You’ve heard the colloquialism that “Time is Money” right? Perhaps you agree, or perhaps you just scoff at the sentiment.

I, for one, have given this particular little proverb a good amount of though. So much so, that I usually work out how much something will “cost” me for my time before I get serious about diving into it.

See, I’m a DIY kinda guy, I like to work on my own cars, I like to build DIY versions of retail products, etc. But before I take something on I usually try to break down exactly what it’ll cost me both in time and money.

DIY R-Strap

For those of you who may not know, I fancy myself something of an amateur photographer, and I tend to carry my dSLR around with me a lot.

I discovered very quickly that the standard neck camera strap is just downright cumbersome, and it often flops in front of the lens at the most inopportune times.

I could throw it over my neck, and under one arm. But, I’m a bit of a big guy too so that just results in a strap that’s too short for me to get the camera to my eye.

As a result, when I discovered the BlackRapid R-Strap I instantly fell in love.

Of course, being the DIY guy I am, I immediately went looking for DIY instructions for it, and I found plenty without looking too hard.

Now comes the breakdown. An RS-4 (the model that seemed most appropriate for me) costs around $60 all things considered. Most of the DIY instructions show parts lists that add up to less than $10.

Sweet deal right?

Well, not exactly. See, I easily spent two hours looking at all of the different DIY plans and devising my own “best of” from those.

Then, since I didn’t have any of the parts on hand I’d have to go to a home improvement center for the hardware, and possibly a different store to get some nylon strapping or strap from an existing bag. Figure on another hour or so driving to and from, and wandering around.

Then, once I had all the materials together building my strap, testing, adjusting, rebuilding, and cleaning up could easily take another two hours.

Assuming that I don’t have to drive to any other stores to buy materials I forgot, or later decided that I need to improve my design I’ve already spent five hours.

$60 (Price of retail R-Strap) – $10 (Price of DIY parts) = $50 / 5hr = $10/hr

All told, I’d be paying myself $10/hr to build my own R-Strap. Then, what are the chances that I’d end up with a product that is better (or even as good) as the mass produced, tested, and redesigned product?

So.. Not better, not really cheaper..

I bought an RS-4 from a retailer.

Choosing how to spend

Sometimes, you can look at a task and realize that it’d cost you WAY less to pay someone for a particular product or service, but you still choose to do it yourself.

You do this usually for the non monetary benefits you receive.

Or, perhaps you could never hope to spare that much cash, but you’re willing and able to spend the time.

For me, working on cars is where I choose to spend the time, rather than the money.

Sure, most times I probably take two to three times longer to fix or modify my car than a professional would, and I know I earn more hourly than the shop would charge. But I get a sense of satisfaction in my work, the knowledge that it’s done “right”.

Besides, working with my hands is cathartic given that I sit on my duff behind a keyboard all day.

Mind you, there are times that I decide that the cost of time is too great to complete a project, and I’ll gladly pay a professional to take care of it. This is particularly the case for the cars which we depend upon for transportation.

Billable hours

The other thing to consider is. You can’t possibly bill for your every waking hour.

If you’ve got the time to spare, and you can’t monetize it, then you’re wasting a resource if you’re not doing something you enjoy (recreation) or being productive.

If you ask me, time is money in a very tangible way, so make sure you’re making the most of both.

Remember, if you’re going to spend more time on something that it’d be worth monetarily, make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.

We all mark good days on different scales. My good day may be different from yours, and I know my husband’s good day is different from others (geeks have different definitions of most things in life).

Now that I am a new stay at home mom, it’s only been six months, and have health issues and am constantly trying to keep by boys happy and healthy my definition of a good day may be different from yours.

My definition of a good day is only waking up twice during the night to burp and feed my baby while waking up for the day around eight. Then both boys get cleaned, dressed and fed first thing in the morning.

It means getting breakfast before nine am, and drinking all my coffee by eleven am.

It means the dishwasher gets emptied and filled and run before lunch time.

It means getting some quality play time with both my boys together and separately.

It means a hot shower, hair styled and dressed cute. (Oh and deodorant and lotion are a must for cute.)

It means we all get lunch before one pm and the mess is cleaned up shortly after we eat.

A good day means I get to make dinner with little interruptions and if it is from scratch that is an excellent day.

My good day ends with cuddles and kisses with both of my sons and some quality time with my man. Right now, the way things went from chaotic to sweet, I’m counting today as a good day. I hope yours was good too.

I am a movie-a-holic to a degree and when Sandra Bullock’s character in Hope Floats was told that she was so pleasin’ by her mother and she told her mother she had to be pleasin’ I could relate.

I spent the first 10 years of my life with my father’s side of the family. My grandfather was from the east coast and my grandmother is from the south. I was encouraged to be very proper and polite due to their background. I was three years old when sir, ma’am, and Miss were important parts of my vocabulary; thank you and may I please and excuse me were also mandatory for any conversation. I still am notorious for getting a slight southern drawl when I speak to my father’s side of the family and say sir to the point of annoying my husband.

I spent the next decade with my mother’s side of the family, a semi traditional Mexican family. This side encouraged me to be polite, try to make those around me to be comfortable, always try to be hospitable. In my family we are prone to serve and be sure the men in the home are fed and taken care of before we stop and take care of ourselves. Sadly I took on these pointers on how to be a good woman to an extreme. I learned the hard way over and over that there is a point where you need to stop being so damn pleasing.

What I am starting to realize that bending over backwards on a regular basis to be pleasin’ to all around me is becoming a detriment to myself. Most don’t completely get my limitations due to my health problems, honestly I don’t advertise it all that much as I don’t want people to pity me. I’m a strong incredible woman, though I don’t feel that way all of the time I know it is true. I’m still learning my limitations, and I’m learning where I have to put my foot down to take care of myself. For some reason my husband seems to get this a lot better than I do.

I’m learning to be me but not to hurt myself in the process, I think it is time to not be so damn pleasin’. It only took nearly thirty years for that to click. Can you tell I’m a bit hard headed?

I attended a city college culinary program, which means I know a little about food. I learned the basics of the culinary world, things like mother sauces, cuts of meat, basics of pastries, ect. I’m a foodie. I love food, like it and love to play with it and experiment. Thankfully my husband enjoys my experiments, eating and helping me cook and inspiring me.

Well in my attempts to focus on using on what is on hand I made a simple baked potato dinner. Which meant I could bake potatoes and make fun toppings and have fun with it. I decided we had to have a cheese sauce, it was vital. I made a lovely blonde roux, then a slightly runny bechemel and then added cheeses, nutmeg, cayenne, and mustard. It was delightful and strangely familiar. When my husband came home after a long day he smiled as he put his potato together and let me know the cheese sauce was awesome. He even offered to have my babies (attractive offer after you have had two children). I looked at him and said, “Yeah, I made velveeta. My teachers would be proud.”

I love when I get through a week when I don’t throw away any food and we don’t have any reason to go grocery shopping mid week, it’s exciting to me. Yeah I know, I’m a bit strange.

I remember being young and fighting every single nap time in preschool, daycare, and kindergarten. I remember whimpering when my parents held true to my 8:30pm bedtime. I just wanted to stay up and play with the adults, I didn’t get why I had to go to bed. I imagined that my parents were having candy and ice cream parties. I could hear soft jazz playing in the living room and muffled conversations that had a healthy sprinkling of laughter, singing and silly noises. I felt like I was missing out on so much. It wasn’t until Jr. High that I started to stay up late for school work and honestly I thought I was a grown up for not complaining. Then high school I stayed up for cram sessions, reports, homework and started to get that sleep was a valuable commodity. Still I would stay up Friday and Saturday in attempts to spend time with my mom and grandmother or with my friends. I had a strict curfew, one that my mom would tell my friends and their parents so that they knew she meant business.

One year I had insomnia, probably had something to do with the 3-5 cups of coffee that I was drinking every day in my sophomore year of high school. I remember accidentally waking up my mom vacuuming at 1am. She let me know that I was only allowed to do dishes, wipe down counters and dust if I insisted on staying up that late doing chores. Clearly my mom was no fool, never tell a teenager to stop cleaning.

I went into a culinary program at the local city college and was in school 40 hours a week. I got in the habit of waking up early daily (classes started at 6:30am). I would go home and study, and have catering events at school regularly. I was a teenager so I would also attempt to have a social life on the weekends minus the class work and catering events. I finished the culinary program and was a baker at a buji organic grocery store so again I was keeping early hours. I would still try to go out with friends at night even though I was up 4am to work. I was a HUGE fan of the power nap.

I changed careers shortly after getting married and was getting used to 8-5 work day but still known to wake up at 3:30am often due to my previous career. I had health issues and all I did was sleep for 6-8 hours a couple years, which for me is decadent.

Now I’m a mom, with a newborn (how long do you get to claim that?) and a toddler which means that I’m up by 7am every day and juggling everyone’s needs and wants. I look forward to my toddler’s bed time on the crazy days when both boys seem to have arranged their meltdowns so I can have a stereo experience. Then I get to play the power nap game through the night. I miss naps, I miss long stretches of sleep. Hell I miss sleep in general.

Dear Sleep,
I miss you love and know one day we will be reunited. I’m guessing it will be about two years but when we are together again it will be fireworks and a crescendo of beautiful music.

Love,
me

I attempted a day of rest yesterday as it was one of my last days when my husband was easily available while I recovered from my c-section. I ended up watching a lot of the new food channel (Anyone else feel like this is a more cooking focused fine living network? Anyone?) and found my self getting a bit excited at the thought of getting back in the kitchen.

Don’t get me wrong, I do cook but everything has become routine and needs to be easily taken over by my husband as one or both boys may suddenly need something only their mom can provide. My husband can hold his own in the kitchen but I can’t expect him to get where I was going with two or three pots on the stove and read my mind as to what my goal was. I like recipes but love to get inspired, use basic technique I have learned years ago and run with it.

I found myself considering staying home full time with my boys and making bread. Yep, I’m thinking about getting a sourdough starter again and making bread regularly. I watched Giada make a rather small pan of focosia and wondered why she didn’t poke her fingers through the dough and then pour her olive oil all over and debated if I liked the idea of adding grapes as a topping. Then I remembered the challenge of braiding challah and how yummy it was for french toast for breakfast. I had flash backs of making danish dough and how much work was involved and wondered if that is even possible with two boys in tow. I mean having a homemade danish is delightful and you can make some of the flakiest decadent cinnamon rolls ever with it. Can you tell I was never an advocate of the Atkin’s diet?

I suddenly remember my Asian food obsession, how I was attempting to make an array of foods from different countries. Thankfully my husband told me everything was yummy and would clean his plate. I wonder if I can attempt to add sushi to my menu. Oh and I have to try to make Pho again, collect my beef bones and make my own stocks from scratch again.

I’m definitely feeling renewed in my passion, my choice of career so many years ago, mama is feeling inspired to get cooking again. We shall see if I’m successful. I’m sure you will hear from both myself and the husband about said attempts…I guarantee you will have a couple laughs.

My first five days home with both my boys and my husband were a bit of a whirl wind. Slowly my mom has shortened her visits here to help, trying to give our newly extended family more space. When writing these posts I heard Captain Kirk from the original Star Trek with beeps and all. I feel as if I have entered a strange and exciting new world. Each day offering new ideas and new lessons of an alien land.

I have learned that waking up early and staying up has it’s benefits but by noon I am giggly and by 3pm I’m starting to sound like my cranky toddler that is demanding his own quiet time without company. I have also learned that it may be time to give in to naps late in the evening so that I have a fighting chance to have a conversation with my husband without falling asleep mid-sentence.

I’m left further amazed with any mother I know that has done this and survived beautifully. I’m slowly learning that the house doesn’t have to be spotless, playing with my toddler and holding my newborn are much more important than a company ready home. My boys needs will change daily, what worked perfectly yesterday may not work perfectly today and that is ok. I have said for quite some time that my life will never be boring again since I had my first child, and my second child has added a new dimension to life that I can’t imagine my life without.

I heard time and time again that your heart grows when you have your second child. I had no idea how instant this occurred, and it was instant. I adored my second son from his first cry and continued to love him by the minute.

I survived my first five days of being home and a mother of two, with lots of help, and I’m hoping to continue to grow and learn with each following day. I admit that the sleep depirvation caused giggles, the hormonal fluctuations caused a few tears over the silliest moments, but all is worth every second I can enjoy this incredible blessing that is parenthood.

Day Two

Waking up at home is amazing, not having my blood pressure checked, my temperature checked was a nice change. My newborn seems to not be phased with the change of location. My toddler is excited to see his baby brother in the morning. I am thrilled to be allowed to move to another room and get comfy and lounge. I love to be home.

My husband is sick, and I’m starting to worry about him. He is tired, lethargic, and just feeling all around icky. My mom is here and thankfully helping me with my toddler and house duties as we both watch the hubs attempt to do all he can in his current state. He ended up napping much of the day away. Poor guy.

I’m doing ok, slowly recovering, still leaps and bounds better than last time. Breastfeeding has been going well, T is a pro at this point. The sleep deprivation has been interesting to say the least but due to the great support I have so far I have been able to sneak a nap in here and there. My eldest son has been a crack up with his epiphanies about his little brother. Today was good.

Day Three

Today was a day that started with a jump and jolt. My husband got really sick and now it is mission keep husband hydrated and fed. I’m bummed as this means I have to keep myself and my boys far away from him for fear that he may be contagious. Yeah, not an easy feat when you are still recovering from a c/s and have a toddler that wants nothing more but than to be close to his papa.

Today was T’s first pediatrician appointment, thankfully my mom was able to take us to the office and wrangle my toddler. Sadly due my husband’s symptoms he had to miss this appointment, he wasn’t too happy about missing his son’s first appointment. The great news is T is back to his birth weight and the doctor said he was doing well. We made a follow up appointment and we are hoping the hubs will be able to join us. Q was thrilled to be out of the house and have company in the back seat.

I pulled out the Baby Bjorn carrier today and all Q wanted was for me to take it off and let him hold ‘his baby’. T, the newborn, was ok with the Bjorn. Today was long as the hubs was asleep for much of the day trying to recover, I missed him like crazy. My mom was my super hero leaping tall buildings and flying in to save the day for all four of us, I’m not sure what would have happened without my mom helping us out.

I’ve never been so happy to see my eldest son’s bed time till this evening because I knew once he was in bed I could cuddle the tiny baby to sleep and start my longer cat naps of the day. Usually I am not too excited to see his bedtime as I love every minute I get to play with him. Exhaustion makes you look at things differently. I still miss the hubs, a lot. I hope he feels better asap.

Day Four

I slept in, kinda. I woke up at 5:30am in pain, the incision is healing well but I have to stay on top of my Ibuprofen intake or else suffer. The sad part of my morning? I had to wake my husband to be able to get said Ibuprofen, my poor sick husband. The baby and I were off to the living room after it kicked in to have new surroundings and so I had a fighting chance to jump into the shower after the new born was fed, burped and changed. I hopped, well as much as I can hop, into the shower and felt refreshed.

Today is the day I discovered the amazing invention known as the bouncy seat. Who knew that a bent piece of metal that allowed a soft cushioned seat to bounce and vibrate and play music would allow a mother to put down a drowsy, slightly cranky newborn for a few minutes would make the world a better place? I sure as hell didn’t. I am in awe of the person that created this thing and even my toddler knows the baby in the bouncy seat is a good thing for all involved. I was able to put my beautiful baby boy down and tend to the toddler’s needs to the best of my slowed ability and even got to pee without hearing screams from either child. A-MA-ZING!!!

I was excited every time my husband made an appearance outside of the bedroom, it is starting to look like he is doing better. My mom came over in the morning and helped me around the house with both children and making sure the husband was eating and doing better. Knowing that he was improving I even got some girl chat in. I’m learning that if I want a fighting chance to nap this is the only way it is going to happen is if I bathe and then crash afterward once I confirm all is well in the house and all are sleeping.

I’m learning, slowly, and at this rate I may have a fighting chance of figuring things out before I become delirious with exhaustion. My husband is doing much better now, we got to enjoy a lot of his company minus one nap today. The bad part is my early wake up means limited amount of time with the husband, he is definitely the night owl of our household. It worked nicely for us when we had our first son as he took the late night shift with him while I took the early morning shift. Now that there are two, we seem to have fallen back into our old schedule which works but we are going to have to figure out how to make the time for quality time for the two of us together. I know that we are only six days out with a newborn and toddler so we have time to figure things out, I’m just starting my planing now.

Day Five

I slept in even later than yesterday, 6:30am, Hooray!! My toddler announced that it was time to get up and was excited to see his mom and baby up with him. He even made up a cheer for the light outside and us being up. Sadly this meant that I didn’t get my early morning nap, and that I was trying to figure out how on earth I was going to feed my newborn, myself and be prepared to jump up to feed my toddler when he deemed it time. It didn’t work out all that well. It took me two and a half hours to eat a simple yogurt breakfast as my toddler discovered many different things for me to stop eating to investigate. I didn’t get my early morning shower in. Then when the newborn needed to be fed my toddler appeared once I got settled and nursing my newborn to demand breakfast.

Thankfully the husband came in and rescued me and fed our toddler and made sure any other possible needs that could come up in the next twenty minutes were cared for. He then returned to bed. Only to be asked an hour and a half later to watch the boys so I could bathe, he really is a good guy. My mom didn’t come over till much later and we hung out with the boys and chatted. She left relatively early, compared to the first few days, we survived and enjoyed our time with our boys. We even found time to talk and cuddle after our toddler went to bed. Today was a lovely day.

Yes, I know the obvious differences, body parts, hair growth, DNA. My husband and I are different, he is a good foot taller than me, has straight hair, is fair and has dreamy blue green eyes. I’m short, olive, with dark brown eyes, you get the point. I have been reminded time and time again how different my husband and I are. We are a happy fit, we have a good rhythm and work nicely together.

I have had the joy of working with him in some large catering events and at home in the kitchen. We have had some small kitchens during our marriage and yet seem to be able to work together well, it has become a lovely graceful dance. Often he and I do a dance when it comes to taking care of our toddler and taking care of our home and each other. That being said, we are still so different.

We are both type A personalities, in our own special ways. Our son has picked up on it, he likes certain things to be a certain way. Example: He has to have his train put away with the wheels all pointing in the same direction in their cubbies. He can handle some messes but food spills drive him nutty.

Back to my husband and I, we are different in how we do chores. Both of us have had to learn neither of us are doing anything wrong, we just do things differently to work towards the same end result. Example: I cook a meal and love for the dishwasher to be loaded by the time I am plating a meal. Oil, seasonings and food is put away. I wipe down counters as I go and if possible have the dishwasher running by the time we sit down to eat.

My husband, on the other hand, will make a lovely meal and have most of the dishes piled up in the sink, food put away and have a few seasonings and oil out. Pans cooling on the range. He is much more concerned in getting the family at the table and enjoying our meal than making sure the kitchen is clean before sitting down. He will clean the kitchen later and I know that. There is nothing wrong with this, but it still makes me a bit twitchy.

We do laundry differently. I do small chores or have small projects going that are easily stopped and started. I am constantly keeping an eye on where the loads are at in their cycle and as soon as the dryer dings I have the load out and the load from the washer in and I’m folding the laundry. As soon as the laundry is folded I put it away. I hate having laundry hanging out in out small laundry room or folded in a basket in our room.

My husband on the other hand is busy multitasking. He usually needs to finish his thought or where ever he is in his process, then he checks on the laundry. He has no problem leaving a basket of folded clothes at the foot of our bed for a few hours, sometimes even overnight. This isn’t a crime yet again, I’m usually left twitchy and he just looks at me like I have lost a bit of my mind. He doesn’t get it.

I don’t get why he has to watch a movie from beginning to end even if he isn’t enjoying it. Why his keys have to be on the key hook before he takes off his shoes when he gets home. We both have our quirks.

We approach diaper changes differently, we dress our toddler differently (ironically my husband is pickier than I am about what our son wears), we play with our son differently. This doesn’t bother me. I know my husband adores our children and he is only doing what is in our son’s best interest, I also know that my husband’s part in our sons lives is HUGE. He also doesn’t seem to mind how I do these things either, he likes that we have a different approach to these mundane things. It makes life interesting.

Men and women are different, and the differences can be fun and amazing or annoying and frustrating. I am still finding new differences and it blows my mind and gives me a new lesson to learn. I’m still having fun discovering our differences.

There are a few things I miss when pregnant. I miss a ice cold pilsner on a hot day. The full bouquet of an well balanced cabernet savigion. The crisp, acidic flavor of a well chilled savignion blanc. Even the syrupy sweet nearly effervescent flavor of an ice wine. Tequilla, oh how I love it straight up or mixed in a margarita on the rocks with a salted rim and lots of spicy Mexican food. I miss these things when I am pregnant but I can easily live without, the hubs is welcome to enjoy without me and in front of me, no big deal.

My husband is welcome to enjoy a bike ride, roller blade (though I don’t see him doing that, ever), roller skate, ride a roller coaster. Not a big deal for him to do so in front of me, I enjoy said activities but I can live without. I know I will get to enjoy soon enough, no big deal.

There is but one thing my husband isn’t to enjoy in my presence when I am with child, one thing alone and that is sushi. I have given him the death look when he even mentions sashimi in my presence. My mouth begins to water and I end up having those vivid pregnancy hormone induced dreams about a beautifully large serving of Ahi sashimi, salmon, octopus, yellow tale. I wake up drooling and frustrated and annoyed with the world as I have to resist the craving, the need of having the tender decadent sea flavored raw fish.

Well, part of my recovery and my celebration after having major surgery and having my child no longer in my womb but in my arms I get to enjoy a huge helping of sashimi. I begin to plan my attack of this plate ode to raw fish a month before my child’s estimated due date, how I plan to inhale and hopefully recall my first taste of rich, fatty fish.

Editors Note: I would have a beautiful stock image of the actual sashimi she ate, but I dare not stand between her and her fish!
When I encounter my first sushi experience after having my child it is a frenzied whirl wind of fish, soy sauce, wasabi, and pickled ginger. I try to admire my beautiful plate with an glorious assortment of colors so vibrant, I try to sip my miso and gaze at my prey to enjoy the pure anticipation of my meal. Then I attack, trying to enjoy each note of each type of sea food on my plate, comparing and contrasting the texture difference. Then I hit a euphoric point when all goes silent and silky textures, salty flavors, combined with the sweet flavor of fish. Then before I know it my little romance is over and I long for more. But for a while I sit back and smile like the cat ate the canary and recall the glorious first to last bite and consider the next time my passionate, frenzied rendezvous will be with sushi.

I’ve been asked this question numerous times and usually shrug and say, “I don’t know. I just do.”

I have been teased for years by my husband as I have memories, vivid memories, from two years old if not younger. I have asked my mom about them and she is always caught off guard when I give specific details and she can remember said incident. Every now and again I catch my father off guard with my memory. My sister has told me that it shouldn’t be possible and yet I catch her off guard with the accuracy of my memories.

Last night I clutched my husband’s hand watching Grey’s Anatomy season finale, and he kept asking me if I should be watching it due to some of my life experiences. Too many bad experiences through family with guns, which is a cruel irony considering only one family member owned a gun and it was only for the sport of hunting. Then in attempts to prevent me waking him up with nightmares he sat and chit chatted with me to see why I was upset when I was upset.

Maybe that is why my memories are so vivid from so long ago. So many traumatic or dramatic things occurred throughout my childhood so it is hard not to remember some of the simple aspects of my life around said memories. My husband shook his head as I explained that when I was very young I was convinced that much of life wasn’t real, couldn’t be because those kinds of things don’t happen around little kids. He shook his head because he was disturbed by my recounting of some of the sadder or scarier memories. My parents did all they could to protect me but sadly no matter how hard they tried, life happened and I saw things and experienced things beyond their control.

Maybe this is why the life of a stay at home mom looked so attractive when we were dating, and I was 19 years old, why marriage was an amazing and exciting when I was 20. Maybe this is why after eight years of marriage, and nearly two children later (T will be an outside baby soon) I consider my life beautiful and amazing and incredibly exciting. I had already lived a very full and exciting life and was ready to slow the hell down.

Yes, I remember that, in great detail. I remember using my smurf vacuum I got when I was two in my grandfather’s house. I remember the original lay out so well that when I walked through his remodeled home nearly a decade later I was able to show my mother how it used to be laid out to a T. Then recount my memory of my great aunt in the kitchen cooking.

Yeah, I keep hoping I will continue to add to my vivid memories, even though things aren’t as traumatic or dramatic. I’m loving the calm that has occurred in my life, and I hope it continues.