January 24, 2018
I’ve been battling back some seriously expensive impulses lately. It’s been months of being grumpy because my rational side knows it’s right. It’s not the right time or it’s not in the budget for us, given our financial goals.
My irrational sliver of self continues to whisper and it’s frustrating the snickets out of me. It continues to say, “yes, but ….” HUSH, YOU.
I make pragmatic decisions every single day, regardless of what I wished or hoped or wanted. It’s easy because my first priority is to be efficient and effective. So why won’t my whole self settle down?
This is my attempt to work out what the problem is.
It’s relatively easy to say that we will go to Japan for a three week food fest or Australia and New Zealand to hike for a month someday but not this year because I don’t want to leave Seamus that long. I’m still traumatized. Those are my castles in the sky. I know the kind of money we’ll need to have ready to spend, and we are not ready to spend 5 stacks of money on a vacation between dogsitting (3 weeks away would cost at least $1000!), airfare for three, lodgings, food, and so on. Time off isn’t easy to come by right now, either, but that’s neither here nor there without the money piece settled.
I’m fine with giving up some things now so that we can have financial freedom later when it’s going to be critical for my health to have that freedom – we moderate eating out and travel, for example. We don’t stop them, we just don’t do it every week. But some thoughts keep chugging around my brain like they’re stuck on a toy train track, refusing to accept the pragmatic “No.”
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November 8, 2017
We walked past some two foot tall Santas at Michael’s the other heat, loaded down with our fifty cent Halloween sticker packs, and JuggerBaby pointed at them. “Is short, mama!”
That got me thinking.
Did you believe in Santa?
Our parents, as relatively recent immigrants, celebrated Christmas when we were young, complete with the gifts from a “Santa”. It’s not clear why, maybe it was fun enough to do at the time because kids are cute when they’re little. It’d track with Christmas not being celebrated anymore after I was about 9 or 10 – we were a whole lot less cute once we hit the double digits. Or it could be because that’s when my parents launched their small business and were so wiped out that we stopped spending time together as a family.
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October 18, 2017
Othalafehu’s old post about a problematic sibling surfaced on my radar recently, reminding me of a memory that struck me a few weeks ago.
I think I was 18 at the time this happened. I had been working at my post-high school job for over a year and had become one of the most reliable staff. The power of youth, by the way, is one of the few reasons I could power through my chronic pain. It’s heady stuff!
The office manager sat me down one day, asking me to weigh in on an application. This being totally out of the norm, I was puzzled. Then I was horrified. She revealed that it was my brother who had applied, and would I have a problem working with my sibling?
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August 30, 2017
I see some form of this question off and on in the various forums I haunt.
We’re in an Extra Hustle chapter of our lives this year and are hanging on by the skin of our teeth: all our conversations revolve around how we’re going to survive the coming day (taking shortcuts, cutting or trading errands and commitments) and the house. I’m sick unto death of discussing house stuff nonstop but we still have a ways to go.
When we’re not, we manage with just the two of us. Our family members with kids all have at least one grandparent actively supporting them, on a daily or weekly basis, if not both sets of grandparents. That’s never been the case for us, and a few years back, I was pretty freaked out about the prospect. I had to mull it over for years. No amount of reassurance allayed my worry.
In the true spirit of my alma mater, I had to learn by doing.
Childcare
Daycare: JuggerBaby is in daycare five days a week. For nearly $2000 a month, they’re open from 6:30 to 6:30 which is highly flexible for both of us, though we run late enough that we’re occasionally rushing in before they’re closing.
To save money ze was enrolled part time for almost a year. Full time is awesome. Ze loves it, I preserve energy. PiC was the sole chauffeur because it was on his way to work, but after ze started full time we compromised. I now go out of my way at least weekly to drop off and pick up so that he can have a bit more freedom those days.
Babysitting: We’ve struggled to find anyone in the right age group to watch JB. We ended up hiring a daycare teacher to pinch hit on occasion. We tend to avoid babysitting in small part because this year has been amazingly expensive on the home front but also because we tend not to prioritize going out. That’s not JB’s fault, though, we’re staying-in types.
I do feel it’s important that we hire zir at least quarterly to make sure we’re still considered clients, though!
Bonus help: Very occasionally, we have house guests who also love playing with zir. This gives us an odd hour of reprieve now and again. Our most recent house guest was an absolute unlooked-for godsend – he would always play with JB when ze charged out of bed in the morning or stampeded home at night. This happened at a rather crucial time in our household and freed us up to discuss decisions that had to be made quickly and jointly.
Parenting
This is distinctly different from childcare which is not a replacement for parenting. Childcare is a critical supplement to our lives and I’m thrilled there are so many people who love JB outside of zir own little family but it’s our job to raise our child.
We’ve joked that I’m always the Bad Cop, he’s the Fun Cop. This is true. But we both remain responsible for being patient, disciplinarians, and educators. Sometimes one of us can’t keep it together, and the other has to step in. Thank goodness there are two of us because whoooo that child can push our buttons.
Careers
We’ve both earned promotion and raises in the past 3 years – the same three years that include my pregnancy and the first two years of JB’s life. It’s not to say that I haven’t taken a hit for motherhood, I have. It still pisses me off. PiC didn’t take a similar hit. I realize that it has a lot to do with the size of our shops so I’m willing to consider that might have been an isolated incident, if I don’t see signs of that issue being repeated.
We’ve made huge adjustments to our jobs and haven’t suffered unduly for it: we work fewer hours, became more efficient. We fit in work around the odd shape our lives take, force our schedules to be flexible and we’ve both taken hits on our productivity. We rotate who takes those hits by prioritizing very specifically for what’s important to our jobs.
Important ground rules makes this work.
Pre-children, my work hours were sacrosanct. I wouldn’t take a single personal phone call during my work day. Now, I walk the dog, run two errands, get back at my desk to clear my emails and guide my staff all in the morning. Rinse and repeat for the afternoon! PiC never had that rule but he also can’t bring home 90% of his work, so when he has to work in the evenings, I cover bedtime to give him time. For my part, I once worked 7 days a week, and late every night, so now I only work week nights if it’s critical.
We’ve been lucky that even while growing in our roles, we haven’t increased our travel time. Heck, I’ve minimized my travel over the years, which is the opposite of many senior roles in management. This may not last so I cherish it.
My chauffeur days are scheduled on days that PiC usually needs the coverage. There’s an implicit understanding that if I’m feeling 14/10 pain or fatigue those days, he takes over. There’s also an explicit promise that he doesn’t get to make that decision for me, I have to. The problem we ran into was that he was trying to look out for me, and didn’t trust that I would ask for a pass if I needed it. He wasn’t wrong that I avoided it but it was because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t over-extend himself trying to spare me. We were both well-intentioned but stupid. This agreement works better – I have to make the call and he rolls with it. If he can’t accommodate, then we’ll figure something else out.
The person who has a meeting or phone call gets priority. If he’s running late for work, and he’s driving – that sucks. But if he’s running late and has a meeting – I take over and chauffeur. For me, we only clear the decks for the important calls. Not all of them are and those calls don’t get the same consideration. I also schedule more of my calls for the afternoon to keep our mornings calmer.
This helps us make decisions on the fly because we both struggled with being over-accommodating. Much trial and error, and a few spats over misunderstanding, got us to this point. Now we have a better handle on what’s grumbling about running late and what’s truly important.
I firmly believe that, like alcohol, being a parent just brings out that which was strong in ourselves anyway. I guarantee that we didn’t always get out the door on time when it was just the two of us either!
Around the house
Most non driving days include tidying, cooking dinner, and doing laundry in addition to my regular 9-to-5 work. PiC prepares all breakfasts and lunches. On my chauffeur days, I do our grocery shopping – produce is best on weekday mornings! But I don’t take on additional housework. Unless I feel like it. Sometimes the soul needs to do laundry before it can process another stupid email.
Ideally, PiC should hit the gym on my driving days but sometimes he just gets more work done. That’s his call but once in a while I will press him to make sure to get that workout in – it’s better for our mental health.
Dog walking, feeding, medicating, twice a day, five days a week: me.
Final evening and weekend walks: him.
Wash and put away dishes: both.
Swiffers: mostly him.
Vacuuming: mostly me.
Trash, recycling: mostly him.
Money mgmt: all me.
Clearing the table: JB
Car maintenance: all him.
Putting away groceries: All of us. No one touch the yogurt or JB will have a fit, though, that’s zir job.
JB is responsible for giving Seamus his evening treat, throwing away Seamus’s trash, putting laundry in the wash, and wiping up spills.
Whoever uses the last of something is responsible for refilling it and too darn bad if you’re the one who hit the end of the cooking oil five times in a row, you refill it (AKA me). PiC runs all the other physical errands (getting gas, bathing the dog, stopping at the store, etc). We maintain a reasonably clean and near-tidy home, no one’s looking for Housekeeper of the Year awards on the back of anyone else’s labor.
The point is that we operate on the good faith that neither of us are looking to dump work on the other.
The friends and family plan
Outside of our family life, I work hard at maintaining friendships and like-family-ships. I choose to eliminate toxic people from our lives intentionally, and likewise intentionally dedicate time and support to good people.
When things are temporarily out of whack for us at home, with work or each other, or JuggerBaby is taxing our patience to the very limit, this outside support keeps us upright. This keeps us from boiling over at each other and causing real, permanent harm, and gives us much needed perspective.
The lessons we’ve learned in getting here
- Learn to speak up when we need to change part of the routine, whether we want to introduce change or not.
- Have conversations in the moment, not confrontations after you built a head of steam.
- Prioritize! You WANT to get fifty seven things done. You NEED to get ten of them done today.
- Look for ways to relieve your partner’s burdens and volunteer. Your partner should do the same.
Being proactive means that you can have faith that no one is dumping work on the other and that you’re both doing your best. Or trust, rather, since I don’t believe in operating on blind faith. Your partner is who your partner is – can you trust them to be your best advocate? I can. PiC always looks out for my best interests and I do my best for him. With that trust, resentment can’t get a toehold.
:: What does balance look like for you? How do you create balance in your life or relationships? What’s the toughest part of finding your balance?
April 26, 2017
Veterinary issues aside, and we have had MANY, Seamus is as near to perfect a dog as we could ask for. He often tricks me into thinking we could have another dog – if only we could duplicate what makes him so perfect!
This month has been a roller coaster of trying to treat an eye problem that stubbornly refuses to respond to the normal medication regimen. If he doesn’t improve by the end of this week, we may have to take him to an eye specialist. This doesn’t come at a good time for our money, of course, nor is it a good thing for him because if it gets worse, it gets a lot worse. I don’t think he or I could take any more misery – he’s sad enough that he won’t even destroy his new plush toy! As a canary in the mine goes, the canary is mostly dead.
I spent days on Seamus Don’t-Rub-Your-Eyes!-Watch until I found this KONG Cloud E-Collar. It’s the first version of an e-collar that hasn’t made Seamus go gorilla-mode and rip it to pieces. Apparently the Cone of Shame is one humiliation too many for the otherwise perfect pupper.
Don’t get me wrong – this looks ridiculous too, enough so that JuggerBaby insists that we take it off for his walks: “No pee-yo!” But it’s soft and he doesn’t hate it with every fiber of his being. It also doesn’t catch on things and serves as a useful bumper when he veers too close to walls and furniture with his rheumy eyes. When the Velcro is loose, he knows that he can take it off and use it for a pillow if I’m sure he won’t rub his eyes. All in all, the best $14 spent this month. In addition to the $450 in exams and medications. :/
Meanwhile! Rather than fret myself to pieces waiting for healing to happen all week, I’m choosing to focus on why I adore him.
Endless patience, plus boundaries
He allows JuggerBaby to festoon him with necklaces, or blankets, or lean on him affectionately. He puts up with a certain amount of rudeness, that ze is immediately reprimanded for by the adults, without more than a blink or two. But in all of his tolerance, he doesn’t stick around long enough for zir push him to the point of being angry, or even irritated. When it’s clear that his fur might be ruffled, he simply and calmly gets up and leaves.
Snap your fingers obedience…
If he understands your command or intent, he obeys immediately. Try shouting stop to him at his most focused on something else moments. I field tested this the other day when he threw his own ball into the middle of the street, as I held back a flailing JuggerBaby from chasing it too. I hollered STOP NOW and boy if that dog didn’t skid to a stop like he hit an invisible brick wall! It was better than a crash test dummy situation, and for my blood pressure. I’ve seen dogs chase their balls into the street and right under the wheels of an oncoming vehicle, it’s the worst sound in the world.
You can trust him with your food at all times – he doesn’t touch your food when he’s told to “leave it.” I’ve literally put his food in front of him, told him to wait and stay, left the room, and come back later to find him standing in the exact same position, gently wagging his tail with a smile. Just waiting, as told! This is
… and helpful to boot
When I was pregnant and half mobile, he learned to come over to lend me the strength of his steady back, so I could lever myself up. The habit’s stuck with him. When he thinks I’m too sick to get up, he comes over, sniffs my head and offers his back for me to get up.
Sweetest of dispositions…
There’s not a thing that could make Seamus do more than rumble at me when he’s grouchy that I refuse to feed him three meals in an hour. I’ve clipped his nails, cleaned his ears, wiped his bum, examined every inch of his body right side up and upside down, bathed him 4 times a week battling his allergies, and brought home a surprise infant. He’s never fazed or anything but loving and loyal.
In the course of his tenure here, he deferred to Doggle with the greatest respect, and never ventured to do more than snuggle by his side since Doggle didn’t know how to dog.
Despite constant little provocations, Seamus has never reacted poorly to any of JuggerBaby’s pokes, prods, or licking. The most he’s done is rolled his eyes at me in a mute appeal for help, with his ears slightly flattened. Part of this is because he knows I’m alpha and will intervene so he doesn’t have to lash out but really, getting my toes pinched or my ear tweaked would irritate me more than he’s ever shown. It DOES, in fact, since ze does that to me too.
… and protective as anything
Don’t come near his sibling, though, being loud or raucous. Ze might be an obnoxious little twerp sibling but ze is HIS sibling.
And don’t come to our house being rowdy, banging on the door, that’s completely unacceptable behavior and his booming barks let you know without a doubt that he doesn’t tolerate that nonsense. His booms surprise me, even, it’s rare to hear them!
I love my dog.
:: Regale me with tales of your favorite beloved pets, would you?
March 22, 2017
Parents typically gush that having babies is a life-changer. They’re not wrong, but it’s a toss-up whether they mean in a good way or a bad way. Might depend on the day(s) they’ve had.
Two years on, I’m still happy that we made the choice to try for our kidlet and confirm that it’s transformed our lives in many unpredictable ways, and a few predictable ways though I wouldn’t have admitted it was possible years ago.
Clothing
I’ve frumped around, making do with my existing closet minus a few pieces of generously gifted maternity clothes, since getting pregnant in 2014.
This isn’t out of the norm for me. I tend to stick to the tried-and-true even when it stops working, sartorially, so it’s a self improvement project to do better at this. It doesn’t mean cycle through the latest trends with every season, nor become a wasteful consumer. Never that. Just making an effort to form a more classic and therefore all seasons wardrobe, as an adult might do.
The past 6 months, I started adding some essentials: 2 pairs of flats, replacing 3 pairs that have worn out or hurt my feet, 2 tops, and PiC replaced a couple pairs of trousers that were too dreadful.
I’ve focused on removing things first. After that, I’ll hunt down some basics that will work for my combo career and mom roles.
I look for high quality, now. I can stand the thought of spending more knowing that it will truly last me years of good wear. Of course, the same can be said for that handful of shirts bought cheaply 15 years ago that just won’t die. I can’t just toss clothes that still have wear in them, but they’re so old and don’t quite fit right anymore!
Social life
Never a partier before, I’ve morphed into even more of a homebody since JuggerBaby. It’s a lot of energy conservation and a little bit of disinterest. I’d LIKE to go out for a show or a spontaneous overnight trip sometimes, but it’s never appealing enough to try and find a sitter, or prep another meal in advance. I’m too easily entertained at home, and much more easily tired out by week’s end.
Some of this shift had already started between aging and with dog ownership. With a senior dog, you can’t just take off spontaneously if you don’t have reliable friends or family you regularly trade favors with. Back in the SoCal days, I could. My family could feed and walk the dogs if I took off to NYC for a week, but here it’d be boarding Seamus for $400 plus prepping all his food and his medications. Life was simpler in my 20s, though certainly poorer.
We have become friends with the parents of JuggerBaby’s bestie, though, and that was a nice surprise. My parents were never friends with the parents of my friends, and we only spent time with family during holidays and weekends, so this is new to me but it’s a good way to build a new network of support when all our family lives hundreds of miles away.
When pregnant, I refused to make friends with other moms solely because we were gravid together on the grounds that I didn’t want to, but also because I wasn’t prepared to invest time and energy into caring for a relationship that didn’t have staying power. I need to observe a person around their family and friends, and see how they care for them, to see what kind of person they are.
Eating habits
We trend towards healthy eating but I continue to have my vices, in small doses. I demolished PiC’s bag of Micro Snickers today, and every couple of weeks we get a box of delicious buttered, sugared pastries that I have to force myself to share. Chocolate lasts much longer in our fridge than it used to, though. This is clear evidence that I’m simply nowhere near the stress levels I used to marinate in.
Time Management
This has to be the biggest change of all. Before JuggerBaby arrived, I was pretty convinced that we could stay homebodies and introverts, even with kids. WRONG.
Our weekends are now centered around keeping JuggerBaby busy, for survival. Ze has ten times our energy so we have to keep the kid running. We take zir grocery shopping, to the park, to the errands that ze can help us with. Adult-only things like medical appointments or work are done during the last remaining afternoon nap. PiC always feels awful about ditching me for the gym when ze is awake, even when I say it’s totally ok, so any work I have to do, and any working out he wants to do, has to happen during zir nap.
I do miss the two-nap schedule sometimes.
With the two-nap schedule, I could have a nap and get work done, one per nap.
Overall
Even with a toddler on the rampage trying to eat the dog’s treats, and a senior dog with periodic health surprises, my life is more pleasant and rage-free than twelve years ago. Surprise! I have found some Zen.
:: Did you grow up in a children- or family-centric community? Did your parents welcome the changes you wrought in their lives?
February 15, 2017
The story of my money and my family goes back to the very start of this blog. I wanted to be independent for my own sake, but also wanted to take care of them as they had me. I wanted to support them until they got back on their feet.
More than ten long years of striving later, the truth of today is hard to swallow. My dad isn’t who he once was. He’s not the person I dedicated half my life to helping. He’s become, maybe as a result of my taking on so much responsibility, someone who lies to me, and takes from me. Because he’s not working with me, for his own benefit, but rather working against me, I have to step away from this relationship even more. He’s not just undermining my efforts, he’s damaging my ability to trust people, all over again.
This truth has lain heavy on my heart for months, for years. It hasn’t set me free, I didn’t know what I could do with this revelation.
In all these years, I’ve kept this a secret from the rest of the family. I didn’t share my challenges, or discuss Dad’s actions, I just took care of business. It was my other way of protecting them – I didn’t want them to look bad in front of their siblings. It wasn’t something they asked me to do but it felt, much like writing anonymously, it was just the right thing to do. Take care of your business and don’t share that with people outside the family. Heck, I barely learned to let PiC in on the secret, in no small part, due to the scars it left.
Walking Seamus in the dusk, ground wet from the (drought-breaking?) rain last week, I finally felt overwhelmed. After all the struggle, when confronted with a need to move, I find that honoring my responsibilities has left us with the choice of no choice at all. To change living situations, we have to make financial commitments that eliminate even the possibility of asking whether I want more kids. We can’t afford to have that answer be yes. We can’t afford to take on foster kids, we can’t adopt more dogs, we can’t afford to add to our family in any way.
With that frustrating realization, something in me dissolved. That last bit of pride fell right out of me and I called my aunt.
Not my rich aunt, I don’t have one of those. My poor aunt, the one who still knows what it’s like to struggle because she still works every day plus weekends to provide for her family, putting off retirement for another couple of years so she can be sure her kids make it through their internship years.
I asked her if she had a minute. I asked if she might talk to my dad about his housing situation, and convince him to apply for housing assistance. He should be eligible. For more than five years, he’d been telling me that he always intended to move out now that Mom’s gone but he’s done nothing. We think that he doesn’t want to move to a more affordable place because he’s tied to Mom’s memories there. It’s the only way I can see us squeezing any more money out of our budget – we’re currently footing the bill for his rent and utilities, all of which add up to well over a thousand dollars a month but I can’t very well push him again without coming off like a total jerk.
What she had to say shocked me.
Not only did she already know what I’ve been doing all this time, she’s talked to (at) Dad in the past already. She and the other aunts have always helped a bit as they can – bringing by food, or clothes when they spot a great bargain, but they can’t tackle his living expenses. This I knew.
What I didn’t know was that while doing so, she’s told him that grieving Mom is one thing, and his right, but he has to attend to the living as well. If he loves me, as he should, he shouldn’t let his grief for someone who is gone override his love for the person who’s still here working her tuchus off. He should be looking for ways to ease the burden on me. She and her family love me, unconditionally, and it’s clear to them that he needs to be making better choices, my support notwithstanding. He’s not, she says, “realistic.” That’s a very accurate assessment. He’s never had to learn to live with our poverty, not really. He’s always had me to cushion the financial hits, to pinch the pennies, and Mom did it before me. It’s past time that he starts making better choices, and nothing I’ve said has ever made a difference. She’s agreed to try to talk to him about it.
I don’t expect results immediately, maybe not at all, but the confession, and hearing someone in the family agree with me and offer to support me, was unexpectedly hard. You’d think it’d be harder to go solo – but I’m used to that. I’m NOT used to being vulnerable enough for someone to offer help.
Choked up, I confessed, I’m not sure that he loves me, judging by his choices. It’s a hard thing to say out loud and I thought it didn’t matter, but it does. The knowledge makes it much harder to continue to give and sacrifice freely, even if money wasn’t an issue.
While I can’t (won’t) put him out on the street, I must pull back on some of the bills we pay. With someone, another elder, willing to push him to live more prudently, and make changes, I can take steps to minimize the financial harm. He’s more likely to give into that pressure.
Whether it’s because of the shaming fact of my going to his sibling, or that he’s more willing to listen to her, it appears that he already has given in.
For 5 years, he’s said my sibling refused to apply for disability assistance which would include housing support to pay for the rent that I’ve been footing. I don’t disbelieve that, but I don’t necessarily believe he’d done all he could, either. Mere days after my aunt said she would step in, they started the application and approval process. I can’t know if the magic was my aunt stepping in, for certain, but the timing is certainly telling.
We need to save every bit that we can now, and he needs to make ends meet on his own eventually, with or without sibling. It’ll take months for the process to be completed. Then we’ll see if I see a penny of that housing assistance without becoming a bill collector but this is the first step toward that goal.
Wish me luck?
:: Have you ever had to make a tough love decision? Tell me about it?
