I've been trying a new beauty routine for a few weeks now, and I'm pretty happy with the results. Naturally, I need to share this.
First, I began taking showers at night. I've always been a morning shower person, simply because within 8 hours my hair starts to collect a lot of oil and it begins to look like I haven't showered in days. However, taking showers at night was an adjustment I had to make. See, I can only work until about 4pm - 4:30pm at the latest. If I work until 5 or later, then it's 6pm by the time I get home with the kids, 7pm by the time supper is ready, and then it's baths and bed all smashed into an hour, which usually produces crabby children and leaves zero play time after we haven't seen each other all day anyway. This was just unacceptable.
However, in order to leave work by 4pm, I had to get there by 7am. Between getting the kids up and ready, packing everything for them and myself into the car (extra clothes for daycare, blankets, diapers, my lunch, etc), plus me getting up and ready, I was looking at an alarm time of 4am. Yes. 4am. When it was just Jackson, no worries. I could get up at 4:30am and be fine. Add in a second child and my body began to protest. 4:30am would turn into 5am, which sometimes would become 5:30am, and on those really tough days, 6am. If I get up at 6am, it's at least 8am before I'm at work, and it's generally frowned upon to show up late and leave early - at least multiple days in a row.
So I made the switch out of necessity. Plus, as any other parent out there can attest to, sometimes a shower is the only "me" time one can get, and taking this time while I was groggy and still semi-unconscious in the morning wasn't doing me any favors. At night though, the kids are sleeping, I've had a chance to clean the house, and I can totally relax and get ready for bed. And there really is nothing quite like climbing into a nice warm bed after you're all squeaky clean.
I was hesitant, though, as I'd tried this before but it never worked out. As I mentioned, my hair is pretty oily, something that has always been a problem for me. It continued to be oily for the first few weeks. By 4pm at work, I was wearing my winter hat and telling people I was cold. Little did they realize that I was hiding an oil slick under there.
I stuck it out because I was beginning to see some very positive results. First, I had a lot more time in the morning. I wasn't dreading jumping out from under nice warm covers, just to strip myself naked in the freezing bathroom, jump into hot water, and jump back out into the cold air again.
The biggest difference was in my hair. Yes, it looked oily and lifeless by the end of the day and felt pretty gross at the scalp, but as my hair was clean and dry in the morning, I wasn't using my blow-dryer anymore. The only thing I had to use was my straightener, and only for a quick run through. My long hair, which was normally dry and frizzy, became sleek and shiny. And after a few weeks, my hair becomes much less oily during the day. Now, you can't hardly tell that it's been 16+ hours since I've taken a shower, and I've retired wearing my hat at work.
Something else positive happened as well. I'd heard of using oil to wash your face, and while I didn't have the kinds of oil that the recipe called for, I did have baby oil. My face, kind of like my hair, has a split personality between dry and oily. In the mornings after washing, it's dry and tight. In the afternoon, it's oily and shiny. All along I thought it was my skin, but it turned out to be the products I was using. I replaced my face lotion with baby oil - just enough to dampen a cotton swab and rub all over my face. I was worried that this may cause some acne outbreaks, but it didn't. In fact, my face was smooth and glowing. The blotchy red patches that were appearing under my eyes (which a lot of the women in my family have due to our voluminous cheeks) disappeared and the rest of my skin tone evened out. I stopped wearing foundation because I didn't have to. My face wasn't shiny or oily by the end of the day. It was amazing.
Naturally, I started using the baby oil more liberally. If it can do that to my face, what about my legs that are always a little dry? I've found a few lotions that work amazing on dry skin, but they are expensive, and my kids need clothes and food. So I tried the baby oil. Let me tell you - there is something luxurious about getting out of a nice hot shower at night, coating yourself with a little big of baby oil (only a little, we're not talking Playboy photo shoot here), putting on some nice warm pajamas and crawling under some nice thick quilts on a cold winter night.
I now do this every night. My normally thick dark hair on my legs that I hate shaving because I don't have time is thinner and softer. My skin is soft, glowing and hydrated. My hair is shiny and healthy. And I sleep much better as I have time to relax and spend by myself without any worries. It's amazing.
I found it wasn't me - there wasn't a problem with my skin or my hair. It was the products I was using and how I was using them. My hair has never looked this beautiful and my skin has never been this soft. And now mornings are a breeze as I roll out of bed, run a straightener through my hair, put on some eye make-up and I'm ready to roll. It's actually taken out a lot of stress in the mornings. And now I get to work earlier so I can leave earlier and I have more time to spend with my children.
And when you're a working mother with two small children, anything that helps release stress and allows you more time with your family is a complete win.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Saturday, November 17, 2012
The Thing We Cherish
Good Morning!
I'm realizing how spoiled I was with my first child - sleep wise, anyway. My son LOVES to sleep. Seriously - this kid thinks nothing of going to bed at 7pm because he's tired. He's always been a wonderful sleeper. He was sleeping through the night at 4 weeks and took multiple, long naps throughout the day until he was 2. He's always been a night owl, but he also loves his sleep.
And then comes my daughter. She is 6 months old, has yet to sleep through the night for a week straight, naps for 20 minutes here or there when she feels like it, and LOVES early mornings. Like this morning - and every other Saturday or Sunday morning - she was up around 6am. Now, you'd think she'd eat and go back to sleep. Nope, not my little early bird. She can drain 8 oz and look up at you with big blue eyes and a smile that says "What are we doing today?"
Luckily, she usually takes a little nap a few hours after waking up - just about the time that my little man is waking up and ready for breakfast.
And that's where we're sitting this morning. Jackson and I are enjoying a wonderful breakfast of baked french toast made from homemade bread. It's pretty damn good - and it's quiet, since only one child is awake. Funny how the noise exponentially increases with children.
The washing machine is also running, as weekends are filled with laundry. And later today I have to vacuum and bake some more bread. How do I know this? Because I do this every weekend. We've built a pretty solid routine of what happens on the weekends, and we like it that way. Both my son and I thrive on structure, and we both tend to get a little cranky if anything happens out of plan. But still, I'm sitting here, sipping my coffee, eating a delicious breakfast with my boy. My husband and daughter are sleeping and the house is peaceful. This is why I cherish my weekends - for these exact moments.
And it all starts at 6am with my daughter's light cries of hunger coming from the nursery. And I wake up thinking "God I'm tired, but today is going to be such a great day."
I'm realizing how spoiled I was with my first child - sleep wise, anyway. My son LOVES to sleep. Seriously - this kid thinks nothing of going to bed at 7pm because he's tired. He's always been a wonderful sleeper. He was sleeping through the night at 4 weeks and took multiple, long naps throughout the day until he was 2. He's always been a night owl, but he also loves his sleep.
And then comes my daughter. She is 6 months old, has yet to sleep through the night for a week straight, naps for 20 minutes here or there when she feels like it, and LOVES early mornings. Like this morning - and every other Saturday or Sunday morning - she was up around 6am. Now, you'd think she'd eat and go back to sleep. Nope, not my little early bird. She can drain 8 oz and look up at you with big blue eyes and a smile that says "What are we doing today?"
Luckily, she usually takes a little nap a few hours after waking up - just about the time that my little man is waking up and ready for breakfast.
And that's where we're sitting this morning. Jackson and I are enjoying a wonderful breakfast of baked french toast made from homemade bread. It's pretty damn good - and it's quiet, since only one child is awake. Funny how the noise exponentially increases with children.
The washing machine is also running, as weekends are filled with laundry. And later today I have to vacuum and bake some more bread. How do I know this? Because I do this every weekend. We've built a pretty solid routine of what happens on the weekends, and we like it that way. Both my son and I thrive on structure, and we both tend to get a little cranky if anything happens out of plan. But still, I'm sitting here, sipping my coffee, eating a delicious breakfast with my boy. My husband and daughter are sleeping and the house is peaceful. This is why I cherish my weekends - for these exact moments.
And it all starts at 6am with my daughter's light cries of hunger coming from the nursery. And I wake up thinking "God I'm tired, but today is going to be such a great day."
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Confessions of a Domestic Goddess Wannabe
Alright, I have a few things to get off my chest...
I found a quote recently that stated "People don't change, they just become a clearer version of who they really are." I have to admit that I have lived my entire life striving to become a better version of myself, trying to fit within niches that don't really pertain to me and never could. I've always tried to change little things about myself here and there.
Take for example a few incidents in 7th grade that still haunt me. It was homecoming week, and in my high school a Prince and Princess was crowned for every grade. I was absolutely positive that I was going to be crowned Princess (for those of you that went to high school with me and are currently chuckling, it's perfectly okay. I've accepted that this was a completely irrational thought and am laughing along with you.) So imagine my shock, horror and devastation when I was in fact, not crowned Princess. I actually went home and cried.
But here's the deal - I wasn't popular, or pretty, or anything really. I was just me but for some reason, I wasn't okay with that and was determined to become a beauty queen. Me, the girl that grew up riding ATVs and building tree forts and playing with bugs. Yes, for some reason I decided that I was a beauty queen. Yeah, right. Luckily, that whole phase didn't last long.
A few weeks after the crowning of royalty, there was a spelling competition. Well, I thought, if I can't be the prettiest and most popular, then I'll be the smartest. And wouldn't you know, I didn't even make it into the top ten. Again, a heartbreaking moment that justified crying - only this time it happened in class, with my head down on my desk. Give me a break - I was only 13.
Not only was I not pretty enough, but now I wasn't smart enough either...
So what do these little anecdotes about adolescence have to do with a blog about country living? Because I'm always working on accepting myself and being okay with who I am and what I can and can't do. It's been a lifelong lesson, one that I'm still being taught every day. Even now, in my efforts to be a self-sufficient working housewife, I've learned that I am just not the domestic goddess I'd like to be. And I have to be okay with that.
Confession #1: I have a black thumb.
That's right - I'm a serial killer of plants. They come into my house knowing that they will only leave in a trash can after a slow painful death. I've even killed a cactus before. Yes, a cactus. How, you ask? I believe it was too much water. Yep - go ahead, read that again to let it really sink in. It doesn't matter if they are house plants or vegetable gardens - if it's green, I do my best to make sure it dies. I either over-water or under-water, too much sun or not enough sun. I forget to remove dahlia bulbs from the ground before it frosts. And I'd rather let weeds overtake the garden instead of pulling them out. I know that people say gardening is a very relaxing hobby, but to me, it's just another thing that I have do, one that often gets pushed to the bottom of the list.
But I love fresh vegetables and we inherited a gorgeous perennial garden in our back yard, so I'll keep doing the bare minimum. And my husband is very handy with plants and the outdoors, so he keeps things alive for me. Still - if you give me a plant as a gift and don't see it 3 months later, don't take offense. And if you do see it 3 months later, please give me a high five.
Confession #2: I can't sew.
I've covered this a few times already. I was never able to figure out the sewing machine, so I purchased a little handheld sewing device. Still haven't attempted to use it. Why? Because I'm not a sew-my-own-curtains kind of person. I wanted to be, and I wish I was, but I tried it and after some long hard debate, I am now comfortable with stating that I cannot sew and therefore will never be making my own linens, curtains, Halloween costumes, etc. Instead I will buy them and will do so without shame or regret. Yes, I know it's easy, but that's not the problem. For me, sewing is a lot like chemistry. Teach it to me and I'll understand. Test me on it 5 minutes later and I'll fail. Leave me alone in a chemistry lab and only bad things will happen. So instead of putting myself through more frustrating trials of attempting to be something I'm not, I'd rather stand up proudly and say that I can't sew worth a damn. If nothing else, I have a much greater admiration for those that can and do.
Confession #3: Just because it can be made from scratch doesn't mean it should be.
I found something on Pinterest the other day about making your own stain for wood using vinegar and metal or something like that. My initial thought: Why? Wouldn't it be just as easy to go to the home improvement store and buy some stain? I mean, if there was even an apocalypse and I survived and in rebuilding I wanted to stain some wood, it's very handy information. But until then, I'll buy my stain, thank you.
I also don't can my own vegetables (see Confession #1 above). True, I've never actually tried. I know it's easy to do and something I am perfectly capable of. But when I add store-bought frozen vegetables to a dinner I'm making, I can't help but realize there was a reason that such processes were created and that housewives and families across America were ecstatic when frozen vegetables became main-stream. I mean, I can crawl around on the floor and pick up all the dirt by hand, but I have a vacuum for that (okay, not the best comparison, but you get my drift). I do buy fresh vegetables whenever possible and when the pricing is good, but when it's December in North Dakota and the average temp is below zero, there isn't going to be fresh corn in the produce section of the supermarket.
It's not just frozen vegetables, though. I also buy frozen biscuits, among other foods. Could I make the biscuits myself and freeze them? Absolutely! But I'm also a mother of two who works 40 hours a week while trying to keep an entire house in order. I'd rather spend a Sunday afternoon outside with my family than making enough biscuits to feed an army. It's a convenience thing, pure and simple, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Confession #4: I am too organized for my own good.
There's this saying for mothers who are expecting or who have infants - ask your friends and family for help and don't be afraid to accept their offers. Yeah, touchy subject for me. I have a lot of wonderful family and friends that are always willing to help. I, however, have a very hard time letting people help me. No, it's not pride. I'm a control freak (or as someone very gently put it, a problem-solver, and when things aren't in my control I can't anticipate problems to solve.) My own mother knows this side of me all too well, unfortunately. There have been some very tense conversations around dishes and laundry on some of her visits - specifically, that's she's not allowed to wash my laundry or dishes. Sounds crazy, right? Well, it is. It's not that I don't trust her - I don't trust anyone, really, because they don't do it the same way I do. I am a hard-grained creature of habit, and if something is out of place I get a little unfriendly about it. After all, my home is my castle and the one place where I feel I have the most control, so if you think you're going to come in and put a salad bowl in the wrong cupboard, you've got another thing coming.
I've tried to ease up on this, and it's something I'll continue working on. After all, the basis of it is that people are helping because they care about me, and I need to remember that.
So there you have it - my downfalls in the world of domestication. These are things I've learned about myself in the last year or so and have gone through a pretty lengthy process to accept. I can accept these downfalls, though, because I know they are only a part of me. While I can't necessarily grow my own food, I am an excellent cook, something that I will boast about and be proud of. I don't sew my own curtains, but I think I have very good decorating taste (thanks Mom). I am a little unstable when it comes to organizing, but I know where everything is in my home and it's (almost) always neat and tidy, which makes me happy. So there are silver linings to my deficiencies.
Judy Garland may have said it best: "Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."
And in case you're wondering, I finally did become a beauty queen - if not in anyone else's eyes, at least in my own.
I found a quote recently that stated "People don't change, they just become a clearer version of who they really are." I have to admit that I have lived my entire life striving to become a better version of myself, trying to fit within niches that don't really pertain to me and never could. I've always tried to change little things about myself here and there.
Take for example a few incidents in 7th grade that still haunt me. It was homecoming week, and in my high school a Prince and Princess was crowned for every grade. I was absolutely positive that I was going to be crowned Princess (for those of you that went to high school with me and are currently chuckling, it's perfectly okay. I've accepted that this was a completely irrational thought and am laughing along with you.) So imagine my shock, horror and devastation when I was in fact, not crowned Princess. I actually went home and cried.
But here's the deal - I wasn't popular, or pretty, or anything really. I was just me but for some reason, I wasn't okay with that and was determined to become a beauty queen. Me, the girl that grew up riding ATVs and building tree forts and playing with bugs. Yes, for some reason I decided that I was a beauty queen. Yeah, right. Luckily, that whole phase didn't last long.
A few weeks after the crowning of royalty, there was a spelling competition. Well, I thought, if I can't be the prettiest and most popular, then I'll be the smartest. And wouldn't you know, I didn't even make it into the top ten. Again, a heartbreaking moment that justified crying - only this time it happened in class, with my head down on my desk. Give me a break - I was only 13.
Not only was I not pretty enough, but now I wasn't smart enough either...
So what do these little anecdotes about adolescence have to do with a blog about country living? Because I'm always working on accepting myself and being okay with who I am and what I can and can't do. It's been a lifelong lesson, one that I'm still being taught every day. Even now, in my efforts to be a self-sufficient working housewife, I've learned that I am just not the domestic goddess I'd like to be. And I have to be okay with that.
Confession #1: I have a black thumb.
That's right - I'm a serial killer of plants. They come into my house knowing that they will only leave in a trash can after a slow painful death. I've even killed a cactus before. Yes, a cactus. How, you ask? I believe it was too much water. Yep - go ahead, read that again to let it really sink in. It doesn't matter if they are house plants or vegetable gardens - if it's green, I do my best to make sure it dies. I either over-water or under-water, too much sun or not enough sun. I forget to remove dahlia bulbs from the ground before it frosts. And I'd rather let weeds overtake the garden instead of pulling them out. I know that people say gardening is a very relaxing hobby, but to me, it's just another thing that I have do, one that often gets pushed to the bottom of the list.
But I love fresh vegetables and we inherited a gorgeous perennial garden in our back yard, so I'll keep doing the bare minimum. And my husband is very handy with plants and the outdoors, so he keeps things alive for me. Still - if you give me a plant as a gift and don't see it 3 months later, don't take offense. And if you do see it 3 months later, please give me a high five.
Confession #2: I can't sew.
I've covered this a few times already. I was never able to figure out the sewing machine, so I purchased a little handheld sewing device. Still haven't attempted to use it. Why? Because I'm not a sew-my-own-curtains kind of person. I wanted to be, and I wish I was, but I tried it and after some long hard debate, I am now comfortable with stating that I cannot sew and therefore will never be making my own linens, curtains, Halloween costumes, etc. Instead I will buy them and will do so without shame or regret. Yes, I know it's easy, but that's not the problem. For me, sewing is a lot like chemistry. Teach it to me and I'll understand. Test me on it 5 minutes later and I'll fail. Leave me alone in a chemistry lab and only bad things will happen. So instead of putting myself through more frustrating trials of attempting to be something I'm not, I'd rather stand up proudly and say that I can't sew worth a damn. If nothing else, I have a much greater admiration for those that can and do.
Confession #3: Just because it can be made from scratch doesn't mean it should be.
I found something on Pinterest the other day about making your own stain for wood using vinegar and metal or something like that. My initial thought: Why? Wouldn't it be just as easy to go to the home improvement store and buy some stain? I mean, if there was even an apocalypse and I survived and in rebuilding I wanted to stain some wood, it's very handy information. But until then, I'll buy my stain, thank you.
I also don't can my own vegetables (see Confession #1 above). True, I've never actually tried. I know it's easy to do and something I am perfectly capable of. But when I add store-bought frozen vegetables to a dinner I'm making, I can't help but realize there was a reason that such processes were created and that housewives and families across America were ecstatic when frozen vegetables became main-stream. I mean, I can crawl around on the floor and pick up all the dirt by hand, but I have a vacuum for that (okay, not the best comparison, but you get my drift). I do buy fresh vegetables whenever possible and when the pricing is good, but when it's December in North Dakota and the average temp is below zero, there isn't going to be fresh corn in the produce section of the supermarket.
It's not just frozen vegetables, though. I also buy frozen biscuits, among other foods. Could I make the biscuits myself and freeze them? Absolutely! But I'm also a mother of two who works 40 hours a week while trying to keep an entire house in order. I'd rather spend a Sunday afternoon outside with my family than making enough biscuits to feed an army. It's a convenience thing, pure and simple, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Confession #4: I am too organized for my own good.
There's this saying for mothers who are expecting or who have infants - ask your friends and family for help and don't be afraid to accept their offers. Yeah, touchy subject for me. I have a lot of wonderful family and friends that are always willing to help. I, however, have a very hard time letting people help me. No, it's not pride. I'm a control freak (or as someone very gently put it, a problem-solver, and when things aren't in my control I can't anticipate problems to solve.) My own mother knows this side of me all too well, unfortunately. There have been some very tense conversations around dishes and laundry on some of her visits - specifically, that's she's not allowed to wash my laundry or dishes. Sounds crazy, right? Well, it is. It's not that I don't trust her - I don't trust anyone, really, because they don't do it the same way I do. I am a hard-grained creature of habit, and if something is out of place I get a little unfriendly about it. After all, my home is my castle and the one place where I feel I have the most control, so if you think you're going to come in and put a salad bowl in the wrong cupboard, you've got another thing coming.
I've tried to ease up on this, and it's something I'll continue working on. After all, the basis of it is that people are helping because they care about me, and I need to remember that.
So there you have it - my downfalls in the world of domestication. These are things I've learned about myself in the last year or so and have gone through a pretty lengthy process to accept. I can accept these downfalls, though, because I know they are only a part of me. While I can't necessarily grow my own food, I am an excellent cook, something that I will boast about and be proud of. I don't sew my own curtains, but I think I have very good decorating taste (thanks Mom). I am a little unstable when it comes to organizing, but I know where everything is in my home and it's (almost) always neat and tidy, which makes me happy. So there are silver linings to my deficiencies.
Judy Garland may have said it best: "Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."
And in case you're wondering, I finally did become a beauty queen - if not in anyone else's eyes, at least in my own.
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