What We're Listening to Right Now #2: Laurie Berkner

A couple of months ago, I shared nine of our favorite children's music albums with you. It was a good list, but it was incomplete. For the sake of space and time, I had to leave off many of our favorites.

One of those was Laurie Berkner. I think the very first song I ever heard of hers was "Rocketship Run" (still one of my favorites). But where my kids and I really fell in love with her was at our little music class. There, week after week, class after class, her song, "We are the Dinosaurs" was requested over and over again. All the kids loved to march around the room, stopping to pretend to eat and sleep and ending with a huge gigantic roar.

Interestingly though, I didn't discover who the artist was until one of my friends recommended Laurie Berkner as one of their favorites. I checked out a couple of her albums from the library, and I was thrilled to discover "We are the Dinosaurs" and "Rocketship Run" among the songs. (This also happened to be during Christmastime, so we checked out Laurie's Christmas album, and it went on our "must buy" list almost instantly.)

Anyway, I'm telling you all of this because soon after the children's music post went up, I was contacted by Laurie Berkner's publicist to see if I'd be interested in receiving her two latest albums: The Ultimate Laurie Berkner Band Collection and Laurie Berkner Lullabies. I had already been planning a Favorite Music Albums: Part 2 post (still in the works), and Laurie Berkner was going to be one of the featured artists.  Of course I said yes.

We have been enjoying them immensely ever since. We are the kind of old-school family who still own a CD player (actually, two), and I hope we never have to give it up because it's so easy for my kids to operate. And operate it, they do. They have been popping in Laurie's CDs, cranking up the volume, and dancing to her music all around the house. Our favorite songs (from these albums) are "Walk Along the River," "The Cat Came Back," and "Fireflies."

We love Laurie's music because it's vibrant and exciting without being obnoxious or cheesy. (One of our requirements for children's music is that is has to be appealing to the kids and the adults in our family, and Laurie Berkner's music is.) The Laurie Berkner band is made up of Laurie and three other fantastic musicians (Susie Lampert, Brady Rymer, and Bobby Golden). Their sound is both unique and classic, and what I mean by that is that it's distinct enough you'd recognize it anywhere, but it's also something that has a lasting, tried-and-true quality about it; I can definitely see my kids sharing it with their kids someday.

Many of the songs Laurie sings are original compositions, and she just seems to get kids. She understands their interests, their senses of humor, and their imaginings. Her songs cover a wide range of topics, as evidenced by her latest project: six digital albums of already released songs grouped by categories: animal songs, food songs, movement songs, etc. I believe they'll be available in June.

I also had the privilege of doing a little interview with Laurie as I prepared to write this post. Her answers were so genuine and thoughtful, and I'm excited to share them with you. I hope you enjoy getting to know a little bit more about Laurie Berkner:

 Who is one of your favorite children's artists? Who inspires you?

It's hard to pick a favorite chidren's artist, there are so many good ones these days!  We have actually been listening to a lot of The Beatles in our home again recently, and I always get inspired all over again hearing their music.  I am also really inspired by listening to kids and what they say.  They are the most natural poets, and they talk about the kinds of things I want to sing and write about.  Also, while this may not have been your question exactly, as far as other children's artists go, my biggest inspiration is Brady Rymer [the bassist in her band].  Getting to know him as a person and a musician has been one of the highlights of my career.  He is really such a wonderful and talented human being who is always thinking about that connection with the kids.  I feel inspired by him every time we play, rehearse or record together.

One of my children's favorite songs of yours is "We are the Dinosaurs." We sang it for many weeks in a row at a little music co-op we participated in with a group of friends, and even when it wasn't on the agenda for the day, the children would still make us sing it. Even though it is not included on these most recent albums, can you tell us a little bit about what inspired that song?

That song was one of the first ones that I wrote after asking the kids in my music class what THEY wanted to sing about. It was so brilliant when one of them yelled out "dinosaurs!"  I just started playing a marching beat in a minor key and making up words.  Soon it got pretty exciting - so exciting that there was a lot of roaring and yelling, so I added parts where the kids could eat and sleep in between and hopefully hold off until the end where the roaring actually is part of the song! Over the years I saw how this song gave the kids a chance to express feelings in school that they weren't usually encouraged to express, specifically acting big and strong and powerful and angry.

 

Are any of your favorite songs from your childhood represented on your albums?

"The Cat Came Back" was absolutely one of my favorite songs.  I recorded that on my first album.  As I wrote more and more of my own songs, I found that I wasn’t recording as many traditional songs but, of course I still had many favorites!!  I am actually in the process of recording some of them right now for an album I’ll be releasing later this year.  Stay tuned! [Super excited about this!]

What do you like to do besides sing?

I love to ride my bike, I love to knit, I love cooking and reading about food, and I love reading with my daughter. 

Do you have any tips for how to incorporate music into daily life with kids? (I'd love to hear about how you do this with your own daughter, if you feel so inclined.)

Listening to music together, especially if you are dancing or singing along, is a great way to share music with your kids (and it lets them know you are actually enjoying it along with them).  I also love to make up songs about anything we are doing -- standing in line at the store, walking to school, playing in the sandbox, cooking dinner (one caveat is that this gets less acceptable to do in public as your kids get older!) or make up rhyming games that we play at the dinner table.  And don’t forget about going to musical performances!  Kids' concerts, musicals, orchestra performances, church choirs, there are so many ways to experience music as an audience member with your kids. Often, seeing people perform live is extremely inspiring to a budding musician.

Many, many thanks to Laurie Berkner for taking the time out of her busy schedule to answer those questions. I'd love to hear about your favorite Laurie Berkner songs in the comments!

I was provided with copies of The Ultimate Laurie Berkner Band and Laurie Berkner Lullabies from Waldmania to review. All opinions are my own.

Reading Aloud to Older Kids

I've mentioned before how much I treasure the time I spend reading aloud to my kids. It is the time of day I look forward to the most. They are calm and quiet as they snuggle up next to me, and we have enjoyed some of the best books together. I have every intention of continuing this tradition as they get older. There are so many more books I can't wait to read to them when they are a little more mature.

Not every parent shares my enthusiasm however. It seems like some are just biding their time, waiting for their children to become fluent readers so they can wean them off being read to. This breaks my heart, and I have to wonder why they're having a different experience than I am.

Today I'm over at What Do We Do All Day, making a case for why reading aloud to older kids is so important.

Read the post here: Why You Should Read Aloud to Older Kids

Do you read aloud to your fluent readers? Tell me why you do it!

The Things That Last

The day I've been alluding to for months (and months) is finally here.

Today Mike and I are celebrating ten years of marriage.


In many ways, we still feel like newlyweds, but then something will happen that brings the reality crashing down on us.

For example, a few weeks ago, we arranged a blind date between my sister and a friend's son. Mike and I decided we should double with them since we were the mutual connection between them. But there was no way to hide the fact that we've been married for a long time (for one thing, we were doing it at our house, and even though our kids were in bed, they were still there, making their needs known). Plus, Mike kept making comments that sounded exactly like things his grandpa used to say.

It finally hit me: The time for pretending we're newlyweds is past. We don't look it or act it or talk like it. Ten years has turned us into an old married couple.

And we love it.

A few weeks ago, I was thinking about our ten years, and I got to wondering if any of our physical possessions have lasted the entire ten years with us. There weren't many, but I scrounged up ten that I could share with you today in honor of the day.

1. The vacuum. We received it as a wedding present, and we're still using it today (although I wish we weren't. I think it's past its prime).

2. A handmade quilt from a dear family friend. (Unlike some quilts that we might feel like we couldn't use, this one is very functional. It's gone with us to picnics in the park, been made into forts, and is great for curling up under with the whole family.)

3. A blue plastic pitcher. My younger brother gave it to us, along with two matching cups, and we still use it frequently.

4. Our mattress. It was really the only thing we splurged on after we got married, and even though we'll probably get a new one in the next couple of years, it was worth the money we spent on it. We always miss it when we're traveling.

5. Our A.P.P.L.E. t-shirts. When we were dating, we created the A.P.P.L.E. club (that stood for Anti-Procrastination, Preparation-Loving Enthusiasts). For Mike's 22nd birthday, I had my uncle make shirts for us with our motto, "An A.P.P.L.E. a day will get you an "A," embroidered across the front. During my recent clothing purge, I almost got rid of mine. It was in the donation bag, but I rescued it. I realized that while most of my t-shirts from family reunions, races, and choirs have lost their sentimental value, for some reason, this one hasn't yet. It still brings a smile to my face every time I see it.

If you want to know what ten years looks like, you should see little nephew Sam today (hint: he's not so little anymore)

6. The microwave. Mike and I are amazed that it's still kickin'.

7. A chef's knife. I'm sorry to say I can't remember who gave it to us (I think it was one of Mike's friends?), but it has definitely been one of our most-used gifts. Besides it, the only other knives we had were a cheap little $10 set (which we actually still use, btw), so this knife seemed especially nice.

8. A nightstand. It has actually lasted much longer than ten years since Mike made it as a sophomore in high school. It started out as an end table for us, then served as my nightstand for many years, and then recently got demoted to the spare room in the basement (but hey, we kept it!).

nightstand, lamp, and temple plate all conveniently pictured together in our first apartment

9. A lamp. I still love it just as much as when we originally unwrapped it. One evening, my kids knocked it off the table, and I was sure they'd broken it. I was so sad, but it survived.

10. Temple plate. We were sealed in the Mt. Timpanogos Temple, and so someone gave it to us as a wedding present. It serves as a reminder of the covenants we made, and have kept, for ten years.

 

I'm reminded of the scene in These Happy Golden Years when Mary asks Laura, "Do you really want to . . . marry that Wilder boy? Why do you want to leave home and go with him?" Laura answers, "I guess it's because we just seem to belong together."

That's what ten years have taught me. The past has been wonderful. The future looks bright. And Mike and I just seem to belong together.

P.S. For more musings on anniversaries, see Eight is Great and The One.

Why My Kids Read the Book Before They See the Movie

In my recent review of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, I mentioned how my childhood experience with the book was tainted by the 1979 animated movie. The first time I read it, I may have been reading the words, but the movie was playing in my head. Even as an adult reading it to my kids, I couldn't escape mental scenes from that darn movie.

Hoping to guard against that, I read the book to my boys first, and I didn't even mention the existence of a movie. I wanted them to use their own imaginations for Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy. For Mr. Tumnus, the Beavers, and Father Christmas.  For the White Witch. I didn't want that to be colored by someone else's interpretation.

After we were done with the book, I bought the audio dramatization. They listened to it at least a dozen times. It was maybe a little closer to the movie but still gave them plenty of room for their own ideas and imaginings.

Somehow though, they found out about the movie. (They always seem to know when there's a movie.) Every time we went to the library, Maxwell checked the "L's" for it, but I wasn't quite ready to relinquish their imaginations to Hollywood, so I did little to help him out.

Finally though, after several more weeks had passed, I figured they'd probably cemented their own pictures in their brains and we could give it a try. I put it on hold (and then Mike reminded me that we actually own it--which I guess is proof of how often we watch it).

My boys were so excited. And then Maxwell, with a twinge of awe in his voice, said something like: "So this is the real story."

I jumped in so fast, he didn't have time to say anything else: "Hold it. The book is the real story. Not the movie. The book came first. The movie is just one person's [actually, many people's . . . ] interpretation of the story. The way you pictured it when I read it to you is just as real as the movie."

I can see why he made such a mistake: The book is just words on a page. The movie is made up of real people, an incredible location, and live action. Of course the movie looks more real. But it is that very authenticity that makes it so deceptive and makes it so that kids no longer feel the need to use their imaginations.

And without imagination, the real things (even the making of non-real movies) will cease to happen. Imagination is the key to all our ambitions and hopes and dreams.

How do you preserve your kids' imaginations? Do you prefer reading the book or seeing the movie first?

P.S. And, completely unrelated, here's a little something extra for your Friday. I've told you before how much I love The Read-Aloud Revival podcast with Sarah Mackenzie, but the last two episodes have been especially fun because my kids shared their favorite books in her "Let the Kids Speak" segment.  Max and Bradley can be heard in Episode 23 at 52:30, and Aaron is on Episode 24 at 22:10.

Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes

I am well-acquainted with the cover of Ginger Pye. I must have seen it a hundred times when I was growing up. It seemed like one of my siblings was always reading it, and I would see it stacked on an end table or tented on the back of a couch or hiding under the bed.

And yet, with all that exposure, I never read it. I think this was because we didn't own a copy of it until I was a teenager, but I could be making that up. In any case, I'm going to maintain that as the reason for why all my brothers and sisters read it, but not me.

One of those siblings (my sister, Anna) was here visiting over the weekend. When she saw that I was reading this to the boys, she claimed she didn't remember much about it, but then proceeded to say, "Do the kids earn the money to buy Ginger by dusting the church? Oh, and is this the one where the father and mother met because the father tried to run up the down escalator and ran into the mother? And, I also remember that--what's the girl's name?--oh yeah, Rachel. Doesn't she say something like Boston was more important than New York because the two o's made it look more important?" Somehow she didn't convince me that she couldn't remember it. She also made me feel like I really missed out.

But not anymore. If Ginger Pye comes up in a conversation, I'll finally be able to hold my own with the rest of them.

The Speedy's dog had puppies, and 10-year-old Jerry Pye has his eye on one of them. If he can earn a dollar by Saturday, then Mrs. Speedy says it's his. Jerry and his sister, Rachel, wrack their brains, trying to come up with a way to make the money. Then, in a brilliant stroke of luck, Sam Doody comes by and asks Jerry if he wants to dust the church for him since he needs to go into town that afternoon and buy a new suit. He'll pay him a dollar. Of course Jerry says yes, and he and Rachel (and also Uncle Benny, who, although their uncle, is only three years old) dust all the pews in the church. It takes all afternoon, but they work fast and make it to the Speedy's before 6:00.

The puppy is theirs, and they are thrilled. They name him Ginger, and he turns out to be everything they wished for in a dog: playful, affectionate, loyal, and incredibly intelligent. But then, on Thanksgiving Day, Ginger goes missing. Jerry and Rachel can't imagine how he escaped from the yard, and they spend the evening searching everywhere for Ginger before finally coming to the conclusion that Ginger was stolen! And the only clues they have to go on are an old yellow hat and some mysterious footsteps.

Written in 1951, Ginger Pye felt very similar to another book we've read: Half Magic by Edward Eager, which was written in 1954. (Also, I always get Eleanor Estes' and Edward Eager's names all mixed up--too many E's or something.) We read Half Magic nearly two years ago, and at the time, it was just a little over my boys' heads. We still liked it, but I remember thinking the length of the chapters and scarcity of pictures made it hard for them to stay engaged. I think it took us about three months to read. Ginger Pye took us about three weeks, and reading it made me realize how far my kids' attention spans have come in two years. It might be time to read Half Magic again because I'm pretty sure it would be a completely different experience this time around.

We all really liked Ginger Pye. Bradley, who is three, usually has his own storytime with Mike while I read to the older boys, but even he got pulled into the story and sat and listened to many of the chapters. Aaron and Max liked it for its mystery and suspense and adventure, and I was surprised by some of the profound insights I gained from it. The boys' favorite character was Uncle Benny (they were so intrigued by an uncle who was younger than his niece and nephew), and my favorite character was Sam Doody (I told Aaron and Max I want them to be just like him when they're teenagers).

(Spoilers ahead! Read further at your own risk.)

Maybe I'm reading too much into it and pulling out meaning where there isn't any, but I was struck by how Jerry and Rachel's sadness over losing Ginger mimicked the pattern and cycle of grief. At first they were supported by many friends who helped them look for Ginger, "but after a while [those friends] grew tired of the same old search. Though they all promised to keep their eyes open for the man whose pictures they had examined at the Town Hall, and his hat which Jerry described, one by one they dropped off. Then, only Jerry and Rachel looked, either together or by themselves."

Ginger is gone for many months, and as the days pass by, normal life resumes for Jerry and Rachel (just as it moves forward for anyone who is grieving). In some ways, they are able to find joy and excitement even without Ginger (some of their best adventures (East Rock and West Rock, for example) happen during this time). But always, always, Ginger is at the back of their minds. Jerry keeps a continual lookout for him, both with eyes and ears. And sometimes, they are gripped with a sharp pain of sadness because they miss him so, so much. And some things do not go back to normal. For example, Jerry and Rachel have this long-standing tradition of making up stories about Martin Boombernickles when they go to bed at night, but when Ginger disappears, so do the stories. They just don't have it in them anymore.

I also kept thinking about this line after Jerry and Rachel realize that the thief is Wally Bullwinkle (a fellow classmate of Jerry's): "'We didn't know Wally was a thief and he didn't look like the picture we drew of the unsavory character. We didn't know an unsavory character could be just a boy in my class,' said Jerry." We didn't know an unsavory character could be just a boy in my class. Jerry says that line at least three times. He just can't believe that Ginger was so close all along, and he never guessed the thief could be someone he knew (although the reader can figure it out very early on). So often we make quick and hasty judgements that end up hindering us in the long run. If Jerry hadn't assumed that the "unsavory character" was some villainous looking man, he might have found Ginger much sooner (and you also have to wonder (at least, I have to wonder) if maybe a faster discovery would have helped Wally Bullwinkle out of a bad situation as well.

The ending made me want to cry. Having Ginger reunited with his family was touching and tender, yes, but there were some hard truths beneath the surface . . . such as that Ginger was most likely abused during those many months; such as that Wally Bullwinkle had a hard home life that he was not rescued from; such as that for all that time, Ginger was desperately trying to get back to his family. It kind of hurts my heart to think about him in the Bullwinkle's backyard, listening to Jerry and Rachel's calls, straining at his rope, but unable to get to them (I loved Mrs. Pye's surmise that hearing them "helped [Ginger] remember [them] and keep [them] in mind until the right moment came for his escape.'") 

This review turned a little deeper and darker than I was planning on, but I have to say that while all those elements were there, the overall tone of the book was light and happy and hopeful. I don't think my kids were too young to listen to it, and I think it's a book that will grow with them. They can reread it in four or five years and pick up on some of those things they were too young to understand this first time.

Did you read Ginger Pye when you were a child? Have you read it to your kids? What was the most memorable scene for you?

KidPages: How to Catch a Mouse by Philippa Leathers

A couple of years ago, I reviewed Philippa Leathers' The Black Rabbit. At the time, it was her only book, and I was so hopeful that it wouldn't be too long before she came out with another one.

Well, I'm thrilled to tell you that day has arrived (or almost--release date: April 28th).

This one stars a little orange cat named Clemmie (cute name, don't you think?). Clemmie is an excellent mouse catcher . . . she thinks. To date, she's never actually caught a mouse, nor, erm, ever actually seen one either. But she knows exactly what to look for: a whiskery, pointy nose, two round ears, and a long pink tail. And she's seen nothing that meets that description. It must be because all mice are afraid of her.

What she doesn't know is that the mouse (because, in fact, there is one) has been taking lessons right along with her and has found a way to disguise his incriminating body parts. But the disguise gives him a false sense of security, and Clemmie soon learns that two can play at this game . . .

As with The Black Rabbit, the reader is immediately armed with some important information that the main character doesn't know. (In The Black Rabbit, it was that the "rabbit" he was so afraid of was actually his shadow; in this one, it is that the mouse happens to be much closer than Clemmie thinks.) My kids loved finding and pointing to the mouse each time. They tried to get Clemmie to see her error, but she was too busy chasing down things that met the mouse description but that weren't actually mice.

The illustrations are charming. My favorite one shows Clemmie studying a book about mice. Unbeknownst to her, the mouse is standing right behind her, taking careful note of everything as well. Each picture is a careful balance between the sneaky and the obvious. It's one of those books that makes a great readaloud (which you would think all picture books should be, but trust me, they're not). And although it was great fun to read it to just my kids, it would also be an excellent choice for a large group story time.

I have to admit that I'm getting a little sick of picture books that end with two enemies becoming friends (the wolf and the lamb, the fox and the rabbit, the shark and the fish, etc.). Don't get me wrong, that's a great premise, but sometimes it's entirely unbelievable. So I love it that this book ends with no such resolution. It leaves you with a bit of a cliffhanger: the chase is still on, their relationship is still fraught with distrust, and you know there are still many exciting times ahead.

Philippa Leathers has created another winner, which leads me to say what I said in my review two years ago: "I'm so hopeful that she'll write and illustrate many, many more."

Many thanks to Candlewick Press for a hardback copy of this book to review. All opinions are my own.

Are You an Underbuyer or an Overbuyer?

This week I've been reading Gretchen Rubin's newest book, Better Than Before: Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives (I mentioned it several weeks ago, but just this week, I finally had time to start it). It is so good. I might like this one even more than The Happiness Project or Happier at Home (and you know that's saying something). Perhaps it's because I've noticed how habits are inextricably linked to my own happiness, and so a book that's all about how to form and maintain those habits is just completely fascinating and interesting.

One of the first things Gretchen sets out to do is help you identify your own personality style in regards to forming and keeping good habits. She does this by laying out four broad tendencies (I'm pretty sure I'm an Obliger who leans heavily towards Upholding) and then personalizing them by asking a series of questions.

I've been thinking a lot about one question in particular: Are you an underbuyer or an overbuyer?

Gretchen talked about this question in The Happiness Project in relation to the question, "Can money buy happiness?" (The answer: yes.) But she brought it up again in relation to habits because it's helpful to know if you're the type of person who will go out and buy all the latest running gear in order to make running a habit or if you're more likely to run in whatever you already have available.

I am an underbuyer. No question. In answer to the running example, I run in a pair of two-year-old Nikes (that felt like a big splurge at the time), a pair of men's athletic shorts (when the weather is warm enough) and an old family reunion t-shirt. I cut a mean figure, that's for sure. Granted, I'm not that serious about running, but there are still many days when I'd like to own different running attire . . .  but just not enough to actually buy any.

But it's not just running. My underbuying tendencies influence everything I do. (And no, I don't think this tendency has anything to do with money trauma in the past. Thankfully, I've always been blessed with enough.)

When we go out to eat, I rarely order anything to drink besides water, and I always begrudge the tip at the end (I know! I promise it has nothing to do with not appreciating the waiter; I would just rather have the tip included in the total cost so that it doesn't feel like a decision). It's the same thing with paying a babysitter. Yes, I know she just watched my four wild children. Yes, the money was well-earned. But oh wow, it hurts to hand it over.

*******

I've been on the hunt for a new pair of sandals for summer. But I cannot get myself to buy anything. I just keep making excuses: Maybe I'll find something cheaper. Maybe I'll find something I like better. Maybe I should check the thrift store one more time. Maybe there will be a sale. Maybe I could hold out another three weeks . . . or twelve months.

*******

It honestly doesn't seem to matter if I'm spending a lot or a little, making a big purchase or a small one. Recently, I stopped in at The Children's Place because they were closing that particular location and so were liquidating the entire store. Everything was $1.99, and so I started grabbing up pants in all sizes for my boys. (Side note: people often tell me that it must be nice to have four boys because I can just pass the clothes down to the next one. That's nice in theory but totally untrue. Boys are so hard on clothes, particularly jeans and shoes.) As I was standing in the checkout line with my arms almost breaking under the weight of so many pants, I couldn't help thinking, This is going to cost so much. Yes, I actually thought that, even though I was saving hundreds of dollars.

Mike, on the other hand, is an overbuyer (but a wise and conscientious one). When he was working on his doctorate and we didn't have any money, he didn't spend it. But once he had a real job, his spending habits gradually changed with the increase in cash flow. Going to Costco and filling his cart to the brim gives him a happy little thrill. It sends me to the edge of anxiety.

However, the great irony is that on the rare instances when I make myself spend money on something I want or need, I actually do feel happier. Take Gretchen Rubin's book, for example. I bought it. I almost never buy books for myself (after I read Notes From a Blue Bike, I went to the bookstore to buy it. I held it in my hands and walked to the checkout counter, but once I actually got there, I told them I didn't want it). Sure, it hurt to push the checkout button on Amazon, but once it came in the mail, I was so happy to actually own it.

*******

A few weeks ago, my hair was driving me crazy. I passed the mirror, saw the gross split ends, and texted my friend on the spot. I avoid haircuts almost as much as going to the dentist. It seems like such an exorbitant cost for something that's going to grow right back . . . especially when I'm not even changing the style but just getting a trim. But oh wow, after I'd done it (and paid her and the money was gone), I was so happy. It was the best haircut I've ever had. I didn't settle for the cheapest option like I usually do, and even though I agonized a ton before I went, I didn't have a single regret after the fact.

*******

I've been turning one of our basement bedrooms into a little library (and I'm excited to show it to all of you in a few weeks!). One of the things we splurged on was a cushion for a little bench seat. I had all of these ways to save money (try to find an old couch that we could steal the cushions from, buy a foam pad and cover it myself, etc.), but in the end, we hired someone to upholster one for us. It was such a great purchase! It was done much more satisfactorily than we could have done ourselves, and, more importantly, it actually got done, whereas it maybe never would have happened if I'd waited on myself.

I think I will always be an underbuyer. And for the most part, I'm happy about that. It means that we stay well within our means and that we use what we have. But, I'm slowly realizing that there are benefits to being an overbuyer as well. Overbuyers are generous and kind. They don't keep track of how many granola bars the neighbor kids are eating, and they look forward to buying a present for a baby shower.

So while I hold tight-fisted to most of my money, I'm going to make a conscious effort to relax my grip . . . just a little.

What about you? Are you an underbuyer or an overbuyer? Examples of ways you spend or hoard money are welcome in the comments!