The Man Of The House does all of the cooking, grocery shopping and a large portion of the laundry. He makes sure I get my sleepy ass out of bed each morning and also gets the children up and out for school every day. He makes my life easy. While I'm predictably at work each day, he has a tremendous amount of flexible time. He is a photographer, so his days sometimes consist of shooting or editing, sometimes he runs errands and sometimes he naps or plays on the internet all day.
I am so freakin' jealous of him I can't stand it.
I used to be home with the kids. My ex-husband thought I spent my days lounging about, which I most certainly did not. (Well, maybe sometimes!) I was, afterall, caring for two, then four young children. Being the mama was the best job ever, though it was often lonely. When we separated and I went back to working full time I was THRILLED to be among adults again. I missed my babies deeply but I was proud of my ability to earn enough to care of my kids and myself.
But now it kind of sucks. Well, not the part where we eat regular meals and have a lovely home...definitely not that part!
Being an MRI Technologist allows me to help people in a meaningful way and I earn a good living doing it. What makes me crazy is that I really hate to be told what to do. I hate to be on someone else's schedule, having to request time off six months in advance. Being the one that brings home the steady paycheck and provides the family's insurances gets heavy, too.
My husband is friggin' brilliant. I mean this sincerely. With the obvious caveat being that his income ebbs and flows over the course of the year, the advantage is that he can do almost ANYTHING he wants. Difficult client? Decline future work from them. Need a day off? Rearrange your schedule to accommodate your appointment, day trip or round of golf (though he very rarely does these things). Sick kid? No problem, or a much smaller problem, at least. His flexible schedule has saved us many thousands of dollars in childcare costs, too. Add that to his actual income and, yeah, he wins. Such a smarty pants!
The truth is that every career choice has its pros and cons, right? Steady Paycheck vs. Sporadic Income. Mostly Weekdays vs. Evenings & Weekends. Easy Access To Insurance, etc. vs. Not So Much.
That freedom, though.... So romantic and intoxicating!
So, what to do? Throw caution to the wind? Or must I be The Responsible Girl I've always been and just suck it up for the sake of consistency?
I have interests I'd love to explore. Flipping houses was the most fulfilling work I ever did. Taking a neglected building and bringing it back to life, preserving it, was hard work but it was fun and felt meaningful. I have dabbled in recording voice overs and can totally see making that a full time gig. Even real estate sales and staging sound great. Maybe some crazy combination of these things will keep us fed and sheltered!
What I know for sure is that I don't see myself in my current job for another 26 years. There are too many school activities being missed. Too many beautiful days spent indoors. Too many missed lunch dates with my beau. Too many adventures left on the ol' bucket list.
I think I'm gonna have to stop being envious of my husband and go Carpe myself a few Diems! ; )
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Friday, September 26, 2014
The Wicked Stepmother
What do you get when you take a single guy with two kids aged 12 and 14 and add a not-yet-divorced mother of 4 children all under the age of 6?
Well, now that we're almost 6 years in, I can say that you get a lot. A lot of joy. A lot of hurt feelings. A lot of laughter. A lot of disagreements. A lot of apologies. A lot of swearing. A lot of tears. A lot of growth. And a hell of a lot of love. And thank goodness, because without that, we may not have lasted even this long. Because I'll tell you, parenting is HARD, but step-parenting is the HARDEST EFFING THING I'VE EVER DONE.
Thankfully, I myself had terrific step-parents. My stepfather was fun and was present for EVERYTHING. He never missed seeing me cheer for junior league football, sing in the chorus or play flute in the school band. He encouraged my chugging entire bottles of Yoohoo at the tender age of four, if only to hear me belch like a frat boy afterward. When I was older, we shared a love of stand up comedy, crossword puzzles and being the first to crack each new issue of Reader's Digest. He'd be so pissy when I beat him to it! When my first marriage disintegrated, it was he who rescued me. Even though I was far too old to rely on him so heavily, I would never have had the strength to soldier on if not for he and my mother. There were never distinctions made between my older brothers and me and our younger brother, his son with our mother. He proudly claims us all and we love him for it.
My stepmother is a living saint. She and my father also had a combined total of six children and, to this day, I've never heard her raise her voice. And she puts up with my moody father so...points! She took communism to a whole new level when we were kids. The budget was tight -really tight- but she would sometimes bring home a candy bar or other treat when she did the grocery shopping. You read that correctly: "A" candy bar. This woman would take a single Snickers bar and divide it into 8 pieces so that everyone could have one teensy tiny morsel. And you'd just pray that you'd get a peanut or a glob of nougat stuck in your teeth (For God's sake, please!) so you could savor that deliciousness for as long as possible before having that peanut jammed between your molars had you begging for relief. She tried, is all I can say. And it does give us one more thing to tease her about.
With such shining examples one might think I would have an easier time convincing my two literal red-headed stepchildren that I am not, in fact, a horrible scourge on their family. One would be dreadfully wrong. I was sooooo naive. I sincerely believed that if I treated them as my own that they were going to love me right back. Cute, huh? But I tried from the very beginning to treat the kids equally, with adjustments for age and maturity, of course. ALL of these kids were MY kids -emotionally speaking- and I had such ridiculously high hopes for the relationships I thought would come to be.
At this point, though, my relationship with my stepson is nonexistent...but that's a story for another time.
Today's Meltdown is all about our girl. Let me flesh this out a bit. This is our smart and beautiful 17 years and 50 weeks old senior in high school who lives with us. And by "lives with us" I mean she shows up here long enough to make a mess and collect gas money. Her bedroom has been slept in only a handful of times since school started. Otherwise she's snoozing on her mother's couch. Despite the fact that it was made crystal clear that No Job = No Driving Priveleges, she has her own set of keys and no income. After skirting the job issue for the entire summer she quit the only position she could get just three weeks in because her boss was "being mean." No shit.
So here we are.
But am I mad at her? Yes, for quitting her job without having another in the wings. Yes, for using us to secure access to our vehicle. Yes, for assuming that we will pay for her car insurance and gas with absolutely nothing in return. Fuck that.
So, yes, I am annoyed with her for acting like a 17 year old. But I'm actually pissed off at her father. For not putting his foot down and enforcing the rules we set together...again. For continuing to kiss this child's ass as he has done so, so many times before. For setting the precedent that these are not "requirements," but mere suggestions, for the younger kids who are undoubtedly taking note. For not telling me she had quit her job and not reacting in any way until I insisted. (The negotiated verdict: that she is not allowed to drive anywhere other than to and from school until she has a new job.)
But mostly, for being the reason that his children may never show me any real respect. For perpetuating the "Us/Them" mentality that wreaks havoc on blended families.
Don't get me wrong. I love this man with all my heart and soul and there is not a single niggling doubt in my mind that he loves me just as fiercely. He's wonderful to me. Because my young ones rarely see their father, he has filled that role for them in a way that few men would be willing to even try. He does laundry, grocery shopping and ALL of the cooking. Seriously.
But, I need him to be a parent. I need him to stop setting me up to be the heavy.
So, yes, after almost 6 years together I can say there is a lot. A lot of conflicting ideas. A lot of rejection. And a lot left to learn.
Well, now that we're almost 6 years in, I can say that you get a lot. A lot of joy. A lot of hurt feelings. A lot of laughter. A lot of disagreements. A lot of apologies. A lot of swearing. A lot of tears. A lot of growth. And a hell of a lot of love. And thank goodness, because without that, we may not have lasted even this long. Because I'll tell you, parenting is HARD, but step-parenting is the HARDEST EFFING THING I'VE EVER DONE.
Thankfully, I myself had terrific step-parents. My stepfather was fun and was present for EVERYTHING. He never missed seeing me cheer for junior league football, sing in the chorus or play flute in the school band. He encouraged my chugging entire bottles of Yoohoo at the tender age of four, if only to hear me belch like a frat boy afterward. When I was older, we shared a love of stand up comedy, crossword puzzles and being the first to crack each new issue of Reader's Digest. He'd be so pissy when I beat him to it! When my first marriage disintegrated, it was he who rescued me. Even though I was far too old to rely on him so heavily, I would never have had the strength to soldier on if not for he and my mother. There were never distinctions made between my older brothers and me and our younger brother, his son with our mother. He proudly claims us all and we love him for it.
My stepmother is a living saint. She and my father also had a combined total of six children and, to this day, I've never heard her raise her voice. And she puts up with my moody father so...points! She took communism to a whole new level when we were kids. The budget was tight -really tight- but she would sometimes bring home a candy bar or other treat when she did the grocery shopping. You read that correctly: "A" candy bar. This woman would take a single Snickers bar and divide it into 8 pieces so that everyone could have one teensy tiny morsel. And you'd just pray that you'd get a peanut or a glob of nougat stuck in your teeth (For God's sake, please!) so you could savor that deliciousness for as long as possible before having that peanut jammed between your molars had you begging for relief. She tried, is all I can say. And it does give us one more thing to tease her about.
With such shining examples one might think I would have an easier time convincing my two literal red-headed stepchildren that I am not, in fact, a horrible scourge on their family. One would be dreadfully wrong. I was sooooo naive. I sincerely believed that if I treated them as my own that they were going to love me right back. Cute, huh? But I tried from the very beginning to treat the kids equally, with adjustments for age and maturity, of course. ALL of these kids were MY kids -emotionally speaking- and I had such ridiculously high hopes for the relationships I thought would come to be.
At this point, though, my relationship with my stepson is nonexistent...but that's a story for another time.
Today's Meltdown is all about our girl. Let me flesh this out a bit. This is our smart and beautiful 17 years and 50 weeks old senior in high school who lives with us. And by "lives with us" I mean she shows up here long enough to make a mess and collect gas money. Her bedroom has been slept in only a handful of times since school started. Otherwise she's snoozing on her mother's couch. Despite the fact that it was made crystal clear that No Job = No Driving Priveleges, she has her own set of keys and no income. After skirting the job issue for the entire summer she quit the only position she could get just three weeks in because her boss was "being mean." No shit.
So here we are.
But am I mad at her? Yes, for quitting her job without having another in the wings. Yes, for using us to secure access to our vehicle. Yes, for assuming that we will pay for her car insurance and gas with absolutely nothing in return. Fuck that.
So, yes, I am annoyed with her for acting like a 17 year old. But I'm actually pissed off at her father. For not putting his foot down and enforcing the rules we set together...again. For continuing to kiss this child's ass as he has done so, so many times before. For setting the precedent that these are not "requirements," but mere suggestions, for the younger kids who are undoubtedly taking note. For not telling me she had quit her job and not reacting in any way until I insisted. (The negotiated verdict: that she is not allowed to drive anywhere other than to and from school until she has a new job.)
But mostly, for being the reason that his children may never show me any real respect. For perpetuating the "Us/Them" mentality that wreaks havoc on blended families.
Don't get me wrong. I love this man with all my heart and soul and there is not a single niggling doubt in my mind that he loves me just as fiercely. He's wonderful to me. Because my young ones rarely see their father, he has filled that role for them in a way that few men would be willing to even try. He does laundry, grocery shopping and ALL of the cooking. Seriously.
But, I need him to be a parent. I need him to stop setting me up to be the heavy.
So, yes, after almost 6 years together I can say there is a lot. A lot of conflicting ideas. A lot of rejection. And a lot left to learn.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Ugly
The twins were playing happily in their bedroom, allowing me to sneak a couple of quiet minutes lying down in my own room.
Then, sweet 7 year old Sophia stepped into my room with her head hanging down, looking very sad.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
With tears in her eyes, she croaked, "Lily said I'm ugly."
Now, SOME parents might have said something warm and uplifting to their emotionally injured child. Some might take this teachable moment and use it to discuss inner vs. superficial beauty. But, no. Not me. I burst out in a big, LOUD laugh...a true belly laugh.
"That's the worst insult I've ever heard! You're IDENTICLE twins! She looks exactly the same as you!"
Luckily, Sophia immediately saw the humor and giggled at the double meaning of her sister's statement. Lily, on the other hand, was pretty ticked off when she realized that not only had she been caught saying hurtful things, but that she insulted herself in the process!
No need for a lengthy discussion here, folks. I'm pretty sure this lesson taught itself: Saying ugly words about another makes YOU ugly, too.
Then, sweet 7 year old Sophia stepped into my room with her head hanging down, looking very sad.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
With tears in her eyes, she croaked, "Lily said I'm ugly."
Now, SOME parents might have said something warm and uplifting to their emotionally injured child. Some might take this teachable moment and use it to discuss inner vs. superficial beauty. But, no. Not me. I burst out in a big, LOUD laugh...a true belly laugh.
"That's the worst insult I've ever heard! You're IDENTICLE twins! She looks exactly the same as you!"
Luckily, Sophia immediately saw the humor and giggled at the double meaning of her sister's statement. Lily, on the other hand, was pretty ticked off when she realized that not only had she been caught saying hurtful things, but that she insulted herself in the process!
No need for a lengthy discussion here, folks. I'm pretty sure this lesson taught itself: Saying ugly words about another makes YOU ugly, too.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
I'm With The Band
Welcome! And allow me to point out, lest you feel the responsibility to do so, that I haven't a clue as to what I'm doing here!
Okay, so here's the deal: Mommy and The Meltdowns is the rock band version of my very un-rock star life. Sometimes, the meltdowns will be mine. Sometimes they will be those of my children. My SIX children. Trust me when I say there is ample source material here. I want nothing more than to share our craziness with you in the hope that you will laugh or cry with us, understand and feel understood.
For me, this experiment is an opportunity to rekindle a long neglected love of writing and an attempt to record some of the things about our family's life that I will myself to remember always when, sadly, I will not. Hell, I can't recall why I just walked into the kitchen so, really, who am I kidding? I am also hoping to become more mindful of just how lucky I am to be among all these crazy people. Like all parents, or at least the honest ones, I spend more time than I'd like feeling inadequate in one way or another. Perhaps by focusing on all that goes well for us, I can be more forgiving about my failures.
BUT WAIT! BACK AWAY FROM THE MOUSE!
This will NOT be a highlight reel by any means. The world does not need another So Perfect You Want To Wipe A Boogie On Her blogger. You will see and hear some things that will likely make you cringe and (I'm hoping!) some that make you think, "Oh, thank God, it's not just me!"
Stick with me. This could be fun!
Okay, so here's the deal: Mommy and The Meltdowns is the rock band version of my very un-rock star life. Sometimes, the meltdowns will be mine. Sometimes they will be those of my children. My SIX children. Trust me when I say there is ample source material here. I want nothing more than to share our craziness with you in the hope that you will laugh or cry with us, understand and feel understood.
For me, this experiment is an opportunity to rekindle a long neglected love of writing and an attempt to record some of the things about our family's life that I will myself to remember always when, sadly, I will not. Hell, I can't recall why I just walked into the kitchen so, really, who am I kidding? I am also hoping to become more mindful of just how lucky I am to be among all these crazy people. Like all parents, or at least the honest ones, I spend more time than I'd like feeling inadequate in one way or another. Perhaps by focusing on all that goes well for us, I can be more forgiving about my failures.
BUT WAIT! BACK AWAY FROM THE MOUSE!
This will NOT be a highlight reel by any means. The world does not need another So Perfect You Want To Wipe A Boogie On Her blogger. You will see and hear some things that will likely make you cringe and (I'm hoping!) some that make you think, "Oh, thank God, it's not just me!"
Stick with me. This could be fun!
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