- by jodimichelle
While researching and writing this article on how to add green space to your office I fell in love with the Cork Succulent garden. Great texture, original idea and seemingly easy.
Corks, clippings of your favorite succulents (I have hens and chicks), a small amount of dirt and a knife.
- by jodimichelle
I announced earlier this week that I’m writing a book.
At this point I’m just throwing words against the wall to see which ones stick and no I do not have a book contract, I’m not that cool.
I have 3 books in mind and I’m pretty sure I know which one I’m writing right now but I need some more time to really decide. (aka, log more hours pouring it out of me)
SO! That is the scoop and when I know more you will too.
- by jodimichelle
I’ve been reading through Bittersweet.
A friend lent this book to me right after it was released, having read it herself and knowing we both shared an equal love for the author and it’s message. But that wasn’t long after we moved into the first apartment (roughly, I think) and I couldn’t pick up the book. It would stare at me and I’d glare at it and we were like two positives repelling each other at every attempt to fall in love. I gave it back with the explanation that I wasn’t ready to digest the book.
I had entered my own season of Bittersweet and the last thing I wanted was someone’s hope or happy ending. Ok, lets be honest – I had entered the season of Bitter – running from all things that could end in sweet.
A few weeks ago we took the whole family to the book store and I’ve been wanting to read something *else* lately. I love fiction but I needed substance, only I couldn’t figure out how much or what kind when I remembered I hadn’t read this book yet. I found it and started reading the prologue, tears streaming down my face … I knew it was time to read the book. To own it and mark up the pages, make notes in the margins and underline every sentence that sent shivers down my spine.
Shauna writes about the list of things she doesn’t do and I can’t stop thinking about it since reading that chapter a few days ago, so I’ve decided to give myself permission to occupy the same kind of list.
I don’t feel guilty about making pancakes at midnight while drinking red wine. There’s a movie with Diane Keaton (Somethings Gotta Give) where one of her scenes is making pancakes at midnight, drinking red wine. Call me crazy, I’m used to it, but there are days where I make pancakes at midnight while drinking red wine and I’m blissfully happy while doing so all because of that movie.
I don’t plan vacations. I love taking vacations and will be the first to jump on the bandwagon when one is mentioned or thrown out as possible. I love getting away, but I don’t love figuring out where we’ll eat every night or what we’ll be able to do. I don’t scour local visitors bureau for information … I just show up and order an umbrella drink or have my camera ready. I say yes on vacation.
I don’t make dinner past 5 o’clock. If it’s 5:03 and I have no plans for dinner, we’ll order out! If I purposefully wait until 5:15 to decide on dinner, we’ll order out! It’s a great plan.
I don’t run a daycare. I love other peoples kids and pets just as much as the next person, but when I’m away from my own kids – I don’t do yours. This has been hard because I want to be the person who always says yes, who volunteers in Sunday School and who can relish in being surrounded by twenty-three 5 year olds, but I am not. I wanted to be the favorite aunt who had sleepovers with my nieces every month. Who played dress up and had a bin of candy for baking cookies. I have an aunt like this, who I love dearly (and Jessica is named after). And bless her heart for being that person for me because I don’t think I’ll ever be that person for my own nieces.
I don’t apologize for my ideas. I laugh loud and often snort while doing so, sometimes I cackle. I make plans and throw parties and want everyone to have an amazing time. I dream really big and I’m almost always in my head. I’m scared of myself, most of the time, afraid to say things out loud because even though they sound good when I’m thinking them, what if someone doesn’t like it? Fuck it.
I’m not the person who sends amazing packages in the mail. But I want to be. I shop for people all the time, I have little piles all over the house and in boxes meant for this person, that baby, just because. I’m really bad at getting and sending the mail. Really bad. Once upon a time I was on top of it. Once upon a time I was on top of many things (scrapbooking, sending correspondence to out of state family, christmas cards, thank you cards etc) and then I gave birth to a second child. Period.
I don’t clip coupons. OHEMGEE. I said it out loud. I don’t clip coupons and I don’t feel bad about it! It’s such a time suck for me, if I can make a list and menu plan for the month – we’re ahead $250 bucks. Times 26 trips to the grocery store (give or take) in a year … that’s $6,500 in savings. BOOYA. Frugal that. I feel so much better getting that off my chest.
What’s on your list?
- by jodimichelle
When I was pregnant (WHEN, not am) my lovely husband gifted me with a cleaning service for a few weeks before the baby came and 6 weeks after. Best. Gift. Ever. But now I’m thinking, hmmm, it might be worth it to have that outsourced and as I’m thinking this I’m curious: What do you outsource?
- by jodimichelle
And not as in a dog. Animals are a bloggers way of having another baby … I mean, am I right?
No, I’m talking about Boxers vs Briefs and Oliver is officially Team Boxers.
We shelpt all over the place looking for them in his size. Gap (not outlet stores) sells them in 4T … which is his size but they look like they’d fit a teenager. And boxer-briefs are not ok. He needed the real deal, like dad.
Turns out Walmart sells them in 2T-3T size … so I bought every package they had on the shelf. After the Gap ordeal (bought them, but they were too big) there were so many tears about underwear. So. Many. Tears.
You know what? Screw it. I’ve decided to pick my battles as a parent and this one didn’t matter. He wants boxers; he’s potty trained, not wetting the bed, still naps for me every day and is a happy guy. Done.
I also bought a new SD card for new camera and turns out that it didn’t go well.
As you can see I did finally got the photos off the card and we had a great time yesterday celebrating Jessica’s seventh birthday.
She got: money!, a skate board, a wallet, candy, blank shoes and fabric markers (she’s a fashion designer in her spare time), a puzzle, a joke book, some clothes, a sled for school and some accessories. I also hid 7 birthday cards around the house, her school locker, in her classroom and book-bag and in her gifts.
She plans on buying a Nintendo DSlite with her money, she’s been saving for one for more than a year now and she woke up early this morning to go in the basement and practice her skateboarding. 
The mermaid cake was fun to do – I freehanded the shapes: there’s a mermaid, crab and a fish. We made a huge batch of white frosting, used sprinkles for the crab and fish then make a peach and a green for the mermaid. Licorice for hair, colored M&M’s for the tail, eyes and “shells”.
We served Tacos at her request but I also made these fish tacos, with tilapia, that were to die for. Mexican pop for the kids and Margarita’s for the adults.
A great night, indeed. I cannot believe I have a seven year old.
- by jodimichelle
So, yes. This.
We happened upon a small diner last week with a soda fountain counter, burgers, fries and malts. They even had an old PacMan game and a Juke Box. We threw health to the wind and licked our fingers, dipped fries in vats of ketchup and slurped pop. It was gooooooood. For dessert? Hand-dipped paddle pops.
I just had to make them on my own after that. It wasn’t an option.
It’s crimincal how easy these are to whip together. So lets talk brass tax …
Ice cream
Popsicle sticks
Chocolate chips
Coconut oil
Good Life Granola
I also had a small pan, wax paper and a sharp knife ready to go.
I started out by opening my half gallon of ice cream so the cardboard laid flat and I could get to the block of ice cream unhindered.
With your knife, cut one inch slices out of your ice cream and transfer the slab to your prepared pan – once on the pan, cut the slab in half. So you’ll get two “paddles” out of one cut.
Ready your popsicle sticks and insert them in the middle, bottom of your “paddles”.
My ice cream was a tad too soft so I did the best I could. You might want to stick your ice cream back in the freezer in-between steps just to ensure it’ll keep shape.
(At this point, once all sticks are in, place your Paddles in the freezer to harden up for 15 to 20 minutes depending on how soft it got.)
Now to make your Magic Shell! You need a small pan or microwavable bowl. 1 1/4 C semi sweet chocolate chips to 1/2 C coconut oil. Combine, heat til melted and let cool.
After you’ve let your Magic Shell cool down (it won’t harden – keep at room temperature, do not store in fridge) and you’re Paddles are frozen hard – you can either fashion a way to dip them or just scoop the magic shell over your paddles.
I didn’t wait long enough for my ice cream to re-freeze AND I didn’t let my magic shell cool all the way. I was very excited. So I had some melt-age. It’s ok. It’s still gonna work just fine.
Now for the topping! Nuts are fun and everything, I have nothing against them but putting Good Life Granola on my Paddle Pops took them to the next level. This is the best granola I’ve ever had (and no, I’m not being paid to say that. I’m not being paid at all for this post actually – just honestly the best ever).
Just sprinkle a bit over the magic chocolate shell and then stick your pan back in the freezer to harden up.
Your pops will result in groans, it’s that good.
- by jodimichelle
I get a little excited about birthdays in this house. The older we get as adults (also, parents) the less our birthdays matter. They almost seem like a marker in time, one we pass while acknowledging we’re not done yet.
But for the kids? It feels like magic for a day. The day to celebrate their entrance in our family, in this story we’re writing as Life. It’s my favorite day to cater to and announce the coming personality of the year.
I try to pay attention to the likes and wants of each child around their birthday knowing their attention span for “wants” is very short. I try to realize as many as I can that also cater to their growing talents and list of interests.
Last year: a tea set and harmonica sent her into a frenzy of giggles. She felt like we “got her” and I so totally do.
When she turned 2 I filled a chunk of our living room with balloons for her so she could wake up and walk through a sea of dangling strings, light bouncing off purple, orange and green helium surprises.
When she turned 5 we took her to Disney world to meet Ariel.
Now at (almost) 7 we’re having a sleepover and talking about getting our ears pierced. Soon to be interested in texting (she already pretends to text her friends), soon to be getting her first video game – she still has room for a mermaid cake. She’s still requesting her favorite, tacos, for the menu and we’re still going to giggle and stay up late, eating licorice and popcorn and sleeping on the floor.
There just might be room for more balloons, a little more magic to celebrate our Artist-Rock-Star-Veterinarian-Poet-Love-Child.
She is so amazing.
- by jodimichelle
Part of me wants to say something here just to get past what I wrote yesterday. The other part of me isn’t ready to utter another word, about anything, yet.
But I do want to say thanks for all the kind words, emails and comments since then. You guys are pretty awesome.
Probably the best realization that came out of my vulnerability was knowing I wasn’t alone. And it was so very lonely in my head, bouncing around with these questions and ideas and ideals. Which, aside from being able to express myself, is what this is really all about.
So, words. I have so many of them. And in an effort to change the subject and lighten things up … we’re just a few days away from a birthday in this house. Our daughter is on the brink of turning 7.
When I was 7 my birthday lasted a whole week, seven whole days for turning seven. I got the game SORRY!, a jump rope and a stuffed puppy, among other things.
It just feels like a big year this year.
- by jodimichelle
I’ve been wrecked and rocked for the past 6 or so months. I’ve been crawling my way through an emotional war hoping that the hand grenades I kept throwing out wouldn’t shoot shrapnel back at me.
I’ve been fighting for my life. Figuratively, of course. But within that course of fighting, I’ve realized that perhaps I am literally fighting for my life, too. Last year I finally asked the big questions. Really asked them.
I was raised in a Christian home, on principal. I mean we went to church, I was spanked with the Bible Belt of guilt and then told that my Heavenly Father loved me so much that I should be afraid.
I’ve grown into a woman who is scared of her reflection. I’ve done some pretty awful things in my life. I’m not all butterflies and roses. I’ve been through countless Bible Studies on Forgiveness and I’ve dipped my head under the Baptism water twice. I always felt good for a while, on a high! I was covered in the Blood of the Lamb. I was worthy.
Problem is it never lasted and soon I was confronted with defending why or what I believed and I looked inside only to find a huge question mark. I didn’t know.
I operate on a tank of Fullness and Wholeness. Which is why this last season of Emptiness brought me further beneath my rock-bottom than I had ever experienced before. True silence. True loneliness.
I tried to stop the leaks with adoration, I tried to fill the emptiness with numbers on a scale, in a bank account or my inbox. I wanted nothing more than to believe the lies that I was so willing to tell myself about Life, Eternity and Love. Everlasting darkness is what I was experiencing in it’s place instead.
I was an avid traveler as a teenager, mostly on mission trips and we’d have to share or write down our testimony in order to go on these trips. What a joke. I mean honestly. At 15 my testimony was a girl who witnessed my parent’s divorce, first hand. I watched my dad throw my mom down in an arguement, pinning her to the floor. I listened night after night as they fought in the hours after my bedtime. I helped my dad pack his bags to move out of our house when I was nine years old.
I witnessed my siblings go in and out of juvi or prison. I witnessed the SWAT team swarm my house after we found a suicide note from a family member. I watched another sibling struggle with demons, quite literally. Sex and drugs soon added into that mix and I had locks put on my bedroom door as a preteen because I was getting threatened by a sibling. I came from the safest place a child is ever supposed to be – her home, where I was constantly tormented and barraged with the clear reasons that God wasn’t around.
I sat in on interventions and cried my eyes out pleaing for this to stop. I mourned the loss of a sister almost 20 years ago and throughout the years tried to be there, to be a family only to be told recently that she doesn’t consider me a sister and hopes to never see me again.
Laughable, that at 30 she’s just now making these statements. Stomping her feet like my six year and expecting me to run after it? Defend it? I have been so thrown aside, so incredibly devalued and forgotten that I don’t think they would notice if I didn’t show up.
Of course no one’s family is perfect. And I had a saving grace in my Step Dad, someone who came into my life who loved me without cause. Who would tuck me in at night and tell me how special I was in this world. Who recognized that I was watching this hell and made it his personal mission to create a peace on earth for me. A buffer to breathe.
I’ve been to therapy, family therapy and group sessions as a child and teenager. But we never really dealt with how I was – I was there to report on the severity of a situation or be a support system for the family member who was actually getting help … that, mostly, they didn’t want.
I think I’m angry. Because now I have this family of my own and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. What the hell is a healthy marriage??!?!?! Where are the boundaries as a mother and the thin line of friend? WHO’S GUIDING ME!!!!! I’m raising siblings but how the hell do I ensure that in 20 years they don’t intentionally go after each-other because they’re wounded and don’t know how to ask for help?
I still have roles to play – depending on the familial situation or Holiday, I know who I have to be in the crowd to stay invisible long enough for them be nice.
All of this mounts to so many emotions. I don’t think I’m capable of being a very good friend past a certain point. I tend to “wow” and be a high energy burst of happiness and then I kind of fade away or just retreat because getting past just one wall of mine means I’ll be exposed. I have been so over-exposed, so vulnerable and raw for so long without knowing how to ask for help. Without knowing who to tell. Without breaking.
I’m constantly bitter. Happy news from other people makes me want to scream at them. Someone who complains about how hard it is to be a mom and I want to scratch their face off. Even though I feel the same way. Even though I could probably find a constructive relationship or kinship in that. I’m just bitter. Seething.
And I’m slowly saying it out loud. I have 2 girlfriends who have grabbed my heart and told me that I’m worth the work to love. Who send me encouraging words and truth. Who I owe everything to, most days.
So hey! Here I am. Pink, raw flesh. Bleeding. Heart pumping. Tears streaming. Incredibly broken, weak. So scared.
And I leave you, grounded, with a promise I now believe wholeheartedly, a reminder I need every single day:
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:10
Here’s to replacing that question mark with an exclamation point of certainty.
- by jodimichelle
Hey guys, I cannot let you go another minute without knowing how awful the homemade dishwasher detergent is. That is correct.
I’ve spent the last couple weeks fighting with it, cursing it and hand washing my dishes in-between hopeful tries with the Betty Crocker version of Cascade.
I’ve tried 2 different kinds of homemade detergent – neither of them lasted for me (as in, didn’t work and I ended up throwing them away).
The laundry detergent? Heaven sent, I LOVE DOING LAUNDRY. It smells soooo good and with our sensitive skin in this house – it’s been so nice knowing I’m doing just one more thing (small, albeit) to keep the chemicals off of us.
Today I hightailed it to Sams Club and bought the BIGGEST box of Members Mark Dishwashing Detergent I could find. Turns out that for two 100oz boxes? I spent less than the DIY TrailError.
So. Yes.
This is the end of the Public Service Announcement to let you all know not to waste your time on the homemade version of dishwashing detergent. If you have a successful recipe or trick – do tell!
