I’m still working on my moleskine-esque notebook. And while I was at the craft store, I found this other amazing company!!:
I was so amazed after I watched the video. I felt like they had read my mind. And the products all have a little barcode thingy that you can scan that takes you to their product blog.
There’s SO many fun ideas to look at on there!
Anywho, I started going back and forth on whether or not I wanted to spend the money on one of their notebooks, since it seemed pretty perfect for what I wanted to do. I held the notebooks and oohed and ahhed over the pretty pages. I eyeballed the pen greedily (it has a glue stick on the other side). And I could not get over all the cute little side stuff they had: tape, dividers, stamps, pockets…
I sound like I’m advertising for them. Which I’m totally not.
I decided that even though the notebook was really cute, I didn’t need to spend $15 on something that I sort of already had. That’s gas money, yo.
But I did end up buying the pens (you can get them individually) and some subject tabs.
Yes, I bought three pens. They come in three colors, okay?
And, I happened to have a coupon for 20% off my entire purchase and all the scrap booking stuff was already 40% off. So even though I shelled out like five of my hard earned dollars, normally all that stuff would have been like…$15??
I dunno. I’m bad with math.
Either way–I don’t regret my decision because my book looks awesome.
Here’s what I have so far:
The general idea is still that this book is kind of more to help me plan things out than as a way to spend hard earned money on craft supplies and other such
amazing frivolous purchases.
I remember reading somewhere that part of the reason sites like pinterest are popular is because they give the users a feeling of accomplishment every time they pin something. It makes you feel like you actually did buy that dress or those shoes and everyone can still admire you for picking them out, but you didn’t actually spend the money.
Which, I think, makes sense.
I’m a broke, single mom.
I live with my parents.
And I work a part time job that doesn’t give me enough hours.
I actually really love my workplace. My coworkers are awesome, our products are amazing, and if I had thirty hours a week, I’d be making enough for me and Munchkin to go off on our own.
I’m not going to be getting a full time job anytime soon. I’d like the money and independence, sure. But I hate the idea of putting Munchkin in some kind of daycare for 8 hours a day. Maybe I am clingy. I don’t know.
I know that growing up, I didn’t care that my parents were never around. That’s just how it was. They had to work. My sister and I went to the Boys and Girls Club or to some baby-sitters and we’d see my parents when we saw them.
The problem I have now is that even though I didn’t raise myself (obviously) I still feel like I had to figure out all the big stuff out on my own. I didn’t talk to my parents about stuff. They weren’t around or were busy. When they actually did start poking their nose into my stuff, it just felt like too little, too late. I spent years building up my wall, I’m not interested in taking it down.
To this day, I still don’t know how to talk to them. It’s an honest effort just to have a normal conversation with them. That’s not to say I don’t love or respect them. I just know that my problems are my problems and there’s better ways for me to figure out how to solve them.
Like blabbing about it on the interwebz, where anybody could find it.
(haha! See what I did there?)
So, yeah. Soap boxing aside, I’ve been trying to really sit down and figure out what this disgruntled feeling that I have is.
And as I look over what I’ve glued together so far:
…what I’m seeing is a need for stability.
I mean, yes. I want shiny things. And I’d love a cozy little home by the beach with Munchkin and Baby Daddy. But what I really want is that feeling that I don’t have to figure things out for myself. I’d like to really be able to be there for Munchkin so that when she has problems, (not just oh em gee! My car won’t start!) she will come talk to me about them. And after we’ve talked about them, even if they’re not problems that can be talked away, I’ll want her to feel like, “Well, at least, Mom gets it.”
Or at the very least, we can look through my mountainous collage of crap and she might find something in there to help her out.