Rock bottom

A couple of months ago I started a second blog. It was all about how Patrick and I are trying to claw our way out of some serious debt. I was keeping up with it because a) I was motivated to get out of debt and b) I actually saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Things grew quite hectic over the past two months since we met with the counselors - the holidays and the unexpected death of my father-in-law. It has been difficult to keep up with that blog, so the stress of everyday life and my recent "screw it" attitude have forced me to just be open about this situation here.

Now that things have settled down some, we pulled out the paperwork and looked at things again. We had some questions and were a bit uncomfortable with some of the details of the plan, so we decided to do some more research. However, the financial situation is even more dire at this point. The bottom line is that we don't have any money. Seriously. I know I'm prone to exaggeration, but I'm not kidding.

While I bring in a steady paycheck every other week, Patrick's checks have been more...hit-and-miss. His small company (of which he is part owner) hit some rough patches last fall. Of course, this happened just as I was on those three weeks of unpaid maternity leave (when we decided it would be OK and we would make it through just fine).

Things are bad. We've drained our savings (which we always had for one of those "just in case" situations). I just never thought we'd run out. I got paid last week and Patrick didn't. Nothing. Not even a portion of a paycheck. We can't survive like this. I don't know what we're going to do.

I had to buy some medicine tonight - I went to the doctor this morning and I've got bronchitis again. I need an antibiotic and my inhalers. The bill was $43. I had a $20 in my purse, so I paid with that and the rest went on a credit card. We only have a little bit left in checking until Friday when I get paid again (and I pray that Patrick gets paid, too). Our phone was cut this afternoon and I paid by phone (cell phone, which I'm contemplating getting rid of) and took the money out of checking. The only reason I paid the bill was because I was afraid someone would call the house and find out that our phone was disconnected. I'm embarrassed by this whole situation. I'm depressed.

Oh...and a couple of weeks ago when things were looking up? I bought some Girl Scout cookies from our neighbors. We don't even have money to pay for those. How pathetic is that?

I do this all the time...

I found this at Post Secret, and while I didn't actually submit this...I could have because I do it all the time.

Hiatus

I've been sick and I'm taking a hiatus from blogging. I've been swamped at work (three grants due on Friday), so I haven't had much time to write. I need to get healthy and stay healthy. Griffin was sick last week and I am doing my best not to pass it back to him.

I'll be back in a few days (you know I've got tons to say!)...

This is why I fell in love with him...

[caption id="attachment_547" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Patrick and Duncan (July 2000)"][/caption]

Wandering

{In reference to the last post}

As a young girl my family travelled each summer. We stayed in the US and we drove to each destination, stopping along the way to see various historic sites and monuments. My parents believed that travelling (especially by car) was one of the best ways to educate yourself. We visited obscure places that most of my friends had never been - Lititz, PA (the home of the first commercial pretzel bakery in the US), the Cumberland Gap, the Appomattox Courthouse, and so on.

Some of my favorite memories were of us driving to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. There was something about that drive that spoke to me. The Blue Ridge and Appalachian Mountains. The green hills. The rural towns. One afternoon, we pulled off into a small town in Virgina (small as in a population of only about 1200)  so we could fill up the car with gas and get out to stretch our legs after a long drive. Everything seemed so small. So simple. One gas station. One grocery store. Every home had a front porch, and every porch had someone sitting on it. I was 16 years old at the time, and in that stage in life when I wondered about my future. What would I do for a living? Would I get married? Have children? Where would I live? I envisioned life in this small town. It wasn't the quaint town with a bustling Main Street. It wasn't the small town where people hang their American flags and celebrate the Fourth of July with a big parade and picnic. Norman Rockwell it wasn't. It was just...small. The men worked and the women raised the children. People drove rusted pick-up trucks and shopped at the nearby K-Mart. There was no mall. No fancy clothes. No upscale restaurants. It was the epitome of a rural, southern community.

As we waited for my dad to finish up at the gas station, I rolled down the window to get some air. In the distance, I heard a train roll through town. I imagine people heard that on a regular basis as they went to work or played with their children in their front yards.

I don't know why this image - this town - stuck with me for all these years. It has remained a symbol of a simple life, a life that I don't lead right now. Yes, my life is a lot simpler than it could be, but I still deal with the daily stress of work, parenting, and financial obligations that have gone off track. The competition with neighbors about who has the nicest lawn or cleanest garage. The competition with friends about who has the nicest clothes or car. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but I do.

When I heard the train early this morning, I closed my eyes and imagined that small town in Virginia. I imagined a simpler life - rocking Griffin to sleep on the front porch, in the early dusk of a warm summer night. For that brief moment I forgot about bills and grants. I forgot about the mess in my kitchen and that we once again don't have enough money to pay our mortgage. Instead, I imagined living in that town and listening to the train pass through as we sleep with the windows open, a light breeze blowing the curtains. Babies safe and asleep. No worries. A simple life.