs on our way home from the ATM and ended up garage sale shopping for a little over two hours. We hit up six sales, each in different areas and each with a completely different feel.

I scored some sweet finds! More importantly, I came back with a list of things I would and would not do when I held my own garage sale. Now I'm no expert, but I've shopped around a bit and know without a doubt what will send me running to my car...... to either grab my wallet or drive far, far away.

Jen's Top Five Wallet-Grabbin' Tips

5. Make your signs super bright and plentiful!
House for Sale, House for Rent, and Garage Sale ...... they can all be white with red lettering! Live on the edge and get some bright, easy-to-spot paper. It may not be as "professional" as the standard printed sign, but it will attract my attention right away...especially when I'm going 50mph down a busy road. Also, put your signs all over! We followed a string of bright pink signs for miles just to see if the sale was "HUGE" as the sign indicated.

4. Provide parking and some subtle traffic directions!
Now I realize some of you don't have the option of increasing curbside availability, but if at all possible, designate your preferred area with tape and/or signs! At one sale location, we saw at least four cars complete a three-point-turn just to get out...when lo and behold, the street ended in a comfortable cul-de-sac just three houses down. Had the sellers been so kind as to inform people of this marketable convenience, they would've likely had a lot less traffic and confusion around their sale. Now on the flipside, this really happened today:

Parking Pastures rule!

3. Don't set up your garage sale like a flea market!

Remember the pink sign we followed for miles? Well, it led to this:

No big deal, it was the garage sale of all garage sales! The signs weren't lying! It was like garage sale heaven....until I actually saw what they were selling. Piles Claire's jewelry, Avon items, Halloween costumes in the dozens (and multiple packages of the same costume), and fourteen containers of packaged t-shirts....it all felt....well.....wrong. The prices were higher than what I was willing to pay and multiple quantities of the same item makes me feel like I'm in a dollar store. I don't go to garage sales to get dollar-store items, I go to garage sales to find those "hidden gems." At this place, I felt like I was getting a bit scammed...almost wondering how much they paid just to sell it back to me and make a profit? The only exceptions were the property owner's tables. He'd owned the farm for years and had an overwhelming amount of tools and farm-related equipment and trinkets for sale. I ended up purchasing something from his side of the sale...but the rest? No, thank you! Don't sacrifice quality for quantity, people!

2. No moody teens!
I drove up, saw a group of little kids and teenaged girl with her butt hangin' out, and left. If you aren't willing to stay at your own sale, why should I?

1. Be nice!
You would think this is a given...but shockingly, only half the sellers we visited today were kind, welcoming people. One woman wouldn't get off her phone long enough to even so much as look our way when we walked up. Another kept trying to push me into purchasing something I really didn't want. Guess who didn't get my money? :) I don't want to be sold, I want to be free to browse and enjoy without pressure and rudeness.

I'm sure my list will change the day I decide to hold my own sale, but I'm hoping I stay somewhat true to these simple, common-sense methods. Overall, it was a great day with my favorite big girl...and that's all we can ask for, is it not? :) HAPPY FRIDAY!

Grass-Fed Beef 101

Welcome to class, everyone. Today we'll be exploring the controversial topic of beef production! Why? Well, because Jen is craving a huge giant cheeseburger and beef is on the forefront of her mind!

Ok, let's get started!

Two primary groups of thought:

Sustainable Beef Producers:
Bio ~ This group favors the use of science and technology to meet the needs of a growing population.
How they feed ~ Corn/grain/growth hormones/recently accused of feeding candy
Primary Argument ~ Americans want their beef and they want it fast and at an affordable cost.

Grass-Fed Beef Producers:
Bio ~ This group favors the use of responsible farming practices to provide reasonable amounts of meat to an increasingly-aware population.
How they feed ~ Grass only, normally consumed in open pastures
Primary Argument ~ Grass-fed is proven to be better for the animal and for the environment, which ultimately leads to a healthier, more responsible product.

Can you tell whose side I'm on yet?

I studied at Iowa State University for a little while, one of the absolute best large-animal veterinary universities in the world. In one of my Animal Science courses, we were privileged to meet a group of cows participating in a nutritional/digestive study. Each of these cows had a tube surgically inserted into their rumen (one of four stomachs)...the tubes acted as a safe, functional method for collecting samples directly from the cow's first stomach. I remember the instructor putting on this huge glove and reaching deep into that tube....the cow just munched away, didn't even flinch. He pulled out a mass of her stomach contents (gross, I know, but bear with me), and explained what they've found.....

Wanna know the Secret Tube Revelation?

Cows can't digest corn. Nope. The rumen was designed to ferment and digest only grass. Corn makes cows sick, deathly sick as a matter of fact.

Hmmm, funny. So if they can't digest it, how do we get that Big Mac? Well, I'll tell you. But it ain't pretty, so don't read this while you eat...especially if you're eating a Big Mac.

So when cows eat corn, the rumen releases a gas that stimulated the production of E. Coli. Yep. Read that right. The same E. Coli that kills humans, kills the cows we devour with that huge side of fries. To make matters worse, most sustainable beef producers raise cattle in commercially-organized feedlots, meaning the animals are shoved in an outdoor paddock with hundreds of other animals, all wading around in their own poo-poo, all fighting against the deadly E. Coli growing in their tummies.

Another awesome corn by-product? Sludge. Cows can't break down corn, remember? So instead of naturally-fermenting grass and healthy burps, corn creates this disgusting sludge inside the rumen, making it nearly impossible for the gas to escape. This in turn causes bloat, which suffocates the cows to death. They will also suffer ulcers, liver damage, and an essential breakdown of the digestive system.

To avoid massive product loss, sustainable beef producers will inject "science" into their cattle. Oh and by science, I meant antibiotics, those drugs we depend on, but are unfortunately rendering themselves useless against mutating bacterial cells...cells that are evolving quickly because of our abusive overuse of said antibiotics. So yes! Shoot 'em up! We wouldn't want to lose our money precious cattle. We care too much!

Don't worry, because in addition to injecting your cows to keep them healthy, some sustainable beef producers make sure your meat is squeaky-clean and ready for grillin by running it through a series of vats that spray massive amounts of ammonia all over it. That awtta do the trick. Science!

Other items I didn't touch on but you can read about anywhere: growth hormones, government bodies led by shady sustainable beef-producers, how humans don't need meat every single day, the fact that if you pick up a package of beef from the grocery store it will list five different countries as the "source," GMO corn feed, proven human risk and loss caused by E. Coli in beef....the list is endless, really. And sad.

I think it's important to mention these are not speculative views I'm presenting here. This is reality... all of it. And before you go thinking, "my grandma ate regular ol' beef and she lived 'till 108!" may I please remind you it often takes generations to realize the full consequences of a populations' poor choices. Smoking was once classy, people...even for pregnant chicks.

But all is not lost. Grass-fed, pasture-raised beef is becoming more readily available every single day. People are opening their eyes to the benefits of knowing where our food comes from and how it is processed. It does cost more for grass-fed beef, and rightfully so. We live in one of the most plentiful countries in the world. How is it we've created an economy that allows chemical-laden, addictive value meals to cost less than a bag of chemical-free carrots? As consumers, we have the power and responsibility to change what we demand from food producers.

Those of you living in Iowa or Northern Illinois can cash in on an incredible resource I've been using for just over a year now. Wallace Farms is a family owned and operated farm in Iowa. They raise animals the right way, are transparent in their practices, and deliver the food to a town near my home. Just tonight we had a batch of these bad boys:

In case you can't read it, let me please point out those are bacon and beef hot dogs. Yes.

They sell every meat product you could imagine, from well-fed pork to pastured cattle to turkey and chickens and ducks, oh my! Seriously just go check out their website, Facebook page, or Twitter feed. I purchase in bulk during their frequent sales and get a huge amount of value for my money.

We're privileged enough to be witnessing a moment of true food revolution in our country. Educate yourself, your friends, and your family and then do something about it! Don't let another dollar of your money go to people who are more concerned with the dollar than the person behind it. Class dismissed!!

As a side note, Wallace farms did not endorse this post or pay me any money to write this. I love sharing good things with good people and let me tell you, this company is one incredibly good thing.