By my quick count this morning over breakfast, I’ve left the house a grand total of five times in the month of February. Only one of those outings was made alone. To the grocery store. Part of the issue is that my car has been out of commission for close to three weeks now. It took a while to get down to the mechanic because it was all we could do to keep the driveway clear enough to get the working vehicle out. My little RAV4 is at the garage now, for the third day, and I’m hopeful we’ll have a diagnosis soon. The girls and I don’t go out much once J leaves for work anyway, but with the unpredictable weather and no vehicle, it’s been impossible.

But the bigger reason is just the nature of not only working from home, but working from home on our crazy schedule. I know I’ve kind of glossed over what our days actually look like around here, alluding to the fact that we off-shift, but not really getting into how we make it all work. I’ve been thinking about writing sort of a “day in the life” type post – would that be of interest? Our schedule isn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t work for everyone, but I know that so many families feel stuck in the 9-to-5 grind, never seeing each other and only having their children for the two hours between dinner and bedtime. The flexibility of my job allows us to have breakfast and lunch as a family every day, and I’m really grateful for that. There are drawbacks to every arrangement and our own situation is certainly no exception to that rule. The very reasons for loving this schedule become the shackles that keep me in place: without an actual reason to leave the house, I wind up not leaving at all.

It builds and festers, and then I have a moment like this morning when I catch a whiff of fresh air off the dog’s fur when he comes in from doing his business, and suddenly I need to get out. To go, to drive with the windows open even though it’s only 42*, to make a break for it.

So today I’m parked at Panera. I scored a window seat with an outlet so I can feel the sunshine and watch the people come and go. I’ve got iced coffee and Dispatch is playing on the in-house speakers while I answer email and promise myself to do this more often. To be intentional about a change of scenery so that it doesn’t feel like I’m escaping my life every time I pull out of the drive, because isn’t that the point of this whole endeavor? To build a life that requires no escape plan.

Since it would appear there’s not much of consequence happening around here other than the weather, I thought I would roll with it. I give you snow.

 

We ventured out to the library this past Saturday, per usual. It had been snowing for a little while, but we did it anyway because we had to get out. It was a “now or never” situation because we knew we were going to get slammed, and soon. Thankfully it didn’t get nasty, and our little ladies still made it to the Daddy Daughter Dance that night, or we would have had two very sad little girls, and a sad Daddy too.

Our own date didn’t turn out nearly so well. Sunday dawned cold and gray, but with no snow falling. We had tickets to the symphony down in Portland, a good hour and a half away, and so planned to leave well in advance of curtain. It came time for us to get on the road, and without a cancellation notice or a single snowflake, we set off. The highways were dry and clear, and we made great time. Half an hour from the theater, we got the cancellation. And then a call from the restaurant that they were closing early. And so we took our overdressed selves to the bar for adult beverages while we had gramma and grampa to babysit. We chatted with strangers, and made new friends, and headed home just as the storm really got going.

I’d say we got somewhere between two and three feet of snow from Sunday night through Monday. It was pretty hairy at points. J tried to stay ahead of it, clearing paths to the truck and the chickens, but in the end, he had to call out of work because he couldn’t see the end of the driveway in his rearview mirror. It was several days of playing inside, making homecooked meals and homemade valentines (check them out on Instagram!).

We all made it through, and the sunshine yesterday morning…oh! The sunshine! It was so nice to sit at the breakfast table and let it wash over our faces.

So. Frugal February. I didn’t cut our grocery budget last week because the long term weather forecast was so brutal, I wasn’t sure when I’d get out again. We stocked up on things, though I didn’t go too far overboard. We knew this past weekend’s plans would cost us some money, and we were prepared for that – I built that in. J went a little above and beyond for his date with the girls, buying flowers for them and bubbly for mama, but I had tucked away the cash for their dance tickets months ago, so that wasn’t too much of a blow. I did spend $5 and took the girls to a Valentine’s crafting party in town, which was unplanned. No snacks or beverages purchased, no non-essential impulse buys at the grocery store.

And then we bought a snowblower.

My husband is the handy type. He can fix most anything that’s not too far gone, so when he found a snowblower in the garage down in Pennsylvania this fall, he brought it home with us. He tinkered and fiddled, and got it running. And then the damn thing exploded. It is now beyond his abilities to make it operational, though it may still be worth repairing, and so it sits. Worthless in the face of all the snow we were expecting. A quick scouring of the Facebook marketplace led J to a small, well-used machine, and $100 later, he saved himself hours of work and lots of back pain.

What I’m learning through this endeavor is that we actually don’t blow as much cash as I thought maybe we did. We do make unplanned purchases, but they’re not usually frivolous and are often items that have been on the list for some time but suddenly become important. I suppose in the grand scheme of things, that’s not too terrible.

 

The neighbors’ empty pigpen

I felt at loose ends all day yesterday. As a childless adult, snow days were like heaven. My introverted nature rejoices when the most sensible course of action is to curl up in a blanket with a project work work on and something yummy to enjoy. My girls love a good snuggle and a story, but yesterday they were having none of it.  They’d been exhorting me to “play, mama!” since the snow started right around breakfast. And despite a loving willingness to do so, I found myself battling some serious internal conflict, wandering from room to room without accomplishing anything as I forced myself to squelch this sense that the only right thing to do on a day such as we had is hunker down and embrace the silence. The non-existent silence.

We made it through dinner and baths, and then ten o’clock rolled around and it was still snowing. I found myself sipping a glass of syrah and eating mini marshmallows by the handful. My two-year-old was on the couch (“Mama, my brain says it’s not going to sleep.”), and her big sister was calling from the bedroom that she couldn’t sleep alone. I had plans last night that didn’t involve the toddler set. Got a babysitter and everything, but with the buckets of snow being dropped on us faster than it could be cleared, the event was rescheduled.

It’s ironic how you can make the conscious choice to live more simply, to plunk yourself down way out in the country and be perfectly content about it, but when the isolation becomes forced rather than voluntary (too much snow, bum vehicle), you bounce off the walls. It’s made me antsy and irritable, and since the bitter cold is making snow play no fun, the girls are full of energy and beginning to pick at each other. Not a great combination.

So. I am taking naptime to regroup. I rearranged the kitchen counters, and wiped all the crumbs out from under the toaster. We found evidence of mice in the dishtowel drawer last weekend, so everything was removed and washed while traps were set, and then all the linens sat in a heap by the coffeepot for days on end; no more. The floor is swept, the miscellaneous papers are recycled, and I am preparing myself for another evening in.

We’ve been doing a lot of making. Last week it was Giant Ginger Cookies, a most delicious kind of making. Crunchy edges, chewy centers. We shared some with neighbors and grandparents, but the rest were gobbled so quickly I didn’t even get a photo. Valentine production has been ongoing, one set popped into the mail as another is begun. Mama did most of the cutting for that project, but Beans has been practicing her scissor usage so I’ve been sweeping a lot.

There is more snow coming, both tomorrow and Sunday, so I’m sure that more making will be on the agenda. Muffins this time, I think. I’ll have backup this weekend as J and the girls head to the Daddy/Daughter Dance so perhaps I’ll get to hunker down in a blanket after all.

 

 

We’re less than one full week into my #FrugalFebruary experiment, but have arrived at the first designated checkpoint. It was a fairly easy beginning, with little temptation. Our regular grocery trip fell in the last days of January, so I filled up the gas tank on that same outing and haven’t personally spent anything outside of the parameters I set for myself. So far, so good.

I realized on the first day of the month that we have an event coming up next Saturday – the annual Daddy/Daughter Dance. It is pretty rare that we have a need for toddler tights and Mary Janes here in the Maine woods, but if ever we do, this dance is probably the reason. We did a quick scramble yesterday to try on outfits, and though Sweebee’s tights are a bit tight, I think we’re good to go. It’ll do.

Besides that little failure to plan, I’ve had a couple of other realizations that really only affect me. I began a new cross stitch project, and found that I don’t have all the floss colors that the pattern calls for. Just today I sat down at the sewing machine to work on some baby gifts, and ran out of white thread, though I’m pretty sure I have another spool knocking around here somewhere. In these cases, I’ll see what I can borrow from my mom and another friend who offered her stash. Worst case, they’ll just have to wait.

I spent $4 of a gift certificate on local eggs at the country store in town. Our girls aren’t laying enough to feed us, and we really don’t want to go back to those pale store-bought eggs. Even the cage-free kind are no comparison to what backyard flocks are capable of producing. I would have bought them even without the gift certificate and rolled the expense into the grocery budget.

I knew I wouldn’t force my family to play along, which I suppose is good since J thinks this endeavor is stupid. Ahem. He bought chips at work one night because he forgot. Today he is frustrated with me because he doesn’t want to wear his normal work clothes to the dance next week when his girls are getting all dolled up. His argument is that he never buys anything except snacks, so what exactly am I trying to prove by not spending money for a month?

So it’s been an interesting start, and I think the challenge is going to begin in earnest as we move into week 2. I have one class left on my yoga pass, but feel strongly that weekly practice is important for my well-being. I’m trying to decide if using birthday cash on yoga violates the terms of the project. I took the truck to class this morning and came home to the hood popped on my car and a frustrated husband swearing at a vehicle that crapped out on him (twice) after dropping the girls at their grandparents. We have no idea what’s wrong with it, so he’ll be calling the mechanic tomorrow. I will need to go grocery shopping this week, Tuesday at the latest. My plan is to eat a solid meal before leaving the house and pack a water bottle to avoid impulse purchases.

Jill wrote a bit last week on prioritizing your spending, particularly in regard to beauty routines and self-care, and one of her readers commented on the fine line between intentional frugality and asceticism, which I thought a good point. If buying a new button-down will make J feel good when he takes our girls out on their date, and he will wear it to work, then it’s not really a waste of money. Neither is investing in myself with a new yoga pass when it’s the only regular thing I do for myself. My fear is opening that gate, and falling into the habit of over-indulgence, so I suppose mindfulness is the real goal here. Keeping the reins held tight.

If you’re following along with this no spend month, how was your first week?

 

 

It was difficult to get warm the other day. The wind was whipping around the house and sneaking in under the kitchen cabinets, a frigid draft that chilled the floor and therefore my toes. I kept stepping in puddles left by the tumble of boots in the laundry room, and went through three pairs of socks before resigning myself to scuffing around in too-big slippers that make a racket on the wood floors. Food, I thought. Cooking will warm things right up, and a hot, hearty meal would be nice.

But it was a tough crowd in the kitchen. I thought that playing out in the snow would guarantee appetites at dinner and the menu wouldn’t be questioned, but oh ho ho, was I ever wrong. I made a big batch of “snack mix” that the girls won’t eat. A huge vat of cauliflower cheese soup and meatballs with hidden veggies (just carrots! they love carrots!) were also rejected, so mama hit three strikes before bedtime and had to tap out.

#FrugalFebruary starts this week (are you joining in?) so I have been thinking even more about food than I usually do. Not to say that this challenge is all about the kitchen, but groceries are a huge part of our budget, and one of the few places we can really control what is spent (other than just not buying non-essentials). I decided that I want to avoid depleting our pantry and freezer, because I’d eventually have to spend the money to replace those items anyway. Instead, I want to focus on being more mindful of my choices at the store, selecting items that will go further than one meal and choosing recipes with basic, inexpensive ingredients rather than something pricey or fancy. For example. I know I’ve got at least one ham bone in the freezer, and recently bought a bag of beans for less than $2. If I make a loaf of bread to go along with a big pot of soup, that’s three meals or more for under $5.

There is always food in our house. We rarely waste anything, particularly now that we have chickens who eat what the dog does not. However, we don’t need to skimp on portions or prices for any reason other than saving our waistlines and our wallets. There is always more for us. We can afford it when the girls are picky, but not everyone can.

It is downright alarming how many do not have enough to eat. Surrounded by farm stands and homesteaders, it’s sometimes hard to remember that food insecurity isn’t just an urban problem; here in Maine, approximately 14% of our state’s population uses the SNAP program, far fewer than actually need it because of new restrictions on who qualifies for assistance. Our food pantries are filling that gap – and not on an emergency basis, but as a regular source of calories.

The Bangor Daily News did an eye-opening piece on how and why food insecurity in our state has increased, even as the recession has ended and unemployment has decreased.

If you’re a podcast listener, I recommend “When the Food Runs Out” with Erica Heilman at Rumblestrip. Parts are tough to listen to, but give a pretty clear picture of how things actually look right now.

I don’t think we can afford for issues such as these to remain invisible. I’m not certain what the answer is at the governmental level, but down here in the weeds, it’s obvious to me that we need to make a commitment to caring for each other. If the political climate continues to deteriorate, our community may be the only thing we can rely on.

Anyway. That’s just what’s running through my head these days.