The New Girl In Town

I have a very yummy - and natural! - kettle corn giveaway here!

***

Growing up, I moved around a lot. Well, somewhat a lot - I know people who moved way more than me, but ... point being we moved six times before I hit the fourth grade. Generally, I was fine with that. I always loved exploring new places and meeting new friends and the like. I'm lucky that way.

It was slightly different when I moved to that new school in fourth grade though. While my parents are by no means poor, we are absolutely not conspicuously wealthy either. The Catholic school they sent me to? Wow.

The conversations - at fourth grade - were about the pool at the country club, the boating they did on the weekend, the designer jeans, etc etc.

And me? I had no country club. I'd never been on a boat. And jeans? Ha! My conservative mom had never bought me any. I honestly didn't own a pair.

As I started to see the lay of the land, I began begging my mom for some of these things - not realizing the cost of a country club membership or how far out of reach that would be. We never did join that country club. And we never got a boat.

On the plus side, we became really good friends with a couple people who had a boat who invited us on it regularly. And I became good friends with a couple of girls who also didn't do the boating thing (by choice) where it wasn't a focus.

Since it was the 80's, once I convinced my mom to buy me some Jordache jeans, I eventually learned how to roll them up properly so that I fit in. Mostly.

But oh that terror in my heart, the fear that seized me and froze me when the girls would start to talk and then just ... look at me. Waiting for me to contribute. And in the fourth grade, I didn't have anything to contribute.

It was the hardest time I ever had fitting in, and my mom didn't get it. I was reminded of this struggle when reading Girl in Translation recently by Jean Kwok (which I highly recommend reading - loved, loved, loved this book). In the end, I found my place in that school and in that town, but it was so different from anything I'd experienced prior to that.

And honestly? It was probably a very healthy eye-opening experience. For me to see the difference in people so starkly, to see the focus on wealth and learn how to deal with it when I ... wasn't quite in their league, I think made me a far stronger and happier person.

It allowed me the happiness to buy a house that we can afford rather than stretching. And it allowed me the courage to finally quit my job to stay home with the wee ones - a far more important job, anyway.

What lessons has your childhood taught you?

This post is a part of is Silicon Valley Mom's Blog book club. Go check out what this book inspired in other moms. I received a copy of the book to inspire my post (and highly recommend it), but this is not a review, nor did I receive any compensation for writing this post.

Childhood Scars

A quick interruption before the post... I still have three giveaways going on. Enter to win a week of summer day camp for ages 5-12 here, a fun Shrek-tacular prize pack here, or a $25 Wal-Mart gift card here.

***

Growing up was always something exciting to me. I remember anxiously awaiting the first day of school when I would get to go to kindergarten, when I got to be a Girl Scout, shaving my legs for the first time - all of them were moments I longed for. Being a grownup was always something full of such mystique for me, and I couldn't wait for it.

I know I'm not alone in this, and the first day of high school, passing the driver's test, going to college, getting married - all those are milestone we look forward to. For most of us, it's only after we've passed these milestones that we look back and realize that maybe the race to grow up didn't need to be quite that much of a focus.

A book I read recently led me to think about this - about how today we're forcing kids to grow up earlier and earlier, and how much they're missing out. I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali with Delphinne Minoui really brought it home - a ten year old girl, already married and divorced, forced by her circumstances to grow up faster than any child ever should.

The recent video with the dancing seven year olds is another example, although at least (and it's hard for me to even qualify this) - at least their loss of innocence wasn't nearly so visceral.

For me, I was lucky for the most part. I may have moved around a lot as a kid when my dad was transferred, but I was fine with that. My parents loved me, and they didn't put too much pressure on me to grow up any more than behaving in front of company.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, though, and there are some things where I can still see the scars - relatively minor as the psychological damage may have been.

When I was eight, my mom left my dad and we moved to a small condo where I remember helping my mom clip coupons. I don't remember a ton about that period, but clipping the coupons has stayed with me, along with my mom searching for work and driving a tiny, used two door Ford Escort - the cheapest car she could find. The fear of not having enough money and even of spending has stayed with me since then.

In some ways, this isn't a bad thing, as I've never had any debt problems and do a great job of saving money (hey, it's how we can afford to have me stay home with my husband as a school teacher). However, my reluctance to spend money is sometimes irrational and causes me to miss out on experiences or things that I really ought to - or could - enjoy.

My parents did get back together after less than a year, and they're still together today. When I was twelve, though, I had another experience that still scars me today. My dad went into rehab for alcoholism (successfully, I might add), but it was traumatic at the time. My parents never really did a great job explaining it to me, although I remember my mom sitting my sister and I down and telling us she had some news and then asking us what the first thing Daddy did when he got home from work each night - that's what stuck with me. After our numerous wrong answers (take off his tie, I remember was one of mine), my mom reminded us that he got a drink ("Johnnie Walker, Red and water" my sister and I chirped in a sing-song voice that looking back tells me we maybe saw far too much).

Dating through and after college, that fear stuck with me. I'm not a big drinker, and I never have been (hey - couple a fear of spending money with a fear of becoming alcoholic, and you have someone who doesn't drink much). I never understood the joys of going out to get drunk, and I probably never will.

And I was, and maybe still am, paranoid about that regular drink, like that's the proof that whoever I'm dating is on their way to becoming an alcoholic and recreating the situation my mom faced. Granted, there were a couple guys I dated who probably did achieve that, but most of them? They had no issues - I was the one who had an issue, and inevitably it became an issue in the relationship.

What "happened" to me - or rather, the events of my childhood? Minor. Completely off the radar compared to what it could be. And yet, I can see the impact they had on the person I am today.

Now I try to picture the person I would be today if I were married and divorced by eight years old. And I can't. I can't imagine the scars I'd have, the fear I'd have, the issues I'd face. And it breaks my heart to know that Nujood has yet to grow up to realize the scars she bears - and to know that she is far from alone, that childhood marriage is a regular occurence yet in certain parts of the world.

And if you'll excuse me, I have two children I need to go hug. And some childhoods I need to preserve.

I received the book "I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced" as a member of the Silicon Valley Moms Book Club. There was no compensation involved. Be sure to check out what other SV Moms had on their minds while reading about Nujood.

It's All Coming To A Head

I've been on a leave from work for almost nine weeks now - since March 1. It doesn't seem like it's been nine weeks, but May 17, I am scheduled to report back to work.

This has been my big change to experience, in a safe way, how I would do staying at home with the wee ones - and how they'd do with me at home. I had tried this route before three years ago and failed miserably.

A lot of that failure had to do with the fact that I had gone from 500mph to zero, with a toddler and infant (who was very mobile) who couldn't be left alone long enough for me to go to the bathroom. We had just moved, and I didn't know anyone nor did I have any activities for myself or the wee ones.

This time around, I've been working part time three days a week - and two of those from home. I am involved in the wee ones' schools, in my church, in neighborhood organizations and more. I have a routine for myself and for the wee ones. Theoretically, staying at home should be easier.

My grand images of having tons of time to tackle my miles long to do list? Shattered.

That doesn't mean that I've gotten nothing done, however. I've been a regular at the gym. I've managed the preschool fundraiser that will be complete this coming Wednesday. I've started the process of remodeling our master bathroom. I've cooked a lot more (which I enjoy). Oddly, I'm home less than what I was when I was working, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Staying home means giving up a huge portion of my family's income, as well as the good insurance from my job (he's a teacher - even working part time, I out earn him). I won't be able to get a position like what I have again, especially in this economy. I have a career that I'd essentially be throwing away, and for the most part, it's been on that I've really enjoyed.

But then I read a book by a working mom who talks about the balance she has in her life and keeping sane. She looks at her life with a great deal of humor, and it works for her. Some of the quotes really stuck with me, however.

Ravage of Time: The damage you inflict on those around you when you find yourself with too much to do and not enough time to get it all done. It's no accident that I rarely yell at my kids or snap at my husband unless I am late or overwhelmed by a to-do list that seems to have no end.

And it hit me. This is what I do. When I'm less stressed by deadlines and things I can't control, I'm more in control and calm. With my wee ones - especially Mister Man - being in control and calm is critical to having a productive day. And working - even part time (or maybe because it's part time?) - is stressful. I'm never fully home or fully working. Because I have a foot in both worlds, both worlds expect my all. And I can't give 110% to two different places. I'm lucky when I'm giving 80% to one!

I'm pretty sure now that I will be remaining a stay-at-home mom. It seems to be what's working better for my family. We're all happier these past two months, and happiness is what's most important, not who has the biggest bank account.

The trick for me now is to make sure in my head that I'm really sure this is the direction I want to take, since I won't be able to change my mind. And then I need to figure out how to tell my work that I won't be coming back. Do I tell them now? Do I offer to come in for one last day? What about all my work from home equipment? And at what point do I lose my health insurance and need to ensure I'm covered by my husband?

But most of all? I feel like a weight has been lifted. The confirmation that I'm seeking started coming through stronger and stronger the more of Kristin van Ogtrop's Just Let Me Lie Down I read. While being a 55 hour a week working mom with three boys is the path that she chose and the option that (no pun intended) works best for her, I shied away mentally from many of her anecdotes. That life was so unappealing to me now.

So let's see how I'm doing in another six months!

This post was inspired by the book Kristin van Ogtrop's "Just Let Me Lie Down" which I received from the SV Moms Group Book Club. There was no compensation nor review involved.