We have been out searching for a new house to live in. We're renting so the idea of having to find something that we'll be happy in for 30 years isn't really an issue. But we've spent over a year living with Pete's parents and, while they are probably the best in-laws ever, they live differently than we do, so it hasn't always been the most comfortable situation. So there's a little pressure (that we've put on ourselves) to find the "perfect" house.
We have a few musts that we know for sure. Location is a big one. I drive my slowly toning butt to the gym every weekday. Currently, it's a forty minute drive each way. I want it to be less than fifteen. I must have a pool. I have two small children, I live in Florida. If I can't spend my summer days in my back yard watching my kids swim, why did I move to Florida? Also, that pool has to be caged - I hate bugs. Pete needs an office. He works from home and deserves to have a space in the house that he can reasonably expect to be left alone to think and work. The neighborhood needs to be family friendly. Not that it has to have a park within walking distance, or that the development needs to be brand new, but, you know, just... nice. Quiet, even would be good.
After that, it's all gravy. One story, or two? One car garage, or two... or three? Close to the water, or close to the highway? Gated community, or not? Do we care if the neighbor has a boat in his driveway? No. We don't.
I thought we weren't being very picky. I thought we'd be thrilled with the first place we found with our musts. And honestly, we were. But it was a little pricey, and even though I hate to admit this, it was too big for us. We fell in love with a townhouse in a posh development, too. But it was also a bit pricey, and the community pool was a little too far. Now our favorite is an older house, which the owner has renovated, remodeled, added-on, and basically turned it into a one-of-a-kind place with a lot of character. It looks like a jungle in the back yard, in a good way. I kind of expect to find pirate treasure buried back there. And it has a view of the bay from an upstairs wrap-around balcony. The master suite is upstairs, and is HUMONGOUS. Room enough for our king size bed, and a couch and our giant TV, and then the closet is a room big enough to use as a nursery - not that we plan on needing it for that, but you know, it's BIG.... but the master suite is the only thing upstairs. The kids bedroom is downstairs. And that makes us nervous, because we don't like to be that far away from them when we're sleeping.
So we're continuing to look. We're keeping in touch with the owner of the current favorite, thinking we may be able to reconcile ourselves to sleeping a whole floor away from the babies. But we have appointments to see at least four more houses. And now that the new month has started there will be more listings to search through.
But I wonder. Will we find a house that screams our name? One that is cheap enough to afford our lifestyle, and big enough to house our hobbies? Will we find a house that we can agree on that it's perfect? And what makes it perfect anyway? Will we have to compromise on one of our musts to get more of our wants? How much responsibility for our happiness can we reasonably put on a building, or a town? I can't stop wondering if we will ever find a house that we don't feel lukewarm on. I've always been of the opinion that happiness is yours to make and that you can be happy anywhere. But this last year has clouded that opinion. And I feel that if I don't pick the right place, I have a year of awfulness ahead of me. I don't want awfulness. I'm ready to shed all my discontent and bask in the joy my family brings me.
I hope I find the right place... before I sign a lease on somewhere else.
Showing posts with label in-laws. Show all posts
Showing posts with label in-laws. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Monday, December 8, 2008
Probably, this will ramble and meander.
*****WARNING***** THIS POST IS VERY LONG*****WARNING***** THIS POST IS VERY LONG
I haven't written a post since before Thanksgiving, and I apologize. The holiday was lovely, we spent it with Pete's family. They are really a very warm and accepting group of people. I love them. They always have people there that aren't exactly family, but who are close friends, and it makes me smile to know that I am a part of this cherishable (Google tells me this isn't a word. I don't care.) group. Of course, they are also a bit loud, and coarse. They yell a lot, they fling around the f-bomb the way Valley Girls use "like," and they're opinionated. Obviously, this is what attracted me to them in the first place. I like to argue, but I don't like to fight. I like to get into the heat of having strong different opinions, and having them dashed, and then turning around and dashing someone else's opinions. This is a big part of hanging out with them. Another big part of it, is that they LOVE my kids. They put in special movies for them on the big screen TV, they look forward to changing diapers, and they wrestle around on the floor with them. It gives Pete and I a much needed break from chasing our own kids around. Sometimes I wonder if the family thinks we always are so lax about the kids behaviour, but I rest assured knowing that if I was lax, my kids wouldn't be so lovable.
One highlight from Thanksgiving, and then I'll move on. Pete and I sat at the kids table with our kids, and Pete's cousins who are 16 and 19 years old. We didn't talk about what we were thankful for before the food came out, because it's hard to be thankful for anything when you're hungry. So once we were all quietly chowing down on turkey and stuffing, I began by asking the 19 year old what she was thankful for. After her, I asked her younger sister, who gave a straight answer and then went on and on with petty thanks (ex. my new phone, brown hair, that so-and-so is not here [this may not have been her actual petty thanks, but this type of thing). I moved on to Pete, who gave the appropriate "Daddy thanks" of being thankful for family, and having them so close even though we're so far away from where he was born and grew up. Next was Lucian's turn, and the 16 year old was still being silly, now accompanied by her big sister. Lucian didn't answer me at first, so I repeated the question, and he looked at me and said, "I want Chelsea to listen so I can tell her that I'm thankful for Chelsea!" I was touched. Chelsea was touched. Chelsea's big sister Samantha, was jealous. I had been expecting all week that he was going to say that he was thankful for Santa Claus because he would bring DACS Digital Arts and Crafts Studio this year. So that's my holiday update.
Playgroup update time. Remember when I said I needed a new playgroup because Lucian was too big for the little kids at the old one? Well, I didn't exactly start taking him to a new playgroup. I hadn't found one in time for this past Wednesday, so I took him back. This time, the other moms went too far. They didn't stop at just yelling at my kid. They put their hands on him. They waggled their fingers in his face. They pushed me. And as you're reading this I imagine you're saying to yourself, "Ohhhh, so she hasn't been writing because they don't have wireless internet in jail. Got it." But no, sadly, I didn't go to jail. I should have. Because that would have meant I did something other than shout in these women's faces. It would have meant that I taught my kids that NO ONE is allowed to touch them outside of our family. Instead, I taught my children (according to Pete) that there is a time and place for knocking a bitch out, and that playgroup, in front of other children, is not it. Which means that I'm hoping to teach them that Sweetbay, or Target is the time and place. Because if I ever see any of those bitches out in public away from playgroup, I'm totally going after them with all my South Jersey charm. I did, however, get banned from playgroup for two weeks. Apparently, the overseer of the group could tell, I was one teensy, tiny push away from killing some hoes.
My father in law says that the reason other moms don't like my kids is because I dress funny. I wear rainbow thigh-high socks with shorts, I wear two different color Chuck Taylor high tops, and I wear t-shirts with teenage girl pictures on them (neon skull and crossbones, rock'n'roll instruments, etc). I never leave the house with out a hat, usually a Jeff Cap, or a Pork Pie hat. And most grievously, I never wear make-up, or spend a minute on my hair. My nails are never filed, or painted, not even with clear top coat. In FIL's opinion, the fact that I'm a "free spirit" makes them hate me, and since they hate me, they hate my children.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. First, I don't know if he's right. I wonder if I'm really a bad parent who has failed to teach my children how to behave properly. The thing is, as soon as I start thinking this way, I take my oldest to play miniature golf, and he remembers to say thank-you to the the lady that handed him the club - without being prompted. And when I took him to the local (private) park, his brother threw a tantrum because he wanted to ride in the power wheels jeep, Lucian came to me, and told me, "Val's crying. Maybe I should ask him if he wants to play with me." And then he promptly went over to his little brother, got in his face, invited him to play, then took his hand and coaxed him over to the jungle gym to climb and slide together. So, I believe I have come to the conclusion that I have good kids. I have been raising them well, and they are well behaved and thoughtful. Val has even been known to come over and hug his big brother while Lucian melts down. Pretty impressive for a boy who turns 16 months tomorrow.
Second, I wonder about what I should/can do about this. I have always been an outcast. I was never popular in high school... let's face it. I wasn't popular in grade school either. I always chalked this up to moving around a lot and having been raised in a cult. (Jehovah's Witness's) It's hard to make friends when the people you're told to respect consider the kids you go to school with heathens and mongrels. When you're taught that being a good Christian means that everybody in the world should hate you and ridicule you, it's hard to want to change how you present yourself to your schoolmates. I was fairly popular in K-2, but then we moved in the middle of the school year, and it never seemed quite as easy to make friends. Even after I decided that religion of any sort was not for me, that I would live by the Golden Rule without having God and Satan to fall back on, it was still difficult for me to find people who "got" me. Of course, it was never hard to find guys who wanted to sleep with me, and usually once I got them in bed, they realized that even though I was quirky, I was also smart, funny, and interesting. Then they introduce me to their friends, who also had to warm up to me, but eventually, I would have a circle of friends. The circle would remain loyal to my boyfriend when we broke up, but sometimes I was able to really connect with one or two of the circle and find friends of my own.
The point is, I never changed who I was in order to make friends, or be liked by my peers. I still dressed wacky at work, and when I went out on the town with my built in friends. Mostly, they learned to like my style. Some of them see it as being rebelious against society's conformist regime, some see it as my way of warning others that I am not a follower, and should not be recruited to go along with something mindlessly. For me, I see it as fun. I like to have fun with my clothes, my socks, my kids... there's a lot more to it than different color shoes. I think that more women would understand if they realized that their decision to wear make-up, or cute(matching) shoes fell into the same category. Sure there are some people who wear make-up and designer labels because they want to fit in, but mostly I think they do it because it's fun for them. And for me bright colors, rainbows, and clashing patterns are fun.
So what do I do? I want my kids to be able to have fun with the other kids at the park. I also want to feel happy when I pick out my outfit for the day. Should I change the way I look to appease the other moms at the playgroup? Do I stay the course and wait until my kids go to school where they can make friends without their mommy's around to tell them who they can and cannot play with on the playground? What if by not changing my look I ruin my children's chance at a normal childhood? Would it be worth it if they grow up learning that they can do or be anything they want and that true friends won't judge you based on what color shoes you have on? Or, is it better that they learn this lesson on their own, when they get older and want to dress funny themselves. I'm not big on conformity. I like to get stared at when I walk through the mall. I like that people look at me and wonder if I'm sane. But I also went through life on the outside of the cliques. I never had more than two friends at the same time. I was miserable about it, whenever I thought about it. I wanted to be popular, but I wanted to be popular on my own terms. My little brother is going through this right now. He's 15 years old, and he wants desperately to be popular. He also really likes the "goth" clothes, and even some "goth" music. So, the kids at school tell the teachers that he has a bomb strapped to his chest and that he's hiding a gun in his locker. They tease him mercilessly, and they knock him around a good bit, too. He's not prepared to dress differently, or to listen to Fallout Boy, but he does want to find a circle of people who have similar interests... and it's hard for anyone to look past his goofy black exterior.
So which is more important to me? That my kids be popular, which I really have no control over, or that my kids know that I'm not a conformist, and in the end, I'm happy with who I am, and who my friends are. If they are observant, though, they'll also see that I wish I had an easier time making friends, and that I want friends- but don't have them- here in my new neighborhood.
I haven't written a post since before Thanksgiving, and I apologize. The holiday was lovely, we spent it with Pete's family. They are really a very warm and accepting group of people. I love them. They always have people there that aren't exactly family, but who are close friends, and it makes me smile to know that I am a part of this cherishable (Google tells me this isn't a word. I don't care.) group. Of course, they are also a bit loud, and coarse. They yell a lot, they fling around the f-bomb the way Valley Girls use "like," and they're opinionated. Obviously, this is what attracted me to them in the first place. I like to argue, but I don't like to fight. I like to get into the heat of having strong different opinions, and having them dashed, and then turning around and dashing someone else's opinions. This is a big part of hanging out with them. Another big part of it, is that they LOVE my kids. They put in special movies for them on the big screen TV, they look forward to changing diapers, and they wrestle around on the floor with them. It gives Pete and I a much needed break from chasing our own kids around. Sometimes I wonder if the family thinks we always are so lax about the kids behaviour, but I rest assured knowing that if I was lax, my kids wouldn't be so lovable.
One highlight from Thanksgiving, and then I'll move on. Pete and I sat at the kids table with our kids, and Pete's cousins who are 16 and 19 years old. We didn't talk about what we were thankful for before the food came out, because it's hard to be thankful for anything when you're hungry. So once we were all quietly chowing down on turkey and stuffing, I began by asking the 19 year old what she was thankful for. After her, I asked her younger sister, who gave a straight answer and then went on and on with petty thanks (ex. my new phone, brown hair, that so-and-so is not here [this may not have been her actual petty thanks, but this type of thing). I moved on to Pete, who gave the appropriate "Daddy thanks" of being thankful for family, and having them so close even though we're so far away from where he was born and grew up. Next was Lucian's turn, and the 16 year old was still being silly, now accompanied by her big sister. Lucian didn't answer me at first, so I repeated the question, and he looked at me and said, "I want Chelsea to listen so I can tell her that I'm thankful for Chelsea!" I was touched. Chelsea was touched. Chelsea's big sister Samantha, was jealous. I had been expecting all week that he was going to say that he was thankful for Santa Claus because he would bring DACS Digital Arts and Crafts Studio this year. So that's my holiday update.
Playgroup update time. Remember when I said I needed a new playgroup because Lucian was too big for the little kids at the old one? Well, I didn't exactly start taking him to a new playgroup. I hadn't found one in time for this past Wednesday, so I took him back. This time, the other moms went too far. They didn't stop at just yelling at my kid. They put their hands on him. They waggled their fingers in his face. They pushed me. And as you're reading this I imagine you're saying to yourself, "Ohhhh, so she hasn't been writing because they don't have wireless internet in jail. Got it." But no, sadly, I didn't go to jail. I should have. Because that would have meant I did something other than shout in these women's faces. It would have meant that I taught my kids that NO ONE is allowed to touch them outside of our family. Instead, I taught my children (according to Pete) that there is a time and place for knocking a bitch out, and that playgroup, in front of other children, is not it. Which means that I'm hoping to teach them that Sweetbay, or Target is the time and place. Because if I ever see any of those bitches out in public away from playgroup, I'm totally going after them with all my South Jersey charm. I did, however, get banned from playgroup for two weeks. Apparently, the overseer of the group could tell, I was one teensy, tiny push away from killing some hoes.
My father in law says that the reason other moms don't like my kids is because I dress funny. I wear rainbow thigh-high socks with shorts, I wear two different color Chuck Taylor high tops, and I wear t-shirts with teenage girl pictures on them (neon skull and crossbones, rock'n'roll instruments, etc). I never leave the house with out a hat, usually a Jeff Cap, or a Pork Pie hat. And most grievously, I never wear make-up, or spend a minute on my hair. My nails are never filed, or painted, not even with clear top coat. In FIL's opinion, the fact that I'm a "free spirit" makes them hate me, and since they hate me, they hate my children.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. First, I don't know if he's right. I wonder if I'm really a bad parent who has failed to teach my children how to behave properly. The thing is, as soon as I start thinking this way, I take my oldest to play miniature golf, and he remembers to say thank-you to the the lady that handed him the club - without being prompted. And when I took him to the local (private) park, his brother threw a tantrum because he wanted to ride in the power wheels jeep, Lucian came to me, and told me, "Val's crying. Maybe I should ask him if he wants to play with me." And then he promptly went over to his little brother, got in his face, invited him to play, then took his hand and coaxed him over to the jungle gym to climb and slide together. So, I believe I have come to the conclusion that I have good kids. I have been raising them well, and they are well behaved and thoughtful. Val has even been known to come over and hug his big brother while Lucian melts down. Pretty impressive for a boy who turns 16 months tomorrow.
Second, I wonder about what I should/can do about this. I have always been an outcast. I was never popular in high school... let's face it. I wasn't popular in grade school either. I always chalked this up to moving around a lot and having been raised in a cult. (Jehovah's Witness's) It's hard to make friends when the people you're told to respect consider the kids you go to school with heathens and mongrels. When you're taught that being a good Christian means that everybody in the world should hate you and ridicule you, it's hard to want to change how you present yourself to your schoolmates. I was fairly popular in K-2, but then we moved in the middle of the school year, and it never seemed quite as easy to make friends. Even after I decided that religion of any sort was not for me, that I would live by the Golden Rule without having God and Satan to fall back on, it was still difficult for me to find people who "got" me. Of course, it was never hard to find guys who wanted to sleep with me, and usually once I got them in bed, they realized that even though I was quirky, I was also smart, funny, and interesting. Then they introduce me to their friends, who also had to warm up to me, but eventually, I would have a circle of friends. The circle would remain loyal to my boyfriend when we broke up, but sometimes I was able to really connect with one or two of the circle and find friends of my own.
The point is, I never changed who I was in order to make friends, or be liked by my peers. I still dressed wacky at work, and when I went out on the town with my built in friends. Mostly, they learned to like my style. Some of them see it as being rebelious against society's conformist regime, some see it as my way of warning others that I am not a follower, and should not be recruited to go along with something mindlessly. For me, I see it as fun. I like to have fun with my clothes, my socks, my kids... there's a lot more to it than different color shoes. I think that more women would understand if they realized that their decision to wear make-up, or cute(matching) shoes fell into the same category. Sure there are some people who wear make-up and designer labels because they want to fit in, but mostly I think they do it because it's fun for them. And for me bright colors, rainbows, and clashing patterns are fun.
So what do I do? I want my kids to be able to have fun with the other kids at the park. I also want to feel happy when I pick out my outfit for the day. Should I change the way I look to appease the other moms at the playgroup? Do I stay the course and wait until my kids go to school where they can make friends without their mommy's around to tell them who they can and cannot play with on the playground? What if by not changing my look I ruin my children's chance at a normal childhood? Would it be worth it if they grow up learning that they can do or be anything they want and that true friends won't judge you based on what color shoes you have on? Or, is it better that they learn this lesson on their own, when they get older and want to dress funny themselves. I'm not big on conformity. I like to get stared at when I walk through the mall. I like that people look at me and wonder if I'm sane. But I also went through life on the outside of the cliques. I never had more than two friends at the same time. I was miserable about it, whenever I thought about it. I wanted to be popular, but I wanted to be popular on my own terms. My little brother is going through this right now. He's 15 years old, and he wants desperately to be popular. He also really likes the "goth" clothes, and even some "goth" music. So, the kids at school tell the teachers that he has a bomb strapped to his chest and that he's hiding a gun in his locker. They tease him mercilessly, and they knock him around a good bit, too. He's not prepared to dress differently, or to listen to Fallout Boy, but he does want to find a circle of people who have similar interests... and it's hard for anyone to look past his goofy black exterior.
So which is more important to me? That my kids be popular, which I really have no control over, or that my kids know that I'm not a conformist, and in the end, I'm happy with who I am, and who my friends are. If they are observant, though, they'll also see that I wish I had an easier time making friends, and that I want friends- but don't have them- here in my new neighborhood.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I'm a sucker, I know.
I just paid $32 for information and a start up kit for something having to do with getting paid $2 per envelope. I have no idea what this means I will actually be doing. I know that this probably means it's a scam, but I need something to fill my evening after the kids go to bed. I need income. And I need some reason to feel the way I feel. Which is to say I feel like I have no control any more. I live in somebody else's house with their routines, their schedules, their lifestyle. I didn't have much of a lifestyle before I moved in, but it was my own choice. Now when I lay on the couch watching TV while my MIL puts away groceries, or sweeps the floor, I feel guilty. When I take the kids out in the morning, and I want to come home early because their having a rough time, I feel guilty for interrupting everyone else's quiet time. When my kids want to stay out longer, I feel guilty because someone at home is holding off on a project they want the kids to help with. If I don't want to take the kids anywhere because we all feel a bit lazy, I feel guilty because I'm not allowing the rest of the family their quiet time to do what hey want to do.
Part of this comes from the fact that my MIL and FIL don't like to hear the kids cry, and they cry to get what they want. Before we all moved in, they didn't cry much, because they knew they wouldn't get what they wanted anyway. Now, they know that someone will cave and come play with them, so they make a fuss. I don't think that my MIL is doing them any harm not developmentally, definitely not physically, and really not even emotionally. It's just not how I would do it. So it makes me crazy. For example, at dinner we all sit down together and eat. I sit as far from the children as possible, and allow mom-mom to sit between them. She plays games with them to get them to eat. She makes up stories about dump trucks, and plays a bit of reverse-psychology telling my 3 year old he 'better not' eat whatever it is she wants him to eat. That's how it is now. Before we moved here? We all sat down to eat, and it went parent, child, parent, child around a circular table. I gave each child a plate of food that I expected them to eat. I gave them plenty of time, and I reminded them to eat a few times each meal. After the appropriate amount of time had passed, I took their plate from them, and they got no more until tomorrow.
Does it make a difference? Do they eat any better for them or me? No. They eat about the same. Is my sanity still together? Yes, because I have no part of it. I was having a conversation with a cousin about it, and she had made the comment that Lucian must hate having 4 adults telling him to eat his dinner, and I told her that I just stay out of it, because it would drive me crazy otherwise.
My MIL, who claims she can't hear my voice too well, overheard this conversation, and threw a fit claiming that she would back off and the kids could sit near me. The problem is, she felt like I was not happy with how she did it, and I wanted the job back. But that's not the case. a) I do not believe for a moment that she would indeed back off. b) I don't care how it's done, as long as they eat.
So. Here I am with no control. Because, if I took the kids back to my side of the table, I'd still have her trying to make dinner fun for them, and now I would just be surrounded by loud children while I'm trying to eat my dinner.
I have decided to take back control where I can. If I can earn some extra money, I will not feel guilty spending it on doing some things for myself. And I will be able to show what I am useful for. Also, if I am sitting on the couch watching TV and doing something with envelopes I will not feel guilty that I'm not helping put the groceries away.
Also? I am going to check out the local colleges and try to get a degree in psychology. I want to be a therapist, and I think that now is the time to pursue it. I have free daycare as it stands right now, and I'm young enough to be able to begin a career and have it go somewhere.
So, I'll keep you posted on how both of these endeavors are going.
Part of this comes from the fact that my MIL and FIL don't like to hear the kids cry, and they cry to get what they want. Before we all moved in, they didn't cry much, because they knew they wouldn't get what they wanted anyway. Now, they know that someone will cave and come play with them, so they make a fuss. I don't think that my MIL is doing them any harm not developmentally, definitely not physically, and really not even emotionally. It's just not how I would do it. So it makes me crazy. For example, at dinner we all sit down together and eat. I sit as far from the children as possible, and allow mom-mom to sit between them. She plays games with them to get them to eat. She makes up stories about dump trucks, and plays a bit of reverse-psychology telling my 3 year old he 'better not' eat whatever it is she wants him to eat. That's how it is now. Before we moved here? We all sat down to eat, and it went parent, child, parent, child around a circular table. I gave each child a plate of food that I expected them to eat. I gave them plenty of time, and I reminded them to eat a few times each meal. After the appropriate amount of time had passed, I took their plate from them, and they got no more until tomorrow.
Does it make a difference? Do they eat any better for them or me? No. They eat about the same. Is my sanity still together? Yes, because I have no part of it. I was having a conversation with a cousin about it, and she had made the comment that Lucian must hate having 4 adults telling him to eat his dinner, and I told her that I just stay out of it, because it would drive me crazy otherwise.
My MIL, who claims she can't hear my voice too well, overheard this conversation, and threw a fit claiming that she would back off and the kids could sit near me. The problem is, she felt like I was not happy with how she did it, and I wanted the job back. But that's not the case. a) I do not believe for a moment that she would indeed back off. b) I don't care how it's done, as long as they eat.
So. Here I am with no control. Because, if I took the kids back to my side of the table, I'd still have her trying to make dinner fun for them, and now I would just be surrounded by loud children while I'm trying to eat my dinner.
I have decided to take back control where I can. If I can earn some extra money, I will not feel guilty spending it on doing some things for myself. And I will be able to show what I am useful for. Also, if I am sitting on the couch watching TV and doing something with envelopes I will not feel guilty that I'm not helping put the groceries away.
Also? I am going to check out the local colleges and try to get a degree in psychology. I want to be a therapist, and I think that now is the time to pursue it. I have free daycare as it stands right now, and I'm young enough to be able to begin a career and have it go somewhere.
So, I'll keep you posted on how both of these endeavors are going.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Support
Have you ever been somebody's support? Been there to rub their back when they get too stressed, make them coffee in the middle of trying to do a million other things because they're tired and don't want/have time to, stay up until 3am to let them vent even though you have a busy day ahead of you? Have you ever been the one to listen as they talk through their problems, offering advice, or cheering them up - whichever you think is most necessary at the time?
If you have, for how many people do you offer this service? Do they return the favor? Do you have somebody that you can go to for this service if the person/people that you support doesn't/don't reciprocate?
If you haven't, are there people in your life that you can turn to when you need them? Why don't you support others? Do support somebody financially, or otherwise that you feel lets you off the hook for emotional support?
That leads me to my next question: is financial support equal to emotional support? If you live in a situation similar to mine - one working parent with one stay-at-home parent - is it the job of the SAH Parent to make sure that the working parent is stress free so s/he may keep his/her job? Looking critically it seems that the working parent has the more important job. Because we all know raising kids is a tough job, but it's also not the type of job you can get fired from for having one bad day (unless that bad day is taken to extreme), and if you have both parents, somebody will pick up the slack. But the SAHP cannot (usually) go into the office for the working parent, and without their ability to keep their job, the family is in worse shape than if the kids are a little spoiled, or didn't get a bath, or are having nightmares.
I don't know if I phrased this post well at all. My in-laws just left from packing up the moving truck, and I'm a little frenzied. I have to get showered and dressed, and then pick the kids up from the baby-sitter so we can all go to our first night of parenting class. I wish I had more time. I would go into more detail.
I may not be back online for quite sometime. I don't know how long it will take to get me a computer I can use in the new living arrangement.
P.S. I voted early today! Woo! That's a load off my mind. Now I don't have to worry about what my schedule looks like for Election Day.
If you have, for how many people do you offer this service? Do they return the favor? Do you have somebody that you can go to for this service if the person/people that you support doesn't/don't reciprocate?
If you haven't, are there people in your life that you can turn to when you need them? Why don't you support others? Do support somebody financially, or otherwise that you feel lets you off the hook for emotional support?
That leads me to my next question: is financial support equal to emotional support? If you live in a situation similar to mine - one working parent with one stay-at-home parent - is it the job of the SAH Parent to make sure that the working parent is stress free so s/he may keep his/her job? Looking critically it seems that the working parent has the more important job. Because we all know raising kids is a tough job, but it's also not the type of job you can get fired from for having one bad day (unless that bad day is taken to extreme), and if you have both parents, somebody will pick up the slack. But the SAHP cannot (usually) go into the office for the working parent, and without their ability to keep their job, the family is in worse shape than if the kids are a little spoiled, or didn't get a bath, or are having nightmares.
I don't know if I phrased this post well at all. My in-laws just left from packing up the moving truck, and I'm a little frenzied. I have to get showered and dressed, and then pick the kids up from the baby-sitter so we can all go to our first night of parenting class. I wish I had more time. I would go into more detail.
I may not be back online for quite sometime. I don't know how long it will take to get me a computer I can use in the new living arrangement.
P.S. I voted early today! Woo! That's a load off my mind. Now I don't have to worry about what my schedule looks like for Election Day.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Feeling Better
Well, it's been another few days of my new routine with the kids and the chores. I'm feeling better. Lucian is behaving better, and Val is napping better.
I knew that this, too, would pass. The kids are still a bit clingy, but we're adjusting.
Of course, just as we get under way with our new version of happiness, life takes an unexpected turn. The economic crisis, or poor decisions by individuals (not myself), or petty bullshit between friends has caused a need in my family. We have a need to become a multi-generational family. Pete and I will be moving our family into his parents' house. It's not in the town I chose to live in, so I hope we won't be there too long. I hope to be able to move my kids back into the land of good school systems and choice by the time the kids are in like 2nd grade. But honestly, I don't know if we can move that quickly. Pete and I have some ideas, but we're not positive we can make them work.
It's going to be a struggle for everybody. The kids have gotten used to Mom-mom and Pop-pop's house being a rules-free zone, and now they'll have to cope with it being at least as structured as I have been working to make this house. Pete and I have gotten used to being able to prance around naked after the kids go to bed, and when they're visiting at Mom-mom and Pop-pop's. Now, there will be no nakedness outside of the bedroom, and there will be no more kid-free weekends since there will be nowhere to send them. Mom-mom and Pop-pop have gotten used to living a quiet life while they get by in semi-retirement, now they will have a house full with 4 adults, 2 children, and 3 dogs. HOLY MOLY!
Some days (since this decision was reached) I sit and weep over what I'll be losing. Other days I sit in awe at the things I'll be gaining. Mostly, I'm just terrified of change. Which is unusual. I was once accused of being a gypsy. Not that the person thought I was foreign, or that I went around wearing broomstick skirts and lots of jingling jewelry and beating on a tambourine for money, just that I moved around a lot. I ever wanted to be stationary. I wanted to live a life of many apartments in lots of different places, I even had a dream of living in my car and driving across the country getting part time jobs in any town I chose to stay in for a few months. (Have you ever seen the movie "Chocolat" - that life was pretty perfect for my dream.) But now, it seems that I have finally gotten everything I wanted - a home, a family, a future... now I'm terrified of change. I'm afraid that change really means destruction of everything wonderful about my life.
Maybe it will all be great. It could be. I believe that. I just don't want to be miserable. I don't want my family to be miserable. And honestly, I have a great relationship with Pete's parents right now, and I don't want to lose that, either.
Right now, my life is back in limbo while we get ready to pack, and try not to tell the kids too much about where we're moving so they don't get impatient, and I have to go shopping for a few things that we can't live without even in the new house.
Maybe I'll have something for you to read about when I get back from shopping.
I knew that this, too, would pass. The kids are still a bit clingy, but we're adjusting.
Of course, just as we get under way with our new version of happiness, life takes an unexpected turn. The economic crisis, or poor decisions by individuals (not myself), or petty bullshit between friends has caused a need in my family. We have a need to become a multi-generational family. Pete and I will be moving our family into his parents' house. It's not in the town I chose to live in, so I hope we won't be there too long. I hope to be able to move my kids back into the land of good school systems and choice by the time the kids are in like 2nd grade. But honestly, I don't know if we can move that quickly. Pete and I have some ideas, but we're not positive we can make them work.
It's going to be a struggle for everybody. The kids have gotten used to Mom-mom and Pop-pop's house being a rules-free zone, and now they'll have to cope with it being at least as structured as I have been working to make this house. Pete and I have gotten used to being able to prance around naked after the kids go to bed, and when they're visiting at Mom-mom and Pop-pop's. Now, there will be no nakedness outside of the bedroom, and there will be no more kid-free weekends since there will be nowhere to send them. Mom-mom and Pop-pop have gotten used to living a quiet life while they get by in semi-retirement, now they will have a house full with 4 adults, 2 children, and 3 dogs. HOLY MOLY!
Some days (since this decision was reached) I sit and weep over what I'll be losing. Other days I sit in awe at the things I'll be gaining. Mostly, I'm just terrified of change. Which is unusual. I was once accused of being a gypsy. Not that the person thought I was foreign, or that I went around wearing broomstick skirts and lots of jingling jewelry and beating on a tambourine for money, just that I moved around a lot. I ever wanted to be stationary. I wanted to live a life of many apartments in lots of different places, I even had a dream of living in my car and driving across the country getting part time jobs in any town I chose to stay in for a few months. (Have you ever seen the movie "Chocolat" - that life was pretty perfect for my dream.) But now, it seems that I have finally gotten everything I wanted - a home, a family, a future... now I'm terrified of change. I'm afraid that change really means destruction of everything wonderful about my life.
Maybe it will all be great. It could be. I believe that. I just don't want to be miserable. I don't want my family to be miserable. And honestly, I have a great relationship with Pete's parents right now, and I don't want to lose that, either.
Right now, my life is back in limbo while we get ready to pack, and try not to tell the kids too much about where we're moving so they don't get impatient, and I have to go shopping for a few things that we can't live without even in the new house.
Maybe I'll have something for you to read about when I get back from shopping.
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