Money savers

How to Save Money in My City

I have done some work for fellow mdub and surrounding area dwellers.  This research is due to my extensive work in retail, tips from my mom, and my own shopping experiences.

1. a) I will start with what I know best- greeting cards.  If you must buy a greeting card, the cheapest places are Dollar Tree (where cards are 50 cents or a dollar) and Dollar General (where the exact same cards are the exact time prices, with the notable addition of sound cards for $2.50- $3.50). However, while some of these cards are of decent quality, I would only recommend them to people who expect them to be thrown away.
b) Big Lots offers better quality cards at 25% off.  These are my personal favorite, because of the creativity and craftsmanship.  They are worth the extra expense, in my opinion, especially if you think the receiver of the card will appreciate it.
c) Select Walmarts offer American Greetings cards at 10% off. The great thing about this is that they always have a 4-foot 47-cent to 97-cent section of decent cards for the cheap-minded.  My favorite section, however, is the 4-foot RPG selection of mostly funny cards that are made of recycled materials.  When a card makes me laugh out loud, that's a keeper.
d) Target offers very nice quality cards for every occasion you can think of.  When I have the extra dough and a good enough reason, I'll always spring for a card from Target.

2. The commissary on base has the best prices on spice packets, canned ravioli and spaghettios, shredded cheese, and reduced price meat, in addition to a clearance corner.

3.  If you are grocery shopping and you can't get into the commissary, go to Crest.  They are much cheaper than Walmart on most items. Soda- of all brands- is usually on sale, bottled water is a steal, they have Watonga cheese curds, the shopping carts can fit two kids in the front, the hamburger patties are the best quality, and they have the biggest selection and best prices on frozen pizza.

4. Walmart- the best deals at Walmart are always the off-brand labels.  Equate, Sam's Choice, etc. Medicine is cheapest here, diapers and off-brand Pediasure are cheapest here.  Clothes, shoes, toys, and electronics are cheapest here, especially if you look in the clearance sections.

5. Books- The Half-Price bookstore is your best bet for the biggest variety of used books and good prices.  Dollar General always has one rack of books that range in price from $1 to $5, and they are all paperbacks, but sometimes you can find a really good book there.

6. One last tip that a surprising number of people don't know: Holiday-themed  items are priced at least 50% off the day after the holiday.  This begins at midnight at 24-hour stores.  I hit Walmart every year the day after Halloween for cool panties and cheap candy.

for my mom

October, 2013.

Dear Mom,

          You are 53 this year.  Congratulations on making it this far without your hair turning gray or having to use a wheelchair!  You have been through so much, and yet you are still ticking.  I had this brilliant idea to make a list of 53 things I love about you, but dang, that’s just too much.  I made it to number 16 and called it quits.  Not because there aren’t 53 things to love about you, but because I wanted them all to be meaningful.  Not that you don’t have 53 meaningful qualities, but anyway . . . I decided to put this in letter format and to add fun stuff at the end.

          First of all, I am ever so grateful you picked my dad as your life-mate.  You gave him a second chance to win your heart, and I am happy you did.  I can’t imagine you being married to anyone else.  I also can’t imagine any other man being as patient, steady, handy, and dependable (with a dash of orneriness) - and that is what you needed.  So thank you for choosing Dad.

          Also, and this must be said, thanks for giving birth to me.  I know you didn’t have to, and I know you had just been through considerable pain and suffering and heartache.  Now that I am a mom myself, I understand how difficult it is to choose to have children when you know they may be born with serious defects.  I feel absolutely certain that I owe not just my existence, but my continued survival to you.  You loved me when you weren’t sure if I would live.  You cared for me after each operation or procedure.  You were always there for me, and without you I would not be here today. 

          Along those lines, thanks for choosing to have another child after me.  I know Greg and I fought most of the time and even hated each other at times, but it was good to have someone to grow up with.  We ended up being friends, and no one gets you as well as a sibling.  No one else has those childhood memories. 

          As for teaching me as I grew up, you did everything.  You taught me about my period, and showed me how to wash my panties in the sink if blood got on them.  You taught me to cook, and that is a valuable life skill.  You taught me how to French braid, how to use a curling iron, paint my nails, put on makeup, etc.  A lot of girls do not have mothers to teach them these things.  Here’s something else: you taught me how to separate groceries on the belt when you’re checking out: meat in one section, dairy in another, frozen over here, produce over there, etc.  You would be surprised how many people do not do that.  It’s such a simple thing, and it makes it easier on the cashier and bagger, and also on the person who unpacks the groceries at home. And hey, you also made me wear a bra even when I didn’t need to- you remember the whole nipple issue.  So thanks for molding me into the woman I am today.

          I don’t remember who introduced me to reading, but I do know that you were the one who encouraged it the most.  You really helped nourish my soul with books.  I do not know what kind of person I would be without my passion for reading.  I don’t know how I could have gotten past some difficult and/or painful ordeals in my life without the escape books offered.

          You gave me my excellent taste in music. First, by putting on 70s records like the Bee Gees and Abba on Saturday house cleaning days when I was little, and later by taking me to my first concert.  You basically created my obsession with the Monkees and my deep appreciation of the Beatles.  To this day, I prefer some good funky 70s music to anything else- I mean, there were A LOT of Saturday house cleaning days while I was growing up.  It’s in my blood now.  You also taught me the electric slide, which remains my favorite dance.  Speaking of dancing, you are a natural.  You pick up steps faster than me, and you look better doing it. 

          I would say that you are my best friend.  My husband is, too, but the mother-daughter relationship we have is different from the spousal relationship.  I believe I can tell you anything if I can just work up the nerve.  You probably know 99% of everything there is to know about me.  I usually love spending time just sitting and talking to you- I say “usually” because there are way too many times when one or both of us is too sick or in pain to enjoy anything.  You are always there for me, and I hope you know that I am always here for you.  I may grumble, but you must know that I truly want to help when I can.

          You are strong.  You are a warrior.  You have been through life obstacles of all sorts, and you always pull through.  You have survived loss of a magnitude that I cannot even fathom as a mother.  You went through heart surgery, kidney stones, and breast reduction as a teenager.  You suffered a wasp caught in your panty hose at school, and getting your period on Halloween.  You made it through these mortifying incidents, and shared them with me so that I could learn.  You had some kind of knee surgery and had to stay lying down, but you still managed to throw me a birthday party from the couch.  You had two aneurisms is your spleen, and it was accidentally discovered by a thorough technician who was checking for something else entirely.  You have back problems and continuing kidney stones and who knows what else.  And yet you still go on living your life.  You can be very happy, and when you are, everyone knows it.  Your laugh is very distinctive and unapologetic, and I love it.  You are an inspiration. 

You are creative when you don’t have to be.  You could so easily slip into empty-nest housewife mode and watch TV, sleep, and drink all day.  Instead, you keep up with the housework while designing and making jewelry and other crafts.  You let your creative side out, and you make money doing it.  On top of that, you are also creative in the kitchen, experimenting with different dishes to try on Dad for supper or new recipes for pies or other dessert items for the holidays.  I honestly do not know how you do it.

You are a wonderful grandma.  You have totally opened your heart to include 3 precious grandchildren.  I entrusted you with the care of my first baby when he was only 4 weeks old and I had to go back to work.  At first it was difficult, but now I know without a doubt that you can take care of my kids. Tyger and Cougar absolutely love you, and they think going to Grandma’s house is the best treat ever.  You give them the attention they need, and you spoil them rotten.  You have even managed to keep up a bond with your granddaughter, even though she moved a few states away.  The kids just adore you.

Well, to make a long story short- I am lucky to have you as my mom.  You are truly the best mom ever, and an inspiration as a woman.  I love you with all my heart, Mom.

I need to let this go

Why is high school on my mind nearly 11 years later?

I find myself thinking about stereotypes, and cliques, and clubs, and dating, and sports, and teachers . . .

Let me begin by bringing up this classic 80s movie about high school:

These high school kids were labeled as the brain, the jock, the basket case, the criminal, and the princess.  I can remember many classmates fitting into some of those neat boxes, but I also remember other classifications that existed at my school.  For example, I had a close friend who was an out and proud lesbian.  I knew a girl who got pregnant in senior year.  There were Goths and there were the cheerleaders.  I, myself, was both a loner and a basket case, with some brain mixed in. I attended every football game from 8^th grade until 11^th grade as a member of the school band.  I was in the band, but never felt like I belonged.  I remember eating lunch while sitting in the hallway reading a book.  It’s really hard to pigeonhole people with only 5 options. 

 

Some teachers stand out in my mind, like my one-legged American History teacher who gave me my first C ever.  And then there’s my French teacher, who taught my French class all through high school.  She was the nicest lady, and made me want to become a French teacher.  That was even the first major I picked in college.  On the difficult side, there was my band instructor, who taught my class 7^th grade through 12^th grade.  He expected perfection from all of the band members, was prone to swearing and throwing things, made many incorrect assumptions about us students, and gave self-righteous speeches on the fly. He played favorites, and through my experiences with him, I learned that I am not an ass-kisser. 

Another large part of my high school experience was dating and mooning over boys.  I had a boyfriend for 5 months in 11^th grade, and I spent so much time talking to him on the phone at night that I hardly ever did my trigonometry homework.  That’s when I received my second (and last) C ever.  The quote I chose for my senior yearbook was “I have had a crush on every single guy in my class.”  That’s really telling; my hormones were out of control, and yet I remained mostly a loner and too shy to approach any of my crushes.

I think my point is that I was pretty miserable in school. Full of angst, hormones, social anxiety, and depression.  I was never invited to a single party and never offered any drugs.  I mostly stayed home and read books when I wasn’t working a part-time job.  I feel like I missed out on a huge chunk of the high school experience, and I can’t help but dwell on it sometimes.

brand reviews

Brand Loyalty

First of all, I would like to state that I use mostly generic brand products because they are cheaper, but also because many times the ingredients are the same as the more popular brands.  Even so, I do have some favorite brands, and I will explain my reasoning for each one.

Apple vs. Microsoft:  I am a Microsoft fan all the way.  I grew up (starting around age 10) with computers my dad built, and they all used the Windows operating system.  I have used all the Windows versions from Windows 3.1 to Windows 8.  I even chose to have a cell phone that uses Windows 7 instead of getting an iPhone.  I have always found Windows easier to operate than Macintosh/Apple systems, and my phone is super easy to work and has all the features I wanted. 

Nintendo vs. Playstation: I much prefer Nintendo systems when I have a chance to game.  I grew up watching my brother play most of the Nintendo systems, and then the Xbox.  I own a Nintendo DS, even though I haven’t had time to play it in a few years.  I have tried playing a couple of Playstation systems, and I find the controllers to be very confusing with all the different shapes on the buttons and such.  I prefer the simplicity and ease of the Nintendo controllers.

Kotex vs. Tampax and all other pad/tampon brands: I have used all the available brands on the market, and I have consistently found that Kotex is the best.  The Kotex tampons are much easier to operate than Tampax because of the shape and grip.  Kotex pads are more reliable than Always pads because you can trust the wings to stay in place.  Generic brands are generally sub-par, but I will use them if I must, and if they are similar to Kotex.

Campbell’s soup: Okay, I only eat one soup, and that is Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.  I’ve tried off-brands, but they do not taste the same.  There is nothing like some good chicken noodle soup when you’re feeling sick.

Chef Boyardee: I love mini ravioli, and I only buy this brand- again, because it tastes the best. 

All brand laundry detergent: I’ve used many brands, but I find All’s frangrance-free liquid detergent to be the best for my family’s needs. It is also not expensive.

Sunbelt granola bars: These granola bars are the best quality for the money.  They taste better than other brands and they are priced reasonably.  I love that they are chewy rather than crunchy.

Ritz crackers: There is just something about the texture of the cracker that tastes soooooo good.  When I buy peanut butter crackers, I always buy this brand. They melt in your mouth, unlike some other brands that are more difficult to swallow.

So I do have loyalty to some brands, but I always buy whatever is cheapest in all other areas: toilet paper, paper towels, trash bags, spaghetti noodles, spices and seasoning mixes, milk, cheese, bread, frozen pizza, magazines, clothes (I shop at Goodwill), tomato sauce, canned and frozen veggies, cookie dough, flour, sugar, cooking oil, batteries, syrup, candy, juice, etc.

raising boys

I just read this article:
America tells boys not to be girly
An excerpt:
"The stereotypes that plague our lives teach that the characteristics of empathetic understanding are feminine: listening, sensitivity, quiet consideration and gentleness.  Empathy is feminized and boys learn quickly that what is feminized is, in a man, the source of disgust. While parents, teachers, coaches, grandparents and others whose ideas shape children aren’t sitting around telling boys, “Don’t be empathetic!” they are saying, in daily micro-aggressive ways, “Don’t be like girls!”  The process of “becoming a man” still often means rejecting almost any activity or preference that smacks of cross-gender expression or sympathy. Expression and empathy are closely related for children. When boys are taught that they can’t “be like girls” it has the threefold effect. First, it alienates them from core aspects of themselves. Second, it portrays what is feminine as undesirable and inferior. Third, it forces boys into a “man box” from which emotions and empathy are excluded."

I have 2 sons, ages 3 and 5.  They do not watch shows about princesses or wear any pink or play with Barbies or other "girly" toys.  However, they are also not encouraged to play with toy guns.  I let my 5-year-old pick out his own clothes, within reason.  He does not gravitate toward girl's clothes.  He likes playing with toy kitchen setups and pretending to cook.  That's fine with me.  When he started pre-k this year, he formed a group of friends on his own which includes one girl.  My goal is to raise my boys to be traditional boys, but I will not discourage their empathetic sides.  I want them to be able to express their feelings in healthy ways.

I grew up with one brother, and we were raised in the same household but quite differently.  I was given girly clothes to wear and he wore boy clothes.  I played with Barbies and makeup, and he played with boy stuff. We both had to do household chores, but only I was taught to cook and do laundry.  My brother played sports; I did not.  In fact, I was encouraged to take ballet; my brother was not.  I cried a lot growing up, over various issues, but I've only seen my brother cry a handful of times.  My brother has much more inherent ambition than I do.  He is doing very well for himself in his chosen career path.  All I thought I wanted to do was get married and have kids, which I did.  

I do not want to raise my boys to be emotionless robots with no feelings for other people, but neither do I want to raise them to be weak.  In this world, men are still traditionally the stronger gender.  Women are slowly becoming more equal, but we cannot fully escape our past and genetic makeup.  Women gathered and men hunted.  Women gave birth and tended the children, and men provided for their families.  The way our bodies are made is inescapable.  Men have evolved to be the hardened protectors that so many are today.

Will I let my boys play sports?  Yes, but only if they show a real interest.  Theater? Yes. Chess club? Yes. Band? Yes.  If they express any kind of interest, I will help them.

appearance matters, believe it or not

Appearance.

This may seem like a trivial topic, but it crops up everywhere.  Most recently in my own life, where I’ve been taking extra care of my own appearance for the first time in years.  I remember growing up, and a memory from 5^th or 6^th grade in the school cafeteria.  I was just sitting eating my lunch (possibly from my New Kids on the Block lunchbox), when a girl (don’t remember who) commented on my hairy legs.  Around the same time, a boy in my class (I remember this one, but will never tell) suggested I needed deodorant.  At the time, around age 12, I was still very much a little girl.  I read books all the time, collected Barbies, and wore outfits such as this:

 I’m the one in the polka dots.  This is actually 4^th grade, but it doesn’t matter.  Times were different back then, or at least my little section of the world was.  Today’s girls of that age are dressing like hoochie mamas. 

Flash to age 13, when my mom allowed me to start shaving my legs and wearing makeup.  I had braces, contacts, and a perm.  I began a ritual in junior high of putting on a little makeup and doing my hair every morning before school.  By age 15, I remember being horrified if I forgot to put on mascara or curl my bangs for school.  I was actually pretty decent-looking in those days:

This is me at age 17. Hair in a ponytail, bangs curled, and mascara applied- all ready for work in my Hastings shirt.

You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone- this is very true.  The very next year, when I was 18, the process that gradually diminished my looks began.  Now, at age 30, I have literally lost my smile and any symmetry I had in my face.  Life sucks, and obscure medical problems really suck.

I believe I wore makeup at least half the time up until I was around age 24, when I started feeling like there was no point.  Deep depression ensued, and it was all about my having bad luck, bad genes, and no more smile.  I went through a brief period of time at ages 25 and 26 where I would sometimes make an effort to apply makeup or do something with my hair.  Then I had kids, and the makeup stopped almost completely.  I also developed an allergy to most mascaras.

At my very first job, I got paid slightly more than the other new hires because the recruiter liked my smile.  I used to smile all the time.  Now I can’t unless I want to look deranged.  Treasure your smiles, people!

Within the last month, I’ve started wearing makeup again and this time around I’m serious about it.  I feel more confident and presentable and attractive when it’s on.  Makeup, plus a little care about overall appearance, can work wonders on a trampled-upon, damaged soul.  For me, it’s a mask for the pain and anxiety and depression I fight constantly.  When I’m not in a moody funk, I will go the extra mile to look better nowadays because it makes me feel better.

 

 

for my dad

I love my dad.  He has always been there for me.  So has my mom, but right now I’m focusing on my dad. Here are the reasons I have the best dad ever:

1.     He rubbed my back till I fell asleep too many nights to count.  Now that I’m a parent, I recognize this as a great gift of his time.  I don’t remember why or how this routine started, but it lasted for many years.  I do know that my dad made me feel safe.

2.    He made me self-sufficient in many ways.  He taught me to ride a bike.  He taught me to drive a car (both standard and automatic).  He taught me to do my yearly taxes when I was 16.  He opened a bank account for me when I received my first paycheck at age 16, and showed me how to write checks and manage my money.  He made sure I could pump my own gas (again, at 16) and change a tire.  He took me to get my driver’s license and I passed on the first try.  He never handed out money willy-nilly, so I could learn the value of the money I made working for $5.20 an hour at my first job.

3.    So yeah, he made me self-sufficient, but he also came to my rescue when I needed it.  When I ruined a tire and the spare was full of spiders, he came and changed it for me.  When I locked my keys in my car, he saved the day-and this happened several times.

4.    He stayed the night at the hospital with me many, many times.  I’ve had several surgeries and extended stays at hospitals, and it was nice to have someone there.  Now that I know what it’s like to be alone at the hospital, I appreciate my dad even more.

5.    He is super intelligent and he can do anything.  He can fix anything.  He understands everything.

6.    He is always willing to help me: He’s helped me move a few times.  He went with me the first time I enrolled in college because I was super nervous. 

7.    He has good taste in music and is not ashamed to admit he likes female singers such as Alanis Morissette.

Caring for a heart baby

I love my kids more than I can ever express.  The hardest part of that love is when they get sick.  My youngest, Cougar, is 3 and he had open heart surgery at 3 months old.  He's had struggles ever since to reach normal milestones like walking and eating by mouth.  Right now he's in a special class at a public school that provides speech, physical, and cognitive therapy for 3-4 year olds.  Just a few days ago, I took Cougar to a regular appointment with his cardiologist to check on his heart.  I knew he had a moderate leak in his mitral valve, but that day we found out the leak had gotten worse.  This is bad news because now he will need another open heart surgery to repair or replace the mitral valve.  The doctor told me it will probably happen either this winter or next summer, depending on how Cougar responds to the increase in his medicine. 

Needless to say, my husband and I were devastated, and everyone else we know is giving us all the support they know to give. I also feel guilty because it is my gene pool that the heart condition comes from.  I have a leaky mitral valve myself, but it's only a small, manageable leak.  I've had 2 open heart surgeries- one to repair ASD and the other to repair cor triatriatum.  My mother and grandmother have also had surgeries due to ASD.  My older brother, whom I never met, died at 3 months old because the surgery to fix his coarctation of the aorta did not work.  I thought it was bad going through surgery myself, but it's a million times worse when it's my baby.  I am essentially rendered helpless in the face of this boo-boo that I cannot kiss better. 

A mother's love is all-encompassing and never ending.  I will do what I can: I will stand by Cougar's side, take care of every little need he has, and live in his hospital room until he is ready to come home.  I will let him know I love him, and I know my husband will, too.  We will give him our encouragement and the familiarity of our presence. 

This is going to be a very stressful and tiring several months while we go through this process, and I will probably break down several times.  I just can't handle the reality of my baby, who will be 4 when he has this next surgery, going through this again.  Just when we think he's gotten better and he's reaching milestones and acting like a regular kid, he has a setback.  I would take his place in a second.  He is such a special little boy, funny and sweet and precious.  I hate it that bad things like this happen to kids, and I hate the injustice of it all. 

For Cougar

Dear Cougar,

          At the time of your conception in 2009, your brother was 6 months old.  Your dad, Tyger, and I lived in a rental house.  I was 26 and your dad was 37.  Daddy was working as a detention officer and I was a stay-at-home mom and online college student.  Being pregnant with you was much more eventful than my first pregnancy: I gained more weight and at 8 months, I began itching severely on my belly.  Also, about a week before you were born, there was a bad snowstorm and Daddy got stuck at work for 36 hours.  That was bad because I was worried about going into labor with no one to help me. 

          However, the worst part about the pregnancy was the news we received after I underwent a fetal echocardiogram: You, my precious, innocent baby who was yet to be born, were diagnosed with a serious heart condition that the doctor thought was probably AVSD (atrial ventricular septal defect).  The cardiologist and the geneticist both encouraged me to also have an amniocentesis done to check for any chromosomal abnormalities you might have, such as Down’s Syndrome.  We were very happy when your chromosomes turned out to be normal.  As for your heart problem, the doctor assured me that it could be corrected by surgery sometime after you were born.  All I could do was hope for the best.

          I began having contractions January 1^st, 2010, but the pains stopped after a few hours and didn’t start again until the next day.  You were almost a New Year’s baby, but you ended up being born the evening of January 2^nd, 2010.  I walked into the birthing center with your dad, and within an hour you were born.  It was an emergency C-section because you were breech and your heart rate was dropping fast.  You were 9 pounds, 1 ounce and almost 21 inches long.  You were immediately rushed to a children’s hospital and checked out.  They let you come home with your dad and me a few days later because you were stable. 

          The first 6 weeks of your life were as normal as they could have been under the circumstances.  Your dad took off an entire month when you were born to help take care of you and let me recover from the delivery. He mostly watched you when I needed to sleep, and one of my favorite pictures is one taken by a nurse right after your birth- you were lying on a hospital table and your dad was sitting beside you with the happiest smile I have ever seen.  Anyway, I breastfed you, but you were not gaining much weight due to your heart condition.  You became weaker by the day and you were having episodes of turning blue and not breathing.  At 6 weeks old, I took you to the children’s hospital where you stayed for the next 2 weeks while various doctors checked you out.  By then, you were too weak to take the breast or bottle, so I was taught how to insert a feeding tube into your nose and down to your stomach so that you could receive my breastmilk that way.  When we took you home, you only lasted a week before we had to take you back to the hospital.  Your episodes of turning blue and not breathing were becoming too frequent for me to handle at home.  This time, you stayed a week at the hospital and came home with oxygen tanks and a heart monitor in addition to the continuous feeding pump and feeding tube.  You had tape on your face to hold the various tubes in place, and it was a juggling act for me or your dad to hold you and take care of you. 

          Unfortunately, you landed back in the hospital after about a week at home because your blue episodes had gotten much worse and too often.  Since I had the heart rate monitor at home always attached to you, I knew what was happening when you stopped breathing.  Your heart rate would drop to zero, and this would happen several times a day.  Anything could set you off, even taking your temperature or clipping your fingernails.  Back in the hospital, the cardiologists and the heart surgeon told me that you needed an open heart surgery as soon as possible.  However, they wanted you to be 12 pounds and at least 3 months old to increase your chances of surviving.  So it was a waiting game while we pumped you full of breastmilk and medicine and oxygen.  You made it to 12 pounds, but you did not make it to 3 months old before your situation became so dire that the surgeon decided to bump another patient off the surgery schedule in order to get your surgery done. 

          It was the last day of March, 2010, and I do not remember much about it except that you made it through surgery.  The doctors told me that you had Tetralogy of Fallot in addition to the AVSD, and your heart was in worse shape than they had originally thought.  You spent 5 weeks intubated in the pediatric ICU before you had the strength to breathe on your own.  You spent another 3 weeks in the hospital after the breathing tube was taken out, and ended up having a fundoplication and gastrostomy tube insertion surgery.  You were feeling a lot better, but you had forgotten how to eat, so the g-tube enabled me to feed you with a feeding tube that connected directly to your stomach.  By this time, you were 5 months old and you could not eat, talk, sit up, or do any of the things other babies your age could do.  When we brought you home, we set up a physical therapist to help you regain your strength and catch up on your milestones.  You could not walk until you were age 2 and a half, and you did not get the feeding tube taken out of your stomach until you were almost 3. 

          Today you are 3 and a half and you are walking, talking, eating, and playing like a regular kid.  You slept through your first birthday party.  You were a skeleton for your first Halloween, and a smurf for your second.  You were Scooby Doo for your third Halloween.  We went to Chuck E Cheese for your 3^rd birthday.

          You like Scooby Doo and Mickey Mouse.  You dance when you hear music.  You love and look up to your big brother, even though he picks on you all the time.  You LOVE swimming, especially at Grandma’s house.  Your favorite thing to eat is pizza.  You are unbelievably sweet and precious, and everyone loves you so much. 

Married Life

Things you didn't know: Married life

I just read the information at the above link, and I thought it was interesting and pertinent to my own life.  I know about marriage, having been married twice for a combined total of 10 years.  I have experienced being married too young, divorce, and marrying again.  I have some personal input for the statistics reported on that site. 

Marrying younger than 25 drastically increases the risk for divorce. I believe it, especially in today's society.  Sometimes teenagers get married right out of high school, or sometimes people meet in their early 20s before they've really had a chance to spread their wings.  It doesn't take long for the novelty and the feeling of "playing house" to wear off.  There must be a solid foundation and real commitment for the couple to stay married.  Here's an example: I was married at age 20 and divorced at 24.  I firmly believe that that marriage was built on a rocky foundation, and never shored up.  We just weren't ready for marriage, and so it didn't work out.  Looking back, those 4 years are my biggest regret, because I should have spent that time going to college or experiencing life on my own.  I view it as time wasted, but also a lesson learned.

The most successful marriages are between the older sister of brothers and the younger brother of sisters; the least are with only children.  This is a very cool factoid to me, because I am the older sister of a brother and my husband is the younger brother of a sister.  I wonder why this is true, though: Are the older sisters better wives because they grew up managing younger brothers?  Are the younger brothers better husbands because they grew up being managed?  I think maybe it's because the younger brother learns to respect women and communicate with them.

No sex in a marriage has a much more powerful negative impact on a marriage than good sex has a positive impact.  This is completely true.  We all want to feel loved and desired, and expressing that love in the most natural way positively reinforces the bond we have with our mate.  When no love is expressed, we begin to feel lonely in the relationship.