The Little Things You Haven't Heard About, They Mattered

While it is already close to 7 am here, both my babes are fast in the thick of medicine-induced influenza snoring, asleep in their beds. I am left here. Awakened by the infinite power of the mommy clock, telling me someone needs Cheerios or juice, dogs need to be let out, the Keurig needs water, I left wet clothes in the wash overnight, I forgot to send that email/memo/check/text, we are out of diapers, I haven’t washed my hair…which means I know I am forgetting a meeting I have today…

Just, awake.

I spent 30 minutes indulging in the hot bath that left me pruned and sweaty and overall not “relaxed”, and another 30 or so minutes catching up on a few favorite blogs, and another seemingly infinite amount of time reading through BuzzFeed lists about being a child of the 90’s, the struggles of being an introvert, what it is like to love someone with ADD (to forward to Troy), 25 signs you are doing it wrong, 30 signs you are doing it right...

Why am I not writing?

I am dying to write. I toss and turn in bed, disappointed that I haven’t found time to write. Here is your time, Mattern. Stop sweating it away in your garden tub.

After all, I haven’t published anything on my blog since August. AUGUST! After all of the courage it took me to start the damn thing (See BuzzFeed’s list on the Struggle of Being an Introvert and combine that with something about ADD...) 4 months of this year went by with nary a whisper or blip from good ‘ole me.

Shame.

I have written here and there. I have dictated little notes and ideas and paragraphs from the car, in line at the bank, when Paisley is fast asleep and unable to shout, “Nooo talking momma, MORE SONGS PWEASE!!!” from her little pink car seat. But I haven’t had anything “good enough” to post.

This morning, in the early hours of quiet that I never seem to see in my house, I decided to say, “Fuck That.”

Not loudly, because I am not crazy and WOULD NEVER interrupt the silence (or semi-silence… there is a quite a bit of snoring) with a triumphant curse word. But, Fuck that.

I created this blog to document our transformation as a family, as we moved from our nearly 3,000 square foot home into a Tiny House or RV. As we journey out of the little bit of debt we have accumulated. As we come to know a happiness that exists in experiences and love, instead of material things. As we think about and come to know Christ and Love in a way that changes and moves us. As we get rid of old ideas, and emerge new.

It has taken us 3 1/2  months to sell our home. It has been a time of packing, purging, bachelorette parties and maid-of-honor duties, birthday parties, weddings, travel, obligations, business, physical therapy, ice cream therapy, growing new friendships and saying goodbye to the old..

These 4 months were definitely something worth writing about. They were poignant and mattered, perhaps much more than other time periods in my life. And I am sorry I didn’t document them.

So, here’s to catching up. To quiet mornings. To having the courage to realize: the little things mattered.

Did We Really Think We Had It All Figured Out?

                The funniest things are striking me, as we pack away our belongings in preparation for the Big Adventure. We haven’t used all of our trash bags, for example. We have lived in this house for a little over 7 months. This is the first home we purchased. We built it, saved for it, waited on it, prayed for it.

                We moved in like we were hunkering down for the world war; stashing 20 lb. bags of rice in the pantry, and economy size bottles of dish soap in the garage. We stored outgrown infant car seats for a ‘someday’ baby number two and carefully organized fragile Christmas ornaments on shelves Troy built by hand, as if we would be here forever.

                Of course, we both acknowledged we would not be in this home *forever*. We were looking at staying less than ten years, if everything went according to our brilliant and all-knowing plan. Five to ten years… yes, that seems reasonable.

                Even knowing the limits of our planning, and having lived through God’s ability to alter our “plans” at barely a moment’s notice (Hello, Paisley!), we still had faith enough in our own understanding (Mistake! Mistake! Mistake!) to buy the big box of trash bags. The 185 count box of tall drawstring kitchen trash bags that we purchased from Sam’s Club upon moving in to our very first big kid home, to be exact. After all, we have a mortgage. We are responsible. We are two conservative (money-wise, clearly not with the environment) financially savvy home-owning adults! We even put back the bulk bag of gummy bears that were already in the cart to offset the upfront cost (you know, since the bags are a necessity). So very grown up of us.

                I’m not sure why I am so bothered by these damn trash bags. We still have plenty of them. They seem to be the only thing taking up space in our increasingly empty kitchen. We are using them for everything, from hauling off clothes for donation, to cleaning out closets and boxes. As each one comes tearing off the roll, it’s like watching a tally of the time that I was so confident we would spend here. One bag, empty crushed solo cups from a late summer BBQ. Another bag, raked fall leaves & grass weeds. Another bag, wrapping paper from Paisley’s 2^nd birthday this September.

A metaphor.

Our time, our careers, our plans – changed and redirected in a way that we were not anticipating. Mocking our confidence, our sureness. I didn’t buy those trash bags to move out with. I bought them because, for one minute, we were arrogant enough to think that we had it all figured out.

Are We Grown-Ups? Or, Are We Just The Lucky Ones?

“I don’t remember, were we wild and young? All that’s faded into memory. I feel like somebody I don’t know. Are we really who we used to be? Am I really who I was?” Ryan Adams

People think we are crazy…

And maybe we are. Troy and I recently celebrated 3 years of marriage. We are both just 22 years old. We have a 2 year old daughter, a mortgage (for now) and big kid jobs.

Are we grown-ups?

We do not contribute to a 401K or IRA. We do not take our multi-vitamins. We have to ask Google about everything from tax filing concerns to suspicious spider bites. We (for the most part) monitor our credit scores…which are neither fantastic, nor atrocious. We do not own our own lawnmower. We are obsessed with our Shark vacuum. We spend too much money on satellite TV and complain about the cost of our car insurance. We tend to just “chance it”. We have both days where we think we know what we are doing, and days where we pretend the real world does not exist. We plan for big events, budget for vacations, and anticipate significant milestones. We forget our plans, and (most of the time) our budgets. We wear nice watches and tote dollar store umbrellas. We handle *relatively* important business dealings, and do not own briefcases. We know better. We almost never remember to send thank you notes. We do preventative maintenance on our home. We consume both overpriced K-Cups, and ramen noodles. On occasion, we have overdrawn our bank accounts, and accidentally missed the water bill. We have learned lessons, forgotten lessons, and ignored lessons. We have heeded the advice of others, even when we fail to admit it.

Are we grown-ups?

Troy and I often discuss the current state of our lives, in a sort of bemused and satisfied way. When Troy is caught giving his coveted last bite of pizza to Pais, or playing princesses with her while watching a World Cup match. We stop. We laugh. How did we get here? 3 years ago, even 4 or 5, we wouldn’t have guessed this would be what our life looks like today. These are the times I wonder if I have let a part of myself go in all of this. Have I kissed good-bye my youth, trading a priceless freedom for this confining adulthood? So many of you think there is something I should be mourning. Is it something I am missing?

I don’t remember, were we wild and young? I think so. At some point.

Am I really who I used to be? Maybe. Probably.

But, I’m not who you used to be. Whoever you are now, whoever you were. We haven't followed your path.

At 22, I don't think we have sold our free spirits for a depressing albatross of responsibility. I don’t think the chapter of our youth has closed on us. Not even with our child, our mortgage, our stress. Our lives are constantly evolving, we are changing, and we are growing. Sometimes, we are growing up. Are we spontaneous beer bong chugging turn-down-for-what wild these days? No. But then again, we never were.

We are still free. We are still figuring it out. If all you need is love, then we are just the lucky ones.

We made our decision: Introducing “The Big Adventure”

For weeks now, Troy and I have been agonizing over some “Big Boy” decisions we are being forced to make. After losing both of our jobs, starting a new company with my family, and landing some big contracts – we can now see where our proverbial “chips” are falling. Our first project is about 2 hours south east of our current home. We will need to be on the ground daily to fulfill the requirements of the project. The 4 hour roundtrip commute just wasn’t going to cut it, especially on our shoestring budget.

So we should sell our house, right? This was the logical first thought. We sell, we move, we finish the project. Boom! Aren’t we great decision makers? So logical. Then the fear sets in. All of the unknowns are starting to stack up… Where are we going to live once the house is sold? Are we going to rent or own? How do we feel about giving up our homeownership to live in someone else’s rental house? The project won’t last more than 12-18 months, but renting is such a waste of money…and, how are we going to pack and move all of this stuff – Troy has a broken leg! So naturally, we went out for Chinese food and pretended none of this was happening...

Oddly enough, sweet and sour chicken didn’t make this go away. A few days later, Troy approached me with an idea: Sell everything, buy an RV and hit the road. We would park it down south for the project, bring it back to Houston for the next job, and it would be ours. A traveling home. Interesting…

Ha! Yeah Right! Honey – an RV? Seriously? We have a toddler. and dogs. We like glamping camping, sure, but to live in an RV? That seems impossible. But, God blessed me with a trustworthy and unmaterialistic man who saw the freedom this would bring our family. So, I “prayed” about it. It went something like this…

“God, what are you telling Troy? Please, take some time to set his mind straight. He wants to take away my walk in closet and our huge kitchen. What about Paisley’s playroom? And the guest room…we can’t have guests over in an RV! Why doesn’t he want guests over? Doesn’t he like my friends? Clearly we cannot be social anymore…Anyway, God, get him on the right track - Will Ya?”

I know, great prayer.

        Luckily, God worked on my heart before changing Troy. With a little convincing, and help from some awesome blogs (thank you Pinterest!), I realized that there were other families out there who were doing this full time RV thing. I read about families with handfuls of children who travel thousands of miles in a year living in an RV, a travel trailer, a 5^th wheel camper. I was introduced to the concept of a truly lighter lifestyle. Imagine that… this little slice of Suburbia that I am fighting so hard for (that I’m not even that satisfied by) really isn’t for everybody. There are other options, and it is okay to explore them. 

       Acknowledging that this is our plan may not seem like a significant step, but it is for us. Saying is not doing, and pursuing this lighter lifestyle will become increasingly difficult as we venture forward. But we have a plan, the ball has been put in motion…

…and I found some great DIY Camper Remodels on Pinterest. So, let the adventure begin!

What's In a Name? How I Came Up With "Prone to Wander"

What's the first thing I think of when I hear this title, Prone to Wander?

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it…”

and oh, what a truth that is. This lyric is from one of my favorite hymns, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing. I am Prone to Wander in so many ways, but this one is especially true. Prone to wander, Lord I feel it…prone to leave the God I love. Here’s my heart, Oh, take and seal it. Seal it for thy courts above.

This is a collection of my words, and most definitely my heart.

Other ways I am Prone to Wander:

Physically. Specific: I am Prone to Wander in a physical sense, and can’t seem to figure out how to ‘stay put.’ This physical wandering also speaks to our latest adventure, but more on that later.

Inside my head. I have ADD, Adult ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder – whatever you want to call it. You will hear me speak about it, and see me write about it. There’s simply no way to keep it out of my writing. I struggle with concentration. My mind is very Prone to Wander, constantly.

In my spelling. I giggled a little out loud, when I thought up a name for this blog. My mom and I have a running joke about my inability to differentiate between Wondering and Wandering in school. It would always come up when she would proof read a homework assignment or read an email “Hey Mom, just wandering what you are up to…” In this roundabout way, I am Prone to Wander.