How Bullet Journaling Cost Me My Sanity and a Small Fortune

Sometimes, I feel like I still don't know who I am or what I want to be when I grow up? Sometimes, I feel like maybe there's something else out there for me? This internal dialogue usually happens in the early morning or late at night or when I'm alone in the car, because it's quiet and I forget that I am a stay at home mom. Then someone starts crying or whining or throwing up or I go on Huff Po or Facebook and read an article on how your child should be potty trained at birth/18 months. 

So! To help solve some of these feels I have, one night last month, I got on Facebook and read a post about how someone was watching Real Housewives and Bullet Journaling AND drinking wine. Immediately I was all WHAT THE!!!! Because!! I am already obsessed with two out of the three of this person's hobbies!! They are basically me but not me!! I quickly wandered over to Pinterest, searched "Bullet Journal" and fell into a dark, dark hole. If I used a bullet journal I was promised hope, DESIRE to be organized iiiii know!!!, beautiful pens that won't smear and all the notebooks that your heart could ever want. Naturally, I was all in. I created a Pinterest board, called my best friend and told her all about it and was really, really freaking excited to go shopping for my supplies. Howeverrrrrr ....

I was totally cheating on this, like, massive 18 month calendar. She has stickers, a front pocket to hold papers !!!!!, an extensive notes and address section and is so colorful and beautiful: 

But she promised me no hope of becoming an organized person over night. So, naturally I fell hard and fast for a "Design Your Own" bullet journal. Plus, a bullet journal is portable. This calendar is basically a stone tablet from the dark ages which made her SO hard to WANT to take with me. And I have to take my calendar with me everywhere because I am basically Dory. Plus, my Pinterest board of bullet journal ideas was staring at me saying bullshit like:

YOU are the pilot, you can plan your calendar exactly how you like, in any order you like, as colorful or as black and white as you like, it's how YOU like. 

Ugh. I'm so controlling. Maybe something some other Pinterest thing can solve for me? Anyway.

Being all googly eyed, I went to Target to shop for my journal. When I look back at this shopping trip now, I can recognize that I was feeling very frustrated and defeated with my ride or die, Target. They didn't really have what I was looking for and I was starting to feel sweaty and nauseated. And sometimes angry? But I rallied and pushed that down because, Target. I was really working hard to suppress thoughts like:  

WTF? Target of ALL places should have BULLET JOURNALS. I mean. Everyone is doing it. Gosh. Hop on the GD bandwagon already. 

I should know myself well enough by now, to know that this should have been a major red flag. But, judging by the amount of times I still get way too drunk, I clearly don't. So. I settled for this journal - on a scale of one to ten, it's a six because she has lines. I'm very OCD so lines mean A LOT to me, so I knew this would not end well. And boy was I right. See below for the decline of Bullet Journal #1:

I love peonies and glitter so naturally, it was love at first sight.

So much time and effort, but realized that it was a lot of effort for me. This was basically exhausting and I think I went to bed early.

Quickly, my kids decided that my bullet journal should be their bullet journal. Just like my food. 

It's basically Abigail's journal. It's fine. 

So. I don't know. I should have just threw in the bullet journal towel. But like our drunk example above and just ... well, if there's one thing I am, it's stubborn. See? We can admit our flaws. It's safe here. Anyway. I wasn't 100% about the journal above so I decided to high tail it to Barnes & Noble, because you know, let's see if we can torture ourselves a little more. And I found one without lines!! For me this was like seeing a unicorn. Situation took a nose dive when I got home; because I tried to take the price tag sticker off the front cover and it left a film. Which side note: why do they do this??? It would be so much easier if the sticker was on the back. For. the. love. Naturally, this rendered it useless. Here are pics to prove it:

See all that sticker film!! (Bottom right corner if you're blind.) Worthless journal. 

She had so much potential. But this also makes me panic a little? 

The reason I have a blank journal to show you, is that my bullet journal career?? Hobby?? Whatever we want to call it, it lasted all of 24 hours. I threw in the towel. I realized I need to stick to what works for me, like this:

I love this kind of journal. Also, if poetry was this, I'd like poetry too.

Sooooo ... I guess ... I guess now I do bullet journal??? But my bullet journal stands for Cabernet Sauvignon. The En ... 

But WAIT!!! How are you staying organized for crying out loud??

Well. I am an organizational work in progress. But to keep my dates in line and my thoughts in order I went back to drinking wine and using a CALENDAR. A beautiful, simple, ikat patterned calendar. And we are very happy together.  

Ain't she a beaut? 

Sticking to what I know.

Staying modest. And portable.

November 6, 2010

Six years. Six years that feel like a lifetime ago where I still remember every detail and feel all the feels as if they were yesterday. Our wedding day was the happiest day of my life. Not only because it was full of happiness and love and JOY but because on this day six years ago Matthew got a Dad. For the first time in his life he had a Dad. Because of this day, for the rest of Matthew's life, he has a man in his life who will not abandon him, who will love him, who will show up for him, who will guide him, who will discipline him, who will show him what success and hard work looks like. A man who will BE there. I still feel so lucky to have found someone who started my family.

Shortly after we got married Mike adopted Matthew. Signed, sealed, delivered - euphoria. Second happiest day of my life. Mike and I knew that one day, Matthew would look at his beautiful skin and realize that he's not at all in the same color family as we are - even though we are a family. We met with a counselor who told us that our concern was very valid and likely this question would not be brought up by Matthew but by other curious children. We told her we needed lots of guidance on how to navigate this specifically because the man whose DNA makes up the other half of Matthew hasn't been a part of his life (his choice) since I found out I was pregnant. She was an angel and gave us lots of great advice and talking points - that I never would have been able to come up with so eloquently on my own. Even armed with these great words, I felt a pit in my stomach that I would have to have this conversation one day. But life continued along at warp speed.

And then this Spring, in the car on a sunny day, I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach. Matthew says:

Why is my skin not the same color as the sisters? Why do they have peach skin and I have brown skin? Am I Indian? Why do I look so different? 

His words were very demanding. There was no getting out of it. The time had come. I responded:

Do you know what color hair Nana and Papa have? Black. Like yours. Do you know whose eyes you have? Mine. Do you know how much you look like each of your sisters? So much!! Bud, families are made in all sorts of different ways and tonight I want to talk to you about how our family was made, ok? But right now you need to understand that you are made up of many different parts of our family - the color of your skin is just the way God made you. Absolutely perfect.

I will never forget that day. It truly sucks having an adult conversation with a child. Later that night we had a deeper conversation like I had promised:

Do you remember where you lived as a baby and before our wedding day? With Nana and Papa. And then Daddy found us and we got married - do you remember that? How much fun that day was? Daddy has loved you ever since he met you. And then do you remember how after Daddy married us, we had the sisters? Well some families are made after you have a wedding. Some families are made before. Some families are made by adopting children, some people have two families because they are divorced. Before Daddy found us, Mommy met a man who had black hair like you and brown skin like you and that's how you got such perfect skin. And Mommy loved you from the minute that God put you in my belly. And Nana and Papa love you so much - and your uncles love you so much - And Daddy loves you SO MUCH - everyone basically loves you SO MUCH. There's not a day of your life that you weren't loved.  

He asked a few questions in between but he loved hearing about how much he was loved. Then we looked at some pictures of when he was a baby and that's been it since. We kept it about the love. Mike and I thought it was important to not lie to him, as did the counselor. But she also said to keep things simple until their minds can handle the bigger conversations. The last thing you ever want to do is stress a child out.

That is the very long version of the importance of our wedding day. Our family story of how we were made. A day of gratitude and joy that will always hold such special meaning. When things feel hard and life feels hard and conversations feel hard I try to hold onto these sayings:

                      

                      


Cheers!

**Please know that the conversations here are personal to our family specifically between me and our child. It may not apply to all families or situations. I also know what my child can handle - emotionally and mentally and socially. Please if you decide to comment keep it kind and thoughtful. Thank you!**