Most people I know have a certain number in the back of their minds–the age at which he or she becomes officially old.  For me, that particular birthday has already come and gone.  It occurred on October 21, 2007.  It was the day I turned twenty-ten.  At least, that’s the only way I could bring myself to say it then.  I’m more comfortable here in the land of thirties now.  But I do recall feeling as though I’d crossed a significant mile marker then.  The bright side of that, of course, is that future numbers don’t scare me because, well, I’m already old.  Ish.

Oh I kid.  Sort of.  I do realize that thirty isn’t old.  I do.  But for me, the number was daunting.  Because of the way my birthday falls I was always one of the youngest people in my class.  And, having given birth at sixteen, I was always practically guaranteed to be the youngest mom in any given group.  It’s just the way that I’d come identify myself: youthful.  The turning of that thirty-corner signified an end to that, at least in my mind.

Oh, if only I’d known.  It only gets better.

There are lists of things I wish I’d known then.  Lists of them.  Things that would have eased the months that led up to that October day.  Tidbits of wisdom that I probably wouldn’t have understood then, without the luxury of hindsight.

I’m choosing six today.  And even as I sit here considering them, a knowing smile reaches me.  These are but a few of the things I wish I’d known as I approached thirty:

6.  Wrinkles aren’t like a tax deadline.  Nor are they subcutaneous cougars waiting to pounce the second the clock strikes midnight.  They’re gradual.  Oh and pee ess, there are definitely worse things.  Perpetually-surprised Botox face, anyone?  See what I mean.

5. Not being the youngest one in any given group will feel all wrong at first.  The fit will be something like that new pair of flats that you have to wear around for a bit before they get comfortable.   But, just like the wrinkles, you’ll find comfort in your own skin.  You’ll discover a wisdom all your own and you’ll be able to connect with other moms on a whole new level.

4. Workouts get harder.  But there will be a shift somewhere–metabolism or something–and it means that you won’t be able to eat like you used to.  Regular exercise will be all the more important.  Though, admittedly, not any more enjoyable.

3. Gone are the days when you could hop up on the counter to reach the top cupboard shelf and then jump back down with ease.  In spite of the continued exercise, your body doesn’t cooperate like it used to.  Joints creak.  Feet ache.  Muscles protest.

2. Relationships evolve.  All of them–spiritual and earthly.  They strengthen and deepen with perspective.  It’s eye-opening and awkward and scary and full and beautiful all at once.

1. You’ll find an even more meaningful appreciation for all with which you’ve been blessed.

In a nutshell, you will find joy.  You will come to view the people and mistakes of your past through more experienced eyes and you will proceed accordingly.  You will forgive ever so slightly quicker and breathe easier.  Whereas once you thought you knew it all, you will realize that you’ll never stop learning.  There will be confidence rooted in that which matters as opposed to that which so quickly passes away.  So, too, will there be hardship.  Heartbreak.  Letdowns.  But all of it will be easier to accept because your faith has been strengthened through it all.  You will fully grasp that nothing is permanent.  You will appreciate today while planning for tomorrow.  You will savor more, dwell less.  And possibly, above all, you will face future birthdays not with gritted teeth and clenched fists, but with quiet anticipation and barely-concealed hope.

It’s a crazy-beautiful trip.  Enjoy the ride.

*Happy birthday, Stephanie!  Something tells me you will face this year every bit as gracefully as you’ve welcomed the ones that have come before it.  I hope that this post, as well as Dayna’s, will bring a smile to your day*

One of the things I most remember about being sixteen and pregnant was how the growing slant of my belly had a way of eliciting sideways glances and passed whispers between complete strangers.  How they looked on me with eyes that spoke volumes.  How even their silent, pursed lips let me know–in no uncertain terms–precisely my worth.

Not that I ever took such things to heart.  I’m a touch stronger than that.

More than once, in fact, I stared right back through ferocious eyes.  With a rebellious tilt of my head I dared them to say to my face what I knew they had no trouble saying behind my back.  Do you have something to say? I’d ask, hoping that just once someone would have the balls to.

They never did.

Those nine months marked a lonely transition.  There was a repetitive pull and release, pull and release as the taut threads of my woven friendships gave way one by one, beneath the weight of something I had to carry alone.

I don’t blame them.  Where they were planning what to wear on the first day of senior year I was hopefully tending to stretch marks with enough Vitamin E oil to drown a rat.  Not nearly as glamorous an undertaking.

In the last few weeks of my pregnancy I was invited to “stop by” a sleepover populated with the girls who had been my very best friends.  I sat awkwardly in the middle of a familiar bedroom fielding questions about baby names.  My bulging abdomen served as a vacuum that sucked the life–the girlish chatter–from a room that otherwise would have been spinning with it.

Everyone wanted to see the baby when she came.  I took her to the school one afternoon–a show and tell wrong on so many levels.  There were oohs and ahhs but then the bell rang and everyone scattered and I lugged the heavy seat back out to my car and strapped her in.  There may very well have been tears.  I don’t remember.

With the exception of two friends, I walked alone.  The first friend, Monica, had been my bestie since freshman year.  There was nothing we didn’t share.  The second friend, Michael, was actually my first official boyfriend.  We’d “gone out” in sixth grade for a junior high record of two months.  Over time our relationship evolved into a deep friendship.  He and Monica remained my true friends when the others faded.  It’s no coincidence that Monica is Torri’s godmother and Michael, her godfather.

One afternoon–after a particularly wakeful night–I was napping on my couch/bed with a newborn Torri curled up on my chest.  I opened my eyes to a familiar voice and saw Michael standing above me.  He’d stopped by after school to ask me something I most certainly didn’t see coming.  He wanted to know if I’d go to homecoming with him.

I couldn’t understand why he’d want such a thing.  After all, how many high school guys would “waste” homecoming on a platonic date?  He would, apparently.

I, of course, accepted, though not without asking him a million times if he was sure he wanted to take me.  We went to the dance with Monica and her then date (now husband).  I don’t remember much about the evening which actually is a good sign because it was the first time in a long time that I didn’t feel like the hot topic.  Granted, I was probably the only girl sneaking into the restroom to change her nursing pads, but still.  I was just another teenager on a homecoming date.

Limited maturity stopped me then from telling him just how awesome a thing it was he did for me.  How awesome it was for me just to be normal after so long of being anything but.

I watch Teen Mom on MTV.  Every week, during the closing scenes–when they play those hopeful, longing tracks–I get the heaviest feeling in my chest.  Heavy for those poor young girls who flail and revolt and just have no earthly idea of what’s to come.  I know from experience that in those moments–in those lost and lonely moments–there’s nobody.  Just nobody.  And then–poof!–just like that, along comes somebody who makes a world of difference.

Without even realizing it.

This is the third post in my Teen Mom Tuesday series.  The first two can be found HERE and HERE.

Judging by my Facebook news feed, I think it’s safe to say that the vast majority of American children ventured back to school last Monday.  My children, though, have been in school since mid-July.  So long, in fact, that our year-round district is nearing its first extended break of this school year.  {can I get a woot woot?!}

With that said, it should come as no surprise to you that I’ve already made many a school lunch this year.  Last year (and every year that came before) I woke up all groggy-eyed at zero dark thirty every morning and slapped some peanut butter and jelly on a couple of slices of whole wheat bread and called it a day.  Sure, I tossed in a sliced apple or a stick of string cheese for good measure, but, by and by, there was little variation from day to day.

Recognizing my slump, I set out to do better by my little brown baggers this year.  For starters, no longer are they brown baggers.  At the start of the year, I picked up two {safe} plastic containers that would replace a year’s worth of Ziploc baggies.  Cassie’s is a bit bigger than Jayce’s because she is in school all day and requires a full lunch where as Jayce just takes a snack to his half day kinder.  So, too, did I grab a package of silicone muffin cups that I use daily in my lunch making.  I also found a handful of fun “extras” like colored toothpicks, stickers (for banana peels), and decorative picks.

After dinner each night I go to great lengths to put together a colorful, healthy meal/snack.  Here’s the thing, though: even though my lunches are significantly more creative and artsy than what I’ve always done in the past, once I got the hang of things, I found that they really don’t take any longer to make.  And instead of the monotony of years before, I actually enjoy the challenge of creating something that is both attractive to the eye, and pleasing to the taste buds.

But don’t take my word for it.  See for yourself.

Contents: Turkey and cheese wrap, fresh pineapple, organic red grapes, and a stick of string cheese

Contents: half of a homemade whole wheat hamburger bun, organic cherries, organic cucumbers, star-shaped Havarti cheese and salami.

Contents: half a banana, organic cherry tomatoes, boiled egg, watermelon, organic green pepper slices, whole wheat pasta shells with homemade balsamic vinaigrette and Parmesan.

Contents: organic strawberries, turkey/cheese roll-ups, organic blackberries, organic green pepper boats with organic cherry tomato eyes, organic red grapes.

This gives you a good idea of the types of items I use to stuff the lunch boxes around here.  In addition to these yummies, I’ve also used:

-cubed grilled chicken
-baby carrots
-apple slices with a cup ‘o’ peanut butter
-whole grain crackers with heart-shaped cheese
-pb&j’s cut into airplanes or Mickey heads
-nectarine halves
-hummus
-edamame
-organic baked apple chips
-organic blueberries
-little cups of whole wheat couscous
-leftovers from the night before
-melon cubes
-veggie wraps

Basically, I try to stuff their lunches with whole foods that grow.  There are a few exceptions, obviously.  Lunch meats, for instance, are not ideal, but we don’t always have grilled chicken readily available in the fridge and I try to include at least one lean protein in their lunch each day.  In the case of lunch meats, we only purchase Boar’s Head, which, I suppose, is a small step up from the generic stuff you’d buy in the prepackaged area of the store.

Our lunches are sure to change up a bit come winter.  I imagine then that leftover soups and stews packed in a Thermos will be a frequent offering.

What about you?  What have you been packing for back to school lunches so far?  What brilliant lunch box stuffers am I overlooking?

When I was eighteen I worked with AmeriCorp (also known as the domestic peace corp) as a mentor for pregnant and parenting teens.  My own daughter was just turning one so, as you might imagine, I had plenty of hands-on experience with the issues teen parents faced.  Still, my role was an ambiguous one; I never quite understood what I was supposed to be doing, or how to measure whether or not I was successful.  I had roughly fifteen girls on my case load and I was charged with keeping track of various aspects of their lives.  Most of them were only a year or two younger than me, so mentoring them proved to be kind of challenging.  My duties ranged from making home visits to speaking on topic during school assemblies.  I arranged speakers for “group” and organized a holiday party for the girls and their babies.  Mostly, though, I sat at a desk and stared at the clock while the girls were in class.  Probably the most important lesson I learned during that time was that social work is really not my thang.

There was something else, though.

I was introduced to a high school junior who had chosen adoption for her unborn child.  I remember thinking–at the time–how lost she must have been.  How sorry she would one day be.  How the choice she had her mind set on was such a colossal cop-out.

Funny how time and a little bit of perspective can change things.

Looking back, I see her through the eyes of admiration.  I’m in in awe of how someone so young could have made such a selfless decision.  And yes, I am in the camp with those that think adoption is a selfless decision.  Especially in contrast to a woman who would abort her baby.  But we won’t go there.  Not today.

Would you believe that I tried to talk her out of it?  I’m almost ashamed to say so.  Ashamed because how dare I think that the life she was choosing for her child was something she came to flippantly.  I spoke with her at great length.  And while I certainly didn’t realize it then, I know now that she was infinitely more mature than me.  Whereas I chose to raise my child because I couldn’t bear the thought of a life without her, this young girl chose adoption because she couldn’t bear the thought of what that life would be like for her child.

I want it to be perfectly clear that I do not–in any way–regret my decision to raise the baby I gave birth to when I was 16.  I most certainly do not.  Our story is one with a happy ending.  My baby–now sixteen herself–has almost exactly the life I wanted to build for her.  Almost.

I would never have wished on her the road it took us to get here.  A road littered with broken relationships and broken promises and broken hearts.  We’ve been poor.  And lonely.  We slept side by side–curled up on my parents’ couch–for the first five months of her life.  I battled in court for the right to raise her the way I wanted to.  If you’ve seen a single episode of MTV’s Teen Mom, you’ve pretty much seen exactly the life we led while we–quite literally–grew up together.  It was anything but ideal.

It is precisely that life that makes me realize now how entirely selfless a gift that young pregnant girl gave her unborn child.  It wasn’t a decision I was capable of making.  I had my heart set on a happy ending of a different kind.  One that wasn’t easy to come by, by any stretch of the imagination.

That girl?  And the child she chose a different life for?  I’ll probably never know what became of them.  But I’d be willing to bet that they each have happy endings of their own.

Happy endings–I now know–come in all shapes and sizes.

This is the first in a series of Teen Mom Tuesday posts I’m writing.  I welcome input on any teen mom related topics you’d like for me to touch on. I am an expert on the subject, after all. ;)

We are a family of peculiar eating habits.  And by peculiar I mean that we {I} go to great lengths to ensure that we’re not ingesting a bunch of pesticides and chemicals and “food products” with ingredients that are more fit to be found under the kitchen sink than inside our bodies.  My children are not always fond of aforementioned eating habits.  They long to be like their friends, ordering nachos with extra gloppy cheese or “smoothies” laden with sugar from the snack bar line of their respective schools.  Schools which pride themselves on a lackluster “wellness policy” that–honestly–is laughable.  I’m hoping that the healthy eating habits I’m instilling in them now will see my kids through long, healthy lives.  And maybe when they’re old and suspiciously sprite, they’ll look back and thank me.

Maybe not.

Either way, our eating habits are not something I intend to change anytime soon.

It recently came to my attention that–based solely on my blog posts–we appear to be a health-nut kind of family.  And I suppose that is partially true, given that I exercise daily and stock our fridge with organic produce and our pantry with wholesome staples.  BUT.  It’s not as though we’re drinking raw egg spinach smoothies for breakfast.  We eat well, but so, too, do we eat fairly normal foods.  I thought I’d break it down here, because a) I’m trying to post every single day this month so, hey why not? and b) in case you’re looking to take baby steps towards a healthier lifestyle and I can be of some assistance.

Here are five food guidelines we live by:

1. If it’s on the dirty dozen list, ONLY buy organic. The general rule of thumb is that if something is naturally sweet, farmers have to use loads of cancer-causing pesticides to keep the bugs away, so, if it’s sweet, buy organic.  This includes: apples, celery, strawberries, peaches, spinach, nectarines, imported grapes, sweet bell peppers, potatoes, domestic blueberries, lettuce, kale and collard greens.  The good news is that there are also plenty of produce picks that are perfectly safe when conventionally grown.  A general rule of thumb to keep in mind here is that if you have to peel it to eat it, you probably don’t need organic.  Here are the items on the clean 15 list: onions, sweet corn, pineapple, avocado, asparagus, sweet peas, mango, eggplant, cantaloupe, kiwi, cabbage, watermelon, sweet potatoes and grapefruit.

2. Drink organic whole milk and eat meats raised without antibiotics. I don’t eat or cook red meat so I can’t speak to grass-fed beef.  I can tell you that my family eats only organic chicken breast and natural turkey (raised without antibiotics).  Access to a local farmer is ideal, but since we don’t have that we opt for organic dairy (including eggs) and meats as the next best thing.  Reason being that buying organic is the only way to ensure we’re not ingesting chemicals and loads of hormones and antibiotics in our food.

3.  Eat minimal canned foods.  Most canned foods contain various amounts of BPA. In order to avoid exposing my family to that toxic chemical,  I use canned foods very conservatively.  I have completely stopped using canned tomatoes in any form.  On rare occasions we do use canned beans, but only as a last minute alternative when soaking dry beans is not an option.

4. Steer clear of processed foods.  My pantry contains mainly staples like (whole wheat) flour, (organic) sugar and (sea) salt.  Because we live in the middle of nowhere we also stockpile items like crushed tomatoes in glass jars, peanut butter, and Trader Joe’s amazingly versatile salsa verde.  We make our own whole wheat bread and hamburger buns (keep your eyes peeled for the recipe on the blog soon!).  We don’t eat cereal other than our own homemade granola.  And my talented husband treats us to from-scratch wheat pancakes every weekend (with frequent add-ins like organic blueberries or hand-picked peaches).  With very few exceptions we DO NOT buy foods that don’t grow.  Every once in awhile you’ll find things like Oreos or marshmellows in my grocery store cart, which brings me to number five.

5.  Everything in moderation. We eat dessert.  Every single night (provided you’ve finished your dinner, that is).  97% of the time it’s something homemade.  If it’s not homemade, it’s probably a handful of Costco’s chocolate covered almonds.  Otherwise, it’s homemade ice cream.  Or homemade cookies or cobbler or cupcakes or cheesecake.  The marshmallows and Oreos are bought from time to time for S’mores or a recipe that calls for crushed Oreos.  What you won’t find in our pantry are “fruit snacks”, Doritos (much to Torri’s chagrin), or any other manufactured sweets.

So, knowing what you know now about our eating habits I’m curious: would you consider us health nuts?  Or are our dietary habits more in line with the average?

Last month I started what I envisioned as a bit of a series here on the Spot.  It was a post about our spending habits, entitled, “This is the way I keep the books.”  I’m continuing that series today with a post on the infamous Maranich household clean up night.  Because, you know, our cleaning habits are that interesting.  Or not.  I guess it depends on who you ask.  My thing, though, is that if I’d be interested in reading someone else’s post on the same topic, I deem it interesting enough to write about here.  I’m sure the fact that I’d be interested in reading your clean up post reveals something creepy about me.  So be it.

Clean up night is a weekly event ’round these parts.  It takes place each and every Thursday (barring school performances or natural disasters).  It’s so standing an event that we avoid commitments of all kinds on Thursdays so as not to disrupt our cleaning schedule.  Anal much?

At the onset, the joint looks something like this:

First things first: we call in the clutter crew and have them clean up all their crud.  And then we come along with our vacuum and mops, our vinegar spray and roll of paper towels.  Jeff is charged with the kitchen.  His duties include the cleaning of the ceramic cooktop, the kitchen chairs, the granite sink and counters and the stainless appliance surfaces.  Truth be told, he omits that last one 99% of the time and I end up coming behind and doing it for him.  I suppose it would be fair to add it to my own list.  My list?  I’m the floor gal.  I move everything but the kitchen table and couch off the concrete floors before making an initial sweep with the vacuum.  I follow with my steam mop.  From there I dust the coffee table and vacuum the rug and clean the dog-drool from the sliding glass door.  Once we’re finished the joint looks more like this:

From start to finish the whole process takes a little over an hour.  Both of us wholeheartedly dread going in to it, but the end result is definitely worth it.  One glorious night each week we’re treated to a pristine living area.  And enjoy it we do.  Typically, we reward ourselves with a perfectly-chilled one of these:

So…what do you think of our weekly clean up night?  Do you have a similar technique or are you more the clean-as-you-go type?  I’m curious how our process compares to yours.  Also, if you have thoughts on my “This is the way…” series, do let me know what else you’d like a glimpse at.

I thought I was so clever when I chronicled my budgeting method and off the cuff threw in an: oh yeah, come on back and I’ll break down where our money goes.

Turns out it was a daunting task.  Daunting because while I’m pretty much an open book and wouldn’t have any trouble talking with you face to face about income (tacky, I know), I thought I’d be a bit more discreet on the wide internet.  So I had to do lots of math to figure out the actual percentages.  It took me all day.  Not even including the pie graph (which my geeky spreadsheet husband pushed out in under ten minutes).

Drumroll, please.  Here’s the grand unveiling:

And now the explanation of each category.

Housing – Includes the mortgage (taxes and insurance included) and HOA fees.

Utilities – Electric, natural gas, water and trash

Food – Um, food. ;)

Transportation – Car payment, auto insurance premiums, gasoline

Uncle Sam – *&^%$#%&&*@!#$#@

Retirement Savings – Jeff’s 401k contributions through work and our private IRA contributions

Emergency Savings – For our rainy day fund.  Jeff designed a fancy spreadsheet for me that tracks our savings.  It has a column that is highlighted in either green, yellow, or red depending upon the balance.  I’ve managed to keep it green for quite some time now.  This is where we “store” funds (and accumulate interest) for our annual vacations.

College Savings – We use 529 plans.  We opted for Maryland’s program.

Household Supplies – This category includes the amounts I budget for our monthly Costco trip as well as what I call our “first of the month” trip to Target where I buy the things I can’t get at Costco.  Items in this category are things like: toilet paper, laundry detergent, batteries, light bulbs, etc.

Communication – Cell phones, home phone, internet service, cable

Medical – Health insurance, vision insurance, dental insurance, health flexible spending account contributions

Life Insurance – Whole and term premiums, short and long term disability premiums, AD&D premium

Misc – This is what we have left over at the end of the month/year after we’ve paid for everything else.  Gifts, charitable donations, restaurant outings, clothing, and activities are all funded by this category.

Allowance – Our kids make a pretty penny.  The flip-side of that is that they then have to pay for their own texting, trips to Starbucks, birthday gifts for friends, etc.  Torri contributes monthly to a savings account.  Kennedy saves monthly for spending money at Disney World.  The nice thing about their allowance is that they have to learn to make tough choices.  I even require them to pay for a percentage of their haircuts and budget accordingly.

This was an eye-opening exercise for me.  Fortunately, even after all is said and done, I’m confident that we’re very intentional about spending our money and that very little is falling through careless spending cracks.  We’re not the type to zip through a Starbucks or Jamba Juice every time we’re out because I realize how very quickly those expenditures add up.  On the rare occasions when we eat out, we do so only during happy hour or on “kids eat free” nights.  We don’t spend a lot of money on clothes or fancy electronics (hello and goodbye iPad).  We don’t waste money on trips to low-quality local attractions (county fair or overpriced water parks).  Our kids don’t get new toys every time we step foot into Target.  In short, every penny that goes out is considered and reconsidered.

Why?

Because those pennies add up to thousands of dollars over time.  Dollars that we choose to spend on memorable experiences like swimming with stingrays in Grand Cayman, or river rafting in Colorado.

How about you?  How do you choose to spend your money?  Have you ever plotted the percentages you spend?

Confession: I’m a wee bit of a control freak.  Which would explain why I’m the one responsible for the household bookkeeping.  I have been using the same method to balance the budget since I was sixteen years old and moved in with Torri’s dad right before she was born.  In fact, Torri’s dad was the one who taught me to budget, using a very scientific method that Jeff has since tried to upgrade, but time and time again I’ve had to tell him that fancy shmancy financial software programs would only complicate matters.  I’ll stick with the easy way.

Easy according to this technically-challenged neanderthal, anyway.

My budget runs month to month.  Right around the first of each month (or maybe the 30th of the previous month if I’m ahead of my game) I label a blank 4×6 card with the heading: July Bills.  Or February, or April.  You get the idea.  And then I proceed to list our expenses for the month, always using the previous month’s card for a guideline. If I have the date available, I list the due date of the bill (expense) alongside the amount due.  Once I’ve finished, my card looks something like this:

*These numbers are completely random - not our real budget*

Once the expenses are listed, I flip the card over and list income.  Like this:

*These numbers, too, are completely random and do not reflect our real income. Unfortunately.*

As the month goes on and expenses are paid, I cross them out one by one.  So, too, do I cross out the income as it comes in.  I also have a handy dandy little white out tool that I use to change ongoing expenses.  For instance, halfway through the month my grocery budget changes.  I white out the old amount and mark in a new one to reflect how much money is left in the food budget.  I also keep a running total of my Discover card balance on my bill sheet.  About halfway through the month, the card would look like this:

The beauty of this method is that by adding the remaining income to my current checkbook balance, and then subtracting outstanding expenses, I can get a quick idea of how much money is left in the account to “play with,” which, unfortunately, is never enough.

One more tidbit: I also start each month with a blank card titled “Discover Card – July”.  Every single time I use my credit card to pay for something, I write down the amount and the name of the retailer/establishment.  I regularly go online and reconcile my little 4×6 card with the charges on my credit card account, placing a little check mark after each one is accounted for.  Like this:

I actually run up quite a bill on my credit card each month, but I always know exactly (to the penny) how much money I owe.  We charge everything: gas, groceries, you name it.  EVERYTHING.  At the end of the month I pay off the balance in full a couple of days before the due date.  I cannot tell you the last time I paid one red cent in interest charges.  Why do we charge everything?  We earn between one and five percent cash back on all of our purchases.  I let my cash back bonus accumulate throughout the whole year and then use it to buy Christmas presents.  Last year, by December I had over $750 of “free money” to spend on Christmas.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I’m curious as to how you budget.  Do you use financial software?  Or do you take a more rudimentary approach like me?  Do tell.

Oh, and, if you’re curious about our budget, check back tomorrow.  I’m spilling the beans about where our money goes.

It’s that time again.  Tax time, that is.  I’ve yet to do mine, but the ever mounting stack of tax forms accumulating in my “Taxes 2010″ manila folder tells me that I should get to it.  Soon.

The looming chore of it got me thinking about where our money was spent last year.  And whether or not the purchases we made were good ones.  What better way to ponder that question than by doing a post on it?  Sheer brilliance, right?  I know.  These things just come to me.  It’s a gift.

So, without further ado, here are my choices for our 9 best (because I couldn’t think of a tenth) purchases of 2010:

9. The garden.  Or, rather, the supplies for the garden.  This was our first growing year and, while it was perhaps not as successful as we’d have liked, we learned a lot.  We’re looking forward to trying again this year.

8. You know how there are some things you just put off buying?  Even though you know it’s probably {past} time to do so?  For us, new home phones fit that category.  Our old ones were static-y and unreliable.  The new ones weren’t all that expensive, just one of those things we weren’t terribly eager to spend money on.  But once we did, it really simplified our lives.

7. This is one of those little things that made a huge difference in our kitchen.  I don’t even know what it’s called (scraper?  scooper?).  But basically it’s a tool that allows you to move lots of little chopped food particles to another location neatly.  We use it daily to move chopped celery, carrots (you get the idea) into a pot or skillet with ease.  Love this thing.

6. Ah, be still my beating heart.  This baby is mine.  All mine.  Whereas once upon a time I crawled across our floors, using a spray bottle and old rag to clean them, now the process is streamlined.  Or steam-lined, as the case may be.  Ha!  I crack myself up.  No, but really, this Shark steam mop forever changed clean-up night in our home.

5. This was a Black Friday purchase.  We’re not really choosy when it comes to electronics in our home.  We don’t feel the need for the biggest TV on the block or surround sound or anything like that.  But our DVD player slowly died a painful death last year and I figured we might as well upgrade since we were in the market for a new one.  I never thought I’d care about clarity when it comes to movie watching, but, wow was I wrong.  If you’ve never seen a Blu-ray movie you really are missing out.  Really.

4. This is a selfish one.  My new ring.  I lost my wedding set in Dec. of ’09.  It was insured, luckily, so we were able to replace it right away.  Of course, this, too, was an upgrade.  We spent the entirety of 2010 paying it off (with 0% interest, thankyouverymuch), but it was worth every penny.

3. Our updated bedroom.  We’d come to a point where the ugly old color was literally affecting our mood every time we’d walk into the room.  So we saved.  And invested a full week of elbow grease.  This was the end result.  Whereas the old room turned my mood sour every time I walked in the room, this one does just the opposite.  Our master bedroom is probably my favorite room in the house now.  Money well spent.

2. Family portraits. This was a significant investment for us last year.  More significant than I had anticipated.  However…I’m absolutely in love with each and every photo to come out of that session.  They now hang throughout our house.  We even had a canvas made.  I’ve always wanted one.  I love it.

1. Double XL Family Vacation.  This was easily our most costly “purchase” this year.  But I firmly believe that investing in experiences (rather than things) earns you the greatest return.  And this vacation was no exception.  We made unforgettable memories with my grandparents.  We visited with family we hadn’t seen in years and years.  We had fun as a family and created moments that will live forever in our hearts.  Cheesy, but true.

When I was little my family used to go camping every Memorial Day weekend.

We’d drive 70 miles up the coast until we reached our favorite spot of all: Plaskett Creek.  The sites there are grassy–some nestled right up against the woods.  Just across the highway is Sand Dollar beach.  Every year we’d pick up the tide table and every year I’d swear up and down that this year–this year!–I’m going to do the grunion run.

I never did.

I wanted to.  I wanted to see such a sight with my own two eyes: the iridescent fish littering the shore after midnight–setting the beach aglow.  Mirroring the starry sky.

But first there was dinner cooked over an open fire.  Uncle Monte’s ghost stories.  And S’mores.

In the end, I could never stay awake.  The grunion?  They run way past my bedtime.

The road–Highway 1–to the campground was windy and long.  It creeps along the steep coastline, where you’re but one wrong turn and flimsy guardrail away from careening off the rocky cliffs into an angry ocean hundreds of feet below.  The road winds and cuts deep into the cliff-side, each turn blinding you to what lies in wait ahead.  Until you round the bend and see that–in fact–it opens up again for a stretch.

Those cliffs have been on my mind.

Some days I feel like I’m trudging those hills–enduring those blind turns–anticipating the destination but wondering, all the same, how I’ll ever get there.

Other days I feel like I’m standing atop the highest point and I can so clearly see the entire road snaking along beneath me.  I can see the drivers faithfully navigating the path–blind to what lies ahead.  I want to shout to them: be careful.  Slow down.  You don’t know what’s up there.  I do.  I can see it from here.

There’s a middle place if life.  The time when you recognize that you’ve both been, and not been.  Seen but haven’t seen.  Know but wonder if you’ll ever, really understand.

Still trying for that grunion run.

Still swearing up and down that this–this!–will be my year.

I’m going to make it.  One of these days.