Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Housewives

 

 (Post updated at the end)

I have been a stay at home mother for fourteen years.  I thought it was the best choice for my kids.  I still think it was the best choice for my kids.  But in 103 days (not that I'm counting) I'll be financially on my own with three children.

I am thoroughly unprepared for this.

My parents divorced when I was little.  My mother has always been the breadwinner.  I didn't grow up in a home where it was expected that I'd marry a nice man and stay home and raise children and be completely financially dependent on someone else.  I was raised with the expectation that I'd get an education and have a career and if a nice man and children were part of the picture, that would be lovely, too.

But the nice-man-and-children came along during the get-an-education  portion of my life plan, and I opted to forgo the have-a-career part.

And now here I am at nearly 38 years old looking at entering the workforce for the first time in fourteen years. With no skills.  Did I mention that part?  I mean, I have skills.  But I have no official training that would make me an appealing job candidate to an HR department.

Despite what the title may suggest, this isn't a post about working moms vs. stay at home moms.  This is a post about being prepared for the possibility that your choice to stay home might be taken away.

There are some of you reading this who are smugly sitting there thinking that your marriage is too good to ever end.  Your husband is too good a man and you're much too happy together.  Odds are, you're right.  But guess what?  I thought that too.

I have a dear friend whose only preparation is having a substantial amount of life insurance so that she doesn't have to worry about money if her husband dies.  I think that's a wise thing to do.  Except sometimes they don't die.  Sometimes they just turn out to be a really poor choice in a mate, and you don't discover that fact for a couple of decades.

I'm not suggesting that all women go out and join the workforce immediately.  But I am suggesting that all women who choose to stay at home also choose to prepare themselves for the possibility--no matter how impossible or remote they think the possibility is--of having to support themselves and their children.

Get an education. Learn a trade.  Do something.  My immediate future is limited.  There are only so many jobs I can do, and jobs in general are scarce.  I am facing the reality of free school lunch and food stamps, even with a job, because the type of job I can get will likely be minimum wage. It's a hit to the self esteem to know that I will have to rely on those programs for awhile. (Let me be clear--there is nothing shameful in needing to use those programs.  But when you have a Facebook feed full of friends posting self righteous posts about the person in line in front of them who is using food stamps but also has a nice smartphone and nice clothing, it can cause you to feel ashamed if you find yourself in that situation.  I have a nice smartphone.  It's far, far cheaper to keep it than to pay the fees for canceling my contract early.  I have nice clothing.  It was bought before I faced life on my own.)  (Side note: I really need to clean up my Facebook friend list.)

You wouldn't sail a boat out into the depths of the ocean without a life vest, even if you were positive the boat was too strong to sink.  I did, and now I'm treading water a very long way from shore, with three children holding onto me. When it takes all that you have to just keep your head above water, it's practically impossible to make any progress toward the shore.

Let me serve as your warning.

(Umm, also? If you happen to be someone hiring in the Baltimore/Annapolis/DC area, I can start June 3rd.)

****I am updating to clarify a few things in the post, as some concern about them was mentioned to me.  First, my husband will be paying child support.  He will also be paying alimony for two years, and will help out with other things when possible.  Second, it was my choice to have the kids most of the year.  I insisted on it, in fact. He did not run out on us.  It was a mutually agreed upon decision to divorce, and I am insisting the kids be with me for the school year. Third, when I said, "There are some of you reading this who are smugly sitting there thinking that your marriage is too good to ever end.  Your husband is too good a man and you're much too happy together.  Odds are, you're right.  But guess what?  I thought that too," I was not implying that he is not a good man. He is.  We had our problems, but he is a good man.  Fourth, he has asked us to follow him to his next assignment in Georgia and live there near him, which he feels will alleviate most of the financial problems I am facing. (For the record, I disagree, but that's for another discussion.). Fifth, I had a couple of ideas about work over the past few years (personal trainer and real estate) and he was supportive of those.
I wrote this post to talk about the necessity of women to be self sufficient.  I thought I had made it clear that *I* made choices that have made me not self sufficient and have limited my own prospects. Others saw this post differently, and I wanted to clarify.****

She wrote it, so I don't have to.

I normally don't just post a link, tell you to read it, and call it a post.  But I am today.  Please read this.  Then pretend I wrote it, because DITTO.  Ditto.  That's all I can say.

http://momastery.com/blog/2013/02/15/lover-of-the-light/

~Brandi

The post I never wanted to write

I've been sitting here staring at the blank page trying to figure out how to start this.  How to say this.  There's no clever or funny way to do it.

I am getting divorced.

Four very difficult and surreal words to write.

I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about the whys right now.  Eventually I will.  It's something that needs to come out of me--needs to be written.  But today isn't that day.

I can tell you this, though.  It was not a decision made lightly.  It was not a decision made quickly.  It was not a decision made easily.  It was not a decision made by me alone.

I know there are some of you out there who think divorce is never OK.  Who probably somewhere in the back of your mind think that we just didn't try hard enough.  That we are cutting and running because things got a little hard.  All I can say to you is that you are wrong.  And I hope you never find yourself in a situation that makes you realize how wrong you are.  Because it's a sad and lonely place to be.

We have been married just short of 16 years.  We have three great kids.  It takes more than things getting a little bit hard to end that.

I want to make it clear that it takes two people to end a marriage.  We both have played a part in this.  But we are not parting as enemies.  In many ways, we have become better friends since making this difficult decision than we have been in the 20 years we've known each other. And that is something really positive coming out of this.

Above all else, we are committed to doing what is best for our kids.  They're the ones bearing the brunt of the unfairness of the situation.  We are doing all we can to make it as easy on them as possible.

As time goes on, I'll be sharing more with you.  Please understand and respect that I can't do that right now.

And thank you.  Thank you for being here.  There are so many of you out there reading this and knowing about my life, and I don't know you.  But I know you're there.  And I can't respond to every e-mail I receive, but know that I personally read each one, and I am always so touched that you took the time to send it and tell me about yourselves.  I'm so lucky to have people read my words.  I just wanted you to know that I don't ever forget that when I hit publish, real people are reading what I have to say, and I thank you for sticking with me.

~Brandi

The perfect gift for the child you love, but whose parents you hate.

 

So, I was at Wal Mart last night and saw a huge stack of these in the middle of the aisle, apparently there to entice me to buy it for my children.

I'm going to use a sweeping blanket statement here, but there is no parent in the history of parents who has looked at a miniature metal drum set, complete with cymbal, and thought, "I need to buy that for my small child! Because you know what I don't have enough of in my life?  Loud noises."

And if you happen to be a parent  who is an exception to my sweeping blanket statement, I'm not counting you.  Because clearly you have issues you need to speak with someone about, and it's not fair to judge you in your current mental state.

You know who buys these for kids?  Your childless siblings or friends.  Or people who secretly hate you.  Or maybe your own parents, on a mission to get even for all the years of grief you put them through. Those are the people who will buy this for your child.

They're also the only people buying Play Doh. 

What's the most obnoxious gift your child has ever been given?  Or that you've deliberately given someone else's child? 'Fess up.

Desperately Seeking Jayme

 

 Have you seen me?

Odds are good I've lost the early 90's round glasses by now.

A long time ago (1995), in a galaxy far, far away (Logan, Utah) I was a college sophomore at Utah State University.  And I had five really great roommates.

One of them was a particularly bright spot in my life.  No, wait. Bright is an understatement.  She was like a supernova.  She was a splash of vibrant color in what could have been a really dismal year.  As wonderful and great as all my roommates were that year, she was the only one I felt like I could truly be the real me around. Not only did she accept the real me, but she liked the real me and encouraged me to let ME out more often.  She reminded me that I was fun.  But for some reason, we let ourselves lose contact.  I haven't talked to her in 17 years.

But I really, really want to.

 

The only other picture I have of her that I can post without 

potentially embarrassing her or ruining any future political aspirations.

Internets, I need your help.  I've exhausted my Googling abilities.  Short of paying a ridiculous amount of money to one of the people locator sites,  I have come up empty handed.  But there are a lot of you out there reading this.  A lot of you who are from the same area she's from (and may currently still be).  Maybe one of you knows her and can tell her I'm looking for her.

Here's what I know.  Her maiden name is Jayme Lee Hendrian.  She graduated from Skyline High School in Idaho Falls, ID in 1994.  She was on the volleyball team and in track, and I'm pretty sure she was kind of a big deal in both. She attended Utah State, and also played volleyball and was in track there.  She was raised LDS, though I honestly couldn't tell you what her status would be today. 

If the Google gods are correct, her married name is Jones.  She may be using Hendrian-Jones.  And it looks like she's either living in Idaho Falls or Rigby, Idaho.

I will come up with some sort of reward for the first person to get me a good e-mail address, mailing address, or gets her to contact me at brandidouglass@gmail.com. I'll even settle for a phone number, although cold calling someone I haven't spoken to in nearly 20 years makes me want to throw up a little.

And Jayme, if you're somehow out there reading this, e-mail me!  I have so much to tell you.  First of all, I married Will, so I guess I owe you some money for that bet.  But Tiffany totally married Scott, and they're still married, so you owe me for that one.  We'll call it even.  Also, I promise I'll destroy all the pictures I found today of us being...us if you ever decide to run for office.  We were kind of crazy, but it was so much fun.  Also, put on some pants.

Thank you for helping me be me for that year, and lending me a little of your supernova brightness when I couldn't find my own. 

And a very merry Christmas to you too, Neil Papworth.

 

Twenty years ago today I was a 17 year old high school senior in a tiny town in Wyoming.  My friends and I talked to each other on phones--the kind with cords. Our conversations were brief--mostly just long enough to make arrangements to get together so we could talk face to face.  And if we had something to say to each other that we didn't want all the other ears in our house to hear and we couldn't talk in person, we'd sometimes leave notes at each other's houses.  And my longtime childhood friends I had recently left on the opposite side of the country?  We sent real letters.  Like, with stamps and envelopes. Quaint, I know.  I didn't own a computer, and e-mail wasn't something available to the general public.  The communication options available in 1992 were not ideal for shy, awkward kids who moved a lot.  Like me.

Also twenty years ago today, somewhere in England thousands of miles away from that hick town in Wyoming, Neil Papworth unknowingly changed my future life for the better.  He was testing this new technology called SMS messaging, and he sent the very first text message ever.  It said, "Merry Christmas."

I was late to the texting party,  but once I got started, I became an overachiever. I am valedictorian of texting. They estimate that 200,000 texts are sent per minute. I'm probably personally responsible for a third of them.  I wasn't exaggerating when I said Mr. Papworth's achievement changed my future life for the better.  Texting is a godsend for people like me.  Because even though I'm 37 rather than 17, I'm still shy and awkward, I still hate talking on the phone, and I still move a lot.

E-mail will always be my first love.  It's the main reason I was able to maintain any friendships at all when I've moved in the past.  But then I started dating Facebook and e-mail mostly became a fond memory,  like that old boyfriend you still think about years later.  But then I met texting and we've been having a hot and heavy affair for a few years now.  I'm still seeing Facebook, but texting and I are going steady. We're going to prom. I'm wearing texting's class ring. (Don't tell, but sometimes I text and Facebook at the same time. And sometimes I'm thinking about e-mail while I do it.)

Texting has allowed me to build relationships with people that I probably wouldn't have otherwise.  Normal people can make those connections through phone calls.  If you've read even one post here, you clearly know that I am not normal.  So today I celebrate the anniversary of texting, and I honor Neil Papworth and the others who created the technology that allowed him to text "Merry Christmas" 20 years ago. What they gave me was more than the ability to send words through my phone.  They gave me human connection within my comfort zone.  They gave me friends I cherish.  They've all but eliminated the miles that separate me from those I care about.  Merry Christmas indeed.

Every Year

No matter how many times I scream obscenities at the screen during this part, Jo still refuses Laurie.  One of these years she's going to say yes.  I just know it.