May 25, 2014
A Different Kind of Snow Day
It's Memorial Weekend. Today it was almost 85 degrees and, yet, we share the water with icebergs. Amazing. It was a hell of a winter and this weekend marks where winter finally or almost has ended and summer is trying to begin.
April 27, 2014
The Drive of Shame
I ran into my aunt at the grocery store yesterday. She lives with my grandpa who is a victim of dementia which will likely turn into Alzheimer's. Yes, I meant to say victim because that's how I feel about this disease. It slowly takes away the person you know and the ones in his life slowly get taken away from his mind. It sucks.
Anyway, on top of all that, she was let go from her job after 30 years of being there. The doctor she worked for up and left. Gave the office six weeks' notice and has not paid their last pension payment to them yet. My aunt was planning several trips this year. After two, almost three years of constantly caring for my grandpa, she was finally going to get back to traveling. It's her favorite thing and my uncle is in a position to help out more with grandpa. She was actually in Dublin when she got the news about her job. "I enjoyed it but in the back of my mind I kept thinking about how I wouldn't have a job when I got back," she said. She already booked a couple more trips and it's not like you can cancel airline tickets.
As we were talking, a friend of hers stopped and she was forced to tell the story all over again. I wondered how many times she had to revisit this. Every person she runs into must ask. Over and over, leaving a conversation feeling like crap. I said goodbye and continued with my shopping list. My cart was full and my aunt didn't even have a cart. Just a couple things in hand. Seemed symbolic all of a sudden. So much so that by the time I got to the car, I was crying. I felt so bad for her. So close to retiring but not quite ready. You know how many times I've heard this in the past decade? Let see...my dad twice, my mother-in-law, two of my husband's uncles. It's a sign of the times and it sucks like my grandpa's decaying mind.
Which brought me back to my full cart. God, I suck too. You know how many times in the past decade I've said, "fuck my life"? More tears. I began a conversation with the big guy upstairs. I thanked Him for all the blessings in my life: a healthy family, a steady job, a place to live, great health insurance compared to the national average. A full cart. Yeah, I had a leaky shower drain last week and my cars are falling apart and my insurance is about to go up with a 16-year-old but big deal. I wasn't my dad, getting his degree at 60 years old and networking with a bunch of people half his age trying to land a better job. I wasn't my aunt saying I'll just ride it out on unemployment until I figure something out. And I wasn't my mother-in-law working at a grocery store bakery with no insurance and no retirement plan anymore.
I cried all the way home. The drive of shame to the east side of town with my trunk full of groceries knowing that I hadn't been thankful doing the same thing many Saturdays before. I spread the shame when I got home by telling my husband what had happened and that we had no business complaining about our life. It wasn't fair to those in our family who had it worse. He agreed. I thanked God one more time.
Anyway, on top of all that, she was let go from her job after 30 years of being there. The doctor she worked for up and left. Gave the office six weeks' notice and has not paid their last pension payment to them yet. My aunt was planning several trips this year. After two, almost three years of constantly caring for my grandpa, she was finally going to get back to traveling. It's her favorite thing and my uncle is in a position to help out more with grandpa. She was actually in Dublin when she got the news about her job. "I enjoyed it but in the back of my mind I kept thinking about how I wouldn't have a job when I got back," she said. She already booked a couple more trips and it's not like you can cancel airline tickets.
As we were talking, a friend of hers stopped and she was forced to tell the story all over again. I wondered how many times she had to revisit this. Every person she runs into must ask. Over and over, leaving a conversation feeling like crap. I said goodbye and continued with my shopping list. My cart was full and my aunt didn't even have a cart. Just a couple things in hand. Seemed symbolic all of a sudden. So much so that by the time I got to the car, I was crying. I felt so bad for her. So close to retiring but not quite ready. You know how many times I've heard this in the past decade? Let see...my dad twice, my mother-in-law, two of my husband's uncles. It's a sign of the times and it sucks like my grandpa's decaying mind.
Which brought me back to my full cart. God, I suck too. You know how many times in the past decade I've said, "fuck my life"? More tears. I began a conversation with the big guy upstairs. I thanked Him for all the blessings in my life: a healthy family, a steady job, a place to live, great health insurance compared to the national average. A full cart. Yeah, I had a leaky shower drain last week and my cars are falling apart and my insurance is about to go up with a 16-year-old but big deal. I wasn't my dad, getting his degree at 60 years old and networking with a bunch of people half his age trying to land a better job. I wasn't my aunt saying I'll just ride it out on unemployment until I figure something out. And I wasn't my mother-in-law working at a grocery store bakery with no insurance and no retirement plan anymore.
I cried all the way home. The drive of shame to the east side of town with my trunk full of groceries knowing that I hadn't been thankful doing the same thing many Saturdays before. I spread the shame when I got home by telling my husband what had happened and that we had no business complaining about our life. It wasn't fair to those in our family who had it worse. He agreed. I thanked God one more time.
April 6, 2014
Chicago Sweet 16
When we had asked our daughter what she wanted for her 16th birthday besides a driver's license, she immediately blurted out, "I think it would be cool to go to shopping in Chicago. Mom, even you said that before." What? Oh maybe I did.
It was an awesome time! I don't think my kids truly understood the enormity of the city until they got there. I got a sweet deal on room at the Sheraton Towers.
We made it to the Skydeck...
Shedd Aquarium...
And, of course, The Bean.
My son loved the Skydeck and the pool at the hotel. Neither of my kids were impressed with the aquarium. And, of course, my daughter and I did plenty of shopping. I mean shop until we had to hobble back to the hotel. My husband and I saw a semi-celebrity. A man from "My Strange Addiction" who is obsessed with plastic surgery and wants to look like a ken doll.
We ate at Food Life, Red Mango and Hot Woks Cool Sushi. We also stopped at Garrett Popcorn...twice. It's addicting.
We got approached by Save the Children, homosexual rights and vegan activists and homeless people looking for money. We rode in three cabs, one of which smelled like piss. We saw where a movie was being filmed on Michigan Avenue. My husband got asked to buy a man a Chick-Fil-A sandwich twice and got offered a shoe shine by another man even though he was wearing sneakers. I got called a cheap ass by a cab driver. We got the full city experience.
It was an awesome time! I don't think my kids truly understood the enormity of the city until they got there. I got a sweet deal on room at the Sheraton Towers.
We made it to the Skydeck...
Shedd Aquarium...
And, of course, The Bean.
My son loved the Skydeck and the pool at the hotel. Neither of my kids were impressed with the aquarium. And, of course, my daughter and I did plenty of shopping. I mean shop until we had to hobble back to the hotel. My husband and I saw a semi-celebrity. A man from "My Strange Addiction" who is obsessed with plastic surgery and wants to look like a ken doll.
We ate at Food Life, Red Mango and Hot Woks Cool Sushi. We also stopped at Garrett Popcorn...twice. It's addicting.
We got approached by Save the Children, homosexual rights and vegan activists and homeless people looking for money. We rode in three cabs, one of which smelled like piss. We saw where a movie was being filmed on Michigan Avenue. My husband got asked to buy a man a Chick-Fil-A sandwich twice and got offered a shoe shine by another man even though he was wearing sneakers. I got called a cheap ass by a cab driver. We got the full city experience.
February 25, 2014
Oh! To Be a Stay-At-Home Mom
I had to call in to work today. My son is sick, which is rare. He's not quite old enough (in my opinion) to be left home alone when he's sick unlike my high school daughter. It was quiet in the house. My husband at work, my daughter at school and my son sleeping with the dog. I had a thought. This could have been my life everyday if I had the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom. I could have this quiet every morning before starting my daily routine. I would have time to scramble eggs for my kids in the morning if they wanted them. I wouldn't have to call my boss when my son was home sick from school.
It's the quilt and occasional resentment I deal with as a working mom. My husband and I were never in a financial position to make that an option years ago. Plus, I think as a child of divorced parents, I have always felt the need to have my own job just in case things ever went sour in my own marriage. My mom was a stay-at-home mom and I watched her go out in the world and look for work when I was in middle school, preparing to be a single mom. She said to me once, "Always have a skill. Always have a way to make your own money." Partially words of wisdom to her young daughter and partially kicking herself in hindsight. Maybe it was then that I realized I would be a working mom out of fear of depending on someone else. Who knows. I just know that as a grown women looking back, I would have liked to have had the choice to stay at home. Avoid the guilt and occasional resentment as a working mom.
Ultimately, though, your kids have a path in life either way. They are destined to do certain things and make certain choices whether or not you had time to scramble eggs in the morning for them. My mom was a stay-at-home mom to my sister and I and a working mom to my younger brother later in life. We all turned out pretty great. We've all made our way into the world and made our choices and live our own lives happily. I have said in the past that home is a verb. It's what you do within the walls you live that matters most. You can raise great kids in a shack or mansion; as a working mom or a stay-at-home mom; as a strict or liberal parent. It's about doing what's best and or necessary for your family.
It's the quilt and occasional resentment I deal with as a working mom. My husband and I were never in a financial position to make that an option years ago. Plus, I think as a child of divorced parents, I have always felt the need to have my own job just in case things ever went sour in my own marriage. My mom was a stay-at-home mom and I watched her go out in the world and look for work when I was in middle school, preparing to be a single mom. She said to me once, "Always have a skill. Always have a way to make your own money." Partially words of wisdom to her young daughter and partially kicking herself in hindsight. Maybe it was then that I realized I would be a working mom out of fear of depending on someone else. Who knows. I just know that as a grown women looking back, I would have liked to have had the choice to stay at home. Avoid the guilt and occasional resentment as a working mom.
Ultimately, though, your kids have a path in life either way. They are destined to do certain things and make certain choices whether or not you had time to scramble eggs in the morning for them. My mom was a stay-at-home mom to my sister and I and a working mom to my younger brother later in life. We all turned out pretty great. We've all made our way into the world and made our choices and live our own lives happily. I have said in the past that home is a verb. It's what you do within the walls you live that matters most. You can raise great kids in a shack or mansion; as a working mom or a stay-at-home mom; as a strict or liberal parent. It's about doing what's best and or necessary for your family.
Photo courtesy of Lina Blair
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