A Thrifty-ish American Girl's Attempt at a Filofax

About a month ago, I started trying to come up with a system of organization.  I am a scatterbrained, messy-ish, clutter-thriving, artisty girl.  I am a multi-tasker.  It is both my strength and my weakness.  It helps me to accomplish a lot of things.  But it also means that sometimes little things get ignored, or I get things all out of order.  I jump from project to project to keep from getting too bored with something.  I am pretty sure I have un-diagnosed ADD.  But, Lord knows, I don't need another diagnosis or another daily medication prescribed to me.  See my recent post about my journey with epilepsy and the rise and fall and re-rise of my medication experience.

For all of these reasons, I decided I needed to come up with a way to make sense of the organized chaos in my head.  My "crochet/sewing/random creative endeavors" business has gone from a hobby that sometimes gave me a little extra spending money to somewhat of a second job.  I wouldn't call it a second full-time job yet.  However, I feel it would be justifiable to say that I have 1.5 jobs...2.5 jobs if parenting counts as a job...3.5 jobs if each kid counts as a separate job (I have two little boys)...and 4.5 jobs if being a wife to an amazing husband counts as a job.
So let's just say that I have four and a half jobs right now.
1. Wife to Brian
2. Mother to Shea
3. Mother to Patten
4. High school teacher
...And a half...sewing, crocheting, and making other random things
One day I hope to reduce my day jobs to three and a half.  I love my husband and my boys and can't picture my life without any of them.  And I can't imagine a life that doesn't involve me making things in one way or another.  You do the math.

That being said, I really need to see how it all adds up.  I need to see how I am really using my time and how productive I can be.  I need to see what all I am accomplishing, and have proof that I can eventually make MAKING THINGS my "full-time" job.  I need visual AND ARTSY evidence that what I think can be done really can be done...in real life...not  just in my dreams.

I could go in the direction of Excel spreadsheets like most entreprenuers, but even looking at Times New Roman font when I am typing on my computer bores me.  And I don't like numbers.  I know...I know...I have to like numbers.  I can at least make them tolerable if I write them on paper in pretty handwriting with colorful fine-tipped markers.

SO...I scoured Pinterest and pinned fun planner/organizer pins to my Pinterest boards (go browse my boards and pin away).  As I researched, I fell in love with the Filofax system.  I saw planners made  by people whose brains worked like mine did.  Check them out and see what I fell in love with. The one that I loved the most was from "A Bowl Full of Lemons."  Filofaxes are just glorified planners exploding with color and personalization and randomness that make order from the chaos that is the mind of an artist.  The more I saw of it, the more I loved.

I did see some downfalls, but I felt that I NEEDED A FILOFAX...NO MATTER WHAT...and I NEEDED ONE TODAY!...or at least  before January 1st, because it is pointless if I can't start off the year perfectly organized (or at least that is how I thought of it).

Here are the downfalls:
1. The ring placements and paper size are very specific so I couldn't just put anything in it.  I needed special paper with special holes.  I was willing to cough up the extra bucks because there were paper inserts that seemed to meet all of my needs.  I thought that could probably get expensive, but WORTH IT!
2. The outside of the Filofaxes are all the same, different fun colors, but basically all the same.  However, I could get over that by putting fun clippy thingy's on my pages that stuck out to the outside of the book.  WORTH IT!
3. I would have to break out of my shopping store comfort zone.  If you know Soddy Daisy, Tennessee, (which you don't know if you don't live here), you know there aren't a lot of options.  Unless I want to drive 30 minutes, my options are slim pickings.  Within a 10 minute drive, I have a Bi-Lo (I mean Food City), a dollar store, Cottage Closet (an adorable little consignment store), and a Wal-Mart.  If I drive 25 minutes, my options are a little broader.  That is where the closest medium-sized town mall is located.  That's where you can find your standard pool of restaurants.  And that is the outer limits of my shopping comfort zone:
* Food City for groceries
* HOBBY LOBBY FOR EVERYTHING!
* Target for everything else.
* Wal-mart if necessary...I don't hate it.  It just isn't my first, second, or third choice.  But it is my last.
So going somewhere else was not what I wanted to do.  But, like I said, I wanted a Filofax so it was WORTH IT!

So picture this.  I leave my two boys at home with my hubby and have one hour to shop before I have to go to the neurologist for another follow-up appointment (same old song and dance).  I went to Staples.  It wasn't going to be traumatic because Hobby Lobby was in the same shopping center and if I needed some retail therapy I could go recover there (and buy fabric remnants, because you can never have enough fabric remnants).  So there I was, bopping joyfully into Staples on a mission to find the brightest Filofax cover and the most colorful calendar inserts and as many cheap things to cutesy it up as possible.  And I didn't care how much it cost (well to some extent), because it was...wait for it...WORTH IT!  So there I was, walking straight past the woman getting coached on how to hook up her new printer to her first ever laptop, to the planner aisle.  I looked high.  I looked low.  And I saw nothing that even looked Filofax-esque even in the least.  Then I thought, "hey, I bet it has it's own little section of the store if there are whole Pinterest boards devoted to it."  You probably could have seen a light-bulb above my head.  But it went out quickly after I searched the whole store with no luck.  I walked out like a puppy with its tail between its legs.  I was bummed to say the least.

Then I thought that there was a slight chance that Target would have them, or at least something similar, because Target is hip and trendy like that.  Yes, I used the words hip and trendy, and hip and trendy are not hip and trendy words anymore, but sue me.  Target is hip and trendy.  So surely they had Filofax.

WRONG!  They had neither Filofax nor anything like it.  After a quick Google search, I discovered that Filofax is a UK thing.  And there is no K in my corner of the woods, just an S.  By that time, I knew I HAD to go home with a planner.  So I made it my mission to thriftify and Americanize the heck out of my planner.  I was going to make the coolest Filofax wannabe on a thrifty-ish budget.
Sidenote: I say thriftyish because I was determined to do this with as little money as possible to kind of stick it to the "Filofaxers" for not making their awesome planners readily available in the US.  I quickly discovered, to be as cool as Filofax, you have to spend a little money.

See one of my mermaid tails below, and let me know if you would like to order one.



Here is what I came home with the cost of a mermaid's tail later.

I set up a draft of a color-code system on the heart-covered paper from the dollar stop section at Target.  I just slipped it into the front pocket of my Filofax wannabe...I will just call her Milo (short for  My-lofax).

Pink (because I am not a huge fan of red)=Personal

Orange=Expenses

Yellow=Exercise

Green=Orders (Like $, get it?)

Blue=Blog

Purple=Quotes and other randomness

Black=Contacts, dates, more official businessy stuff

I made 5 sections in Milo: Planner, Orders, Motivation, Blog, and Accomplished. And I did a practice for my page-a-day planner. I have 5 more tabs to determine behind these. I will probably use them for the not as fun businessy numbers stuff like expenses and such.

I stuck a cute little mini notebook into the back pocket secured temporarily with a rubber band. If I decide to keep it there I will find a more permanent securing method.

Milo will receive much more tinkering I am sure, but I am excited about the direction Milo and I are headed for the start of 2016.  If I don't see you before then, HAPPY NEW YEAR, my friends!

Be a FRUITLOOP in a word full of Cheerios!

To Teachers, Moms, and my High-School Crazies

I am writing this in response to a  post beautifully written by a mom of six kids. She is overwhelmed by the amount of school supplies and back to school clothes she needs to buy when the year starts. She is stressed at the paperwork that needs to be filled out. But she remembers that the teachers are working just as hard and loving on her kids almost as much as she does.

It's beautiful. Read it.

http://alamocity.citymomsblog.com/2015/08/20/dear-teachers-youre-not-fooling-me/#lightbox/1/

Dear Loving Moms and My High School Crazies,

I am a mom of two little boys, and a wife of an amazing elementary school teacher, and an intervention reading and writing teacher to about 25 high-schoolers, and a case-manager for 27 IEPs.  I'm a little overwhelmed this time of year.  I read this article when I woke up at 5 am to feed my second boy who is 7 weeks old today. It's Saturday now, but I won't be sleeping in tomorrow, even if my boys let me. In a few hours we are going to watch one of my 5 siblings play in his first scrimmage as a college athlete at The University of the South. The baby just spit up and peed through his diaper at the same time so I gotta pause to take care of that and hope he goes back to sleep...

I'm back. And he did. He is a much better sleeper than his brother is or ever was.

I haven't spent hours at the store picking out cute stuff to make my classroom a little homier because we don't have a "cute classroom" envelope in our strict envelope budget system. My white brick walls are covered with taped pictures of the people I love and articles about the importance of not dropping out of high school. Unfortunately, against my best wishes and repeated pep talks and words of encouragement, some of them will drop out anyways. And even though it was a choice they made on their own, I still feel like I did something wrong. And I pray that what happens in that article won't happen to them. I pray they won't be statistic again. My walls don't have laminated posters of famous people with well-known quotes on them, because of that whole envelope system thing. And contrary to popular belief, none of the state's education budget goes to filling my room with posters, or even books for that matter. My joke of a classroom library contains books I loved when I was my students' age, and love to read again now, that would otherwise be on my shelf at home for my boys. I bought them in college while taking my favorite class ever, children's lit, back when I didn't need an envelope system. My job was running for the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga and my fast feet paid my bills. I didn't have a husband, 2 little boys, a car payment, bills, and a mortgage. My library shrinks every year and I try to tell myself my students loved the books as much as I did and took them home, even though I know they aren't big fans of reading. I think, "maybe, just maybe, they love reading (or hate it just a little less) after taking my class."  

The colorful quotes on my walls were quotes I found on Pinterest from not so famous people, handwritten in colorful marker and taped to those white bricks. 

I have some colorful baskets. They are filled with free spiral notebooks provided by our guidance office because someone knows our students probably can't afford them or don't care enough to bring them. But even the baskets are hand-me-downs from lots of teachers that came before me. I'm a little jealous of the pictures of my friends' classrooms that are super cutesy and have their students' names beautifully written and taped lovingly to their wooden desks. But most of my friends are elementary school teachers. I am pretty sure my high school students would think I was crazier than they already do if I did that. They wouldn't see it as an expression of my love for them and the excitement I have for them being in class, some of them for the fourth year in a row. This is not because they failed my class, but because I teach reading and writing to 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th graders. I love having them again, even the ones that drive me absolutely insane. That is because I get to see them grow as people, and as readers, and as writers. When they graduate, I feel like I played a part in it. They aren't just students I taught for a semester. They are my babies. 

I hate the first day when they walk in my room and some of them say, "Ms. Strauss, why do I have to have your class AGAIN?" And it warms my heart to hear some of them say, "stop it guys. I love Ms. Strauss, and her class isn't that bad." I'll take "not that bad" from a teenager that has been forced to take my class again when they could be in Ms. Cooper's Zumba class :) any day. 

Last Monday, I dropped off my 6-week-old baby at daycare for the first time, along with my rowdy two-year-old. And I didn't even remember to take their first-day-of-daycare picture. (Thankfully their teachers did for me.)

I was too excited to go to my school and teach my other babies. I love being a teacher, even though I forget how much I love being a teacher about 90% of the time. 

I forget because I start to drown In pile of paperwork, or my kids are ignoring me AGAIN, or they won't put their cell phones away even though I have asked them 5 times, or a kid asks to be switched to a different lunch because they "don't have any friends in first lunch" even though I know they do and I spent hours working on their schedules so I wouldn't have to take them out of their favorite class, or my student refuses to do his work because he is too tired, or her boyfriend broke up with her, or his dog died, or their parents got a divorce, or they are hungry because they haven't had anything to eat since lunch YESTERDAY at school, or they were up late taking care of their baby, or their friend OD'd, or or they had to work late last night to help their family pay the bills. 

And some of it I understand, because I was in high school like them not too long ago. I remember having homework in all 5 of my classes on the same night. I stayed up way too late on the phone with my boyfriend, against my parents warnings, and fell asleep in class a time or two.  I ignored my teachers sometimes, too. Sometimes I hid my flip-phone under my desk where I thought they couldn't see it. I, too, tried to  get my schedule switched so I could be in the same lunch with my best friends, because there was a time when I didn't have a lot of friends either.  I've had my heart broken by a boy a few times in my life. Once, my dog died and I had to be in class the next day trying to hold back tears.  And my parents are divorced, too. They aren't alone.

The rest I feel for, but I can't even imagine. I never lived their life. I never walked in their shoes. I never went without a meal. There was always food on my table. I didn't have to raise a child until after I had a career and a husband. It's really hard to do and I don't have to do it alone. I was blessed to never have to see the effects of dangerous addictions on people I love. I didn't have to work to help pay my family's bills. They were busting their butts to make ends meet so I wouldn't have to while I was in school.  I can't relate. I don't know what it feels like. But I do hurt for them. My heart breaks for them. When they aren't around, I cry for them. Life shouldn't be that hard yet, because they are just kids. And most of the time I forget they aren't really my kids. Because I love them that much, even when they are hard to love.

I hope they know that I wake them up because Iove them. I take away their phones because I know they need to become better readers. I make them write a whole page about their feelings because one day it is going to be important to communicate their thoughts and feelings effectively. 

There are times when I can't communicate my thoughts and feelings about them and for them. I can't tell their teacher not to give them less homework. I can't fix their high school relationships. I can't let them catch up on sleep in my classroom, and I can't take their cell phone and throw it down a flight of stairs. I can't be a best friend matchmaker or change their schedule so they can find one. I can't bring their dog back to life or put their broken families back together. I can't put food on their tables, or feed them more than some candy and some pretzels from my lunch.  I can't pay their bills. I can't help them raise their babies. I can't take their friends'addictions away. So when I am at a loss for words, and don't know how to fix their problems or stop their hurt, I hug them. 

And then we take out a book and read. For about 30 minutes we are in another place together, enjoying the triumphs the protagonist is having, hurting over someone else's fictional problems, laughing at an author's wit, perusing the pages for plot and climax and similes and metaphors and personification. We search the novels for events we have experienced, characters we can relate to, and settings that take us somewhere else. Sometimes those stories are the only escapes they have.

And sometimes, near the end of the semester, a student will walk up to me and say, "I actually loved that book. I have never liked a book before."

That, my friends, is worth the mounds of paperwork, and whitewashed walls, and makeshift posters, and grumpy kids, and attitudes, and drool-stained desks, and self-funded classroom libraries. That is what keeps me going back. That is why I hate that I love to be a teacher. That brings me joy that outweighs the chaos that is the life of a high-school teacher. And when that student walks out of my classroom, I smile and rub my hands together and sigh and say, "my job here is done." ...until the next class walks in.