I'm feeling a bit frustrated by the adult world at the moment so I've decided to compile a list of what kids do better than us adults. I'm speaking primarily of toddlers and preschoolers for this particular post. Maybe we can all take a lesson or two from them.
1. Their shit may stink, but at least it's easy to clean up. Well for the most part anyway. Unlike the shit adults deal with which never seems to go away.
2. Their games are always intended to be fun. Unlike the games adults play to manipulate other adults into doing what they want.
3. They say what they mean. Even when they don't quite have the verbal skills to express it precisely, there is very little guessing at their intentions. Even when you must litterally guess, you only have to go through the list of basic neccessities to figure it out: food, sleep, drink, medical attention, entertainment.
4. They do not have to hold back their love. It's full on, whole heart, no need for all or nothing because it's always ALL their love.
5. They do not worry about abstract problems that don't exist in real time or affect them directly. They do not wonder what the world would be like if animal crackers did not exist or what would happen to their poop if potties had not been invented.
6. They take true JOY in life. A walk in the park, a favorite story, cuddling on the couch with mommy, playing with a friend, bathing in our birthday cake icing. NOBODY enjoys life's simple pleasures like a child.
7. While they may feel possessive about a toy, they eventually remember there are many other toys to play with. I watched my daughter and nephew have a blast playing with clothes pins the other day. Fun is wherever you are, because you make it yourself. Adults hold tight to their possessions as an outward symbol of their status in this world, but you know what they say "you can't take it with you..."
8. They do not yet feel compelled to fit ALL that they are into the small box the world intends to stuff you into. Cowboy boots with a ballerina tutu, sure looks great.
9. They have no FEAR of failure. They simply do or don't do things, but they don't worry about potentially doing something wrong, sometimes to the extreme of being paralyzed into doing nothing at all.
10. The BEST thing kids do better than adults, they REMIND US on a daily basis, that once upon a time WE WERE THE BEST VERSION OF OURSELVES, long before we became self-involved, fear driven, jaded, and apethetic. THEY ARE THE BEST PART OF US.
The saying goes, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." BUT maybe if we wise up one day, we can UNLEARN all the NEW BAD HABITS, look to our children and find the inspiration to be BETTER, do BETTER...Find happiness in every moment life is willing to offer up...because NONE of know when that offer is going to be taken off the table.
Got a reason not on the list, please share it.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Difference Between Broke and Broken
Ok, so I pride myself on being frugal and money is always tight, but this week I've hit a new low. I had a negative balance in my checking account, zero in my savings, and bout two more weeks to live on what...air and love till pay day. I try to tell myself that my new low is for some people, their every day and I wonder how they do it. I know I can use my credit card till my next pay check even though the very thought of it makes my stomach queasy. Chalk it up to my unexpected car accident in March, which thankfully only took my car out of commission. Now I had the expense of getting another used car, and doing all the running around for the last week, taking my husband to work, dropping the kids off at my mom's, taking my step dad to work, running errands. Let's just say it cost me a pretty penny in gas.
It's sooo freaking easy to feel stressed, scared, and even hopeless at times. I have been crabby with my family because of the stress and I hate that because they are truly the only thing that get my through these tough times. As my oh so eloquent husband puts it - "I simply need more to focus on in my life than him so that I don't take all my stress out on him." It's a bit rough, but that's my husband. We are exactly ourselves with each other, on good days and bad, like it or not. There has to be a buffer between life's emergencies, tragedies, stresses, and losses and that buffer is family. Through their eyes we filter out the bad things and instead see the hope that lies beyond everything else. I guess we just need to remember to clean the filter every so often otherwise people's feelings get stuck in the grime of life.
So as I'm clipping coupons, thinking about side jobs, and reluctantly re-evaluating future plans, I think about what it is that keeps being broke from making one feel so.... well broken. It has got to be family. There is nothing else that can pull me out of my own head like taking care of my two little ones and of course my husband. He keeps his worries close to the vest, not on his sleeve like me. Gotta be especially wary of that. I just try to give what I can. Right now that doesn't include much of anything that can be bought. I have to hope that love and perseverance is enough to make it two more weeks, another year, ten years - one hurdle at a time, one step at a time, one filter change at a time.
It's sooo freaking easy to feel stressed, scared, and even hopeless at times. I have been crabby with my family because of the stress and I hate that because they are truly the only thing that get my through these tough times. As my oh so eloquent husband puts it - "I simply need more to focus on in my life than him so that I don't take all my stress out on him." It's a bit rough, but that's my husband. We are exactly ourselves with each other, on good days and bad, like it or not. There has to be a buffer between life's emergencies, tragedies, stresses, and losses and that buffer is family. Through their eyes we filter out the bad things and instead see the hope that lies beyond everything else. I guess we just need to remember to clean the filter every so often otherwise people's feelings get stuck in the grime of life.
So as I'm clipping coupons, thinking about side jobs, and reluctantly re-evaluating future plans, I think about what it is that keeps being broke from making one feel so.... well broken. It has got to be family. There is nothing else that can pull me out of my own head like taking care of my two little ones and of course my husband. He keeps his worries close to the vest, not on his sleeve like me. Gotta be especially wary of that. I just try to give what I can. Right now that doesn't include much of anything that can be bought. I have to hope that love and perseverance is enough to make it two more weeks, another year, ten years - one hurdle at a time, one step at a time, one filter change at a time.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Is The Grass Really Greener on The Other Side?
Ok, since I translate my life into motherhood here's another lesson I'd like to teach my kids and since my love of words and metaphors is overwhelming me right now I just have to go with it: If you think the grass is always greener on the other side, it's because you've stopped tending your own lawn. You will always think that someone has something bigger and better than what you have and the bottom line is if you want to really be happy in life than stop envying what others have and focus on what you have.
Here's what I've learned in my 30 years so far. When you start paying so close attention to what others have you start measuring and translating your life and your happiness in terms of what it is not. Does anyone ever find happiness by trying to gage what one does not have that others do?
I can honestly say that my life has not been a bed of roses. I've been through some dark and trying times, but I'd like to think that I have learned how to see through these periods in life to the brighter side that lies beyond. At some point, I hope my children do as I did and ask themselves this key question - What is it that I truly need to make me happy? I hope they think long and hard about this question. I hope to be the buzzer that sounds in their head if what comes to mind is a possession or a dollar amount. If this is what jumps to their minds, then unfortunately the grass will always be greener on the other side. There will always be someone whose possessions and income are more enviable.
Three years ago, I was an individual. The only person I had to dream for was me. Now I'm a mom. If you don't have kids, I'm not sure you understand what it means to have your whole life change in ways you never expected. It made me really re-evaluate what I wanted out of life. I don't know if I really wanted to move up the corporate ladder, rub shoulders with those in positions I coveted and make allies among the other "young professionals" whose goals were the same. Every time I get approached by these "young professional" organizations now to join and participate in whatever "career development" program they're offering I kind of smile inside. It's not because I don't agree with what they are doing. It's because they don't see it in me. Sometimes I think everything about me is so clear. I'm the living cliche of someone who wears their heart on their sleeve so I sometimes forget that not everything I am is so transparent.
I'm a mom I tell them. Then I get this blank stare. I say this by way of explanation, as in I don't have time for extra curricular activities. I have a job and I have a family so that leaves um virtually no time for anything else. At this juncture in my life, I don't know if I will ever want to be on the career development, upwardly mobile path. I know that's what people think I'm supposed to want. But that's where my handy dandy philosophy comes in, I CHOOSE what I want and three years ago I CHOSE to become a mom. After I lost my first baby, I realized that it's a choice people sometimes take for granted. As if it is always there; an easy option that will be waiting for them whenever they decide the time is right. I'm not saying its a bad thing to be career oriented, to be ambitious, but I would just like to make sure that my children stop, take a second and ask themselves "What is it that I need to make me happy?"
I have asked myself this question on several occasions. The answer keeps coming back the same. I need my family to make me happy. When my daughter was born, I couldn't bare the thought of leaving her in daycare and then I got a call that would actually start me on a new path. It was my grandmother who inadvertently and painfully reminded me of the many more options I have in my life than she did. So I sat down and asked the question and thus hatched my job share plan. I work part-time now and yes my bank account is pretty sad on any given day and yes I haven't had my hair cut in at least six months, but I have seen my kids first steps, heard their first words, and even on days where the temper tantrums of my three-year-old infuriate me and my son is being so needy that I can't get a square inch of air to call my own, I don't feel anything but happiness when I think of my life. I have what I need and that makes me happy. Would I like to go on a fancy vacation this year, buy a bigger house, have more money in my bank account? ABSOLUTELY. But I know that I am NOT willing to have time with my family be the sacrifice I make for it. That is just me. That was the answer to my question. I hope they know that they, along with my husband, are what I need to be happy.
I hope that one day they know that the grass is only greener on the other side if you've stopped tending your own lawn. So Hannah and Jayden if you read this one day, do your mom a favor. After you've thought long and hard about what you need to make you happy, get up and go get it. You will be amazed, trust me, at how very possible your dreams are.
Here's what I've learned in my 30 years so far. When you start paying so close attention to what others have you start measuring and translating your life and your happiness in terms of what it is not. Does anyone ever find happiness by trying to gage what one does not have that others do?
I can honestly say that my life has not been a bed of roses. I've been through some dark and trying times, but I'd like to think that I have learned how to see through these periods in life to the brighter side that lies beyond. At some point, I hope my children do as I did and ask themselves this key question - What is it that I truly need to make me happy? I hope they think long and hard about this question. I hope to be the buzzer that sounds in their head if what comes to mind is a possession or a dollar amount. If this is what jumps to their minds, then unfortunately the grass will always be greener on the other side. There will always be someone whose possessions and income are more enviable.
Three years ago, I was an individual. The only person I had to dream for was me. Now I'm a mom. If you don't have kids, I'm not sure you understand what it means to have your whole life change in ways you never expected. It made me really re-evaluate what I wanted out of life. I don't know if I really wanted to move up the corporate ladder, rub shoulders with those in positions I coveted and make allies among the other "young professionals" whose goals were the same. Every time I get approached by these "young professional" organizations now to join and participate in whatever "career development" program they're offering I kind of smile inside. It's not because I don't agree with what they are doing. It's because they don't see it in me. Sometimes I think everything about me is so clear. I'm the living cliche of someone who wears their heart on their sleeve so I sometimes forget that not everything I am is so transparent.
I'm a mom I tell them. Then I get this blank stare. I say this by way of explanation, as in I don't have time for extra curricular activities. I have a job and I have a family so that leaves um virtually no time for anything else. At this juncture in my life, I don't know if I will ever want to be on the career development, upwardly mobile path. I know that's what people think I'm supposed to want. But that's where my handy dandy philosophy comes in, I CHOOSE what I want and three years ago I CHOSE to become a mom. After I lost my first baby, I realized that it's a choice people sometimes take for granted. As if it is always there; an easy option that will be waiting for them whenever they decide the time is right. I'm not saying its a bad thing to be career oriented, to be ambitious, but I would just like to make sure that my children stop, take a second and ask themselves "What is it that I need to make me happy?"
I have asked myself this question on several occasions. The answer keeps coming back the same. I need my family to make me happy. When my daughter was born, I couldn't bare the thought of leaving her in daycare and then I got a call that would actually start me on a new path. It was my grandmother who inadvertently and painfully reminded me of the many more options I have in my life than she did. So I sat down and asked the question and thus hatched my job share plan. I work part-time now and yes my bank account is pretty sad on any given day and yes I haven't had my hair cut in at least six months, but I have seen my kids first steps, heard their first words, and even on days where the temper tantrums of my three-year-old infuriate me and my son is being so needy that I can't get a square inch of air to call my own, I don't feel anything but happiness when I think of my life. I have what I need and that makes me happy. Would I like to go on a fancy vacation this year, buy a bigger house, have more money in my bank account? ABSOLUTELY. But I know that I am NOT willing to have time with my family be the sacrifice I make for it. That is just me. That was the answer to my question. I hope they know that they, along with my husband, are what I need to be happy.
I hope that one day they know that the grass is only greener on the other side if you've stopped tending your own lawn. So Hannah and Jayden if you read this one day, do your mom a favor. After you've thought long and hard about what you need to make you happy, get up and go get it. You will be amazed, trust me, at how very possible your dreams are.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
No Spotlight In Love
Ok, so I really have no idea why, but the series finale of Medium really had a surprising impact on me. For those of you that don't watch the show, it's about a Medium who can see and talk to dead people and she helps solve murder cases for the District Attorney's office. While the show centers pretty clearly on the main character and her supernatural abilities, it's also about Allison's family; her husband and three daughters. So if you watch the show and haven't seen the series finale, read no further. The way they ended the show was that her husband Joe dies in a plane crash and Allison so clearly can't deal with it that she invents an entire dream where he amazingly survived the crash and is living in Mexico with amnesia and can't remember who he is or where he's from. Then Joe's spirit comes to her and sadly informs her that it was just a dream and in fact he didn't survive the crash. The show fast forwards to her as an old lady passing away in a nursing home and seeing Joe again and they are young and in love and will now be together for eternity.
I really don't know why, but I was so saddened by her loss and because it's TV they really got to skip over the bulk of the grief, but it made me think of my own marriage. Blame the estrogen if you want, blame sentimentality or blame love itself if you want, but in the moments after the show I wondered how I would pick up the pieces of my life if something were to happen to my husband. There would be no fast forward to move me in time past the crater forged through the center of my life. There would be a sharing of the secret pain of the fatherless club, my children would be forced to join. How could I deal with any of that? Though I'm only 30, I have spent 12 years of my life loving one person. I look at him and he is at one moment the boy I fell in love with, spotting him across campus in his ball cap and baggy jeans and feeling my heart race, and also the husband and father I have watched him become.
When I had my surgery last year, I tried my best to muster forth my "if should something should happen to me" speech while my husband and I pulled up the hospital drive. I had a knot in my throat the size of a golf ball as I let myself for a minute imagine for my family a life without me, but my husband predictably waved the scenario away as a matter of fact. It was not necessary. I knew it probably wasn't as well, but I also know the pain of hearing unexpected news, recounting final conversations, knowing there will never be reply or answers ever again. What is harder, in my opinion, is being the one left behind to pick up the pieces, to carry on when all you want to do is pull the remainder of your life over your head, hide and perhaps fast forward to a better point in time. Pretty much what the show conveyed.
So here's what I'll take from this show. Despite the fact that we are the main characters in our own lives, we can't forget that we cannot live in the spotlight if we are to share our lives with someone. I hope my children will one day understand this. Children live in the spotlight for a long long time, through adolescence and into their young adult lives. But one day, love will find them as it did for me. Ready or not, it will move in and change their lives as they knew them. I think people say they fall in love because it's passive. Nobody ever says they jumped into love, because frankly love is so powerful and scary that nobody would willingly jump into that void. Ironically enough, I think it's amazing that so many of us of take the leap into parenthood. We know it will be scary, we know it will be hard, but I think we also know that the love is more certain. Loving our children is innate, like a switch that gets turned on involuntarily. For me, it's like the pregnancy test was the switch, loving my child was that easy. Pee on a stick and instant love for another human being. Don't we wish all love was that easy?
I really don't know why, but I was so saddened by her loss and because it's TV they really got to skip over the bulk of the grief, but it made me think of my own marriage. Blame the estrogen if you want, blame sentimentality or blame love itself if you want, but in the moments after the show I wondered how I would pick up the pieces of my life if something were to happen to my husband. There would be no fast forward to move me in time past the crater forged through the center of my life. There would be a sharing of the secret pain of the fatherless club, my children would be forced to join. How could I deal with any of that? Though I'm only 30, I have spent 12 years of my life loving one person. I look at him and he is at one moment the boy I fell in love with, spotting him across campus in his ball cap and baggy jeans and feeling my heart race, and also the husband and father I have watched him become.
When I had my surgery last year, I tried my best to muster forth my "if should something should happen to me" speech while my husband and I pulled up the hospital drive. I had a knot in my throat the size of a golf ball as I let myself for a minute imagine for my family a life without me, but my husband predictably waved the scenario away as a matter of fact. It was not necessary. I knew it probably wasn't as well, but I also know the pain of hearing unexpected news, recounting final conversations, knowing there will never be reply or answers ever again. What is harder, in my opinion, is being the one left behind to pick up the pieces, to carry on when all you want to do is pull the remainder of your life over your head, hide and perhaps fast forward to a better point in time. Pretty much what the show conveyed.
So here's what I'll take from this show. Despite the fact that we are the main characters in our own lives, we can't forget that we cannot live in the spotlight if we are to share our lives with someone. I hope my children will one day understand this. Children live in the spotlight for a long long time, through adolescence and into their young adult lives. But one day, love will find them as it did for me. Ready or not, it will move in and change their lives as they knew them. I think people say they fall in love because it's passive. Nobody ever says they jumped into love, because frankly love is so powerful and scary that nobody would willingly jump into that void. Ironically enough, I think it's amazing that so many of us of take the leap into parenthood. We know it will be scary, we know it will be hard, but I think we also know that the love is more certain. Loving our children is innate, like a switch that gets turned on involuntarily. For me, it's like the pregnancy test was the switch, loving my child was that easy. Pee on a stick and instant love for another human being. Don't we wish all love was that easy?
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Is it really the THOUGHT that counts?
Here's what I remember about the first Christmas I learned what LOVE really meant. I can't remember exactly how old I was, maybe 7 or 8, and per usual I was at my grandma's house for Christmas Eve. Since my parents separated when I was 5, spending Christmas Eve with him at my grandma's house and Christmas at home with my mom was the norm.
We were all opening gifts. Aunts, Uncles, grandma, dad, and us kids were sitting around the tree. The kids were fists of fury; paper flying everywhere. I noticed that my cousin had gotten this singing teddy bear that I thought was just SO cool from my grandma and I remember thinking, "WOW" she must really love him very much. It was no doubt true, but I put the thought aside for a moment and opened a gift from my dad. It was a Rainbow Bright doll. Unfortunately for my dad, I wasn't really into Rainbow Bright at the time. I immediately thought, "he doesn't love me very much if he doesn't even know what I like."
Poor, poor divorced parents. The ones without custody are like onlookers on the other side of the glass. They know their children, but they sometimes miss the details just for lack of being with their kids everyday. It must be a heartbreaking thing, to only see your child on weekends and holidays. I cannot imagine what that must be like. Even though I joke that I would gladly take a day off from my children, I'm not sure I could stitch together enough pieces of me to make myself a whole person with the holes they would leave without their laughter, crazy dancing on the carpet, splashing in the tub, and yes the chaos of wrestling, shoving, and doing it themselves without any help from mommy.
So I do what all small children do when they are completely disappointed, I throw myself full tilt into a melt down; tears, storming out of the room and the icing on the cake of all tantrums I will not explain what has me so upset. So I'm sitting in my grandmother's basement trying to piece together the connective strings I have learned in my short time on Earth. Love equals things. Better things equal more love. So less things or lesser quality things must equal less love, right? So that means that my dad doesn't love me nearly as much as my grandma loves my cousin because she gave him a way cool singing teddy bear and my dad gives me a Rainbow Bright doll that I didn't even want.
I want to cry at my childhood innocence and stupidity. Blame our consumer culture if you want, but these are the sad lessons we as children learn through the actions of the adults in our lives. My dad comes down and asks me what is wrong and I don't remember what I said. Though I was saddened by his "lack of love" for me, I still didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him the way I really felt. Eventually, I confess that I'm not a big Rainbow Bright fan. He seems a bit hurt, but instead of being angry with me he assures me I have other presents to unwrap and I might find something else I like.
After a little while of talking, he convinces me to go back upstairs and finish opening my presents. One of the very next presents I unwrap is Rainbow Bright's horse. It had a big star on its forehead, which I thought was pretty cool at the time. Now I'm happy. Now she has a pet and this makes her better than what she was alone. So I assure my dad that I'm happy with his presents. I'll never know if he believed me or not or how badly I hurt his feelings by throwing a fit and almost ruining what I didn't know then would be one of too few holidays in our painfully short time together on this Earth. But I learned something, despite my age; it didn't matter so much what he had gotten me. He loved me and had wanted to make me happy with a gift and I used that gift to measure something for which there is no Earthly measure - the love a parent has for their child.
Despite my regret during this poorly timed growing experience, I'm eternally grateful that I learned that love can't be measured by anything, least of all a gift you can buy at the store. Some people still walk this Earth, trying to measure it this way. I think it's because it makes them uncomfortable - the enormity and the responsibility of love. We try to break it down into smaller bite sizes pieces we can analyze and hold, and study with a microscope. It makes us feel that much safer to put it into our pockets then to know it spans the entirety of every breath we take, every moment our heart beats, and the limitless sky we sleep beneath. So on this Christmas day, when I myself have become the parent, I think of my Dad and I try to breathe without him. I pray that he can hear my heart beat, because he helped design its rhythm. I will sleep under the sky- the majestic, infinite sky that he watches me from and I know, without hesitation, just how much he loved me.
We were all opening gifts. Aunts, Uncles, grandma, dad, and us kids were sitting around the tree. The kids were fists of fury; paper flying everywhere. I noticed that my cousin had gotten this singing teddy bear that I thought was just SO cool from my grandma and I remember thinking, "WOW" she must really love him very much. It was no doubt true, but I put the thought aside for a moment and opened a gift from my dad. It was a Rainbow Bright doll. Unfortunately for my dad, I wasn't really into Rainbow Bright at the time. I immediately thought, "he doesn't love me very much if he doesn't even know what I like."
Poor, poor divorced parents. The ones without custody are like onlookers on the other side of the glass. They know their children, but they sometimes miss the details just for lack of being with their kids everyday. It must be a heartbreaking thing, to only see your child on weekends and holidays. I cannot imagine what that must be like. Even though I joke that I would gladly take a day off from my children, I'm not sure I could stitch together enough pieces of me to make myself a whole person with the holes they would leave without their laughter, crazy dancing on the carpet, splashing in the tub, and yes the chaos of wrestling, shoving, and doing it themselves without any help from mommy.
So I do what all small children do when they are completely disappointed, I throw myself full tilt into a melt down; tears, storming out of the room and the icing on the cake of all tantrums I will not explain what has me so upset. So I'm sitting in my grandmother's basement trying to piece together the connective strings I have learned in my short time on Earth. Love equals things. Better things equal more love. So less things or lesser quality things must equal less love, right? So that means that my dad doesn't love me nearly as much as my grandma loves my cousin because she gave him a way cool singing teddy bear and my dad gives me a Rainbow Bright doll that I didn't even want.
I want to cry at my childhood innocence and stupidity. Blame our consumer culture if you want, but these are the sad lessons we as children learn through the actions of the adults in our lives. My dad comes down and asks me what is wrong and I don't remember what I said. Though I was saddened by his "lack of love" for me, I still didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him the way I really felt. Eventually, I confess that I'm not a big Rainbow Bright fan. He seems a bit hurt, but instead of being angry with me he assures me I have other presents to unwrap and I might find something else I like.
After a little while of talking, he convinces me to go back upstairs and finish opening my presents. One of the very next presents I unwrap is Rainbow Bright's horse. It had a big star on its forehead, which I thought was pretty cool at the time. Now I'm happy. Now she has a pet and this makes her better than what she was alone. So I assure my dad that I'm happy with his presents. I'll never know if he believed me or not or how badly I hurt his feelings by throwing a fit and almost ruining what I didn't know then would be one of too few holidays in our painfully short time together on this Earth. But I learned something, despite my age; it didn't matter so much what he had gotten me. He loved me and had wanted to make me happy with a gift and I used that gift to measure something for which there is no Earthly measure - the love a parent has for their child.
Despite my regret during this poorly timed growing experience, I'm eternally grateful that I learned that love can't be measured by anything, least of all a gift you can buy at the store. Some people still walk this Earth, trying to measure it this way. I think it's because it makes them uncomfortable - the enormity and the responsibility of love. We try to break it down into smaller bite sizes pieces we can analyze and hold, and study with a microscope. It makes us feel that much safer to put it into our pockets then to know it spans the entirety of every breath we take, every moment our heart beats, and the limitless sky we sleep beneath. So on this Christmas day, when I myself have become the parent, I think of my Dad and I try to breathe without him. I pray that he can hear my heart beat, because he helped design its rhythm. I will sleep under the sky- the majestic, infinite sky that he watches me from and I know, without hesitation, just how much he loved me.
Friday, November 19, 2010
The Ultimate Unfairness of Fair
We try to teach our children to play fair with others because as our reasons demonstrate it's in their own best interests to do so. Would you want someone to take your toy from you? Would you want to play with someone who will not wait their turn? Would you want to play a game with someone who doesn't follow the rules? Who will want to play with you if you don't play fair? Well ideally, the answer would be no one. We teach them about fairness supposedly because it is in their best interests, but the reality is that they will grow up and go out into a world that is ultimately UNFAIR.
We tell them to do their best and that will be enough. We try to brace them for the reality that "you can't win them all." But what we don't tell them is that when they grow up, they will be living and competing in a world full of adults that simply didn't learn this lesson as a child or who simply disregarded the archaic idea that it was in their best interests to be fair. What to do? What to do? One day when we get frustrated enough we will tell them "Life is NOT FAIR. AND there is NOTHING we can do about it."
I have lived through plenty of loss, lies, betrayals, and broken promises to be the walking Poster Girl for UNFAIRNESS. I lost my dad at fourteen before I even had a chance to push him off the pedestal. I've worked for years for a promotion that was promised to me and ultimately denied and after fianlly quitting was doled out to a stranger free of charge. I work hard and at every pass am made to feel that my best is not good enough because mistakes carry more weight than good ideas and intentions.
For me, I have no choice but to be the good girl that I am. Somewhere way back in my past it must have been burned into my brain, or else we are born hardwired with the personality we have. In any case, being UNFAIR simply doesn't register as the thing to do. I'm not saying I'm perfect, oh I'm so the Poster Girl for UNPERFECTION as well if such a word existed. I have been angry, frustrated, disappointed and saddened by the UNFAIRNESS of life, but knowing my children will meet it head on one day scares me. Some part of me wonders if my training in FAIRNESS will leave them completely unprepared to survive in an UNFAIR world.
Should I be teaching them the truth; that people who put their needs first, who take short cuts, who simply don't care whose feelings get hurt or don't look back to see whose lives are left drowning in their wake are the ones who succeed in the UNFAIR "real" world? Am I dooming them to failure? The short answer is most definitely YES. But here comes my hard wiring again - I simply can't show them a roadmap that I don't have. I will probably never know what it means to have SUCCESS by life's standards. I have no grandiose notions of acquiring enough money not to give a crap about how I spend it or having strangers know my name and thinking that they perhaps know me too. Happiness for me, survival for me, depends on drowning these notions. These notions are simply not compatible with my brain.
I fear for my children like all parents do. We want to protect them from anything bad. We want them to be safe and happy and healthy and we tell ourselves that if we can just accomplish this holy trinity of parenting then life will be fine. It will open to them all the opportunities we never had. It will give them the happiness we dream for them. But the cynical me will always think in the back of my brain that life isn't going to GIVE them anything. They will simply have to TAKE IT for themselves. But my brain starts to overload at this juncture in thought because is TAKING what they want ULTIMATELY UNFAIR?
We tell them to do their best and that will be enough. We try to brace them for the reality that "you can't win them all." But what we don't tell them is that when they grow up, they will be living and competing in a world full of adults that simply didn't learn this lesson as a child or who simply disregarded the archaic idea that it was in their best interests to be fair. What to do? What to do? One day when we get frustrated enough we will tell them "Life is NOT FAIR. AND there is NOTHING we can do about it."
I have lived through plenty of loss, lies, betrayals, and broken promises to be the walking Poster Girl for UNFAIRNESS. I lost my dad at fourteen before I even had a chance to push him off the pedestal. I've worked for years for a promotion that was promised to me and ultimately denied and after fianlly quitting was doled out to a stranger free of charge. I work hard and at every pass am made to feel that my best is not good enough because mistakes carry more weight than good ideas and intentions.
For me, I have no choice but to be the good girl that I am. Somewhere way back in my past it must have been burned into my brain, or else we are born hardwired with the personality we have. In any case, being UNFAIR simply doesn't register as the thing to do. I'm not saying I'm perfect, oh I'm so the Poster Girl for UNPERFECTION as well if such a word existed. I have been angry, frustrated, disappointed and saddened by the UNFAIRNESS of life, but knowing my children will meet it head on one day scares me. Some part of me wonders if my training in FAIRNESS will leave them completely unprepared to survive in an UNFAIR world.
Should I be teaching them the truth; that people who put their needs first, who take short cuts, who simply don't care whose feelings get hurt or don't look back to see whose lives are left drowning in their wake are the ones who succeed in the UNFAIR "real" world? Am I dooming them to failure? The short answer is most definitely YES. But here comes my hard wiring again - I simply can't show them a roadmap that I don't have. I will probably never know what it means to have SUCCESS by life's standards. I have no grandiose notions of acquiring enough money not to give a crap about how I spend it or having strangers know my name and thinking that they perhaps know me too. Happiness for me, survival for me, depends on drowning these notions. These notions are simply not compatible with my brain.
I fear for my children like all parents do. We want to protect them from anything bad. We want them to be safe and happy and healthy and we tell ourselves that if we can just accomplish this holy trinity of parenting then life will be fine. It will open to them all the opportunities we never had. It will give them the happiness we dream for them. But the cynical me will always think in the back of my brain that life isn't going to GIVE them anything. They will simply have to TAKE IT for themselves. But my brain starts to overload at this juncture in thought because is TAKING what they want ULTIMATELY UNFAIR?
Monday, November 8, 2010
Will Work For Daycare
Today a very clear and distinct vision of my life came into comical view. I stand on the side of the road with a dirty rough cut piece of cardboard in my hands with the words WILL WORK FOR DAYCARE written in magic marker. (Side note: Anyone have any idea what is so magical about a magic marker? Will I get what I write as long as it's written in magic marker? Totally wish that were the case.) So in my vision I am like that jobless person who stands by the side of the road, desperate for work, so desperate they will work for food. There is something especially captivating about these people. They don't ask for handouts; they ask for help and it's really hard not to really SEE them. So too am I, standing on the side of my career path if you will, asking for help - WILL WORK FOR DAYCARE.
Since my mother is currently in the hospital with a broken ankle, I'm left in limbo with childcare. I work part-time (3 days a week) so you'd think that there would be some monetary break for less than full-time childcare. But I have not ONE but TWO children. Here is where the real exponential cost of having more than one child comes into play. The cost of one more plate at the table, the cost of one more pack of diapers, an additional toy, none of them really level your budget like the cost of daycare. For the first time since I was pregnant with my three-year-old daughter, I've starting pricing out daycare. I'm hoping my need for it is for the next month to three months while my mom recovers.
I priced out a local daycare center, you know the kind, full of amenities like feeding your child, reading, singing, playing, changing them (the things moms do automatically, for free, but perhaps without the formal agenda). It would cost me, not one of my two monthly paychecks, but basically one and a half of them. After the cost of gas, I would be left working to pay for my children to be cared for by strangers. Sigh.... So I thought, let's ask anyone who might know anyone who might be able to watch them in their home. So I talked to a stay-at-home mome who watches children in her home. Yes, it's a decidedly cheaper option, but still regretably expensive when you consider my budget for childcare was $0 and there is really no extra money in sight. Believe me (and if you don't just ask one of my friends) I am one of the most frugal people on Earth.
I don't know for the life of me how working families pay for childcare these days. I understand how important it is to have someone you trust caring for your children when you're not around, ESPECIALLY if you have ones far too little to tell you if something bad happened or they were ignored or...let's step off that bad path at the turn here. I get it, but I also know from working in a daycare for my whopping two days (yes it was that stressful and oh yes I was already getting a fresh cold) that you pay people WAY TOO LITTLE money and put them in a room filled with more children then they can responsibly care for and even the caregiver with the best of intentions can't care for your children the way they would like to.
It's so beyond frustrating. I keep thinking, this is NOT what I signed up for when I had children. When I hatched my brilliant job-share plan, I did it with the belief that a stranger would not be raising my child. I would raise my children and my mother who loves them would care for them, if not exactly like I would than equally as well. So for now, they are being looked after by other family members for as long as my welcome and wallet aren't worn out. I'm grateful for the help, but I am woefully worn out from stressing about money and childcare and work. I realize there are a lot more women with less resources and options than myself and I wonder how they do it. For weeks I have felt frustration, shame, failure, and guilt. I go to my job and my day is punctuated with moments of utter sadness. I know I'm rowing against a current I cannot possibly overtake.
In college, when things got bad I came up with my very first Erinism as I now call my quotes, my snippets of life philosophy. It was meant to keep me going when I wanted to give up. I wrote it down and hung it on my wall. "It's a hard lesson to learn that sometimes your best is not good enough, and a harder lesson to keep going when it's not." I guess it's about that time to write it down once again and hang it, preferably at height level, where I might be inclined to bang my head if it weren't there offering me a more positive option.
Since my mother is currently in the hospital with a broken ankle, I'm left in limbo with childcare. I work part-time (3 days a week) so you'd think that there would be some monetary break for less than full-time childcare. But I have not ONE but TWO children. Here is where the real exponential cost of having more than one child comes into play. The cost of one more plate at the table, the cost of one more pack of diapers, an additional toy, none of them really level your budget like the cost of daycare. For the first time since I was pregnant with my three-year-old daughter, I've starting pricing out daycare. I'm hoping my need for it is for the next month to three months while my mom recovers.
I priced out a local daycare center, you know the kind, full of amenities like feeding your child, reading, singing, playing, changing them (the things moms do automatically, for free, but perhaps without the formal agenda). It would cost me, not one of my two monthly paychecks, but basically one and a half of them. After the cost of gas, I would be left working to pay for my children to be cared for by strangers. Sigh.... So I thought, let's ask anyone who might know anyone who might be able to watch them in their home. So I talked to a stay-at-home mome who watches children in her home. Yes, it's a decidedly cheaper option, but still regretably expensive when you consider my budget for childcare was $0 and there is really no extra money in sight. Believe me (and if you don't just ask one of my friends) I am one of the most frugal people on Earth.
I don't know for the life of me how working families pay for childcare these days. I understand how important it is to have someone you trust caring for your children when you're not around, ESPECIALLY if you have ones far too little to tell you if something bad happened or they were ignored or...let's step off that bad path at the turn here. I get it, but I also know from working in a daycare for my whopping two days (yes it was that stressful and oh yes I was already getting a fresh cold) that you pay people WAY TOO LITTLE money and put them in a room filled with more children then they can responsibly care for and even the caregiver with the best of intentions can't care for your children the way they would like to.
It's so beyond frustrating. I keep thinking, this is NOT what I signed up for when I had children. When I hatched my brilliant job-share plan, I did it with the belief that a stranger would not be raising my child. I would raise my children and my mother who loves them would care for them, if not exactly like I would than equally as well. So for now, they are being looked after by other family members for as long as my welcome and wallet aren't worn out. I'm grateful for the help, but I am woefully worn out from stressing about money and childcare and work. I realize there are a lot more women with less resources and options than myself and I wonder how they do it. For weeks I have felt frustration, shame, failure, and guilt. I go to my job and my day is punctuated with moments of utter sadness. I know I'm rowing against a current I cannot possibly overtake.
In college, when things got bad I came up with my very first Erinism as I now call my quotes, my snippets of life philosophy. It was meant to keep me going when I wanted to give up. I wrote it down and hung it on my wall. "It's a hard lesson to learn that sometimes your best is not good enough, and a harder lesson to keep going when it's not." I guess it's about that time to write it down once again and hang it, preferably at height level, where I might be inclined to bang my head if it weren't there offering me a more positive option.
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