Something's Gotta Give

And I'm really starting to worry that it might be me. 

As much as I am so deeply grateful to my parents for taking us in, things are starting to reach a boiling point. It's starting to wear on everybody. 

The kids and I make things difficult for my mom, and she has to babysit for me a few days a week while I go to work because I can't afford daycare. My teenage brother has no respect for the fact that there are small kids in the house, and his lifestyle reflects it. I've tried talking to him, but all I get out of him is outright hostility. My parents try to stay out of how I raise my children, but it's difficult when you live in the same house. That is wearing on me more than I want to admit. 

My job sucks. Let's face it, I'm working part-time at a grocery store for $8.40 an hour. I can't support my kids on that. I want things to work out with my husband, but I also have to look out for my kids. We've been through this sort of situation before, and he has fallen back into the same habits. As much as I want this to work, I can't stick my head in the sand and not have something to rely on in case things end badly. I have to get a better job. I've never been in the real workforce, I've only worked in retail jobs and I am totally clueless in regards to job hunting. 

So this is my to-do list for myself:

- Find housing

- Look into daycare

- Find a better job


The simplicity of that list belies the sheer amount of misery behind it. All the heartache, stress, and fear. 

God help me, Lord knows that I can't do this on my own. 

Geez I'm feeling sorry for myself tonight. 

It's All About Perspective

When Alex was six, his cousins got this new, swank car. Needless to say, the DVD player was the source of a lot of bragging whenever he rode in their car with them. Sigh.

One night, we all went out to dinner and I ended up taking my niece and nephew in our car which is a beat up, run-down, piece of crap, '95 Toyota 4Runner. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my truck, but it doesn't hold a candle to the shiny new Beamer SUV with the back-seat DVD player. 

At some point, in a vain attempt to keep my car clean, I had hung one of those fabric trash cans from the back of the front seat. Hang in there with me, I promise that this is relevant to the story. 

So the kids pile into the car, and my son, God bless him, says (with the enthusiasm that only a six-year-old can muster), "Well, our car doesn't have a DVD player, but it has a trash can! Isn't that cool?"

Have I mentioned before that I love that kid?

Trifle Recipe. I know, I know, I promised to have it up yesterday...

Sorry, with church and family stuff, things got out of hand and I never got around to posting it. Okay, enough excuses. On to the recipe.

Well, it's not a recipe per se. It's more of a... methodology I suppose. You can change ingredients as the mood suits you, and I promise that you can't screw it up. Well, I take that back. If you're the type that can burn water then maybe you could screw this up, but it's very difficult to do (mess it up, I mean.) 

Summer Fruit Trifle

- 1 package of yellow cake mix 

  and the ingredients that you need to make the cake
- Jell-o Vanilla pudding mix and, you guessed it, 

  the ingredients that it takes to make the pudding
- 1 Peach cut into slices
- 1 package of raspberries
- 1 small package of strawberries sliced


Make the cake "according to the package directions." I can't believe I just said that...
Aaaannnyway, same with the pudding. 

If you're really crunched for time, you can certainly use a pre-made cake and pre-made pudding. Not that I've ever done that of course... coughcough.

Now, find yourself a nice glass container. It really doesn't matter what you use. I used a plastic punch bowl up until my mother-in-law got me a gorgeous trifle bowl for Christmas one year. A honest to goodness Trifle bowl. Specifically for Trifle. I didn't even know that they made such a thing until I got one, but I digress. 

Once you've finished making the cake and the pudding, let both of them cool a bit. Then, take that beautiful cake that you've just meticulously baked and crumble it into tiny bits. Sorry. 

Now we're going to layer it into your container. Half of the cake, then half of the pudding, then (are we sensing a theme yet?) half of your fruit. Repeat the process, arranging your fruit nicely on the top layer. You wanna flaunt it folks because, let's face it, Trifle looks ridiculously impressive once you're done with it even though it's dead simple to make. 

Well, there you have it. A trifle. Good luck, and please let me know how it turns out if you get around to making one. I'd love to see pictures too, and I promise that I'll get around to posting mine up. Technical difficulties you know.

Please don't feel constrained to just this one way of doing it though. This dessert is really fun to play around with, and of course you sometimes have to be flexible depending on what fruit is in season. I once made a really wicked no-fruit version that consisted of chocolate cake, dulche de leche ice cream topping, Cool Whip, and chopped nuts. My friends, it was sinfully, insanely, ridiculously decadent and rich and I haven't made it since. Probably something to do with not wanting to have my thighs expand exponentially...

So be free, go nuts, be creative, and let me know what you make.

Love ya,

~ Jen

The Lord's Day

"Turn to me in mercy, as you always do to those who love your name. Steady my footsteps in your word; let no iniquity have dominion over me. Rescue me from those who oppress me, and I will keep your commandments. Let your countenance shine upon your servant and teach me your statutes."

- Psalm 119: 132-135

Trifle

Just finished making a trifle with the leftovers from my daughter's first birthday cake that we had saved in the freezer. 

I'd forgotten how much I love making these, I haven't done one in a while.

Pictures and recipe forthcoming tomorrow. 

'Night.

I'm A Klutz

Yesterday was not a good day for the floor in the back room of The Grocery Store. Nope. It was a messy, wet, sad day for that floor. I'm sure that it's had a lot more of these days since I started working at the salad bar. 

Of course the messiest one was all my own fault. 

I tried to carry too much, and I knew it too. As I piled stuff together in order to pick it up I told myself, ‘Self,’ (we often have these conversations,) 'Self, you’re going to drop something, and I can bet that that something  you’re going to drop is the container of bacon bits which will pop open and spray all over the floor.’ 

Unfortunately, I should have listened to me...

It was a red-letter day. I thought nothing could top dropping a huge chunk of ice which shattered and sprayed bits and pieces all over the floor, but I was wrong. 

Of course, neither of these things comes close to the hat-rack fiasco. But, that's another story for another day. 

Love ya,

~ Jen

It Makes A Mother Proud

So my mom took my son into "The Grocery Store" the other day while I was at work. They weren't at my store, but I wish they had been, it would have been priceless.  They were at the one across town. 

They finished shopping and got up to the checkout stand. And my son, talkative little thing that he is, started chatting with the cashier. It went something like this:

Alex*: "Hi, how are you?"

Cashier: "Good, how are you doing?"

Alex: "Good. My mom works at "The Grocery Store." "

Cashier: "Oh! Really? Does she like her job?"

Alex: "Not really. She says the pay is pretty lousy."

Cashier: "Oh." Her face fell and she said, "Well, we'll keep that our little secret."

Gosh I love that kid. 

* I've decided against using my kids real names in my blog. So, no, this isn't his real name, but he did pick it out himself. ; )

The Lord's Day

The message at church today was about courage. So, following my pastor's lead, I will quote the eminent philosopher and theologian John Wayne:

"Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway."

- John Wayne

Dinner anyone?

Well, my folks are out of town for the week, they've left us with mighty slim provisions, and I've run out of money. So, what's a girl to do? My fallback method: scour the fridge and freezer to see what protein you have available and then search the internet for recipes that fit what you have. Sad, I know.

In my rummage of the freezer I came across a roll of Jimmy Dean Sausage, and after my search of the Jimmy Dean website (it only made sense) I settled on this recipe. I hope my arteries can forgive me. I'll probably serve it with scrambled eggs. I suppose it's high time that I make biscuits and gravy considering I'm living in the South. Sheesh. You'd think I'd get with the program a little quicker. 

Well I'll let you guys know how it turned out. Y'all come back now, ya hear?

*Update* 

My grandmother came over to visit, and she took us to Taco Bell for dinner. Alas, I remain uninitiated, but I can make a mean glass of sweet tea.  

Juxtaposition

jux·ta·po·si·tion [juhk-stuh-puh-zish-uhn]

 –noun

1.an act or instance of placing close together or side by side, esp. for comparison or contrast.

2.the state of being close together or side by side.

I thought this appropriate considering the last two posts I made. Especially because this post seems like such a contradiction coming after this one. I swear it's not. I was in such a dark, dark place that night, and I am still struggling. 

On Sunday, though, God spoke to me with such tenderness and He gave me such peace. What's even more amazing to me was that I wasn't at our regular church. My kids and I decided to go with my parents to their church because we were all going out together as a family afterwards. I was raised Lutheran and my parents attend a traditional Lutheran church, but I personally am a non-denominational Christian and I tend to gravitate towards churches that are contemporary. 

This Sunday, however, I was so moved by the hymns that we sang. In those songs I could hear God whispering to me. But the message was what grabbed my heart. He spoke directly to all of the doubts and fears and insufficiencies that I had been struggling with recently. 

Don't worry Jennifer, when this world is not enough, when you are not enough, when your fears are overwhelming, I am here to catch you. 

When the world speaks scarcity, God is sufficient. When the world tells me to fear, my God gives me peace. When I fall, he is my catcher. When I don't have enough, he provides. Where I cannot, he can and he will because he loves me. 

What peace.

The Lord's Day

"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, 

     and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,  

     giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, 

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; 

     it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, 

     and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. 

For you shall go out in joy,  

     and be led back in peace;

the mountains and the hills before you

     shall burst into song,

     and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

    instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; 

and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial,

     for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off."

 

~ Isaiah 55:10-13

 God is good.

Struggling

I'm exhausted. 

I've been up since 4:30 this morning, but it's more than that. This is a mental, emotional, spiritual exhaustion. I'm really not sure how much more of this I can handle, and the hell of it is I don't have any choice. I have to handle it whether I want to or not because it's not just me in this boat. I have two kids getting dragged along through this mess that they didn't ask for, and what kills me is knowing that I did this to them. When things are hard, when my son misses his dad and his cousins, when we don't have enough, when I'm gone because I have to work, I have to live with the fact that my choices have caused this. 

Now I don't mean this in regards to the separation. My husband is at fault for that, and I stand by my decision to leave. 

No, I mean in a broader sense. It was my choice that caused me to get pregnant so young, to marry a boy instead of a man, to bring another child into a marriage that I knew in my heart of hearts was in trouble. It's all these things that I'm guilty of. 

I cherish my children. I will never, ever regret them. But I regret each second of pain and hardship that my selfishness and stupidity has caused them. 

I have screwed up so monumentally that I don't know how I can ever make it okay. I won't say 'right' because I don't think that I can ever make it right. But I hope for okay. I hope for good. My faith tells me that God can bring me out of these ruins that I've pulled down around myself and my children, but everything else in me says otherwise. 

I am trying to cling to God's promises, but it is so hard in the muck and the mire of the everyday. I am filled with so much self-doubt and fear. I'm so far down in this hole that I don't see how I'm ever going to get out. 

I found Hell on Earth...

It's a five hour and forty-two minute (was I counting? Oh, you betcha.) flight with a just-turned-one-year-old.

Lord help me, it was horrendous.

First of all, security regulations. 

Don't even get me started on the logistics of bringing along bottles for your baby with all of the new security regulations. 

My daughter recently switched to milk instead of formula. And, stupid me, assumed that because of the regulations regarding liquids and gels that I wouldn't be able to bring along prepared bottles. You read that right, I embarked on an almost six hour flight with no milk for my baby. Oh, the depths of my stupidity. Just so you all don't think that I'm totally insane/cruel, I did bring along cheerios and other snacks. But still, no bottle=no sleeping and an extremely unhappy baby.

On the first leg I had enough time to buy a few little cartons of milk (for an exorbitantly high price I might add) for her bottles. On the second, and much longer, leg of the trip I wasn't so lucky. We only had a half an hour layover in Atlanta. Yikes. This gave us enough time to schlep everyone off the plane with all our crap, run to our gate, take one look at the horrendously crowded ladies room and wait outside the men's room (with much fear and trepidation) while my seven-year-old son went to the bathroom by himself, schlep ourselves and all our crap onto the next plane where we proceeded to sit for forty-five minutes because of delays. 

Oh, the ironies of my life.

Needless to say, the flight was hellish. I was able to get a carton of milk from one of the flight attendants which got us through the first half of the flight. The second half, however, involved an extremely wiggly baby who desperately needed to sleep and absolutely refused to without a bottle. Sigh. After about an hour of fighting sleep and being totally cranky, one of the flight attendants (God bless her) washed out one of our bottles and filled it with water for me. I really didn't think that it would work, but at this point I have the feeling that my daughter was just as desperate as I was. She finally slept. Oh bliss. 

The rest of the trip was a blur, but we made it to California in one piece. Exhausted, but in one piece. 

While I was in California, one of my friends suggested checking the TSA website to see what their regulations are in regards to baby bottles. Apparently, in an effort to avoid nightmarish trips like mine, the TSA in their infinite wisdom allows you to bring along full baby bottles and an ice-pack to keep them cold... 

God I'm an idiot. 

It was nice while it lasted...

My vacation from the salad bar is over. Sigh.

I was up at 4am this morning, and I'll be up at 4am tomorrow. I'm going to bed. If anyone's listening, Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.

... and don't mind the monsters under the bed, they're just as scared of you as you are of them.

Love ya,

Jen

The Lord's Day

"Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him."

~ Psalm 91:1-2 NLT 

Independence Day

I hope everyone had a great Fourth, I know we did.

Being from Orange County, I can't tell you what an absolute pleasure it was to be able to buy and set off fireworks.

Us Californians are so deprived.

Oh my goodness, my seven-year-old and I went to buy them, and we were like kids in a candy store. I asked the man running the booth which ones were good for first-timers like us to set off, and he kindly pointed us in the right direction. Thank God. If we were left to our own devices we probably would have blown ourselves up.

The day was spent in anticipation of the fireworks. We had gone to the town fireworks show the evening before, and it was fantastic. Samantha was absolutely enthralled and not one bit scared. She sat in my lap and stared up at the display, laughing and clapping.

Alex had a fantastic time too. All of our Fourth of July's had been spent at my mother-in-law's house watching several shows from far away. This was his first up close and personal fireworks show.

Of course setting off fireworks in our cul-de-sac was the ultimate. We had so much fun. One of Alex's friends and her parents came over to watch as well. The kids set off smoke bombs and snakes first, and then we brought out the big guns.

I thought that I'd start small and set of the street roses first. Yikes. One of them misfired and shot straight off to the side instead of spinning in place like it was supposed to. Thank God I didn't have it facing the other direction, it would have shot right into the middle of everyone. Shudder.


The last ones we shot off weren't just fountains, they actually shot up into the air like honest to goodness fireworks.

It was almost more than this deprived Californian gal could handle.

Happy Fourth Everybody!

I hope everyone has a happy and safe Fourth.

And please, try not to set yourselves or any loved ones on fire, okay?

~ Jen

I'll Tell You A Secret...

I want my own room. 

This isn’t some casual want as in, ‘Hmm, I think I want a cup of coffee this morning.’ No, this is a deep longing. The type of longing usually reserved for lifelong dreams and ambitions. 

My kids, are noisy when they sleep. 

My son is prone to sudden, loud, startle me and make me fall out of my bed outbursts of talking in his sleep. These aren’t quiet mumblings of a sleeping child. No, these little episodes often involve yelling and even when they don’t, they are always loud. 

And as if this weren't enough, my darling baby daughter who turned one a month ago, has recently developed the lovely habit of banging her head against the mattress in the middle of the night. She also loves to get on her hands and knees and rock back and forth. This wouldn’t be such a big deal, but she sleeps in a Pack and Play which creaks whenever she rocks. 

So, almost every night at 2am I’m woken up by:

creak CREAK creak CREAK creak CREAK thumpthumpthumpthumpthump creak CREAK creak CREAK creak CREAK thumpthumpthumpthumpthump creak CREAK creak CREAK creak CREAK thumpthumpthumpthumpthump ...I think you get the idea. Sigh.

Why does a self-respecting, 26-year-old, mother of two not have her own room you ask? Because, dear reader, as I've mentioned before, I find myself in the unenviable position of having had to move back in with my parents (whom I'm eternally grateful to by the way.) But still, would you join me in a moment of silence for the loss of my independence... 

Saladbar Rules

The first rule about Saladbar is: You Do Not Talk About Saladbar.

The second rule about Saladbar is... just kidding. Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

But seriously folks, during my employment at what will hereafter be reffered to as 'The Grocery Store', I've picked up some interesting insights into human behavior thus spawning the Saladbar Rules.

1. If I only have a little of something left, people will demolish it. It doesn't matter if they haven't touched it with a ten-foot pole on other days, it will be gone in ten seconds flat and I'll have to refill it five seconds after setting up the salad bar.

2. People. Are. Messy. And I do mean disgustingly messy. I suppose they figure that someone else *coughhack *me* coughhack* will come and clean up behind them so it doesn't matter if they spray parmesan cheese all over the bacon bits and three salads deep on the other side of the saladbar.

3. If I'm low on containers and we can't find them anywhere in the back of the store because my manager never ordered them, people will smell it like blood in the water and flock to the salad bar so they can complain to the managers about how badly run it is.

4. Untensils migrate. You would think that it wouldn't be difficult for someone to figure out that a utensil is meant to be used for the food it's placed in, but apparently that's much too mentally taxing for some people. They just don't understand why you can't use the cottage cheese spoon to scoop out strawberries. ::shudder::

5. Utensils walk. Now this one I really, truly, do not understand. Why in the world someone would want to walk off with tongs or a large salad bar spoon, I will never know.

Our salad bar prices things by the pound.

$5.99 to be exact.

No, I'm not kidding.

Yes, it's ridiculously expensive.

Yes, people will pay for it.

Occasionally.

Which leads me to rule number six of the salad bar:

6. If someone's put too much stuff in their salad bar container, apparently not noticing the $5.99/lb sign (which is very large, and obnoxious, and therefore, difficult to miss) it is perfectly acceptable to stow said salad behind things, on a shelf, in another part of the store, where it won't be found until the night crew stocks the shelves, and it will have ample opportunity to get throroughly disgusting. Lovely.

An Introduction

I suppose that I should start all of this by explaining the 'temporarily ' in my Blog description. Even though it's of great importance to me, it's not too terribly exciting. Sorry for any suspense that I might have built up.

My husband and I are separated, thus prompting my exodus from the sunny O.C. to the sunny, humid, mosquito-ridden, often plagued by thunderstorms, but beautiful N.C.

For those of you that are interested, if there actually is anyone reading this, my name is Jennifer and at the ripe old age of twenty-six I find myself in the unenviable position of having had to move back in with my parents.

With two kids.

In a place roughly three thousand miles away (but universes in regards to society and culture) from the place I grew up in.

Yeah. Welcome to my life.

I really don't know that anyone besides me and maybe a few friends will find this interesting, but it might at least be amusing to someone out there. I also wanted to start this blog in an attempt to document this journey I'm going through. Call it an experiment. Perhaps, when I come out of the other side of this thing that I'm going through, I'll want to look back on it and see what I survived and what lessons I learned from it.

So, if you're reading this, I hope that you find it entertaining. If you're bored, I'm sorry. But you see, I'm awfully short on friends right now, so even if you're bored I'd love to hear from you. So, leave a comment and I promise I'll read it. If you don't, I understand. I'll keep writing anyway. I've unfortunately become very good at talking to myself. But that's okay, I'm a very good listener.

Here goes nothing,

~ Jen