I would like to point out that this poor ass woman who can't take care of her kid (OBVIOUSLY) just opened up a Roth IRA today.
The old company I worked for was selling off the pension plans for eligible employees, and I opted for the cash-out. Some of it I kept, yeah, for house remodeling and possibly taxes (because there'll be a penalty and then MN will want their cut), but I reinvested most of it. I'm not even going to consider that it exists. It is "free" money, it is for retirement, and I will probably add to it over the years.
Yeah, I fail at providing for my son and for the future. All the way.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
breathe in, breathe out
On Sunday, at my son's BIRTHDAY party, I announced to my brothers that I was going off birth control. Erik and I are HAPPY about this. We've talked extensively about this, so it's not like we're stumbling blindly. We are parents already, we know what it entails, the trials and tribulations and sacrifices.
Yet my one brother, T, managed to somehow insult us on so many levels, with the underlying basis being concern, that it's hard to believe. When the hell did T become so absolutely tactless?
See, here are some things:
*Boo is on the WIC program. It supplements his daily diet. It certainly doesn't complete it by any stretch of the imagination.
*Our house is under ongoing construction, and it will for a very long time. We make progress as we can afford to, as we have time to do so. We refuse to go into debt over things we can manage ourselves, even if it makes life more inconvenient for a while.
From those TWO things, apparently we will not be capable of providing for another child. Except that WIC is benefiting Boo (and, before, it was benefiting me, as I was nursing Boo! I think that meant we were saving money by not having to buy formula...). And a perfect home does NOT mean a happy home. Our house is one of Chaos, but it's a happy house where we live and love and laugh and don't stress out too much about spilled food or drink. Our house has character.
Another insult was the implication that Erik and I are not on the same page. T was incredulous that Erik was a willing partner in this upcoming baby-making business. So, hey, thanks for implying that my MARRIAGE and PARTNERSHIP is as messy as my house. (At one point it was, but after thirteen years together, we have been tempered by fire and emerged victorious.)
Oh, and hey T, thanks for making assumptions about our financials and our actual situation before making a judgment call. And our situation, last time I checked, is vastly different than three years ago. Thanks for treating me like an idiot child because I obviously just don't know any better. Except, well, I do.
My pregnancy with Boo was not an easy one. I had edema. I developed carpal tunnel. Sure, I didn't throw up or have incapacitation heartburn, but it was not fun all the same. And I got a similar lecture from T back then about the house needing to be in order and whatnot. Except that back then it was apparently okay for me to be having a child...
Yeah, I don't get it, either.
I can understand that he's concerned. He's my brother, after all. I'm concerned about him, too. But, well, I would not tell him my concerns, and in such an asshole-ish (yes, asshole-ish) manner, at his son's birthday party. No matter how shocked any news made me. Some day he's going to have to realize that I am grown up. And some day he's going to have to figure out what he needs to do to make himself happy because he obviously isn't now. A nice house, nice cars, big tvs, blue-ray, a wonderful wife, two dogs, and a son... It's just not enough. Yet I have a Chaotic house, cars that run, a decent sized tv, plain dvds, a wonderful husband, four cats, and a son, and it's enough. I seriously do love my life, and it's taken me a good 30 years+ to get here.
Hail Eris.
Yet my one brother, T, managed to somehow insult us on so many levels, with the underlying basis being concern, that it's hard to believe. When the hell did T become so absolutely tactless?
See, here are some things:
*Boo is on the WIC program. It supplements his daily diet. It certainly doesn't complete it by any stretch of the imagination.
*Our house is under ongoing construction, and it will for a very long time. We make progress as we can afford to, as we have time to do so. We refuse to go into debt over things we can manage ourselves, even if it makes life more inconvenient for a while.
From those TWO things, apparently we will not be capable of providing for another child. Except that WIC is benefiting Boo (and, before, it was benefiting me, as I was nursing Boo! I think that meant we were saving money by not having to buy formula...). And a perfect home does NOT mean a happy home. Our house is one of Chaos, but it's a happy house where we live and love and laugh and don't stress out too much about spilled food or drink. Our house has character.
Another insult was the implication that Erik and I are not on the same page. T was incredulous that Erik was a willing partner in this upcoming baby-making business. So, hey, thanks for implying that my MARRIAGE and PARTNERSHIP is as messy as my house. (At one point it was, but after thirteen years together, we have been tempered by fire and emerged victorious.)
Oh, and hey T, thanks for making assumptions about our financials and our actual situation before making a judgment call. And our situation, last time I checked, is vastly different than three years ago. Thanks for treating me like an idiot child because I obviously just don't know any better. Except, well, I do.
My pregnancy with Boo was not an easy one. I had edema. I developed carpal tunnel. Sure, I didn't throw up or have incapacitation heartburn, but it was not fun all the same. And I got a similar lecture from T back then about the house needing to be in order and whatnot. Except that back then it was apparently okay for me to be having a child...
Yeah, I don't get it, either.
I can understand that he's concerned. He's my brother, after all. I'm concerned about him, too. But, well, I would not tell him my concerns, and in such an asshole-ish (yes, asshole-ish) manner, at his son's birthday party. No matter how shocked any news made me. Some day he's going to have to realize that I am grown up. And some day he's going to have to figure out what he needs to do to make himself happy because he obviously isn't now. A nice house, nice cars, big tvs, blue-ray, a wonderful wife, two dogs, and a son... It's just not enough. Yet I have a Chaotic house, cars that run, a decent sized tv, plain dvds, a wonderful husband, four cats, and a son, and it's enough. I seriously do love my life, and it's taken me a good 30 years+ to get here.
Hail Eris.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
metamorphasis
Y'know, this whole bullying thing has been paraded around lately... Tonight at work I got to thinking about my childhood. I guess I was bullied, but I didn't consider it bullying, really. Upon closer inspection, yeah, yeah I was. You'd think I'd be bitter about it, and I was for a long, long time, but I really like the person who I am today. If I hadn't endured a rough upbringing, I would be someone else.
There's a tendency in my mind to gloss most of it over. In fourth grade, one girl had all the other girls shun me - at lunch, at recess, at break-times. All because she THOUGHT I'd said something absolutely horrible and wicked and nasty, and as clueless and naive as I was at age TEN, I wouldn't have ever said it. Her mother had multiple sclerosis and was slowly dying. She and her one sister were living with their aunt while her OTHER sister and brother were living somewhere else. I can't even begin to imagine the hurt she was going through. But she thought I said that I at least had a mother, and so the shunning began. Even though every. single. girl. came up to me behind her back and said that they still liked me. This girl's clout was intense. I would go home and cry. I tried to bribe the girl with deeds, with offerings. I gave her a pair of awesome white boots with a fringe on the back, hoping she'd be my friend again. Eventually she did, but not after months of me feeling like crap.
This girl, Lindsey, was a catalyst for other awful things. Ripping up my friend Sarah's school photo (because didn't everyone hang those photos up in their locker, too?) to let her know that she wasn't my friend anymore, even though Sarah hadn't done ANYTHING. (Echoes of the past.)
Then the rough years: Poor, awkward, uncoordinated, prone to acne, desperate... Boys would bark at me while I walked down the halls. I hunkered down, did my school work, slogged on.
In 8th grade, the three girls* I hung out with regularly ditched me at the homecoming football game. And when I found them and confronted them, they just stood there and smiled. I used the school payphone to call my mom to come get me and I cried the whole way home. That same year, another group of girls whom I'd been hanging out with (after the first group shunned me) politely asked me not to sit with them at lunch anymore. Sadly, I knew that was coming. After a shunning or two, you just sense these things.
During all of these years, I had people sneer at me, put kick-me notes on my back, pretend to be nice to me while waiting for me to take the bait in order to use me as the butt of jokes, have me around to be the ugly friend, have me ask my mother to buy beer for them, make fun of my hair and my clothes, gyrate their groins in my face when I went to my locker, and call me all sorts of names.
In tenth grade, I took journalism. In the middle of tenth grade, I discovered theater. And then I was untouchable. I didn't care anymore. I found amazing people and did amazing things and I removed myself from the main. I didn't care that people called me a lesbian because I held hands with my best friend and wore a tie. I didn't care if my grades threw out the curve. It didn't matter.
So, you know what, I understand bullying. I know that kids are mean. Trust me. But, as an adult now, I also know that kids are mean because they are missing something. Lindsey was hurting because of her mother and her family life. Others were insecure and wanted to secure their place in the pack. Some were just plain jealous (and of what, I'm not sure). Fine, whatever. I am tempered steel forged by fire because of it. To this day, I'm not sure exactly what made me a target. What was it about me that made people want to figuratively push and shove?
But, thing is, I had a mother who always always ALWAYS took the time to wipe the tears off my face and stroke my hair and hug me and tell me I was beautiful and that it would be okay. I had two teachers who singled me out and encouraged me to be whatever I wanted, to do the impossible - Barb Roy and Jeanene Rethlake. I am so thankful for these three women. They believed in me. They made me realize that it would get better, that *I* was better. And then, of course, there was my drama family - Shannon, Levi, Jim, Jesse, Jenny, Sarah (yes, the same one as above)...
I had amazing support around me. I had people who cared. I could have turned out very different if I'd been alone or not believed or unloved, but I wasn't, so I'm not. I have forgiven every single person who made my life hell, who made me go home and cry after school, who made me feel like less of a person because of some THING which I can't pinpoint. Granted, it doesn't mean I want to be friends with all of them, but I can leave the awfulness behind me and move on. Because, you know what? I'm pretty damn awesome.
I have a wonderful life to lead, and now I have a wonderful son to raise. I want to do right by him. I want him to love the world, be prepared for pitfalls and, yes, bullies. I will do what I can, and if he comes home crying, I will believe him and my heart will break because I will understand.
~Trina
*(whom I eventually became friends with again, and to this day, they have proven themselves to be amazing women; I never asked why they treated me that way, and I don't even know if they'd remember, 19 years later. it's probably not even a moment as etched in their minds as it is in mine)
There's a tendency in my mind to gloss most of it over. In fourth grade, one girl had all the other girls shun me - at lunch, at recess, at break-times. All because she THOUGHT I'd said something absolutely horrible and wicked and nasty, and as clueless and naive as I was at age TEN, I wouldn't have ever said it. Her mother had multiple sclerosis and was slowly dying. She and her one sister were living with their aunt while her OTHER sister and brother were living somewhere else. I can't even begin to imagine the hurt she was going through. But she thought I said that I at least had a mother, and so the shunning began. Even though every. single. girl. came up to me behind her back and said that they still liked me. This girl's clout was intense. I would go home and cry. I tried to bribe the girl with deeds, with offerings. I gave her a pair of awesome white boots with a fringe on the back, hoping she'd be my friend again. Eventually she did, but not after months of me feeling like crap.
This girl, Lindsey, was a catalyst for other awful things. Ripping up my friend Sarah's school photo (because didn't everyone hang those photos up in their locker, too?) to let her know that she wasn't my friend anymore, even though Sarah hadn't done ANYTHING. (Echoes of the past.)
Then the rough years: Poor, awkward, uncoordinated, prone to acne, desperate... Boys would bark at me while I walked down the halls. I hunkered down, did my school work, slogged on.
In 8th grade, the three girls* I hung out with regularly ditched me at the homecoming football game. And when I found them and confronted them, they just stood there and smiled. I used the school payphone to call my mom to come get me and I cried the whole way home. That same year, another group of girls whom I'd been hanging out with (after the first group shunned me) politely asked me not to sit with them at lunch anymore. Sadly, I knew that was coming. After a shunning or two, you just sense these things.
During all of these years, I had people sneer at me, put kick-me notes on my back, pretend to be nice to me while waiting for me to take the bait in order to use me as the butt of jokes, have me around to be the ugly friend, have me ask my mother to buy beer for them, make fun of my hair and my clothes, gyrate their groins in my face when I went to my locker, and call me all sorts of names.
In tenth grade, I took journalism. In the middle of tenth grade, I discovered theater. And then I was untouchable. I didn't care anymore. I found amazing people and did amazing things and I removed myself from the main. I didn't care that people called me a lesbian because I held hands with my best friend and wore a tie. I didn't care if my grades threw out the curve. It didn't matter.
So, you know what, I understand bullying. I know that kids are mean. Trust me. But, as an adult now, I also know that kids are mean because they are missing something. Lindsey was hurting because of her mother and her family life. Others were insecure and wanted to secure their place in the pack. Some were just plain jealous (and of what, I'm not sure). Fine, whatever. I am tempered steel forged by fire because of it. To this day, I'm not sure exactly what made me a target. What was it about me that made people want to figuratively push and shove?
But, thing is, I had a mother who always always ALWAYS took the time to wipe the tears off my face and stroke my hair and hug me and tell me I was beautiful and that it would be okay. I had two teachers who singled me out and encouraged me to be whatever I wanted, to do the impossible - Barb Roy and Jeanene Rethlake. I am so thankful for these three women. They believed in me. They made me realize that it would get better, that *I* was better. And then, of course, there was my drama family - Shannon, Levi, Jim, Jesse, Jenny, Sarah (yes, the same one as above)...
I had amazing support around me. I had people who cared. I could have turned out very different if I'd been alone or not believed or unloved, but I wasn't, so I'm not. I have forgiven every single person who made my life hell, who made me go home and cry after school, who made me feel like less of a person because of some THING which I can't pinpoint. Granted, it doesn't mean I want to be friends with all of them, but I can leave the awfulness behind me and move on. Because, you know what? I'm pretty damn awesome.
I have a wonderful life to lead, and now I have a wonderful son to raise. I want to do right by him. I want him to love the world, be prepared for pitfalls and, yes, bullies. I will do what I can, and if he comes home crying, I will believe him and my heart will break because I will understand.
~Trina
*(whom I eventually became friends with again, and to this day, they have proven themselves to be amazing women; I never asked why they treated me that way, and I don't even know if they'd remember, 19 years later. it's probably not even a moment as etched in their minds as it is in mine)
Monday, November 1, 2010
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