While pregnant with my first baby, Lorelei, I was strangely given two different due dates of December 27th and December 29th. Both seemed to ensure that my Christmas holiday that year was going to be pretty interesting. By the beginning of December 2007, I began seeing my OBGYN every week. By mid December it had progressed to every few days. And by the week of Christmas I was in the office every other day. These appointments in themselves were quite exhausting. My last one came on December 26th at 9:00am. At this point I had become quite frustrated. I was miserable and that was an understatement. It hurt to sit, to lay down, and forget walking. I was swollen, unhappy and looking so forward to getting this "thing" out of me. I didn't even feel like ME anymore. So the doctor suggested at this appointment I consider an elective induction. I was in my 40th week of pregnancy, my baby was quite large and he was becoming worried about my ability to deliver her naturally due to my small size and hips. (which at this point, I no longer would have considered small, but kept getting the obligatory "you look great!" comments nonetheless) And further, "uncomfortable" just doesn't seem to accurately describe the misery  I was in. I had stopped work by December 17th. My feet and legs swelled up everyday by this point. And I was beginning, for the first time, to doubt my ability to do my job. And while we made it to Christmas at my parents that year. I was so miserable that I did not enjoy it one bit. And I absolutely LOVE Christmas. 
Once I decided to go on with the induction, the doctor left me to call the hospital and see when they could schedule it. He came back and asked me if I was ready to check into the hospital at 8:00 that evening. I agreed and the doctor told me to go home and get some rest before meeting him again that night. In hindsight, I'm thinking that had to be a joke! All I did when I went home was worry. Brian was home with me that day, but he was not at all helpful in calming me down. He kept constantly asking me what I wanted to do, and what I wanted to eat, telling me very sweetly that, if I could just answer him, he would make it happen. The problem was, I didn't know the answer to those questions. We settled on watching TV to keep my mind distracted and we ordered a pizza to eat. Nothing really "got my mind off" what was going to happen that evening though. I found myself wishing that I would go into labor spontaneously like your "supposed to" just so I wouldn't have to continue to deal with all this anticipation. 
We left the house at 7:30 pm, sleep deprived already, and with an army in tow. My mom, dad, and sister Morgan followed us there. And Brian's parents met us at the hospital as well though they left shortly thereafter to go home and get some sleep. Once at the hospital, I went back to my private delivery room almost immediately. I was done with all the medical history questions, getting my IV in (which they had to do through my hand cause I was so swollen everywhere that that was the only place they could find a vein) and fetal monitoring equipment by about 10:30pm. The doctor came to visit at this point and began giving me Pitocin through my IV to speed up my labor, which interestingly enough had already started, though I was unaware. I was already having contractions when I was admitted, which was detected once I was hooked up to the fetal monitor but I had not yet felt a thing. Nevertheless, the Pitocin was meant to speed this process up, which was something I desperately wanted to do. 
I wasn't sure how long it would take before I started to feel the contractions and no one could really tell me because they were surprised that I hadn't felt anything yet and they reminded me that this process was very different for everyone. 
At about 2:45 am, I was in my delivery room talking to Morgan, Brian and my dad and I felt my water break. No one expected it to happen so soon. I had still not felt the first contraction. So when I called for the nurse she was a little dismissive and asked me if I was sure. (Let me just side step a minute here to say my care at Norfolk General was EXEMPLARY and at this point, it really was hard to believe that this had just happened!) I told her that either that is what happened, or I just had a SERIOUS accident- either way- I needed her, and then she came right away. 
Very soon there after I began to feel the contractions I had been having all evening. But soon after they started I felt that something was very wrong. I SHOULD have been having contractions with several minutes rest in between. Instead they were coming three at a time and I was hardly getting any rest in between them. 
My doctor had recommended I get an epidural when I was admitted because my blood pressure had shot up pretty high. Up to this point I was on the fence as to whether I would go with one or not. I was not the "I'm definitely not getting one" type nor did I assume I would want it. I had planned to just see how it went. This blood pressure reading changed the plan though. I needed to calm down. And this would do it and do it quickly. Or so we thought. We all figured my blood pressure was so high because of sitting around stressing out all day because I had not had a single high reading in the 8 months of prenatal care I had. In fact it had always been a little low, even that previous morning when I had my last prenatal appointment. We first tried inserting the epidural at 3:15am. Morgan and my dad left the room at this point thinking they'd be back once I got more comfortable. However, that was not to be. 
My first epidural insertion was not bad. They have to insert the needle into your spine during a contraction, so I didn't even really notice the extra pain. But seeing Brian's face through the whole thing was very scary. The anesthesiologist had me sit up and lean over a table and hold Brian's hands in an effort to stay still. And as scared as I was at this point, I can honestly say that Brian was more so. 
The doctors and nurses insisted that I would begin to feel relief and even be able to take a nap in 15- 30 minutes. 15 minutes  came and I  felt the same. 30 minutes came and I felt worse! They gave me 3 doses of Demerol before they decided something must be wrong. That's okay, they told me, sometimes they insert the needle "wrong" and it doesn't work. So they decided to take it out and start all over. At this point its 5:00am, I am in more pain, Brian is more scared, and they are telling me to stay as still as possible, mid contraction after being in hard labor for 2  1/2 hours. so they reinserted the needle, we waited 15 mins, then 30, and still nothing. No difference AT ALL. 
Thankfully at 6:00am a new anesthesiologist came to take over. She immediately realized that I must be resistant to Demerol. She immediately switched my medication to Lidocane and FINALLY I got some relief! I was exhausted. I felt as though I had been hit by a car ALREADY and I hadn't even given birth yet. But I had been up for almost 24 hours at this point and a nap was sounding great! But unfortunately during this whole epidural fiasco, I had not once been examined to check how dilated I had become. So at 7:45 I was examined by a nurse who immediately told me I was "ready" and she LITERALLY ran out of the room. 
Before I really understood what was going on, my doctor was in the room asking a nurse to turn up the heat in the room "for the baby" and it seemed as though every nurse in the hospital flooded into my room. Several of them gathered around the bed holding my arms and legs and just giving general support (which in my current state sounds awful, but in the moment it was strangely comforting...) I began to push at 7:45am. And shortly thereafter I was put on oxygen, which was scary and caused my throat to become extremely dry. And my doctor, who normally spoke in almost a whisper began to yell, telling me to push harder and harder and telling me things were not progressing as they should and he was seriously considering taking me into surgery. The problem with the epidural though was that now I felt NOTHING. No pressure. No pain. Nothing. My doctor said I wasn't pushing when I thought I was. And when I finally started to Get the hang of it, the baby was stuck. And my doctor started to yell at me to "PUSH HARDER!" It was not necessarily in an attack on my attempt at pushing way, so much as in genuine fear that something was going very wrong. Thankfully, Lorelei was FINALLY born at 8:20am on Thursday, December 27, 2007. 
I found out shortly thereafter that I had a labor complication called shoulder dystocia. It required that the doctor dislocate Lorelei's shoulder to enable her to fit through the birth canal which  is not something that can necessarily be predicted, but it is more likely with large babies birthed to smaller women, a category which we apparently fell into. Because of this complication, Lorelei  went without oxygen for a significant amount of time due to the umbilical cord being compressed inside the birth canal and did not begin breathing on her own right away and required 3 minutes of CPR. She very possibly could have died or had significant brain damage. 
Because of all this,  there was no ceremonial cord cutting or sentimental holding of the baby moment. I remember the doctor cutting the cord quite abruptly and blood from the cord spraying all over the room, including on every one of the nurses present. Then they immediately took her away. I was far too exhausted to protest, however, and was so relieved that it was over. But something seemed very, very wrong. I did not hear the baby crying. But Brian kept telling me I did great and that everything was okay. At this point I believed him.
But a minute or two passed and still, I heard no crying. I couldn't even see her because they had taken her behind a curtain. I began to panic and nurses began to adjust my oxygen and medication in an attempt to calm me down. Finally, though I heard it. She was crying. And it was amazing. She was okay and I was so amazingly grateful for that sound. They gave her a quick bath and wrapped her up and gave her to Brian. I was too tired to care that she wasn't in my arms. I was just happy to see her in his. Plus, the doctor and I had still had some unfinished business...
At this point the nurses had gone out into the hall to reassure our family that all was okay. I know my mom was certainly getting more and more upset because she had lost 2 babies, and one, her first, she delivered full term and never got to take her home. And while our moms both wanted to come in the room, I just wasn't ready. I hadn't even held my baby yet. I did finally get to hold her at 9:00am. And I just remember thinking how amazingly beautiful she was. She was perfect. So perfect that I couldn't believe that something this perfect came out of me!
After spending about 20 minutes alone with my baby, I remembered that our family was waiting just outside the door, probably dying to meet their first grandchild/ niece. So I asked Brian if he would do me "a really big favor". Of course he said yes, confused at what that may be. It's so funny to think back now, but it was a huge deal to me to have him brush my hair. I was so sweaty and exhausted and my hair was a complete mess. For some reason, most likely the inevitable pictures that I knew would be taken, I wanted it brushed before they came in, so in a very sweet way, Brian asked a nurse to take Lorelei while he proceeded to brush my hair. I still remember this and think I always will. He could have pointed out how ridiculous this was. But he didn't. He simply did ask I asked and was very, very sweet about it.  
Both sets of our parents and Morgan stayed and visited for about 30 minutes. Everyone was so happy to meet her but also aware that we all desperately needed to rest so they didn't stay too long. My parents even went and got us some food, which was awesome cause I was starving though when it arrived I wasn't really able to eat. 
After our family left it was time for us to move to our private recovery room and for Lorelei to visit the pediatrician for a formal check up. But before the nurses took Lorelei, I wanted to see one thing. My dad and I have the same tailbone, which is a little weird and apparently runs in my family. I was curious if she had it so I asked the nurses to show me her butt. Interested and confused, they obliged and sure enough, there it was. We all had a good laugh and they informed me that in quite a few years of nursing they'd never been asked to do that and found it quite hilarious. 
This was especially funny and reassuring to Brian and I because Brian had become rather paranoid about all the switched at birth baby stories we had heard. We had jokingly talked about tagging her in some way, like painting her nails or drawing on her with a sharpie. We really had no idea how the hospital would insure we left with the same baby we came in with. Turns out there actually are pretty extensive precautions. As soon as Lorelei was born, she, Brian and I all received identical bracelets which were checked every time anyone brought or took Lorelei from our room. And further, if Lorelei were to be taken from the maternity floor she had a device attached to her belly button which would trigger an alarm that would then lock all the doors and elevators until she was recovered. After Brian and I learned of all this we felt better. And interestingly, Lorelei was only one of three babies in the hospital during our stay. And the other two were twins. So we felt pretty safe.


They say hindsight is 20/20 and after typing this up nearly 5 years and a subsequent c-section later I am looking at this story with quite different eyes than I wrote it with. I am profoundly grateful for the way my story ended. I am well aware that many women are not so lucky. 
I only found out about the three minutes of CPR that Lorelei had endured 4 days after she was born at her first official visit to the pediatrician when she went over the birth details with Brian and I. As you can imagine, I was FURIOUS! How dare they not share this information with me in the hospital?! And I IMMEDIATELY felt tremendous GUILT. Guilt beyond belief that I had induced my labor. Guilt that maybe I had caused the shoulder dystocia. Guilt that I had chosen my comfort over her life.
 But years and much research later has taught me that it likely would have happened regardless of the route I took to my giving birth. And after all Lorelei and I went through I am simply grateful that we came out on the other side of that experience both healthy. And furthermore, I am grateful for this experience because I was able to take more precaution in delivering my son via c-section 3  1/2 years later. This choice was one that was not at all easy to make. I was terrified of the surgery, and the recovery, and felt somewhat bullied by the strong position my doctor took on the subject. But it was through his knowledge, expertise and experience that I came to grasp the very serious nature of the experience that I had and how close I came to loosing the child that had became my most proudest achievement. For a time I blamed the (other) doctor who delivered Lorelei for my own labor difficulties. As it turns out, there is no way to anticipate, detect or prevent shoulder dystocia from happening. Only previous shoulder dystocia complications in another birth can suggest the possibility. 
With this perspective fully grasped, I happily delivered my second child, Ezekiel David Powers, on June 3rd, 2011 via c-section under the care of Dr. Stephen Warsof. I will forever be grateful for his strong opinion and determination in making sure I understood what had happened with my body. If I had never known, I may have risked Zeke's life all in a vein of ignorance.

So i am fairly certain that i have been blessed with a very shy little boy.
And i am also pretty sure i dont know what to do about it.

Not that there is anything that can truly be done, and i'm not even sure i would have him any other way.
But i am sure of 2 things. I dont understand him and i don't know what the future has in store for us. 

Now I have been tagged with many adjectives in my day: outgoing, loud, confident (sometimes obnoxiously so...), narcissitic even, but shy was never among them. And my daughter, almost 5 now may as well be a carbon copy of the mold i was cut from. I get her. I know how to get through to her. But my boy? He is still one big question mark. I know he loves waffles, Elmo, and being tickled. He also loves to play with light switches and to play peek a boo more so than any child i have ever met. He loves a long nap and a good nights sleep. And he loves his sissy implicitly. And i know he love me too. But he's not into too many other people. He even runs hot and cold on dad. And distant relatives? Forget about it. He's started recently to hide behind my legs when he is scared of a noise or a new person or place. And he is beginning to drag me around everywhere by the hand with his sweet little plea of "mon?' in his own way of saying 'please c'mon, and walk with me to check out this scary something in the next room'. Sometimes its a noise, sometimes it's his Aunt Meg or Morgan whom i know he has seen a hundred times each since the day he was born. I'm hoping this is a phase of being 1 1/2 and just starting to figure out this scary world we live in. But i suspect its not. Since day one he has been a very different child from his sister. She liked everyone. He has had me wondering if he even likes me more times than i care to remember.

So i have a shy child? What exactly is the big deal here anyway? i mean i grew up with two of them, and my mother has a shy way about her as well in some respects. Nevertheless, my concern here is rooted in the fact that i wont understand him. I dont understand this aspect of my own brother and sister's personality. I cant give them, and one day him, advice to get them through situations i dont understand. I wonder if i will feel his fear the way that he does because he is a part of me, or if it will feel foreign (as it does with my own siblings) and i will be frustatrated by it and give up attempts to understand (as i have in the the past with my brother and sister).

I would like to think that I have what it takes to understand. To help him. To guide him. To reassure him that he is an amazing person through all the awkward and uncomfortable stages of his life. But what does that entail necessarily? I dont think i will ever be okay with him missing out because he is afraid of being accepted. Particularly because i already think he is so amazing.

Introspection is a running theme in my writings and one I have been struggling with in this regard. How do I be the kind of mother that he needs? Not just the one that i want to be, but the one that will help him to become the best version of himself that he can be? I think I can handle the girl (though i have no doubt it will be a bumpy ride- and quite frankly i would want nothing less... i like to keep things interesting AND challenging after all). But how do i be there for him without knowing how to be there for him? I've decided i'm going to let him be my guide. I'll push him a little and encourage him to seek out as many relationships as he can stand. But even me, with my extroverted self, have contracted my circle of people i keep close the older i have gotten.

But i see so many people around me who are so lonely and i just dont want this to be him. I couldn't imagine it actually. Because my entire life, through all the dissapointment and set backs that i have experienced, LONELINESS has never been one of them. And once again i wonder if i will understand.

I know its early to worry about such things. But i blame the condition of motherhood. I guess the fact that i am pondering such things shows i'm on a decent track already. And either way, i'm up for the challenge of raising this little shy boy. I'm going to do the best by him that i possibly can and that's the truth. I just hope that one day he understands that I want to know where he's comng from, even if i never quite get there.

One thing I've learned to do when I really want to relax is...
yoga. While I'm not sure that yoga is as spiritual for me as it is made out to be for some people, it sure is calming. There's just something about the stretching and breathing that clears my head. And after about 20 minutes of it,  I feel great and can truly relax. 
Now I wasn't always into yoga. I was truly about as skeptical as they come. I actually swore I would never do it, if you can believe that. But you live and you learn. And I'm a sucker for someone wanting my opinion (couldn't tell by these writings, could you??) so when my OBGYN I saw when I pregnant with Zeke asked me to participate in a yoga research study for pregnant girls, I did it. And I've kept up with it ever since. It GREATLY helped with my back pain during pregnancy and afterward, and I think it helped me get back into shaped after having Zeke too. 

To me a happy home is one that...
is messy, colorful, and loud. But most importantly, there is no one way that a happy home MUST be. It only needs to reflect you and what makes you happy. If it doesn't do that, then that is the only thing you can really do wrong. It is your space and that's the cool part about your own home. It's all yours. To decorate, to arrange, to clean or not to, to spend your time in. It's a tremendous responsibility, but its also rewarding because it grants you the freedom that you so want as a child. Admittedly, though, it's not as great as I made it out to be as a kid. You don't realize that you have to clean, fix things when they break and pay the bills. But once you figure all that out, it's a pretty amazing feeling to have your own place. I have always felt like the louder and messier a home is, the more fun it is. (but let me clarify here, that your dad does not agree with this statement, haha) But this is for you to decide, and this environment is for you to create. Dad and I have had to do some compromising in our home. But I'd say we've created an awesome space despite this fact and you can to if you try too. 

A good way to keep housework under control is... 
to do what works best for you. Your dad and I have two different philosophies on this topic. Let me explain. I am more of a do all my cleaning at once kind of cleaner. Your dad believes in the idea that you should do a little bit of cleaning everyday so that you don't get overwhelmed by the mess. So understandably, we have had some disagreements in this arena. But once you see where we are both coming from- and we both make good arguments here- you can pick which  version works best for you.
I do not like to clean- particularly everyday-who does right?! But as much satisfaction as your dad gets from it, I just simply get tired. And if I'm filling the few moments in a day that I don't already have scheduled with cleaning, then that does not give me much free time. And I don't deal well when I don't have free time. I NEED to have time EVERYDAY that is unstructured, and just for me. And cleaning can wait as far as I'm concerned, so long as its not unsanitary, of course. Dirty dishes HAVE to be washed. But dusting and cleaning floors? That kind of stuff CAN wait. And I prefer to wait till the weekend when I have the time to do it and give it the time I need to do a good job. And I usually start early on Saturday and have the rest of the weekend to do whatever else I want. 
Your dad on the other hand likes to have his weekends completely free. And there is certainly value in that, particularly because your dad works pretty hard and is on his feet all week. To do this though it requires us to do a lot of work during the week, when both of us have already had a full day of work. One thing you will learn about your dad though is that he can't truly relax when there are things that "need" to be done. Our conflict stems from our definition of what actually "needs" to be done. 
Dad does not like clutter or mess. I do not like dirty. It took a long time and a lot of communicating for us to figure this difference out. But now we've found a balance somewhere in between. I usually grocery shop and we both straighten up most nights during the week and save the real "cleaning" for the weekend. Dad does the dishes and cleans up the kitchen every night and let's me keep our bedroom as messy as I want. :)
Compromise. It's a beautiful thing. Take note and figure out what works for you and the person you live with one day. 

One thing I've learned about eating well is...
that it is not as difficult as it is made out to be. The first rule is to learn that you have to eat only when you are hungry and not when you are bored or upset. And you have to explore food and be open minded. I learned this way too late and have always been a picky eater. But I have learned through using spices and different types of cooking- think grilling, the crock-pot for example- you can experiment and find lots of food that is good tasting and good for you. 
The short story on eating good though is eats lots of fruit and as many vegetables as you can stand. Eat lots of chicken and seafood, but keep red meat and pork to a minimum. And stay away from as much soda, junk food and fast food as you can. Keep your portions small and respect the "I'm full breath" and finally, stay as true to real ingredients as you possibly can. The less chemicals you put in your body to begin with, the less chance there will be for harmful, potentially cancer causing, reactions (this is a very good argument for portion control as well...).  It really is as simple as that. 

For me, work is of most value when...
I feel like I have actually accomplished something at the end of my day. Did I make a difference? Did I help someone? Did I come up with a great idea no one else did? Then I feel like I accomplished something. Not all days will be like this. Maybe not even most days will be like this, but the ones that are, these are the ones I look forward to and am most proud of. Doing work simply to earn that paycheck is not something to be proud of in an of itself. Everyone must work to get by. But don't let this simple fact be your motivator. Put your special touch on the work that you do and you will make a special difference that only YOU could make. At the end of your work day, ask yourself: WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY? Did you make someone's day easier? Did you make someone smile? Then you did good. 

In choosing a career,  try to...
choose something that will either make you happy or allow you the flexibility to be happy outside of work. Dad and I are currently on the flexible side of the career choice. While neither of us is in love with our current job, we have great workplaces that are more than flexible with respect to family and vacation time. And we both work with great people who we enjoy being around and make enough money at this point to get by ok without having to bring work home with us at the end of the day, which is something I am very grateful for. 
But only you will know which of these types of careers suits you. Nevertheless, I will ask you to not do one thing. Do not choose a career based on the money it will make you. Because despite what you may think, you will never make "enough" money. And keep in mind, the more money you make, the more money you will inevitably spend. I don't mean to not seek out a high paying job if that is what you want to do. Its just I couldn't imagine working so hard to land a job that makes you unhappy or gives you little free time to enjoy all that money. Just know that most people having normal paying jobs and are just as happy, if not more so, than those who make a lot of money. 

I've learned to deal with competition by...
Embracing it! I am an extremely competitive person, though by the time you read this, I am sure you'll know this. I love competition because I love winning, there is really nothing like it. But also, because it has taught me empathy, compassion, and how to be a good loser. 
Everyone gets nervous when they compete! Everyone! Even those of us (like me) who do not appear to. But if you can learn to control yourself and be confident despite the nervousness you feel, you can channel that energy into a great performance. It takes time to get to this point. But, please, never stop trying! You will amaze yourself with all you can accomplish; I know that I have. 
And finally, you must remember that you cannot win all things, all the time. You must learn how to loose well and to congratulate others who outperform you. It never feels good to loose. But if you embrace these experiences you will learn a lot from them and that is valuable in and of itself.

To me, being ethical means...
Being honest and true to yourself without unnecessarily hurting others in the process. We all lie. But lying isn't always a bad thing. It's the motive that gives lying the reputation that it has. Are you intentionally trying to deceive or trying to take advantage of someone? If so, then that is unethical. But your Papa has come up with his own definition of something he has called "fibbing". He has never overtly explained this to me, but I've picked this up from him along the way. If you have to fib to get something that you need, so long as you are using it wisely, and not hurting others in the process, then it is well worth it. If you are constantly sacrificing yourself in an effort to remain ethical, I ask you one question. Why? If struggling to fit into the mold of society's arbitrary rules is making you a miserable person then I ask you "Why, are you doing this to yourself?!" 
Rules are arbitrary. All rules. Choose the ones that make sence to you and live by them. And defend them. And explain them to others when you are questioned. If you ever happen to find yourself unable to do this though, this is 
an indicator that you are treading into unethical territory.  There's no reason to stress yourself out trying to follow someone else's rule book because the stress will show. And who wants to walk around stressed out all the time? Not everyone agrees with this statement, but I live by it : the ends justify the means. If you need to lie, cheat and steal a little bit to obtain your happiness then do it. But make it a priority not to manipulate and take advantage of others in the process. This is a tight rope to walk, surely, but if you care about your own and others right to happiness it's one you'll figure out, in time. 

No matter how much you love your work, balance it with your personal life by...
always using your vacation time! Do not let it build and build as some badge of honor. Most organizations take it back if you don't use it and you earn this time, so take advantage of it! And if you end up working somewhere that does not give you vacation time, take some anyway! It really is important to relax and break routine from time to time. And it's beyond important that you make time to enjoy life and do something fun. It's also important for your workplace to miss you so that they appreciate the type of employee that you are.
And once again, remember, do not sacrifice your free time for a job you do not like. You get this one life. Do not waste it doing work that you do not enjoy. And finally, and this is important to ME, do not ever work on your birthday. Take that one day to do something or nothing. But it is a great arbitrary excuse to have a day be all about YOU. It's good to have one of those once in awhile. 

The correct role of money in life is... 
that it is a tool, and nothing else. It is not a status symbol. It is not something that you can truly love. You earn money and you use money. If you're lucky, here and there you'll be able to save some. But do not get upset when your car breaks down or your water heater explodes. While I realize that these are stressful situations, they happen to EVERYONE! That's why we all work, to have money to pay for the things we need, and some of the things we want. With some good planning, you should be able to have enough money for the things you need and have an emergency fund too. But it's not always easy or practical when you first get out on your own. But it should be a priority of yours. Nothing is worse than having to borrow money. It shows poor planning on your part and at worst that you are incapable of taking care of yourself. Don't get me wrong, there are times when everyone has to do it. Please just don't make it a habit. 

A key to saving money is...
to try to sit some money aside every paycheck, or at least once a month. It doesn't have to be much, but it has to be something. Savings add up quickly, even if it is only $20 a paycheck. Here are some ways your dad and I have saved money: Do not eat out unless it is a special occasion. Do not buy groceries mindlessly, make a list of meals and ingredients and you'll save a ton of money. Do not go out shopping for just one thing if you can help it. When you do this you will likely end up with several things you don't need by the time you're done. Also, live within your means. This means budget in spending and saving money first. Finally, indulge yourself now and then. Most of my impulse buys have been some of the BEST purchases I have ever made. I don't regret them and I'm sure they've saved me from going out and looking for something just like them. 

Something that I've noticed about successful people is...
that they ended up being successful by accident or rather through a non linear path. By this i mean, they never really planned the path or specific training that they acquired, but they ended up where they are nonetheless. 
But one constant I've seen here is that these people take advantage of opportunities that are given to them. It is hard to do this when your life is comfortable. It is even more difficult when you begin to have children and you have the guilt of obligation weighing heavy on your mind. But the reality is, you could probably return to your comfortable life or something pretty comparable, if an opportunity fell flat. But if you never take one- that's actually more scary. You could potentially pass up something much more exciting than the status quo. And what is worse is that you would never even know it. 
Don't be complacent. Set goals for yourself and pursue them in conventional and unconventional ways. And remember that no matter the outcome, dad and I will always be here to love and support you. :)