Trouble.

I have always loved pop culture. Even when I was in middle school I was aware of what movies were coming out and who was acting in them. I loved watching documentaries on their lives. Like E! True Hollywood Story and MTV's Diary series. I would read biographies (usually just the authorized) and would soak up the story. It doesn't just revolve around stars and their lives.

I love learning about peoples stories in general. Their testimony and their background. I think its extremely interesting to learn what made that person who they are today. It's fascinating, really. The roller-coaster we all ride, the various forks in the road. All of that is ridiculously intriguing to me. However, I'm also not one of those nosy people. I won't go searching and delving into who you are to strip you to the core. But if you are offering, I'm listening.

I've mentioned before that my father is an alcoholic. He's a good guy, funny and smart. But he's an alcoholic. It's just the truth. He has an incredible story. What I know of his life before alcohol became a major part of it is pretty amazing. But his life is halted every now and again when he drinks. Then he stops and he starts to live again. His reasons for drinking are his own, but they are there.

He, and his alcoholism, are a part of my story. It's undeniable. You wouldn't have me as I am today if it wasn't for his story. His story has affected mine in positive and negative ways. Which is true for all the people that I have met and had a relationship with. Once you meet someone, they are a part of your story. They are a notch on the belt of life, as it were. Sometimes, meeting someone once will affect your life in such profound ways that it alters the course of your life forever. Other times, you'll know someone for an extremely long time before the effect of that relationship is known.

The reason I'm going into this, is because The Hollywood Housewife posted a blog entry titled, aunt awesome.When I read it, I just kept nodding my head and saying yes! I have two nieces and two nephews and I have struggled with how to be an aunt.

Why? My aunts were mediocre at best. That is not a negative statement. There is no ill will. It is just a true statement. The relationship I had with my aunts is definitely not one that I want to replicate as an aunt. There were a lot of factors as to why I didn't have great relations with my aunts. The aunts on my Dad side spoke a different language than me. I was only close to one of them regardless of the barrier and she was more like a second grandma to me.

The aunts on my maternal side lived twenty minutes away and because of many different reasons, I think they  each gave up on our aunt-to-niece relationship. So, I would see them at special events and holidays and it would be nice. We'd catch up a little if we got to talk and we'd go our separate ways. Then, around the time of my wedding, there was a lot of drama and ugliness because of a labeling issue with their invitations, and things were said that can't be taken back. Whatever bond was there out of family duty was broken and since then, its been cordial but nothing more. Hellos and goodbyes. I wasn't angry or holding a grudge. My wedding changed a lot in my life, more than just the obvious ways. It was what it was and in the grand scheme, the righteous anger I could have felt for the rest of my life wasn't worth it. It's true, even when you have a right to be angry, doesn't mean you should. So, I didn't and don't.

Holidays have always been rough for me and I like to disengage during them. It's a childhood thing. When I got married, I wanted to make new, fresh traditions with my husband and pull away from travelling all over on holidays to doing what Bryan and I wanted, be with our closest friends and family. I saw how much that hurt my Mom and out of love and respect for her, we started going again.

Today, I posted that article and said that it resonated with me, that I only had one aunt who was not blood related that was there for me no matter what. That I desired a better relationship for my nieces and nephews than I had with my aunts. I want to be the aunt that I never had. But when you don't know what you've never had, its hard to be it. There is no example to live by.

There was no malice or evil intent in posting that. I was expressing a desire to change my story with my nieces and nephews. I had no control over how my aunts treated me or what kind of relationship they wanted with me. But I do have control over what type of aunt I am to my sisters children. I don't want this subplot in my story to be in theirs.

Unfortunately, one person read my post without reading the accompanying article from The Hollywood Housewife and inflected whatever she wanted upon it. She decided that I was taking shots at my aunts, and even after clarifying in the comments for all to read, it wasn't enough. After words were exchanged I deleted it and re-posted with "being an aunt is hard... hope that doesn't offend anyone." I was flummoxed that I was suddenly in trouble even though I wanted to be better. How could this be? How is it that someone is being discouraged from pursuing to be a better person, role model, confidant, friend? Aren't we, as a society expected to learn from our own mistakes and those of others and be better to the people we love?

The relationships that have been and not been in my life affect me and how I want to go about my future relationships. Because of the relationship I had with my father, I don't drink much. I want to have a better parent-to-child relationship when I am in control of one. I will do things right, I will do things wrong, and my child will change things to be a better parent based on their experience. That is how it should be.

There is an extreme difference between stating that you want to do things differently and better than you had it done to you and unloading about every offense, every characteristic that sucks, every awful thing they've ever said in a public forum.

Somethings are not a personal attack on who you are. Some things are just the truth, even if it makes you uncomfortable. If you don't like that truth, change it. If you can't, do better in the future. Let that story line, that experience, affect your relationships in the future. Don't make the same mistakes twice. If you've wronged a person, get over it, get through it, say sorry and don't do it again to someone else.

Get Real: Accepting Life

This is the third post in an on-going series, Get Real. You can read the first one here and the second here. Stay tuned while I go through this journey of self-discovery. 
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Wow. What a year 2012 has been. I didn't think life could get any busier. But you know, things are good.

Obviously, I still suck at updating the blog. Cleaning my house. Keeping up on laundry. Cooking dinner.

FYI, I attempted to make dinner twice this week. And I screwed up both times which resulted in no food.

Super. Wife points this week? -2.

I'm tired of trying to be what I think a wife should be. I'm just me. I'm 24. I still throw my clothes on the floor after a long day of work. I'd rather hang out with friends then scrub my floors. Whatever. Everything is acceptable. I have clean clothes to wear. I eat food. My house is clean enough. This is a season of my life where I can afford to let things slide. Before I know it I'll have kids, and they'll need to have home cooked meals, and the floors will need to be cleaned regularly cause they'll be crawling on them. I have plenty of time in my life to be a homemaker. My priorities will shift when that happens.

Right now, I just want to live. Do what I can. Have freedom. Not be so hard on myself.

So what if the garage is messy?

I mean, honestly, if I have to chose between hanging out with my husband on the few nights a week we actually get to see each other or organizing tools, Bryan will win out each time. Cause I kinda love him, ya know?

Allowances

Today I was reading Grass Stains, as I do every day and she posted on how her and her husband do allowance.

Let me just be honest with you right here, right now. I have been starting to think about babies every so often and..... poor Bryan.

Imagine my surprise when I'm like oh yeah, once I have a baby, I'll have a toddler, and a young kid, and a tween, and a teenager and then an adult. I should think of the stages PAST the baby phase.

Whenever I hear someone say allowance, I have to remind myself that exactly that is. It's a foreign concept to me. My full-blooded Portuguese parents did not do an allowance for us. I think part of that was there were no extra funds. My parents owned a mom-and-pop hardware/maintenance store. My Dad would fix TVs and sell vacuums and all sorts of tools, my Mom would do the books. They had a man named Andy working in the back and he'd do house-calls and I'd watch him soldering for hours with goggles that made him look funny.

Do you know many alcoholics that can maintain a business that is solely based on them being there?

Yeah. That, coupled with the fact that Americans stopped fixing their electronics and would instead just throw them away and get a new one, well, times were tough. My Mom went into insurance and my Dad followed soon after.

Back to allowance, there wasn't any. But it's not like I felt like I was missing anything. I had no idea that parents would pay their children! I like to think that, if we were out and about and I was behaving and I asked for a quarter to get some of that delicious-for-two-seconds gum out of the machine, my Mom would say okay. If I wasn't or she didn't have a quarter, she'd tell me so. I'm sure I was pouty and ridiculous sometimes, but I don't remember it. What my mom said was law. If she told me to stay right by her I usually would. If she told me at the grocery store that I couldn't have gum, I wouldn't. If she said yes, then yay!

While I was in elementary school, my mom and I would pack my lunch. She'd make the sandwich, I'd get the bag, chips, Capri-Sun and she'd usually stick an apple or banana or something in there. She'd give me a dime to buy milk if I wanted. REGULAR MILK. I only cheated on Fridays and bought chocolate! Middle school, I'd pack my lunch and she'd give me two dollars on Friday to eat at the lunch cart that had burgers, curly fries, pizza pockets.

If I was going to a school dance or to a movie or dinner with friends, they'd let me go if I was good and they'd give me money to pay for myself.

In high school, they gave us $15 a week until we were able to have a job. However, $3 may have cut it when my sisters Alison and Kari were in school, but I was barely eating my freshman year. Kari, who was a senior at the time, vouched for me and told my Mom that $3 just wasn't enough for me to get a drink and a meal at lunch and a small snack at break. So, my mom upped it to $20 a week for me. The extra dollar helped tremendously! (And I'm not being sarcastic!) Then, my friends and I got wise and we started sharing meals, snacks and sodas so we could save some of our lunch money for weekend activities. But this would usually HELP my parents rather than hurt because my mom would say, "How much do you want?" and I'd say, "Just like....$5?" and she thought she was getting a bargain, while I thought I was working the system. I probably could have pushed for $10.

Once we got hired, no more money from them, at least for the little things. Since I was young, I didn't turn fifteen and a half until the end of my sophomore year, but I would babysit to pay my own way. I didn't like asking for money. I still don't. I literally got a job right at my fifteenth half birthday. My Mom and I were shopping at Mervyn's, (RIP, Mervyn's. You are still one of my favorite stores ever.) and I saw the kiosk to apply, so I asked my mom if I should. We figured that even though was I was younger than the legal age, I was just shy a few weeks, maybe they'd start me then! So, I sat right down and applied.

Oh, how I shmoozed that interview. I am GOOD at that stuff, let me tell you! I was excited and responsible and they loved me. I got the job and they put me on the schedule as soon as I was legal. I no longer accepted money from my parents, only rides to work. And most of the time a friend would take me. I'd get out of school and I'd work a 3:15 to 7:15 shift three times a week. I loved it.As I got older, I worked more to get paid more. I paid for all my clothes, make up, and activities. My parent's still kicked in for yearbooks and important things.

I was never paid for chores around the house, grades, or anything else. I was expected to be a part of the family and that means cleaning the house and going to school and studying. My reward was a clean house, good grades and the trust I built with my parents so I could escape with friends.

However, one thing that I wish my parents had done and that I fully intend on doing, is saving my birthday money. More times than not, I'd get checks in the mail and in a card for my birthday. They'd cash it and give me those funds. OH, how I wish they would've put it in an account for me. I wish they taught me to save and tithe with my money. Luckily, I'm really good at that and have never had any issues with money, but I just think about how if it was all saved, it could have helped me get a car or a new bike or whatever. It would have made me wait for the big stuff instead of spending on crap that I honestly can't remember.

Now, back to what I think I would do with my kids... I'd like to think that I would give them a monthly allowance. Probably starting from Kindergarten. I'm thinking that each child would have a jar system. One jar for saving, one jar for giving, and one jar for spending. I don't think I would give a certain percentage for them to do, I would just say that from every allowance there has to be something given to the giving and saving jars.

With the giving, I would have them split it between our church and a charity. With the saving, I would put that and all their birthday money in their own special account, which Bryan and I would be adding to for college and other expenses. Their spending money could be used for whatever they desire. The ice cream truck or to hang with friends.

Also, I never knew what my parents made. I still don't know what kind of living they made. I know Christmases were for coats and shoes, not toys. We had lots of hand-me-downs, supplemented by a few new things here and there. Our basic needs were met at all times. However, when my kids are of age, I'd like to be really transparent about our finances and they way our house runs. I want them to know how much we spend on each child every month, from medical expenses to savings to their allowance. What we tithe and how we give to those less fortunate. I want them to understand how a house runs on as basic of a level as I can make it, so they never take for granted how hard their parents work and how you live within your means, always.

I haven't talked to Bryan about allowances and I don't know how he feels about them. I know I'll have a chore chart and that'll be taken into consideration when they ask to hang with friends, watch tv or any other type of free time. But I don't want them being paid for being a part of their family. Now, if they come to me or Bryan or their siblings and say, I'll do YOUR chores for a dollar, I'd be down with that.

It teaches work ethic, yo. :)

Get Real: The Best of Intentions

This is the second post in an on-going series, Get Real. You can read the first one here. Stay tuned while I go through this journey of self-discovery. 

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My house is a disaster zone. 

Every surface has something on it. Mail, magazines, books, tech stuff. 

EVERY. SURFACE. 

Everything is just messy. 

During the work day, I'll get all motivated. I'll say to myself, 'When I get home, I'm going to prep dinner, and then I'm gonna start a load of laundry and clean up the living room. Put dinner on the table, then maybe give the dog a bath. Yeah... I'll even organize my linen cabinet!'

I get all excited about the things I'm going to do. How its going to be so clean and refreshing! Maybe I'll even buy PLANTS!!

Guess what? 

I get home, I look at the state of things and I lay down and shut my eyes.

I can't be the only one that does this... right? 

Probably not. Please don't think my house is like some episode of hoarders. It totally not. But it's definitely lived in. Bryan's socks are on the floor in the living room, there is a water bottle or cup here and there, there are boxes of pictures that I need to sort though and scan. 

Honestly, if we just took 10-15 minutes every day it wouldn't get like that. But we don't. Who has 10-15 minutes to spare? Not us! On any given week Bryan and I will have two nights at home. TWO. That's it. Mondays and Wednesdays. And sometimes, he practices music on those days. But on average, we'll say two. 

By the time that dinner is prepped, cooked, eaten and cleaned up its 8. By that time, we're done. I don't want to move, Bryan wants to watch a movie, and the house goes uncleaned.  No laundry gets done. 

I just don't know how to get and/or stay motivated once I'm off work. 

So I thought about it. 

And thought!

And thought!

I came up with nothing. I mean, honestly. What type of person can just get motivated to clean? Stupid people. That's who! 

Eventually, I decided that I need a plan. Nothing too crazy, but I basically needed to SHOW myself that I do, indeed, have time to clean up the house AND have lounge-around free time. I may not get as much of it as I want, but it's still there. And that works. 

Here is a limited snap shot of my Google Calendar for tonight and tomorrow. Obviously, most nights I'll only need ten to fifteen minutes to quickly put away junk, but to start out, I'm putting extra time because:

1. I have a lot to do.

2. I'll need time to develop systems and change things around to be more efficient.

3. I have a lot to do. 

But, as you can see, I've made sure to put free time on the calendar, so that I have something to look forward to. I need to know that mindless sitting and wonderful snuggling with Bryan is going to happen soon. It's motivation. 

I'm hoping that having a clean, organized house will help get my zest for life back. I won't dread coming home, I'll be excited to tackle new projects, and I won't be as overwhelmed. It's an easy thing to fix and control. 

I always tell Bryan that our house is the base of operations. It's the place where we retreat to rest, regroup, celebrate and grow. Working on our home and getting it to a place where I feel like I can fully relax seems like a logical place to start. 

In the interest of keeping it real, today is the FIRST DAY I'm trying this. I don't know if it'll work. But every good idea needs to have a starting point. Today is as good a day as any!

A Peek Inside My Brain. It Ain't Pretty.

Periodically (and by periodically, I mean one other time) I pull questions from a questionnaire that I found on the blog Grass Stains. I've decided to do a few more of them. Enjoy!

1. Have you done anything lately worth remembering?
   Yes, actually. Bryan had a gig in Los Osos, CA a few weekends ago and we went together. On Sunday, we hopped over to Morro Bay to do some thrift store shopping and we went to Morro Rock. We were walking around when Bryan spotted a gorgeous Saint Bernard. His owners let us greet him and he was the most loving, gorgeous dog. His name was Wally and I was smitten.  I need a Saint Bernard, stat! After that, we went and had lunch at The Galley which was amazing, then we went to feed the seals. It was a special day for us and one I will remember for a long time. 
2. What does your joy look like today?
   Today, my joy comes from my blessings. Every day I get to drink water and eat. I can put on clothes and buy things I need. I can walk. I can drive myself to work and back to a warm, comfortable home. I am so very blessed.
3. Is it possible to lie without saying a word?
   Yes. And you feel just as guilty when you omit as you do when you lie verbally. Trust me.
4. If you had a friend who spoke to you in the same way that you sometimes speak to yourself, how long would you allow this person to be your friend?
   Not long. My internal dialogue mostly consists of "Megan! Why do you suck so bad at life?" and "Megan, its cool. No one is looking at you weird. You do not seem out of place. You do not have toilet paper stuck to your shoe. You probably do not have a booger hanging out of your nose. Just keep being invisible. Do not attract attention! Wait... Am I attracting attention by not attracting attention? Be cool. Breathe." It would be annoying to have a friend that is berating me half the time and trying to ease my anxiousness the other half. 
5. Which activities make you lose track of time?
   Anything with Denise, my best friend. Crafts, painting, watching TV. Swimming/tanning. Pinterest. Reading books. Oh dear that is probably the worst! 
6. If you had to teach something, what would you teach?
   Budgeting. I'm good at helping people get out of debt and stay out. I have a knack for everyone else's cash. I just hate analyzing with my own. :)

It's About to Get Real

This post is the first in the series, Get Real. Please stay tuned as I go through this journey of self discovery.

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you probably know that the quantity of my posts has severely decreased. There are many reasons for this and I'm sure I've addressed it before. But have I really been honest?

I want to say that I have. I want to say that when I look back on this blog I'm going to read it like I would an old diary or journal. Actually, it will probably be worse. I'll probably be more mortified because this is public, my old diaries are not.

Very quickly after I got married life got hard. That's not to say that my life didn't have sweet moments or fulfilling ones. It just got hard. We were looking to rent, and somehow we ended up buying a foreclosure. I damaged one at that.

We moved into my father-in-laws house and immediately started construction to make it livable. Now, when you picture any newlywed, moving into an in-laws house, having construction done on their first home... It sounds like it could be a TV show. Everyone knows marriage is hard. But everyone thinks that newlyweds go through this blissful stage their first year. Yeah, no. That so doesn't happen. It would be amazing if the first year of marriage was like two sides of a zipper, fitting together perfectly and securely.

Unfortunately, people are not perfectly cut. We are jagged and broken, we have scabs and scars. It's hard to fit two jagged pieces together, isn't it? Same with people. Taking two lives and melding them into one smooth operating machine is a pipe dream. It's hard with a capital H.

I'm NOT saying it can't be easy. There are personalities that are just easy. I am SURE that more than a few people would be like, our first year of marriage was full of rainbows, unicorns and butterflies! However, in our case it wasn't.

We had fitting-together pains. Heaped upon that were the growing pains of buying a house, coupled with living with an in-law. Topped with a cherry of working 40 hours a week while trying to make sure the contractor freaking. showed. up.

You know those people that can handle fifty-thousand stressful things at once, all day, every day and they are fine? More than that, they live for it? Hi. I'm not one of those people. I'm great under pressure. I can juggle a thousand things at work. What I cannot do is juggle a stressful job, a stressful relationship, a stressful marriage, a stressful house, physical and financial stress all at the same time. I can handle some of those things together, but not all of them at the exact same time.

To bring it all together, for the past two years and five months I've been dealing with all of those together. And after a while of pushing through I just gave up. I stopped fighting. I don't have the motivation to fight all of them at once. I do the bare minimum in order to survive. I don't feel like I am thriving right now.

I feel like I suck at life because when I wake up in the morning I groan and think, "No. Not again." I get ready and head to a stressful job that I love. After 7-8 hours, I drive home to a stressful husband that I love. The last thing I want to do is clean the litter box. Or make dinner. Or THINK of making dinner. I don't want to scrub toilets or floors. And ew, don't even talk to me about exercising. I do the bare minimum to just get through the day. If I have to do laundry I'll do it. If I have to go grocery shopping I'll go.

Where is my joy? My zest or zeal for life? I'm a Christian and I feel like a failure because I pray every day for God to change my heart. I 'fake it' hoping that he'll follow through on my actions with feeling. So far, it hasn't happened.

I hope this doesn't sounds complainy. That's not my intention. I am not unhappy. (Well, I am unhappy about how much a weigh. Gross.) But, I'm missing a key ingredient in my life. I feel like a cake that is sunken in the middle. Why?

In an effort to be as cheesy as possible, that is the million dollar question. Why do I feel this way? Where is my joy? What can I do to fix this? Is it even fixable? Can I strip my feelings down to find the source?

I'll be posting as I go through this journey. I don't know if it'll be every day, once a week, or once a month. This is all in real time, so however long it takes I'll be writing.

The Weekend

Sometimes, having a day to sleep in, watching your husband play Zelda while casually flipping through magazines is just what the doctor ordered.

Oh, and painting your nails? The cherry on top. :)