Affordability

Two steps forward...three steps back--life feels like that for me sometimes. Last summer, a stupid deer jumped out in front of my Volkswagen causing $7500 worth of damage--not quite enough to consider the car totaled. Anyway, after several weeks, the good people of Barnett Body Shop restored my car, but unfortunately, the air conditioner didn't work quite right. After another trip to the body shop, they figured out the problem and fixed it.

Fast forward to this past weekend in New Orleans.

Saturday morning, we took Jude to the Audobon Zoo and later planned to make our way to the French Quarter for some vittles. On our way to the Quarter, we got stuck in traffic (one of those perks of driving in the middle of Mardi Gras), and as we waited for a parade to go by, the car began overheating and the air went hot. However, when Jeffrey accelerated, cooler air came through the vents, and the car returned to normal temperature.

We knew our car's malfunction had something to do with that damn deer.

Anyway, Jeffrey told me that maybe I should look into trading in the Volkswagen for another car. I agreed with him that we may be dealing with a pretty big problem. I mean, what car overheats in 70 degree weather? I had decided that I would look up different cars as soon as we returned home, hoping to find another Volkswagen.

Unfortunately, I found nothing. Well, nothing I wanted to pay that much for anyway. I couldn't believe it. Three years ago when I bought my Jetta, I wrote a check in the neighborhood of $15, 000, handed it over, and drove off in an almost brand new car. Now, that same sort of car (a one year old car), costs at least $5,000 more than what I paid for one three years ago! Seriously?!?!?

The thing is this. I like the car I have. I don't want to get rid of it. Why? Probably a pride thing. My Jetta is the second car that Jeffrey and I paid cash for. We like not having car payments. We like putting crap loads of money into savings. Could I cut a check for $18,000? Sure. But why should I pay that much for something I'm not even dying to have?

Then I asked myself this question: "How in the world can people afford this stuff?" As it turns out, $18,000 for a one year old used car is actually nothing compared to other car prices. What I found on autotrader.com was that the average price of the sort of sedan I would want ranges around the $25, 000-$30,000 mark. Don't even get me started on the price of a SUV! Let's just say that I will be bending over strapping two babies in cars seats, and after seeing those prices, I won't even complain about it. Even if I had that sort of money to throw around, yeah, I don't think so. Not as long as deer roam the great roads of Mississippi!

However, I don't think I'm searching for vehicles beyond my means. Most people I know that drive these sort of vehicles make around the same amount of money I do. I guess the difference is that they finance, and I won't. I wonder, though, if most people bought only what they could afford (meaning no financing), would car companies lower the price of their cars? Is the reason cars are so expensive because so many are willing to go into debt for them? Are the consumers to blame for this inflation (at this point, I think one can easily guess that I didn't study much of in the way of Economics).

I'm sorry, but I just can't do that. It's bad enough that I have a mortgage. Granted, we have about nine years left on it, but still. That's nine years we owe someone!

I realize my view on debt is not popular. For the record, I don't have a smart phone, Tori Burch flats (even though I've wanted a pair for YEARS--I visit those flats at Saks every summer), or a lot of other cool stuff, like a $30,000 car. However, as I was feeling sorry for myself over this car issue, it dawned on me that I've always been able to afford the stuff I needed even if I can't always afford what I want. I'm glad I don't operate in reverse as that seems to promise nothing but a life of misery from never being able to keep up. So I may have to buy another car. Hey, at least I can, even if it's not the fanciest thing on the market. However, I'm still holding out hope that my Jetta will get fixed for good and my money can remain where it belongs--in the savings account--just in case an emergency like this arises later.

A Little Known Pregnancy Symptom

Every woman experiences several symptoms that let her know that it's time to take a pregnancy test. Things like missed periods, morning sickness, fatigue, etc. are usually dead giveaways that a baby will arrive sometime in the next nine months. I've always kind of marched to my own beat, so none of these symptoms prompted me to take a test. In fact, I just attributed the late period, the nausea, and the tiredness to stress since I did have a lot on my plate in November.

Then, one symptom occurred that I simply could not ignore: Italy. Back when I was pregnant with Jude, Jeffrey and I had paid for a trip to Italy that would leave on June 9. We could not wait to go. That is, until I got pregnant and due to have a baby June 4, five days before we would leave for the trip. Obviously,we did not go because Jude arrived to the world on June 7, and those jerk-tards with the traveling company wouldn't let us get on the plane! (Before anyone freaks out, I cancelled the trip and received a full refund. Always get the trip insurance. Now, had Jude come on his due date, allowing me five days to recover instead of two...) 

Fast forward to this year when an opportunity came a knockin' in the form of another trip to Italy--the perfect trip to commemorate mine and Jeffrey's upcoming ten year anniversary. We had the money in the bank, and all we had to do was sign up. Of course, I became suspicious. It was true that in the weeks prior to considering this romantic getaway that certain foods hadn't looked as appetizing to me and I had started to grow accustomed to falling asleep by 8 p.m. every night. "Wait a minute," I thought, "We've been down this road before." 

Before I could fully commit to getting on an airplane to head half-way across the world, I decided I might take a home pregnancy test just to be sure. Two heart pounding minutes later, there it was--a plus sign and a "Pregnant." (I took a couple of different  Clear Blue Easy tests, and I give Clear Blue Easy brand two very enthusiastic thumbs up (or should I say "two plus signs"? Either way, I am "Pregnant" with enthusiasm for Clear Blue Easy.)

I would like to say that my reaction to this pregnancy equaled my reaction to my first one in excitement, but sadly, the first thought that ran across my mind while staring at the results was, "Shoot. I'll never go to Europe!"

The lesson learned is this: planning a trip to Italy=baby. In fact, Jeffrey's a bit apprehensive about ever trying to go to Italy. I might could try to go another time, but we'll just see how this whole pregnancy/baby raising thing turns out!

I have now welcomed my second baby boy, Malcolm, to the world. He proves a far superior souvenir than anything I could have found in Italy, and yes, that includes a Louis Vuitton bag. Even Baptist Hospital humored me and served spaghetti one of the nights I spent on the post-partum floor. 

A few months after Malcolm's birth, my in-laws invited Jeffrey and me to go with them to Germany the following May. Jeffrey turned to me and asked, "You menopausal yet?"

We did not commit to Germany. For the time being, we will plan on staying in America. However, I'm not so sure I'm ready to give up planning yet another trip to Europe. I kind of want a little girl.

Dear Size 6,

I had wanted to get into you for so long, and come this past September, I finally did! In fact, even Size Smalls would zip up (although, Mediums felt better). In the world of clothing and self-esteem, I have had quite a successful year, and this success could not have come at a better time. In November, I received my biggest career honor to date, and that honor required me to give a presentation on stage to an audience. Many emotions swirled through my body that day--nervousness, excitement, nausea, fatigue, relief--but the one thing I didn't feel was fat. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, I delivered a presentation with a confidence I never knew I had, but I have a feeling that confidence came with the help of a little red dress. Wearing you--that smaller size--just felt good. However, yesterday while shopping, I tried you on, probably for the last time. You see, Size 6, we're going to have to part ways if only for a little while.I've had to return to a diet with carbs. Yes, I still try to incorporate as much protein as I can, but lately, a lot of protein-enriched food I loved during my dieting days now comes across as utterly repulsive. Not only that, but sometimes I just need some crackers or a carbonated beverage in order to spare those around me from catching a glimpse of what I had for breakfast earlier that day. While this new way of eating freaks me out after I had worked so hard for so long to alter my eating habits, I know I must adapt to the change in order to get through each day. For now, Size 6, you still fit. The dress, the tops, and that adorable skirt I tried on yesterday still looked as good on me as they would have in September, so even though the carbs and a few pounds have come back, my body is holding strong for now. I didn't buy you yesterday, though, because I really didn't see the point. I know you're thinking, "So why abandon me? Why go back to eating carbs? Please don't go! Wear me forever!" Well, Size 6, let me tell you. I knew when I began my diet, the side effects would include temptation and some moodiness. I had prepared myself mentally for these side effects to happen and just rolled with it when I experienced them. However, there's a hidden side effect--one I had not anticipated. Pregnancy. Apparently, I just looked too good to my husband, and now here I am craving carbs and trying not to throw up all over the place. Size 6, you have to know that as much as I have enjoyed wearing you, I'm enjoying being pregnant again even more (although I could do without this scorching heartburn). Yes, I will be packing on the pounds in the next few months, but come mid-July, when that nurse places that sweet precious baby in my arms for the first time, I know that weight gain will be more than worth it. And who knows? Maybe it will all come off pretty fast. I have every intention of returning to you, Size 6. I don't know when, but I'll get back to you. Yes, I will miss you each week my body expands, but please know that this pregnancy won't last forever (otherwise, humankind would cease to exist). For now, just find your way to another girl's body, but please don't ever forget or give up on me! Sincerely, Your Biggest Fan

And the Award Goes To...

I've known for about a month and a half now, but last week, the president of my college made the official announcement. I am Holmes Community College's Humanities Instructor of the Year. Such an honor entails me having to put on a humanities presentation, topic of my choice (obviously a literary one), and later attending a banquet with other colleges' and universities' winners where we will each receive a cash prize. Stunned did not even cover how I felt when I first found this information out, but now I just feel excited and honored...and nervous, extremely nervous.

I chose the topic of fashion in literature and film and will show how fashion plays an important role in William Faulkner's Sanctuary, Margaret Atwood's The Edible Woman, and the film The Devil Wears Prada. Why these selections? Simple. I love these novels and that movie. In fact, re-reading the books and re-watching the film have really opened my eyes to other new aspects about each, even though I've previewed each of these about a hundred times apiece. I love the feeling I get when I discover a thread from one source to another and can use it to draw a connection to something relevant in our time--almost as good as finding that perfect word to depict that certain moment in a story, essay, or poem. If anything, this project has shown me that I have not lost my love for research.

However, I also face pressure. For this presentation to go well, I have to have an audience. Therefore, I've also learned some new aspects in Public Relations that I had never before given any thought. For one thing, I worked with the school's graphic designer on a poster to promote the event. The result? I love it, but I never would have come up with anything to look as good. Certain area newspapers will also publicize the event. Last week, I got my picture taken, which turned into a full-blown photo shoot, and I hate taking pictures.I learned that my smile does not look natural, but really, how can one look natural with a camera pointed towards her face clicking and flashing bright light every couple of seconds? Honestly, the whole experience left me feeling a little hunted. In the upcoming weeks, I will work with a videographer on splicing my video to specific scenes in the film, and my dean has offered to help me put together a highly visual power point to use. I will also have to learn how to use a wireless mic, some sort of clicker to change slides, and probably some other technological crap that I have no idea what does. Because of all these behind-the-scenes actions going on, I worry that no one will come.

Then again, nothing makes me sicker than standing up and speaking in front of a large audience. Yes, I realize that I stand in front of a captive audience of students  texting zombies and talk their ears off for several hours a week, but somehow, standing on a stage wired to a microphone seems a bit intimidating to me. For one, I don't have the best speaking voice, even in the classroom. I have a shrill voice, not unlike that of a per-pubescent boy. When I really think about my audience, my voice shakes. Frankly, I just don't sound pretty when I speak.

Anyway, scared as I am to give this talk, I guess I kind of look forward to it. I mean, I would rather have the opportunity than not.For about forty-five minutes to an hour, I get to talk about things I love while people listen. How bad could that be? Here's hoping people will enjoy the presentation and forgive my shaky squeaky voice.

Oh, My Heart

It does not take much to pull at my heartstrings, especially if it involves Jude. Yesterday, he looked at Jeffrey and said, "Hug Mommy," and Jeffrey said, "Yes, you can hug Mommy. I'm sure you don't even have to ask." Then Jude walked over to me and gave me a big hug. Right there, I turned into one giant pool of sap.Though I often lament the passing of Jude's infancy, little things such as that remind me of how much I love a two year old.

The other day, my mother and I went out to grab supper for everyone while Jeffrey, Jude, and my dad stayed home. We had planned to stay out about half an hour but also wanted to escape to this new home decor shop in Renaissance before venturing back with the food. I very much looked forward to this impromptu detour because rarely have I darkened the door of a home decor store since the birth of my son. However, before I could circumnavigate the store, a call on the cell phone interrupted the material bliss of sorting through rugs, placing picture frames in some semblance of an order, all while daydreaming  about my house as the featured home in next month's Southern Living.On the other end of the line, a frantic Jeffrey snapped me back into reality as he wondered when we would finally arrive home (at least I think that's what he asked; I found it hard to hear him what with the two year old screaming in the background). After dashing out of the store (with nothing in hand), we quickly returned home to both Jude's tear-stained face and Jeffrey's relieved one. Jeffrey then told me that Jude kept asking for me, and when I wouldn't come, he completely lost it. While I should feel guilty, and I did a little bit, I also couldn't help but think "Aww..."

Jude reminds me every day that I do, in fact, have a heart even though cynicism drips from me much like sweat. The thing no one ever told me about motherhood but what I see as the greatest blessing of all is knowing there's a person out there who loves me no matter what and with no strings attached. I wonder if he loves me this way because on some subconscious level, he knows I love him wholeheartedly. I hope he will always know that, even on the days we don't agree.

Single digits

Lately, the only single digits that have impacted my life usually appear in my bank account toward the end of every month--never fun, but oh the glamourous life of a teacher!

I've been on this diet since June 25, and my last two weigh-ins haven't been great since I didn't lose any weight either time. Of course, I got a little down on myself because as hard as I've worked, I felt at least a couple of ounces should have come off! Also, I have yet to feel skinny. Sure, I've gotten a lot of compliments on my physique lately, but I passed it all off as small talk. I mean, yeah, I've lost some weight, but I haven't reached my goal. I have about sixteen more pounds to go. Plus, I'm still wearing most of my old clothes even though they're looser than when I first started the diet. I just assumed that I would start feeling skinny when I absolutely could not possibly wear those clothes anymore due to fear of unintentionally performing some sort of strip tease while walking across campus to my 10:50 class.

Last week, however, I encountered a single digit that moved me in a way not unlike a religious experience. This small number came to me in the form of a beautiful red dress labeled Size 6. While I cannot yet say why I needed a red dress (that reason should be revealed soon enough), the point is, I got over feeling sorry for my two week lack of weight loss and went and tried on some dresses because it needed to be done.Truthfully, I had pulled the dress from the rack never believing it would fit but instead used it as a reference to how much more weight I needed to get off before I quit looking like a stuffed sausage. As it turns out, I don't look like any sort of tubular lumpy meat at all any more!

I must have stayed in the dressing room a while because the saleslady tapped on my door to ask if I needed some help in there. I'm not exactly big on strangers invading my personal space to help disrobe me, so after a quick "No, thank you," I stepped out of the red dress and into a black one labeled Medium. While the black dress fit perfectly, it just didn't feel near as satisfying, probably because "Medium" captures an array of sizes whereas "Size 6" just sounds precisely skinny.

Unfortunately, I walked out of Dillard's exactly the way I arrived--without shopping bags. After all, it was the end of the month, and like its user, my checking account had also lost a good amount of weight. Really, the only thing gained that day was motivation to keep going with my diet. Let's just hope I don't fatten up around the first of the month like my checking account has done.

Word Vomit--Because I Have a Lot of Stuff on My Mind

I don't want to go back to school next week--not because I don't like my job. I really do. However, my job doesn't permit me to spend all day with Jude. Boo! We've had a great week this week while Jeffrey was at Band Camp. We spent the week with my parents who actually live a stone's throw away from us, but we decided to treat this week like a vacation of sorts. Hey, my parents' new digs come equipped with HBO, a bath tub worthy of an R&B music video setting, and Mama's cooking (even though my diet prohibits me from eating most food that tastes good).This place could so pass for a resort. Anyway, Jude and I have had a fantastic time, and I've enjoyed all the time I've gotten to spend with him this week. We've had a great time playing outside, putting together puzzles, pushing trucks, reading books, and reviewing our colors and shapes. Tomorrow, Jeffrey will finish up year ten of HCC band camp, and we'll reunite once again. Even though Jude and I have had a fun week, we have missed Jeffrey something awful.

Because I have lived under my parents' roof this week, I've watched a lot of Fox News. A little backstory--my mother is so conservative that she makes Rush Limbaugh look like a bleeding heart liberal, so Fox News is pretty much white noise in the Wahl household. I actually find the network interesting. Sometimes, I think they report too much on what "could happen," but I do usually find myself agreeing with the commentators. For example, I love how they're calling out Hollywood on the upcoming movie "The Butler." Oprah Winfrey's comment about Trayvon Martin being a "parallel to Emmit Till" just about sent me over the edge. Read a freaking history book, Oprah, or better yet, understand your Mississippi history better, or even better than that, realize you weren't there with Trayvon when he died and therefore don't know what really happened! It's also occurred to me that I may not have spelled this kid's name right. My apologies.

However, I will not apologize for my beliefs/values. Lately, I've seen a lot of people post on social media these memes that basically say, "You're perfect the way you are" or "Don't change." While these memes intend to uplift and inspire, they are absolutely and positively damaging. to humankind. None of us are perfect, and we could all stand to change something about ourselves. I never want anyone to tell me those things because, I know what I'm about, and it's not always pretty. I know my strengths and my weaknesses. I know that I'm smart in what I know, but I don't know a lot. I know I fall short of perfection 100% of the time, but I still want to strive for it because it delights me to try.

Today, I saw video footage of three black guys beating the hell out of a white kid on a school bus. Boy, did that send me on a ride down memory lane to the beginning of the eighth grade where the same thing happened to me, only throw in a pinch of sexual assault with that. This is a time in my life I have never allowed myself to think about, and certainly it doesn't define who I am now, but watching that video footage triggered so many emotions--anger because this crap still happens and people still ignore it, sadness because that kid didn't deserve it, but relief because I'm ok, and I know that given time and a few more awkward teenage years, so will that kid because, as I've stated before, this situation doesn't have to define him. I still believe the only reason I suffered little physical harm comes down to one of two things: 1. It was a short bus ride, and 2. My best friend who was sitting next to me tried her hardest to fight these creeps off of me. I feel terrible for that boy because I know how it feels to be singled out for no apparent reason and to have everyone else act like they never saw a thing, and it's not fun. I also thought about, "What if that was Jude? What if he had been that kid," and it gave me chills when my very next thought was "I would have killed those boys." That thought was only further validated when my mother just outwardly said, "You know, the day you were attacked, I went looking for that boy, and I meant I was going to kill him." I count myself blessed that I have a mother who loves me that much, and I guess I'm grateful that fool on the bus had the sense to run, or otherwise, Jude and I might have vacationed in Parchman this week instead of Gluckstadt. God obviously looks after fools and children.

Well, I want to post something light-hearted in this section, but Geez! That last paragraph is pretty loaded! Oh, here's something. A few weeks ago, a deer jumped out in front of my Jetta, and now Frau Jetta is back in the shop. This is the second time she has taken up residence at Barnett Body Shop, and I can't for the life of me understand why it couldn't be the van instead! The Jetta has been my most favorite car I've ever owned, yet she's the one I've torn up the most. My Honda never had one scratch, and that God forsaken Ranger I drove back in college could not and would not die, bad as I wanted it to. But that Jetta? I just keep putting her in harm's way for some reason. Ridiculous. Anyway, I hope to have her back soon, especially since my mom has loaned me her ride, a Nissan Versa which looks not unlike a clown car. (Every time I drive it, I feel like at least ten more people should pile up in there with me.) Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to have the set of wheels. And for those wondering how my mother is getting around, Fret not. She's got her brand new Cadillac to get her from point A to point B. Evidently, she has really taken to Madison County living! I'm happy for her, but seriously, could she not offer up the Caddy, even for one day? How tacky!