About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag
Just two weeks ago, we were holding out our hands to JuggerBaby, either to assist an unsteady gait, or to lead zir the way we needed zir to go. Ze would sometimes take our hands and wobble along with us. Other times, ze tucked zir hands close to zir body with an “Ngh!” clearly refusing to be led. “I can do it! (but I won’t)” you see, on zir face.
Overnight, it seems ze can walk without wavering, without hesitation, though ze has zero concept of the proper way to navigate stairs and stay upright. Ze is now even running with that peculiar pace that wee kids use. Shoulders nearly up to zir ears, entire torso swinging left and right wildly, angled nearly 45 degrees to the ground.
JuggerLB extends a hand expectantly. Makes eye contact, and as hand clasps hand, ze sets zir feet firmly, preparing for my resistance. Sometimes I cooperate and follow. Sometimes, I play limp noodle and resist. Ze is prepared for this, and digs in zir feet like a pro tugger-of-war. The stubborn is strong in this one.
I see a future of our wills clashing and smile. It’s inevitable to have some clashing but I hope that at least some of the time, they’ll be teaching moments: teaching zir how and when to stand up for zirself and be zir own advocate when it’s time for zir to spread zir wings and fly solo.
JuggerBaby has graduated from needing to be tickled (physically) to laugh and now finds the humor in things on zir own. We play games, like “bring me all your toys”, or “destroy everything” and either because of my expression, or my exclamations, ze will burst into laughter and try to get me to do it again. Role reversal of the best kind.
Good-bye, organization
A friend said of toddlerdom: say good-bye to anything staying in its place ever again. I did the mental equivalent of plugging my ears and shutting my eyes and pretended that wasn’t coming my way.
Sure enough, nothing is safe any longer. We often hear footsteps: pat. pat. pat. pat-pat-pat PAT-PAT-PAT as ze makes a dash for our bedroom and my nightstand. My side of the room has been off limits for months but now it’s too hard to keep zir from it. If you give chase you hear a cackle peel out as ze makes the final end run, bouncing off the dresser, crawling over Seamus’s bed, scaling the boxes to Baby-Ninja-Warrior zir way to the treasure trove that is my nightstand and bookshelf.
Every day and night, ze tries to check the nightstand just in case there’s something different there to inspect, taste, and steal.
Meal Negotiations
It’s amazing how such a little package can contain so much defiance and attitude. Ze knows the rule is that we sit when we eat, even if it’s just a quick snack and sitting on the ground. Ze sits just fine at a size appropriate table and chair at daycare.
And yet.
“Sit down and have a bite.”
Squats, opens mouth.
“Sit ALL THE WAY DOWN. I refuse to be responsible for you getting stabbed in the face with the fork.”
Plops down with a scowl. Bounces back up on zir heels before the fork is fully out of zir mouth.
And heaven help you if ze really wants something and you’ve said no. You’ll get a long stare, then ze will attempt to grab it anyway. Dodge the attempt and scolding “no” riles zir further and ze lunges again. This time for the nearest Mom flesh, not zir desired object, in order to sink seven sharp vindictive teeth in.
A strangled shout of “STOP THAT YOU DO NOT BITE ME!” is met with an unwavering glare and another attempt to bite. Never turn your back on zir. Ever.
Pure pigheaded defiance, this one.
I remind myself that this is probably normal and assuming that ze lives to adulthood and I survive to see it, this pigheadedness and refusal to be cowed will likely serve hir well in this world of ours. A lot of ifs, if you ask me, but here I am, being patient, deep breathing and rubbing bite marks out of my arms.
The things we do for our kids.
We’ve tried this dozens of times but JuggerBaby has always held out against our bargaining. At the beginning, we would stand firm and insist that ze needed to eat as directed but we learned that a more flexible approach combined with some firmness and some humor made mealtimes a lot more bearable.
Ze remains a fan of dropping food overboard but now that ze is starting to understand simple cause and effect, I’m enforcing a new rule: if food is tossed, you’re done. Whether ze has had a full meal, or two and a half bites of zir snack, ze gets booted from the high chair the moment food is tossed on the ground.
After several repetitions, ze has gotten much better about it but that doesn’t mean meals are consumed with grace and alacrity.
We had burger night and ze was 100% focused on the juice boxes on the table. It was my treat, I usually drink water, but PiC wisely set one out for zir. The trick was in getting zir to eat food instead of sucking down the whole juice.
By the way, when I make burgers, I make baby sized burger patties especially for zir. It’s a thing I’m proud of. Next we need baby sized buns.
I dictated that ze had to eat TWO BITES before getting to sip the juice. I held out two fingers, and counted out loud, very firmly. At first, ze was defiant and insistent, shaking zir head NO at me very firmly and pointing at the juice. I replied, nope, two bites or no juice and went back to my meal. Ze called for the juice box again, and I repeated: 2 bites. Ready for one? Ze glared, then relented and nibbled on the burger bun. I praised the bite, “that’s one! One more.”
Ze chewed, mulling it over, then silently accepted when I offered another bite. Then decided to go for the gusto and launched zirself at the burger and snatched a dino-sized bite. We were on!
Ze willingly ate 2 bites per sip of juice for a while until I suggested a 3:1 bite to juice ratio, at which tyranny ze balked and decided ze would rather not eat or drink than to accept such unreasonable terms.
FINE. After I went back to the 2 bites rule, ze even relaxed enough to enjoy the burger normally, and stopped demanding the juice. I guess you can train a toddler!
It’s still hit or miss, honestly, but it’s a start!
Vegetables have been the least popular food group now that JuggerBaby has to chew all zir own food. I hate well-cooked vegetables but crisp vegetables are harder when a baby only has the tearing teeth and not the grinding teeth. We compromised with slightly more limp specimens than I like and we’re seeing more veggies go in the mouth without making a surprise reappearance.
When they’re sauced, ze will even clamor for more, so that’s motivation for me to stop being lazy with only steaming vegetables and learning to make a sauce.
We’ve decided not to care about zir very odd habit of dropping food into zir water cup, like a crow trying to raise the water level, or dipping zir food into water like Kobayashi with his hot dogs. If you want to eat waterlogged food, that’s fine with me.
We’ve also decided not to care about zir imitating Seamus at mealtimes. It’s faintly ridiculous but ze is still determined to eat and drink like big brother, cramming zir face into zir food bowl without using zir hands. It’s hard to decide if ze thinks ze is a puppy or that Seamus is human because ze does not act like he’s like any other dog.
Independence
Chatting with a neighbor while JuggerBaby struggled to pick snacks out of zir snack box, our neighbor offered to help zir out and quickly solved the puzzle. I didn’t mind, I just commented that normally I stand back and observe until JuggerBaby has exhausted all zir ingenuity and asks for help. And even then I might just point out a possible solution and encourage zir to keep trying.
Ze is still quite young but I want zir to develop a firm confidence in hir ability to eventually crack even the toughest nuts, occasionally with help, and learn that early frustration and failure aren’t good reasons to give up.
With food and books, ze is willing to batter the problem into submission but we see zir give up quickly with concepts like shapes and colors. Pondering how to fit one shape into another shaped hole, often ze will bypass the problem by opening the top of the container or hand it to one of us with an imperious “ah!” This may pass but it won’t if we don’t give hir the freedom and push to keep trying. It’s not that I worry ze will be seventeen and still unsure of the difference between a sphere and a hexagon. I worry that at seventeen ze will hit the base of a mountain, metaphorical or otherwise, and give up before ever taking the first handhold.
I’ve no idea how early children develop and firm up their willingness to face down frustration but I hope this all adds up.
:: Do all kids imitate animals when they’re young? Were you an independent kid? Did that carry over to adulthood?
You might remember we just spent half the year on dealing with car stuff so when I spotted this comment over at Dad is Cheap it jumped out at me.
After working in the auto industry for 16 years, I’ve seen just about everything. Some of the things I’ve learned: 1) Never buy used from a private party. 2) When you buy used from a dealer, know that they almost always “pack” the car by at least $2k-$3k. In other words, start your negotiations by taking off at least that much and sometimes more depending on the model. 3) If you get a great price, know that the finance department will do their best at charging you high interest (they get a bonus) to make up for the loss. Don’t let them get away with it. Ask for the lowest “buy rate” if you need to finance it.
The commenter went on to explain why:
It’s more or less general rule of mine because I’ve rarely seen private sales work out in the long run. Unless you are car savvy or take it to a trustworthy auto technician to be examined, it can be difficult to detect a maintenance nightmare and unfortunately, I’ve seen far too many private party sales end up in court battles with little or no recourse.
In my personal opinion, an exception to the rule would be if you know the car and where it’s coming from, and you are able to make a determination that the car was maintained properly. Maybe from family member or friend. I most certainly would not take a chance on purchasing a car from an unknown party.
Rules 2-3 are useful, but Rule 1 directly contradicts ours. My first car was new, but since PiC and I joined forces, we have never bought new since and we avoid dealers like the plague. The convenience has never been worth the price padding for us.
PiC’s rules for buying cars (& approved by me)
Rule 1: Always buy used from a private party.
Rule 2: Always buy from an original owner or a 2nd owner.
Rule 3: Always review the owner’s paperwork and maintenance history, making sure that it all matches up. Don’t take their word for it.
Rule 4: Always take it to a reputable mechanic for a PPI (pre-purchase inspection) before making any decisions. You can, and we often do, negotiate a lower priced based on the recommendations from the inspection.
Rule 5: If you have car savvy friends (we do), don’t be too proud to consult them. Our very car savvy friends know certain makes inside and out, and were able to advise us to avoid certain model years due to known maintenance issues.
Together, we’ve purchased three used cars in the past ten years and they have all run smoothly and reliably. We budget for and pay regular maintenance costs every year, and we still spend less than the cost of a new car (financed or paid for in cash) and all the normal maintenance associated. We’ve never broken down due to mechanical issues, though we have had some random unfortunate incidents.
As an aside, this is why my parents insisted that I buy a new car in one of my earliest wastes of money. They didn’t realize that it just takes being more selective, and more legwork to save 50% or more on a used and just as reliable car.
It’s not that we don’t like new cars – we do! But believe it or not, we like cars that are quite expensive. Way too expensive for a family of four, and way too expensive for a family who intends to retire early and do some good in the world. And that stuff is more important to us anyway, so even though we might LIKE the idea of the super shiny techy, we choose not to go that route. Instead we pick cars that fit exactly our needs today, in excellent condition, and keep them that way as long as we can. Which, considering the JuggerBaby, takes a little extra work, but it’s worth the satisfaction of winning another battle against entropy.
And someday, when I hit the bigtime, PiC can have his Porsche. Any kind, any color. 🙂
:: What are your car buying rules? Does “used” make you think of a clunker or someone else’s lemon?
When we talk of heroes, I imagine people doing big, important things, of the lifesaving variety.
I grew up on dramatic heroics, capes and cowls, and icons like Amelia Earhart,Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman. People who stand up to the whole world, sometimes against unspeakable odds, and changed the world long after they were told to sit down and be quiet.
This video brought unabashed tears to my eyes and got me thinking. It’s not often that we get to see the results of our good deeds for others, if at all, but it’s the rare person who hasn’t benefited from the help of others who never expected thanks in return.
These are a few people who made a bigger difference in my life than they knew.
Bus driver #1
Randy was driving the last route of the night and, as usual, I had lost track of time. Running out into the deserted street, in the dark, in a bad neighborhood, I leapt onto the bus’s steps, making him jump. I made it!
But I hadn’t. He’d just returned from the last drop-off. When he understood why my face fell, he swung into rescue mode and stomped the gas pedal all the way to the nearest train stop. I thanked him profusely as I ran for the train. I never got to thank him in person after that – he stopped driving that route soon after.
Bus Driver #2
The second driver, Johnny, was driving my regular route during a particularly bad time in my life. Everything was falling apart. Mom’s illness had suddenly progressed, leaving a Bizarro Mom in our house, and my bosses had gone ’round the bend. Things were bad bad bad but I still needed that job. Every morning, I tried to breathe deeply to make it through another day, and held back a surge of stress-induced nausea. Johnny would drop us off, booming: Have a good day and don’t let anybody steal your joy!
It always made me smile. It was often my only smile of those working days, and I was grateful.
Mentor, Codename Sabrina
I’d worked several years years of retail by the time I started on my first industry-job but I was still a young pup in the white collar professional world.
My introduction to office life was tumultuous. It was rife with poor management and terrible people, and directly led to my discovery of Alison at Ask A Manager (Googling “is [terrible boss thing] normal?”).
There was one person I met in the course of that work who made it survivable. She was an institution at her job, working with us from her coordinating office, and she taught me so much I needed to know to succeed at my job and more. Without her almost daily feedback and steering, and diplomacy when our managers were being even more unreasonable than usual, I’m not sure if I would have overcome the many and barbed hurdles thrown up by my direct colleagues and managers.
With it, I went on to be a high performer both in that office and well into the rest of my career.
We kept in touch over the years, and I’ve always been grateful for her friendship, wisdom, and warmth.
:: To whom do you owe thanks? Why? What little things made a difference in your life? Tell me your stories?
MTurk experiment, total earned: $44.05. Up $31.40 from May’s ending total of $12.65. As money making experiments go, this continues to be teensy tiny beans. I use it in the few minutes a day I designate for my (non-existent otherwise) water cooler breaks so no harm done. Gives my brain a breather from the problems I’m working on and makes, literally, a few bucks.
Last month’s big news: We spent money and 6 long months to finally refinance the mortgage. Ahoy, the prepayment scheme! I’m really excited about that. That, and cutting our mortgage in half so that the second half of our mortgage payment all goes to principal. DELICIOUS. We’re under $250K now, and I’m eagerly targeting when we’ll be under $200K.
Last month’s other big news: We finally bought a new to us car. After maintenance and accessories (which sounds so fancy but really isn’t), we are out a couple thousand dollars. For that price, we can FINALLY get around without plotting logistics on a chart.
I keep forgetting that our crockpot broke a couple months ago after rendering unto us, in its last faithful service, producing fantastic ribs for our dinner guests. I know it’s “only” $30-40 to replace it but given our pile of other necessary expenses that add up very quickly, and *points up* that list of spending these past two months, I’m extra not ready to spend a penny more. The crockpot recipes must continue to pile up for now. Even that mac and cheese one. *sniff*
I continue to be not surprised, but surprisingly irritated, by the fact that Dad is behind on his utility payments. He insisted that he could take them on three years ago (four? I can’t remember now) but I didn’t totally trust him so I kept online access to the accounts. Sure enough, when I logged in to the water and electricity bills, they were glaringly overdue. Think he said anything to me? Gave me any warning that he was struggling with them? History repeats itself. So we’re sinking an unbudgeted $100-300 in utility bills every few months because he simply can’t do me the courtesy of talking through the income shortage with me.
Highlights of my #1GoodMoneyThing this month: I bought stocks instead of stuff which are dropping like rocks thanks to Brexit but I’m buying long; deposited reimbursement checks for various reimbursable things; returned two baby carriers to Amazon because PiC found a decent one for $50 on Craigslist!
We’ve been holding a lot of cash because I have a problem. An addiction, almost, to keeping cash on hand. Left over insecurity from that long layoff? Maybe. But it was time to get off my bum and move cash into our investments. I don’t want our eggs too heavily in any one basket. Overall, most of our savings go into pre and post-tax investment accounts, and real estate, there to grow and multiply, we hope.
Building up a portfolio that throws off anything like real income in annual dividend income is challenging. We need a lot more capital invested.
To add to that challenge, as I shared at the Jolly Ledger recently, I have some rules.
I’m a long position investor, otherwise known as buy and hold.
It cannot be built on blood money. Companies need to conduct their businesses in a way that would make me want to work for them. Disclaimer: I aim to invest in ethical companies as far as is practicable – I’m not an expert and don’t have an army of researchers at my fingertips to confirm that all my choices are good but I’m doing my best.
I won’t invest in tobacco or gun companies. Even though I do not disapprove of gun ownership in principle, the way this country is unduly influenced by the NRA and gun lobby isn’t acceptable. There’s a difference between short term mistakes and long term wrongdoing or simply being harmful and the gun lobby has long ago crossed over to the dark side.
Spirits Abroad, by Zen Cho
I can’t say enough how much I loved this book. It was gifted to me and I’m so grateful I have friends who will insist that I MUST read this or that book because the few from whom I will accept that badgering are always right.
The Darwin Elevator by Jason M. Hough
A freebie from ECCC, this was a mildly entertaining read but I couldn’t help but be distracted by the protagonist’s “attraction” to the standardly beautiful female scientist character that rang false. It was, of course, his motivation for action and felt pretty stupid. As written, I would have been a lot more inclined to believe his motivation if the physical attraction was never mentioned / didn’t exist. I suppose you could say I object to distracting romance but it’s more that I find so much written romance to be unbelievable. (*thinks* maybe I find standard human romance unbelievable too…)
Which leads me to a friend’s book. As a rule, if I am friends first with an author, I often hesitate to read their writing. It’s oddly uncomfortable for me because I’m an alien to know an author as a person and read their works. What if I don’t like it? I’ve evolved beyond grade school is so many ways but not in this: I want to like and respect my friends but I cannot do that if they display a lack of integrity or write poorly. I was, therefore, both relieved and impressed that Erica Monroe’s A Dangerous Invitation was both well written and engaging. Her heroine was both spirited and believable and the research into the language and society of the times blended so well it was a joy to read. Yay I get to keep admiring my friend. (more…)
This is an entry in the #FinHealthMatters contest sponsored by Center for Financial Services Innovation and FinCon. This is my first year attending and the prize would help tremendously. One of the winners will be selected by top engagement on Twitter and Instagram using #FinHealthMatters. I’d appreciate your support by sharing this post with the hashtag on Twitter!
My parents did their best. Graduating from high school, daughter of immigrants, I headed to college armed with a $1000 scholarship, a minimum wage job, and the knowledge that it was my turn to study hard and make good on their sacrifice.
Ignoring for a minute that I’d been experiencing increasingly debilitating bouts of idiopathic pain, I couldn’t hide the thrill of embarking on Ye Grande Adventure of Adulthood.
“Weeping may endure for a night…”
It happened fast. Mom was diagnosed with diabetes. There were complications, she needed surgery. I stepped in with my meager paycheck temporarily, I thought, until she was better. Post-surgical anxiety and depression set in, the diabetes was complicated by a stroke, the stroke left her unable to work, and her inability to work sent her into a tailspin from which she never recovered.
Managing the household in her stead, an endeavor chronicled here for moral support and posterity, was more downs than ups, more tears than laughter.
To my horror, I discovered that Mom and Dad had been using credit cards to fill in gaps for years, paying only the minimum payment, to the tune of $100,000. It didn’t make sense! They worked 365 days a year. We never ate out, never vacationed, rarely shopped. Where did it go?
Answer: They’d been helping our extended family for decades.
I couldn’t leave. No one could pick up the pieces. Their family was unwilling to return the help, Dad was out of work and Mom wasn’t well. I felt obligated to fix the mess while hiding our shame from more affluent friends. (Y’all, everyone was more affluent than we were.)
The next decade blurred into a haze.
I ran the overtime meter, paying the bills, cutting swaths off the Family Debt, started my first IRA, started saving, and brought home my college diploma without any debt attached. Success, purchased at a steep price.
While I was focused on my family, my life path had changed, irrevocably. The stress of trying to settle my family on firm ground exacerbated my long-elusive diagnosis (fibromyalgia) so the career I’d dreamed of was impossible. And now, Mom, my inspiration and strength, was gone.
Any hope of rescuing my good health was sacrificed on the altar of filial piety. Now my job was to create my own financial safety net before my body gave out. It was time to make my own way in life, career and especially money.
I learned to plan: for tomorrow, for forty years from now. I needed to pay this month’s bills and know we could pay next year’s. I needed to know we would retire someday. Saving and investing were top priorities, equal to paying off that crushing debt, and I never regretted it for a minute.
Financial health means we work for our future, instead of scrambling to escape the morass of our past.
It means PiC and I were home together with our JuggerBaby when ze was born.
It means that we can afford reliable (expensive) childcare.
It means that when, not if, my health declines further, we don’t have to choose between medical care or food.
It means we can support those in need, lend a hand, and celebrate friends and family.
It means that we can grow old, keep a roof over our heads, and try to leave the world a better place than we found it.
:: What was your moment of joy, when it all turned around for you, financially? How are you financially fit? What drives you to do better?
Lend me a hand?
PiC’s rules for buying cars (& approved by me)
ON MONEY
Philosophically speaking
What I read
This is an entry in the #FinHealthMatters contest sponsored by Center for Financial Services Innovation and FinCon. This is my first year attending and the prize would help tremendously. One of the winners will be selected by top engagement on Twitter and Instagram using #FinHealthMatters. I’d appreciate your support by sharing this post with the hashtag on Twitter!