Granola

I have quite a few friends who refer to themselves as "crunchy."  When I use that term while talking to my husband I have to explain it, so for those of you who may not know, they call themselves that because they're a bit like granola -- a bit hippy.  I have no problem with them being this way.  Everyone is allowed to have their own style of beliefs and living, even if I don't agree with all of the things they think.  And I don't.
They are gung-ho for cloth diapering.  I'm okay with that.  If we decide that it will save us money, I'm willing to look into that.  I just get tired of hearing about it ALL the TIME.
They like to talk about breast-feeding.  Okay.  Nothing wrong with breast-feeding.  I plan to participate in that if God blesses me with kids.  I don't want to make a spectacle of myself doing it, though.  I don't want it to make me think that I am more important than another woman who doesn't breast-feed or that it means I should be given priviledges that other people don't have.  Sorry, but women have been breast-feeding for years and not required any extra help or attention before now.  What makes us so entitled?
They are against Disney princesses.  Quite honestly, I feel sorry for the Disney princesses.  I understand that they don't want their daughters to grow up being helpless or feel like they can only marry a prince, but haven't they ever heard of moderation?  Yes, let your daughters be who they are without making them wear ONLY pink or tiaras or whatever, but what if they want to wear pink?  Isn't that okay, too?  I love fairy tales.  I love pink.  I love being girly.  Does that make me not as good as girls who don't like that stuff?  No.  So, why not give your daughter the option of it?
This post is not to complain about my crunchy friends.  It's not even to say they're wrong.  I have just discovered that lately I have seen so many posts on blogs and facebook that I just skim over the post to see if it's one of "those" posts and then roll my eyes and go on with my life, saying I want to be nothing like them.  I've actually started praying that God keep me from wanting so much to be unlike them that I go too far in the opposite direction.  I guess I just want to be able to make up my own mind and make my own decisions.  So, I appreciate that they are making their own decisions.  I just hope that when I have kids, my decisions won't wear on my friends' nerves because I feel like I need to speak of nothing else.  And I hope they can see where I'm coming from and respect me and my decisions, too.

Things I Don't Understand

These are just a few things that perplex me lately.

• Why it's so hard to believe that not only have I never had a drink, I don't want one.
• Why some people have such a hard time getting along with their family, and even seem to like to fight with them.
• Why everything seems to quit working and/or need to be replaced at the same time.
• Why it's 80 degrees in February.
• Why I can change four diapers in the time it takes for my preschool "aide" to change one.
• Why I don't keep my kitchen clean all the time instead of letting it build up so that it takes even more effort to clean it when I do finally get around to it.
• Why I want so desperately for my husband to get a job, even if it means moving, but am still afraid to move again.
• Why I want so desperately to be pregnant but am also afraid of all that comes with it.
• Why I can't forgive someone for something that wasn't even really their fault.
• Why I'm tired until it's time to go to bed and then can't sleep.
• Why I say yes to things and then really don't want to do them even if they do mean extra money.
• Why we owe taxes when we don't make enough money to be able to afford to pay them (this actually may have changed since the last time I looked at it since the laws passed at the end of last year kicked in after the 14th of this  month and I haven't had time to look at it since).
• Why I'm facebook friends with some people.
• Why I don't do something about some of my great ideas.
• Why I'm taking the time to make a list of things I don't understand.
• Why I can't remember the rest of them.

Back in the Mean Reds

I knew it had been a while since I had posted anything, but I really didn't think it had been a month.  I've got to tell the truth . . . I've been stuck in the Mean Reds as Holly Golightly would say in Breakfast at Tiffany's.  It's sort of like saying I'm depressed.  A lot of it is due to money issues of late.  I just can't seem to make our ends meet neatly lately and it's driving me crazy.  Really, things haven't slowed down that much, work-wise.  But I think Jeremy's not getting paid quite as much right now as he was for a while because their numbers weren't quite what the company thought they should be (he works in returns and they're supposed to "save" most of the sales).  Anyway, money is a major stresser in my life and neither one of our cars is as good as it should as it should be.  It just feels like we're caught in the quagmire of debt right now.
On a good note, Jeremy has applied for a job or two that is looking more like a possibility of something better for the next school year.  On the downside, I guess I need to start thinking about how to bring in extra money this summer when my after-school care and preschool jobs will not be paying me.  And we still have to get him hired.  Please, God, please give my husband a better job, one in education.
The other reason I've been down is because of the usual . . . really wanting to be a mommy.  I had had so many days of having tender breasts that I had started to think maybe . . . maybe this time.  And then a new cycle started again.  Back to wondering, wishing, hoping, praying, crying, wanting it more than anything else in the world.
I'm fighting the mean reds.  I don't want to be depressed.  But I'm still there at least a little bit.  The hardest part is making sure I don't take them out on those around me.  And I'm not sure I've been doing a wonderful job of that, either.  Say a prayer for me.  Maybe I need to go eat breakfast at Tiffany's.