Operation Messy House

Before I got married, I was a tidy and organized person- just ask my mother if you don't believe me. Then I married my husband Phillip. My gorgeous, junk-hoarding, disorganized husband. Well, he claims he did have a system: put everything in a bunch of piles, that way he knew where to look (rummage through the piles) whenever he needed something. When we got engaged, we started setting up house in his parent's upstairs, where he had already lived for several years. It was the most unkempt living space I had ever seen. I even took pictures, because I knew no one would ever grasp how awful it was! I tried my best to organize the hodgepodge piles, but it is an insurmountable task to go through another person's things when they swear revenge if you throw anything away. After fighting with the clutter for awhile, depression set in and I finally gave up. Over the past 5 years I have given organizing a valiant effort, but it was like running on a treadmill: working, working, working, but never getting anywhere. One day a couple months ago, I was crying a river about the appalling state of my house. Then, it happened. The thing I almost always have to do to talk myself into doing something hard, whether it be learning to drive stick shift, or make a topsy-turvy cake, or clean up my house. I got mad. I screamed "THAT'S IT!!!" to no one in particular, then stomped to my computer where I Google-d "organizing your home". One of the first few results caught my eye: FlyLady.net. I think the name jogged a memory of one of my mom's friends talking about it years ago. I started reading, and I cried some more, I signed up for her emails, and cried some more. I started doing her "BabySteps", and I have to say, FlyLady changed my life. One big epiphany for me was her line: "You can't organize clutter." In other words, if you try to organize junk, you will keep running on that treadmill. You have to get rid of the things you don't use. I love FlyLady's concept of "blessing" someone else with the things you don't need. My house is still far from perfect, but I declutter 15 minutes every day, and I try to stick to a schedule. Slowly but surely, I am digging out from under the mess, and it gets better every day. I recommend FlyLady to everyone- it will work for anyone, if you only take those BabySteps, and do what she tells you!

Do you fear death?

"Do you fear death? Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare, all your sins punished!"

I remember the first time I watched Pirates of the Caribbean and heard Davy Jones utter those words- it scared the hell out of me. I have always had a ridiculous fear of dying. Thinking about facing my Maker really makes my stomach turn. My father-in-law always talks about dying- he'd like nothing better than to wake up in Paradise tomorrow. He drives me bat-crap insane with it, mostly because it irks me that he can be so unafraid of something he knows nothing about. He has talked about dying more and more lately- it's starting to really get under my skin. He has me thinking about dying all the time. The pathetic thing is, I wish I were more like my father-in-law. Think about it- if you were not afraid to die, then what would you ever have to be afraid of? I would love to have that kind of unreserved backbone.

One of my favorite Shakespearean passages is Hamlet's Soliloquy:

To be, or not to be--that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--

No more--and by a sleep to say we end

The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--

To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovered country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprise of great pitch and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,

The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

I like this passage because I can relate with Hamlet. Dying sounds good and all until I ponder the uncertainty of it, and whether or not I am going to make it to Heaven. How do I know that I remembered to confess all of my sins? How do I know that I confessed them right? How do I know if I made up for them enough? I have sometimes told God, "Look, if I'm going to Hell anyway, just take my life now and quit torturing me." Well, I'm still alive, so either God is ignoring me, or there is still a chance I could make it to Heaven. There have been times in days past that I might have taken my own life, had it not been for my firm belief that I would go straight to Hell. I am ashamed to admit that I even gave it a half-hearted effort a couple of times. I thought nobody would miss me- I felt everyone would be better off had I never been born. I still feel that way sometimes. I am no George Bailey. I know that I have not affected one person for the good. I feel like I have to apologize to my kids for bringing them into this horrible world and for ruining their lives. That's a pretty low feeling.

Oh yeah....

I decided to start a blog for a couple of reasons: 1. I have always wanted to write a book. I don't know how many stories I wrote when I was a teenager that just ended up in the trash (that's the fear of criticism I talked about). So this is my way of expressing myself, "writing something", and venting ('cuz we all need to do it!); and 2. I watched "Julie & Julia", and I thought it was one of the most awesome movies ever. Call me cliche', but that movie inspired me! Okay, you're probably wondering about the title "Barefoot, Pregnant, and Proud". So, let me elaborate.

I am barefoot most of the time. I only wear shoes when I have to. Don't get me wrong, I love shoes. I have enough shoes to rival Imelda Marcos. I just don't like to wear them- it's like my feet are claustrophobic. I break into a sweat and start to hyperventilate if I don't get the dang shoes off now!! (I'm only joking a little bit.) Even at my wedding, I wore these beautiful clear shoes that looked like Cinderella's; but you better believe I got those babies off my feet as soon as I could! Our photographer even took a picture of my bare feet, and I'm so very glad he did because that is so "me".

Although I am not currently pregnant, I have been pregnant for 42% of my married life. I just had my third baby in November. I sometimes get depressed because I am 23 years old, and my body is all out of whack from having babies. When I got married, I had a 34-23-32 svelte figure. I know it's my own fault that I am where I am, since I ate like a pig while I was pregnant, but you know- eating for two and all that. (Actually, I recently learned that pregnant women only need about 300-400 more calories a day- who knew?) I am determined to get my body back before I have another baby (my goal is to have a Wonder Woman- worthy body by Halloween). I may have to Wii Fit, Total Gym, and starve my way back, but you know, even though my body will never be the same, I can take comfort in the fact that I have three beautiful children, and they make all the extra fat and stretch marks worthwhile. (take that, Mr. Run-On Sentence!!)

Even though some people ridicule me for my lifestyle (FYI: stay-at-home mom who never did anything "exciting" before I got married), I am proud of the person I have become. I sometimes wonder myself if I should have done this, that or the other, or if I should have even gotten married at all. I believe I have the kind of grit that I could have been whatever I wanted- an actress, a fashion designer, whatever. Instead of "being something" or "being someone", however, I chose to be everything to three (or four... or five... or twelve) very important, and for now, very small, someones. To my kids, I am the sun, moon, and stars. They look to me for guidance, acceptance, and love. I could have done anything I wanted- and I do what I do, day in and day out, because I believe with all my heart that I am doing what I was meant to do. And that is a very comforting thought.

Starting Over

I am a social butterfly. I am the type of person that thrives off interaction with other people. I become very depressed when I try to be a homebody. I also take it very hard when someone criticizes me- it's like their elucidation of me becomes permanently embedded in my soul, and I never get over it. So you can imagine how difficult it is for a person like me to write a blog. While I am excited about the possibility of being acclimated for baring my soul to the world and sharing my ideas and opinions, at the same time I am very afraid of rejection. But, if one never takes a risk, what kind of life is that? My in-laws have a plaque above their utility sink that talks about a man who played his whole life safe: never drank, smoked, kissed a girl, went anywhere or did anything. But when he died, no one came to his funeral, because he never lived. So, hello world, this is me living.