Slow Turning: Winning over Dyspraxia

After worrying so much this past year about Big B's academic progress, we've begun to see some big breakthroughs.

There's absolutely no doubt about his intelligence. He's a very bright kid. It's simply a matter of working around his dyspraxia and its effects on his ability to perceive and recreate phonemic sequences. It's all just a little harder for him to do.

Just like everything in life has been, is, and will continue to be just a little more difficult for him because of the way his brain processes information. It takes just a few seconds longer for information to hit its mark while traveling from brain to body and those seconds make all the difference in being able to read 35 words in a minute versus 75. And those 40 words make all the difference in how a teacher perceives a child.

He is still reading slowly. Painfully slow sometimes. But he's reading. And I am thrilled by this.

Last night we sat and he read to me the first three pages of The Cat in the Hat and the only two words he asked me to help him with were nothing and could.

I'm very proud of how far he has come in terms of his attitude and his belief in himself. I'm beginning to see that he is proud of his efforts and realizes that he is accomplishing something in learning to read.

I also have to keep reminding myself that these standards of expecting children to read in Kindergarten are really abnormal standards and that technically he's actually almost right on track.

Shine: God's Love is Brighter than Hate

My friend Sarah is an Episcopal priest at a parish in Chicago. I link to her blog the caffeinated priest in my sidebar.

Last weekend she and many of her parishoners marched in Chicago's Pride parade along with congregants and ministers from 22 other churches. Sadly, I'm going to guess there weren't many Roman Catholic parishes participating.

Here's an excerpt from her post, but I urge you to stop by her blog and check out the full post:

For me, it was a powerful experience. I missed the step off (and took the picture above) but jumped in the parade a bit later. What amazed me most, standing on the sidelines and watching, was the sheer increase in volume that happened when the church groups walked by. The joyful and exuberant crowd took their jubilee to a whole new level. Cheering, yelling thank you. In the midst of floats with barely dressed men, drag queens and beer adverts (there were a lot of beer floats), the church groups stand out. And I think it's a visible witness that God's love is there for all, not only for the few.

I think she provides an insightful and moving account of her experience and what a testament to God's love each of us can be.

All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth: Searching for Meaning in Life's Milestones

If my life were a movie, in it, I would be standing there, holding my newborn baby. I would blink and then a sweeping, spinning rotation of the camera would highlight images of Brendan as a baby, then a toddler, then an older boy. It would all be beautifully shot, with sunlight glinting and glaring through a canopy of spring and autumn leaves. In an instant, I'd open my eyes and see standing before me my college-aged son, handsome and smiling. It would all take place in the blink of an eye.

That's what my life feels like today.

To me, it seems like yesterday that I stood inside our church, holding him as the priest poured holy water over his tiny little head and anointed him with chrism. Sunlight streamed through a skylight at the very moment the priest anointed him and shone on his peaceful, sleeping face.

I remember holding Brendan in those first few weeks of his life, overcome with emotion and feeling unworthy of this gift I had been given by God and thinking that he was not just a gift from God, but was of God, an extension of the Creator, embodying everything that is good and holy.

That moment that stands out so vividly against a blur of 2:00 a.m. feedings, diaper changes, and hormones feels like yesterday or last week, not six years ago.

Yet, here we are. Summer 2009. And my baby has his first loose tooth.

When he discovered it last night, I was really excited for him and a little panicky because I'm not sure what the going rate is for the tooth fairy and I knew I had no cash. I was hoping it wouldn't come out for a day or two more.

After that initial reaction, it only took a few moments for sentiment to overtake me and bring me here, to this place where it feels like it's all going so fast. Too fast. Where I feel like such an ungrateful heel for the times I've complained about lack of sleep or lack of place and space and lost identity. Where I wish I had never lost a moment of joy to depression or fear or sorrow.

So what to do? Let it go. That's all I can do. Any time spent on regret for the mistakes of my past would just be more wasted time. All I can do is embrace the here and now. Be here. Be present. Be positive. Roll with the punches and do the best I can. Love my boys. Love their dad. Love myself. Just keep livin'.

And figure out how this whole tooth fairy thing works.

Ave Maria

My husband may be embarrassed by what he would term an act of superstition. Not that he doesn't have faith. He does. He just doesn't give a lot of credit to intercessory prayer, an act of faith in which I am a tremendous believer, but don't practice as much as I'd like because I don't really practice any act of faith and spirituality as much as I would like these days.

But, I credit my mother-in-law's recovery from a kidney infection and sepsis as much to the Blessed Virgin Mary as I do to the doctors and nurses who tended her in the hospital.

The first 48 hours she was in ICU, I prayed this prayer almost non-stop. It is a beautiful prayer that I love and have used before in times of crisis. I first learned it when I was going through post-partum depression and was scared of and for myself. When I would have an anxiety attack and feel like I was literally crumbling apart, I would say this prayer, asking Mother Mary to intercede and save me. Always, within a few minutes, calm would return to me.

Mother Theresa called it her Miracle Prayer and believed that it worked miracles. So do I. As I mentioned before, sepsis has a 60% mortality rate and my mother-in-law was in relatively poor health to start with. My mother died of sepsis, so to me, a miracle was the only hope. And I believe, fervently, that because of the intercession of the Holy Virgin Mary, we got one.

Thank you, Blessed Virgin, for offering your prayers on behalf of my mother-in-law and helping to bring her back to a semblance of health. Amen.

Whiter Shade of Pale

Need proof that all of us white folk look the same?

I'm posting from the waiting room of the Children's Hospital where Brendan is getting OT.

One of the therapists just walked back into the waiting room. She's Indian, tall and gorgeous with sparkling brown eyes.

She's looking for the mom whose driver's license and insurance card she holds in her hand. She looks down at the license and walks up to me and says, "Holly? Holly Whosit?"

Nope. Not me.

So, she then kind of yells the name out. The mom who responds to the name and comes over to her is no less than three inches shorter than me, has white blond hair and a darker complexion, and looks absolutely nothing like me.

The only explanation I have is that all white people look the same if you're not white. I recently saw an article that said babies can easily tell the difference between lots of different kinds of faces, but it's a skill that is lost over time.

I tried to find it to link to it, but the site was down.

Anyway, it kind of tickled me because I had just read a The Wordy Shipmates and in it Sarah Vowell tells a story about how one of the Algonquin tribes that has a relationship with the English basically tells Roger Williams (I think) that they can't tell one white guy from the next. This is after a Dutch trader has killed an Indian and the Indians kill an Englishman, thinking he's the Dutch guy. It was an amusing anecdote and I was just reminded of it today.

Trouble

I've spent the last 24 hours or so trying hard not to worry about my mother-in-law.

She's in ICU with sepsis, the result of a kidney infection left untreated. She's diabetic, and although no one has said this, I think her diabetes combined with recurring kidney stones ultimately led to this infection which has now spread to her bloodstream.

We got a call yesterday morning form my sister-in-law to let us know and have been in wait, pray, and see mode ever since.

I'm terrified. She's like a mother to me. I love her. I can't imagine what it would do to Scott to lose his mom, to my sons to lose the grandmother they adore. Beckett walks around the house asking for her; gets out my cell phone and pretends he's calling her or asks me to call her so he can talk to her.

72 hours. That's how long the doctor said it could take for the antibiotic to work. And I can't help but wonder if a small city doctor has the resources and the knowledge a doctor at a major medical facility in a large city would. Is that weird?

My mother died of sepsis in a small town hospital. I didn't even know what it was when they told me she had it. Today, I have a general idea of exactly what the doctor should be doing thanks to Google. Of course, I'm not there to ask all the questions and I think I pissed my brother-in-law off or he just thinks I'm a freak because I sent him a link to the Surviving Sepsis Campaign's guidelines for treating sepsis and asked him to discuss it with the doctor. I guess my attitude is that I may piss off the doctor, but what if I piss her off and she reconsiders her course of action and my loved one lives as a result. It would be worth it.

I'm rambling. Thankfully, I've had lots of distractions today with the boys.

I think I'll turn in now, say a few prayers, and believe that when I awake tomorrow she'll be better.

Feather Your Nest

For most of my life, I have battled my inability to get and stay organized. I would move things around, maybe, if desperate, get rid of a few things. I would get things together, for a bit, and inevitably, I'd fail to maintain whatever sense of semi-order I had managed to create, and things would once again spiral into chaos.

I finally admitted that I just don't think like an organized person. Some of us are born messies and some are organizational wunderkinds, born to keep the world in order.

So, I broke down and decided to work with a home organizer. Her name is Laura Ray and she used to work with my husband. Initially, after talking with her on the phone, I decided there was no way I could afford it. The kind of help I needed, would literally cost thousands of dollars. During our initial consultation I mentioned to Laura that I was a writer and worked in marketing. She must have retained that piece of information. She called me back a few weeks later and suggested that we trade our services. So, in turn for her helping me get organized, I agreed to write a brochure and her web site copy.

For six, four-hour sessions, Laura and I worked on my basement. We set up a home office area, a play area, organized my closets in the basement, and created a gift-wrap station under the bar in the basement. We also turned one of the closets behind the bar into a place for Scott to keep his stuff so he has his own space for his things.

I'm so very pleased with the results. I'm embarrassed to show you a before picture, but the after photos are above.

One of the most important things I learned is that this is a process and you have to create systems that will work for you. There were times when my naturally messy, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants tendencies resisted some of her suggestions, but in the end, I had to admit she was right about everything.

I'm so inspired that now I'm about to start tackling the kitchen. I also learned that it isn't a race. It's okay to make changes by degrees and create a system that actually works as opposed to rushing it and not making any real substantial changes.

Wish me luck in keeping it going and spreading the change throughout the rest of my home and life!

Concrete Angel

I just read this story on cnn.com. It really disturbed me on several levels.

The detail about the boy's tiny black, lime, and grey Skechers upset me because that's a perfect description of my own son's sneakers.

But that's not the thing that upset me the most. What bothered me was wondering where this so-called community that has poured out its heart and emptied its collective pocketbook in an effort to bury the child and buy new lighting for their park was while he was being murdered and probably abused beforehand.

Maybe if they had offered that same sense of reaching out and providing support to his family before he was murdered, he would still be alive.

How many kids today would have avoided being murdered if a neighbor, cousin, friend, teacher, or colleague or government agency gave an over-stressed parent an outlet for venting his or her anger or offered a parenting class, or took the baby for an afternoon so the mother could sleep?

I am not excusing or dismissing the fact that anyone who murders a child is acting in a monstrous manner.

I just fail to see the purpose in expressing outrage and collecting donations after a baby boy has been senselessly murdered. It seems that energy and those resources would have been put to better use trying to figure out some way to ensure that something like that never happens.

Vacation

So, technically, this isn't our vacation...

But for me, it's a break from the day to day activities of my life. That includes crying children. If a baby or child fusses or cries, it's not my problem (beyond the grand principle that ultimately we are all responsible for one another, but hey, I'm not preaching that philosophy right now). I can choose to walk away knowing other responsible adults are going to take care of it.

And thank the Lord, for that fact!

I was just at the hotel pool, lounging in the sun (I know. Cancer!) and reading a magazine. For fun. Not so I could figure out what to cook for supper.

And just as I was getting drowsy and thinking of closing my eyes for a few minutes...Whaaaaa! Mom! Whaaaa-whaaaa-whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And then, chaos, as half-a-dozen siblings surround the screamer and mom runs over to see what's wrong.

That's the point at which I gathered up my DC, bottle of water, towel, and Time magazine and came inside.

Not my screamer, not my problem.

Behind the Wall of Sleep

I have slept more soundly in the last 48 hours than I have in months. Even last weekend in NY I couldn't sleep because I was worried about being late for things and it was loud and the hotel room was tiny which kind of stressed me out.

Here, in the capacious and stylishly adorned Chapel HIll hotel, I can spread out, relax, and sleep like a log. And I have.

Still, on Friday morning, I was awake at 5 a.m., worried that Brendan would be late for the Student of the Month breakfast at his school. He's been anxious about it all week and I absorbed his anxiety. After going back to sleep for an hour and a half, I awoke at 7:30 and unable to stop myself I called home to make sure they were out the door.

My darling mother-in-law told me they were at school at 7:19 a.m. She had both boys up and dressed and out the door, lunch packed, even remembering to take the whole watermelon she had cut up on Thursday morning before we left. The watermelon was our contribution to the end of year luau which also took place yesterday.

All is well at home. MeMe and the boys are having fun.

I guess I'll just go back to sleep for a while.

On the Road Again

After a whirlwind trip to New York last weekend, now we're in Durham, North Carolina. Scott's playing a show tomorrow night at Broad Street Cafe.

If you happen to be in the area, come on out at 8 p.m. and take a listen. I promise you'll have a great time!

Like a Virgin

Well, after several months of not blogging, not writing very much of anything that wasn't a marketing brochure or magazine article, I'm back.

Not sure if anyone gives a damn. But I'm back. I want to write for me, about things I care about and I've decided to commit to it.

I've been thinking about it for a while now, missing this part of who I am. This past weekend Scott (my husband, if you're just joining us.) and I were in NYC for a friend's wedding and I had the chance to see several dear friends that I rarely see or talk with anymore. Two of them asked about my blog, and one, Chris, had some really great feedback for me on my writing. I chose to take those interactions as signs that I need to be writing this blog and that I need to focus on the issues of parenting and married life and my passions that are truly near and dear to my heart.

So, now, it's off to a meeting for Kindergarten parents about the Cub Scouts.

See you tomorrow. I promise.

Changes

I am so sad to look at my followers and see that the number has fallen from eight to four since the last time I posted.

I loved...love this blog. It was so much a part of me and my life and I feel like a neglectful parent to have let it fall into sorrowful disrepair and desuetude.

I fell into the trap of knowing that certain persons were reading my blog and that things I said were occasionally hurtful to them. If I'm too negative, I feel like I'm not being thankful enough for all I've been given. If I'm too happy, I felt I wasn't being sensitive enough to their feelings. I couldn't fucking win. I want to be able just to be me. Happy. Sad. Mad. Whatever. Just Dawn without having to make excuses for how I feel or what I say.

I have to decide if I can rebuild this blog and make it meaningful and relevant again. Even if it's just meaningful and relevant to myself.

I miss blogging. I miss the friends I made through blogging.

It only just occurs to me that I've been trying to hide out, not reveal too much. Maybe I just need to get back to the basics of why I started this blog. I wanted to become a resource for other moms who were experiencing the challenges of motherhood. I especially wanted to connect with moms who may not have had the best mothering role models, but were finding ways to be good mothers and also to find mothers who were good mothers and who had good mothers and were willing to share their maternal wisdom with the rest of us.

The last few years have changed me. I do not like who I have become...someone cut off, cold, who wants to avoid emotions at every cost. I've heard myself say more than once that I wish I were a robot. And I do wish life weren't so hard for me at times. But then, I know it's no harder for me than it is for anyone else. I just never learned the right ways of coping. I let things bother me that I should dismiss. I lack patience and the ability to look positively into the future.

I want to change.

So...why can't I?

Muppet Movie - The Rainbow Connection

If you grew up in the '70s and '80s as did I, you probably have a soft spot in your heart for all things Henson. Jim Henson, that is. Whether you learned to count with Count von Count, or couldn't wait for The Muppet Show each week, or you thought the Fraggles had it right in their sheer enthusiasm for living in the moment, or Yoda's wisdom in Star Wars inspired you to seek a path of love and light in your own life, you were touched by Jim Henson and his remarkable creations. And, in some way, you're probably a better person for it. We're all better for having been influenced by his multiple cultural phenomena as children.

For one more week, you can catch a glimpse of Henson's brilliance, peeking behind the scenes at his early work and how it all evolved into the famous and beloved characters we think of as Henson's best. The Atlanta History Center has been hosting a traveling exhibit called Jim Henson's Fantastic World.

If you're at all curious about how the Muppets evolved or if you love learning details like the fact that the characters of Bert and Ernie were actually based on Henson and his long-time collaborator Frank Oz, you will love this exhibit!

We went yesterday for the second time since December to see the exhibit. Scott and I, naturally, got more out of the exhibit than the boys did, but they loved seeing favorite characters like Rolf and Kermit and Bert and Ernie. I got teary-eyed watching video that included Henson's speech when he was inducted into the Television Hall of Fame. It makes me sad to think that his beautiful imagination was silenced when there was so much more joy he could have brought into this world.

Think how much darker and more somber our collective childhood lived out in the shadows of nuclear annihilation, a global oil crisis, and Reaganomics would have been without the vivid and joyful expression of life that existed in shows like The Muppets, Fraggle Rock, and Sesame Street.

I wish there was someone today who was as committed to creating quality entertainment for kids that inspired them to act creatively.

Christmas in Dixie*

One of the things I most look forward to at Christmas is taking drives to view, gawk at, rave on, and rat out all the beautiful, creative, original – and sometimes just plain tacky – Christmas decorations folks put up.

I have often looked especially forward to seeing the decorations in the neighborhood where Scott's mother lives. Her neighborhood is one with a yard-of-the-month award and awards for best Christmas decorations. At Christmas, they award first, second, and third prizes as well as an award for the most creative and most original theme and at least one Honorable Mention.

I remember the first time I went home with Scott for Christmas in 1996, I was awed by the house down the street from his mom's with a Twelve Days of Christmas theme. From a single partridge in a pear tree to twelve drummers drumming, every gift in the song is represented by hand-carved and painted plywood figures. It's one of the most complex and elaborate holiday displays I've ever seen. Twelves years later, though, and it's as stale now as it was clever the first time I laid eyes on it.

There haven't been any new and exciting displays of holiday sentiment in my mother-in-law's neighborhood in the last five or six years. One year, there was a rash of folks putting wooden crosses in their yards at Christmas, but I think it only lasted that one year until folks realized the purpose of Christmas is to celebrate Christ's coming into the world rather than to anticipate his departure. Other than that, Scott's mom has been the only one to exhibit any creativity. That was the year she had 7 ft. tall gilded angels blowing trumpets on either side of her walkway. She crafted them out of chicken-wire and spray painted them gold. They were really gorgeous. Everything else was white lights and gold and burgundy ribbon. Very elegant.

Sadly, there have been few holiday displays the last few years that I found worthy of comment or critique.... Until this year, when the glorious elements of Southern pride, Christmas joy, and football fanaticism united in the stroke of genius and gumption that lead to this awesome display:








What else can I say, except, Roll Tide!

*Props to Scott for giving me this title and taking the pictures out in the rain of this testament to all things Alabama for me.

And the Winner Is....

Utah Savage. She's a new reader and from what I can tell after reading a handful of posts, a passionate and intense writer.

Read her post on the act of kindness given to her here.

She will be receiving a delicious (if you like chocolate and hazelnuts, which I do, very much!) Ferrero Rocher Christmas gift set.

By the way, for the sake of acknowledging how I did this (since I've never done a contest before, I used one of the randomizers at random.org.

Thanks to those of you who participated. I enjoyed reading each of your stories. It always inspires me to see the goodness that is the root of all our humanity.

Giving It Back to You

I'm extending my deadline. Get me those stories, folks! I need a winner! See my previous post if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Give A Little Bit More

Hopefully this holiday season has all of us thinking about how we can help others. You don't have to make a gratitude box or go to great lengths. Here's a quick, easy, and painless way to do something good for our world.

Ferrero Chocolate has teamed with Share Our Strength, a leading hunger relief organization that helps provide food for 12.6 million American children, to raise money to help provide needy families with food this winter. You can help by visiting Share Something Sweet and sending a free e-card to someone you love. For each card sent, Ferrero will donate $1 to Share Our Strength.

What could be easier?

And to reward you for your good deeds, I am going to be giving away a Ferrero Christmas Tree gift box of chocolates.


Everybody say yum! And now, here's how the contest will work:

1. First, write a post on your blog by Thursday, 12/18 at noon, telling about a good deed someone did for you. Tell us how it made you feel and why you'll never forget that particular act of kindness or generosity.

2. In your post, include a link back to this post and a link to the Share Something Sweet site.

3. Leave a comment on this post letting us know that you've written something.

On Thursday afternoon, I will choose a winner at random from those who leave comments here. I can't guarantee that you will receive your candy before Christmas, but it should get in the mail before the holiday.

I can't wait to read your stories!

Give a Little Bit

And yet again, I slink out of the depths of my chaotic life to greet the world anew. Hello, World!

I've been so excited about something that happened in my life last week and I've been meaning to write about it, but until now, hadn't found the time.

I know I've mentioned my Bunco group before.



We're quite the collection of ladies. Some work outside the home. Some work in the home. Liberal. Conservative. Christian. Jewish. Agnostic. Atheist. Silly. Serious. All mothers and to the one, kind, loving, and supportive.

Every December, we have a holiday party that includes a wine tasting. This year, we decided to add a gift-exchange component. We tossed around the white elephant idea, giving each other items of the as-seen on TV variety, and then darling, brilliant Lucy came up with the idea of gratitude boxes. (Lucy, by the way, is a talented graphic designer. Need a new look for your blog? Notecards? A brochure or logo design? Lucy's your girl and I can put you in touch.)

She saw the idea first on Oprah! If you're looking for an inexpensive gift idea for someone you love, you can't beat this one. The way we did it, each woman brought her own box. Some decorated boxes while others of us simply brought wooden, silver, or other beautiful boxes we already had on hand. Then, over the course of the night, we wrote on cards that Lucy printed for us, one thing we loved about one another. Each compliment was awarded anonymously.

There are 16 (or so) women in our group, so the idea (for us) was that at the end of the night, each of us would have 15 compliments in our gratitude box.

It was so nice to come home and sit down and read the notes and see what my friends like about me. I was surprised, but pleased to learn that someone thinks I make parenting look easy. (She obviously doesn't read this blog!) A few people complimented my smile, a feature I'm frequently self-conscious about, while someone else delighted me with her appreciation of my writing.

Such a lovely, perfect gift, a gift of love and gratitude and nurturing. It's so easy to pass someone by and never tell them what we enjoy about them. This is such an easy way to give that gift and really, who can't use it? It's one gift that definitely won't be exchanged or thrown in a closet and forgotten. Although, it's quite likely it might result in re-gifting.

Wha'Cha Say?

What price are you willing to pay for your sanity?

We clearly see that I will go to some lengths for mine... Pouring the intimate details of my life out onto a platter for anyone who wants to pick them apart; taking anti-depressants and, again, pouring that juicy detail out like some rich morsel I feel compelled to share with friends and strangers alike.

Am I willing, however, to continue spending more money at the grocery store? Sadly, I think I might be.

I am addicted to Publix. I love shopping there. I love the crisp clean, moderny goodness of their package design; the brightly lit and clean expanse of store with wide aisles that all go in the same direction with the center aisles flanked by the produce section in one rear corner and meats in the other. I love how the same employees have worked in the store for years and years and know my name and ask how my boys are doing if they're not with me. I love that Publix employees are always smiling and friendly and helpful...to a one, from the store manager to the stock clerks. I love that they double coupons and always offer to have someone help you to your car with your groceries. It is hands down my favorite grocery store for everyday, run of the mill shopping.

Several of my friends have encouraged me to shop at Kroger, telling me how much cheaper it is.

I just have one tiny problem. Kroger makes me crazy.

Every single time I shop in a Kroger store, I am enraged to the point of muttering and tears by the time I leave. No joke.

The stores are dirty, dark, and always crowded. They never have enough check out lanes open. The produce is by the door as soon as you walk in and isn't laid out in any sensible way. Produce is often not labeled with a price and they never have the little plastic bags for produce out near the produce. They have the bags in one central location so you have to either remember to go get your bags (and know how many you need) or walk across the department when you need a bag.

There is never anyone at the deli counter when you need help and if you ask anyone where something is, they point. I guess that's really all under the umbrella of employees who don't give a damn whether you shop in their store or not. And that's really my biggest problem. Poor staffing with employees who seem like they all hate their jobs.

Then there's the issue of bad design which is reflected in numerous ways throughout the store. The store does not flow well and always seems crowded. The aisles are not wide enough or long enough and they have foods and other products grouped in weird ways. Diapers and Candy. Cokes and Pet Supplies. I just hate it. And don't get me started on their package design which looks like something from 1985. Yuck. Purple and blue and red? Really? Blech!

I almost forgot! Kroger is also the only store I've ever seen with aisles running in two different directions. Vertically and horizontally! I hate that. It's not only illogical, it's inconvenient to the shoppers using giant shopping carts with wheels that don't easily turn.

I understand that for most people shopping isn't about an aesthetic experience. I know there must be something wrong with me that it matters so much to me. This is also why I prefer Target to Wal-Mart. I have so much garbage in my head that I don't need it when I'm trying to get things done.

I need a clean and easy experience with few distractions when I'm shopping. Also, since going to the grocery might be my big outing for the week, I'd like to keep it a pleasant experience.

Sadly, though, I'd really like to spend less money on groceries. I have a conundrum.

For the moment though, I think my sanity might win. I'll just have to do my best to reduce my grocery expenditures in the clean happy land of Publix.

What say you? What lengths will you go to in order to promote calm and peace in your life?