Identity Issues

Lately I have been having an identity crisis. I often ask myself: "Who are you? Why are you still here? What do you want people to remember you for when you die? I want so badly to make my children into wonderful people, but how can I do that if I don't even know who I am?" I sometimes feel like I get lost in the daily whirl of meals, cleaning and diapers. At times I can't even hear myself think. When you are plunged into a deep depression on top of everything, then other problems on top of even that, you really start to wonder how far The Big Guy is going to push you.
Just when I think life couldn't possibly get any worse, I have one of those "AHA!" moments. Sometimes it comes from something I'm reading or watching, sometimes from a friend, and sometimes even from myself. So after days of soul-searching, here is what I have come up with:
I realize that all I want out of life is to be surrounded by people who care about me, and know that I care about them.
When I am gone, I want people to say that I was friendly, generous, and that my children turned out wonderful.
I am a wife, mother, sister, daughter, granddaughter, niece, aunt and professional whatever-I-want-to-be-this-year.
I am a fierce friend to those that appreciate me, and I am willing to help anyone in need.
I have decided I love my husband, and I will bend over backwards to please him. He takes good care of me, and what we have is worth fighting for. Every day.
Screw the old ghosts and the traitors.
My children are my legacy, they are why I am still here. I am the one who is going to make quite sure they turn out right.
I am going to live every day like it's my last, but I will dream like I'm going to live forever.

I Feel Weird

Have you ever "just had a bad feeling"? The past several days I have had this strange, foreboding sense that something awful is going to happen. It's really starting to affect me physically too. I am tired all the time no matter how much coffee I drink, and my stomach stays in constant knots. I am on the edge of bursting into to tears at any second. Maybe it's the stress of my husband being on night shift, the weird schedule, worrying about him getting enough sleep, etc. I don't know. All I know is I feel weird. What makes me nervous is that I have a very keen sense of knowing (a.k.a. "sixth sense"), that has rarely let me down. Very often I have predicted things that came true. I usually don't tell people when I have one of these "insights", because I don't want them to think I am a freak. I am certainly not saying I believe in fortune telling or any of that evil stuff- I do think perhaps it could be my guardian angel whispering things in my ear. I have never felt this physically drained as a result of a "bad feeling" before though. I am going to go kiss my boys goodnight and then use my baby girl for a teddy bear- maybe a good night's sleep will make me feel better.

Pat Me on the Back!

My Saturday did not start off with a bang. I lazed around all morning watching "Life After People" on the History Channel. My husband somehow got a notion to start cleaning out the garage. He kept coming in the house making remarks like, "You ought to come outside.", "It sure is pretty out.". I just ignored him, because I didn't feel like going out. Plus, my boys were happily playing outside, so I was enjoying a bit of peace inside. Finally, Phillip came in and said something to the effect of, "I've been working all this time. What are you going to do today, just loaf around?" Whatever it was he said, it ticked me off. So I strapped Alice into the stroller, and pushed her into the garage. I had tons of boxes to go through. I had been planning for a long time to have a garage sale. But I thought to myself: "You know, I have been holding onto so much of this stuff thinking I will sell it or I will need it some day. You know what? I most likely won't need it, and I will never take the time to price all of this stuff for a yard sale. So I will go through it, only keep the stuff I know I will need. I will save the big items for the Kid's Mart or the consignment shop. The rest, I will bless someone else with. Even though I would like the money that would come from those things, I will just offer it up as a Lenten penance." I worked from about 1:00 until 6:30, and I went through every box that was mine in the garage. I threw away about two garbage bags full of trash, and I filled 18 bags with things to give away. R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S!! Just think of all that crammed into my two-car garage!!! The things I wanted to keep I put in their proper totes or put them away in the house. After a little more work, I will finally be able to park my Jeep in the garage! I feel so liberated without all that junk! Thank you FlyLady for giving me the know-how and encouragement I needed to finally get rid of the clutter!!

What Dreams May Come

I think of myself as a dreamer. Some look down on dreamers because they feel that a dreamer does not have a grip on reality. I beg to differ. I have a fantastic grip on reality, but without my dreams, I would become a cynical hag. I most likely drive people crazy with all my hair brained ideas for business ventures, or a craft I want to make, or home decorating. Sure, I probably won't get to do or make them all, but the excitement of wanting to, and sharing that excitement with someone, is a thing that makes life fun, and, yes, even bearable. I spent the day looking through smocking magazines with a friend. I found probably fifty new things I would like to make. Truth be told, I will be lucky to make one. But it gladdens a woman's heart to dream about making beautiful things with her hands.
Those people I talked about earlier that look down on dreamers, they are usually the type who are addicted to work, always on the go. They have no time to stop and smell the roses and then dream about making curtains that are embroidered with hundreds of bouillon roses of the same color. I will bet any money those same persons will die much younger than a dreamer. Here is my advice: do yourself a favor. Buy a craft book of any kind, look through it, and dream up enough crafts to keep you busy for the next five years. Maybe you won't make them all, but you should make it a point to make at least one.

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.