When my oldest daughter was born, I was a young insurance underwriter, not particularly enjoying my job. But I was making good money and had good benefits. We'd just purchased our first house and had a big mortgage payment hovering above.
There was no question that I would need to go back to work within three months after her birth. No problem, right? Everybody does it, this is the world we live in.
She was a fussy baby. Yes, colicky...to the extreme. She was an extraordinarily beautiful baby, with a head full of dark hair and fine delicate features, but boy, was she loud. No one could comfort her like me. No one could love her like me.
As I nursed her (it seemed constant), I would look down at her little face and try to figure out how I could possibly leave her. How could I place her in day care? How will anyone else know how to soothe her? She was so fussy, how would anyone have more patience for her than me?
I would compare the expense of GOING to work (work clothes, commuting, the cost of daycare, the cost of lunches everyday) versus the loss of my salary.
It was clear, I couldn't give up my income.
But I did. I had to. Because for the first time in my life, I had a responsibility that I LOVED. I couldn't leave that to go back to something that I despised.
So I left. Money was tight. But I was where I needed to be.
And I became a Stay at Home Mom.
And I still am. It's been 16 years.
But every summer, for 7 years, I become a working mom for 8 weeks. And during that time, I get to do something that I really love. Really enjoy. Really treasure.
I'm listened to. I'm respected. I'm able to help. I'm able to teach, to create, to collaborate. I make decisions, I set a good example. I'm shown appreciation.
That feels good.
And then I come home.
They don't listen so much around here. (Pick up that towel...pick up that towel...PICK UP THAT TOWEL!!!)
They don't show a whole lot of respect. ("Mom, could you not wear your hair like that, it EMBARRASSES ME")
I'm a chauffeur, cook, laundress, maid, psychologist, nurse, entertainment director, censor and most often, a referee. And I'm not shown appreciation.
I think it's time to go back to work.
I need to put myself in a position where I can take on new challenges, learn new things and find appreciation.
So I'm placing this out into the universe, I'M READY TO BE A WORKING MOMMY!
I think....no, I know. I'm ready.
Job? Where are you?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Proud
Each summer, I get to take on new challenges, and this summer was no exception. My job, has morphed from simply teaching Arts and Crafts into greater responsibilities including costuming our camp play, special events programming and this.
Three years ago, on a whim, I decided to create a little movie for our end of season banquet. Traditionally, at camp, we celebrated the end of the summer with a "themed" dinner party complete with decorations, centerpieces and even tablecloths (a big deal in camp world!) Anyone who knows me well, knows I love to throw a party, and love good surprises even more.
The theme 3 years ago was a Fifties Soda Shop. "And let's make a movie, too," I thought. Before I knew it, I recast the iconic movie Grease starring members of our camp upper staff. We whipped up some costumes, created a script and somehow, my colleagues were ready and eager to participate. Blessedly, my "Danny Zuko" was so excited by the endeavor, he dove in and took over editing responsibilities. And so, our little production company was born.
Somehow, I'm not sure how, in four days in 2007, we produced a movie that thrilled, surprised and enthralled our campers. This summer banquet has changed from being an exclamation point at the end of our summer, to a favorite and beloved event for our campers and staff.
The theme we chose this summer was also reflective of a special era in our history. The Eighties. Amazing that a time that is so fresh in my mind has now become nostalgia. Defining the '80's of course, is MTV, the inspiration for our video.
For a creative person, there is nothing cooler than taking an idea and turning it into reality. I'm so proud of this endeavor and am so glad to share it with you today!
Three years ago, on a whim, I decided to create a little movie for our end of season banquet. Traditionally, at camp, we celebrated the end of the summer with a "themed" dinner party complete with decorations, centerpieces and even tablecloths (a big deal in camp world!) Anyone who knows me well, knows I love to throw a party, and love good surprises even more.
The theme 3 years ago was a Fifties Soda Shop. "And let's make a movie, too," I thought. Before I knew it, I recast the iconic movie Grease starring members of our camp upper staff. We whipped up some costumes, created a script and somehow, my colleagues were ready and eager to participate. Blessedly, my "Danny Zuko" was so excited by the endeavor, he dove in and took over editing responsibilities. And so, our little production company was born.
Somehow, I'm not sure how, in four days in 2007, we produced a movie that thrilled, surprised and enthralled our campers. This summer banquet has changed from being an exclamation point at the end of our summer, to a favorite and beloved event for our campers and staff.
The theme we chose this summer was also reflective of a special era in our history. The Eighties. Amazing that a time that is so fresh in my mind has now become nostalgia. Defining the '80's of course, is MTV, the inspiration for our video.
For a creative person, there is nothing cooler than taking an idea and turning it into reality. I'm so proud of this endeavor and am so glad to share it with you today!
Camp Saginaw Banquet 2009 from Jason Darnell on Vimeo.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Spackle
It's the last day of camp today. The children leave this morning, and the staff leaves early tomorrow. Today's a day for shutting down, packing up and saying goodbye. It's really hard.
Getting to spend every summer in paradise is a good thing. For two months, I don't have to cook, clean up after others, or fold mountains of laundry. For two months, I'm given a kind of respect among my friends, my colleagues and my staff, that I don't necessarily receive anywhere else. For two months, I live in a place where it's totally acceptable to dance in the dining hall, to scoot around in crappy clothes and no make-up, to go out to a bar at 9:00 at night (my normal bedtime!), to giggle incessantly. I watch my children have the time of their lives, learning new skills and making lifelong memories. They're happy. I'm happy.
And now it's time to leave.
How can I?
I really have to recognize that it's the transition that's the hard part. Nine weeks ago, preparing to get here, was an arduous task. Labeling, packing, shopping. Nine weeks ago, I looked around my comfortable home, my quiet neighborhood, the simplicity of my life, and didn't want to give it up.
Nine weeks later, I feel the same way about the journey I'm about to make. A little unsure, a little sad. The task ahead is daunting, but I'll do it. Ten months from now, when it's time to pack up our life again, I'm sure to feel the same uncertainty. Then I get here, and never want to leave.
In the end, I have to be grateful to camp. It helps to define who I am. It fills a certain void in my normal life, a little like spackling the crevices and cracks in an old tired wall. And even though it's only for a precious few weeks, I wouldn't be the same without it.
Getting to spend every summer in paradise is a good thing. For two months, I don't have to cook, clean up after others, or fold mountains of laundry. For two months, I'm given a kind of respect among my friends, my colleagues and my staff, that I don't necessarily receive anywhere else. For two months, I live in a place where it's totally acceptable to dance in the dining hall, to scoot around in crappy clothes and no make-up, to go out to a bar at 9:00 at night (my normal bedtime!), to giggle incessantly. I watch my children have the time of their lives, learning new skills and making lifelong memories. They're happy. I'm happy.
And now it's time to leave.
How can I?
I really have to recognize that it's the transition that's the hard part. Nine weeks ago, preparing to get here, was an arduous task. Labeling, packing, shopping. Nine weeks ago, I looked around my comfortable home, my quiet neighborhood, the simplicity of my life, and didn't want to give it up.
Nine weeks later, I feel the same way about the journey I'm about to make. A little unsure, a little sad. The task ahead is daunting, but I'll do it. Ten months from now, when it's time to pack up our life again, I'm sure to feel the same uncertainty. Then I get here, and never want to leave.
In the end, I have to be grateful to camp. It helps to define who I am. It fills a certain void in my normal life, a little like spackling the crevices and cracks in an old tired wall. And even though it's only for a precious few weeks, I wouldn't be the same without it.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
emptiness
Yesterday, we watched my sister-in-law bury her son. He was 16 years old. He was healthy and active and living his life to the fullest, when it was taken in an instant. Perhaps a momentary lapse of judgment or perhaps the hand of God coming down and plucking a special person from this world. Whatever the reason, he's gone now. The shock of the news still stings, but being at the funeral was probably the most unbearable experience I've ever had.
I worry most for his mother. One of the most nurturing people I've ever known. He was her youngest. Her baby. Only 2 1/2 pounds at birth, he fought then, and he survived. With a preemie, I think you always worry, particularly when they're little. Somehow, they're more fragile than full term babies. But Evan grew and grew and grew...amazingly, since when he was a little boy he ate little more than orange juice and pepperoni. At the time of his passing, he was looked to be at least 6 feet tall.
My heart is saddened for all the reasons one would expect. He was too young. It shouldn't have been his time. No parent should have to feel what my sister-in-law is feeling today.
My heart weeps for a reason I wouldn't have expected. I weep for the relationship we never really had. In listening to stories about him, relayed by his friends at the funeral, all I kept thinking was, I never really knew this about him. He was so much more than the quiet boy, who showed me a shy smile when I would touch his face to tell him how "grown-up" he was becoming. I weep for the loss of my daughters' cousin. I was so happy that Evan and Hayley were born just 6 months apart...but they were both kind of shy, so as they grew up, they became less and less connected. And over the years, the opportunities to spend time together waned.
His friends were understandably devastated by his loss. As the funeral, they were inconsolable. It was heartbreaking.
Hayley told me as we were leaving the cemetery, that she felt saddened that she hadn't had the chance to know him better. But then, she thought, this would have been so much harder for her to cope with if she had.
There are no reasons that make sense for any of this. There are no words that can make this better. I weep for my family. My sister-in-law. My nieces. My mother-in-law. My husband.
After leaving the funeral, you return to the land of the "living". For me, the daily routine, responsibilities, and friendships help to extinguish the heartbreak. But for his mom, oh my...I pray that she can find small joys as she begins her difficult journey towards healing.
I worry most for his mother. One of the most nurturing people I've ever known. He was her youngest. Her baby. Only 2 1/2 pounds at birth, he fought then, and he survived. With a preemie, I think you always worry, particularly when they're little. Somehow, they're more fragile than full term babies. But Evan grew and grew and grew...amazingly, since when he was a little boy he ate little more than orange juice and pepperoni. At the time of his passing, he was looked to be at least 6 feet tall.
My heart is saddened for all the reasons one would expect. He was too young. It shouldn't have been his time. No parent should have to feel what my sister-in-law is feeling today.
My heart weeps for a reason I wouldn't have expected. I weep for the relationship we never really had. In listening to stories about him, relayed by his friends at the funeral, all I kept thinking was, I never really knew this about him. He was so much more than the quiet boy, who showed me a shy smile when I would touch his face to tell him how "grown-up" he was becoming. I weep for the loss of my daughters' cousin. I was so happy that Evan and Hayley were born just 6 months apart...but they were both kind of shy, so as they grew up, they became less and less connected. And over the years, the opportunities to spend time together waned.
His friends were understandably devastated by his loss. As the funeral, they were inconsolable. It was heartbreaking.
Hayley told me as we were leaving the cemetery, that she felt saddened that she hadn't had the chance to know him better. But then, she thought, this would have been so much harder for her to cope with if she had.
There are no reasons that make sense for any of this. There are no words that can make this better. I weep for my family. My sister-in-law. My nieces. My mother-in-law. My husband.
After leaving the funeral, you return to the land of the "living". For me, the daily routine, responsibilities, and friendships help to extinguish the heartbreak. But for his mom, oh my...I pray that she can find small joys as she begins her difficult journey towards healing.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Fork in the Road
My girls are on the cusp of the time in their lives where they'll start making real life-changing decisions. Experience has taught me plenty, not the least of which is the fact that my girls (sadly) aren't interested in learning from my experiences. When my own mother gives advice to me, there are times when I think, "I'm going to do this my way." But in the end, my mother is usually right. I guess there are just some lessons that we choose learn on our own.
But...if they would really listen, ....here's a bit of what I'd say.
1. Never act on a knee-jerk reaction. When something is a little unsettling, let it marinate for a little bit, before deciding how to proceed.
2. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Nobody sets out to be a bad person.
3. The person with most power in any relationship is the one with the least interest in that relationship.
4. Stick to your studies, you can watch TV or surf the internet later.
5. Don't get a tattoo. It might be really cute on a young wrinkle free body, but it will only look stupid when you are my age. Plus, it will embarrass your children.
6. A belly button ring is actually not that bad. As long as your tummy is flat as a board.
7. Push yourself to do for others. It's easier to sit back, and remain self-absorbed, but in the end, you will end up isolated and lonely.
8. Don't lose your virginity. Ever. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. But when you do, make sure you are not drunk, you are deeply in love and at least 34 years old. ;)
9. But seriously, don't get married at least until you are in your late twenties. You have plenty of years to be a grown up, enjoy your youth, travel, stay up all night, eat cereal for dinner.
10. Don't get caught up in the romantic notion that having a baby is easy. It's not all lullabies and baby powder. It's hard work, and nothing can prepare you for the shock of a screaming hungry baby at 3:30 in the morning.
11. Pay your bills on time.
12. Don't ever think that material possessions will make you happy.
13. Never forget to remind yourself of your blessings.
14. Don't put yourself down, people can only intimidate you if you allow them to.
15. Put your goal's ahead of immediate gratification.
16. Take chances, color outside the lines, surprise yourself.
There are so many more little pearls of wisdom I could share, but duty (okay, really big laundry pile) calls.
In the end, I would tell my kids, this:
You don't ALWAYS have to listen to your mother. I may have my opinions, my wishes, my hopes for you, but in the end, this is your life. Make your own choices, but remember to value your mother's voice of experience. She's usually right.
But...if they would really listen, ....here's a bit of what I'd say.
1. Never act on a knee-jerk reaction. When something is a little unsettling, let it marinate for a little bit, before deciding how to proceed.
2. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Nobody sets out to be a bad person.
3. The person with most power in any relationship is the one with the least interest in that relationship.
4. Stick to your studies, you can watch TV or surf the internet later.
5. Don't get a tattoo. It might be really cute on a young wrinkle free body, but it will only look stupid when you are my age. Plus, it will embarrass your children.
6. A belly button ring is actually not that bad. As long as your tummy is flat as a board.
7. Push yourself to do for others. It's easier to sit back, and remain self-absorbed, but in the end, you will end up isolated and lonely.
8. Don't lose your virginity. Ever. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. But when you do, make sure you are not drunk, you are deeply in love and at least 34 years old. ;)
9. But seriously, don't get married at least until you are in your late twenties. You have plenty of years to be a grown up, enjoy your youth, travel, stay up all night, eat cereal for dinner.
10. Don't get caught up in the romantic notion that having a baby is easy. It's not all lullabies and baby powder. It's hard work, and nothing can prepare you for the shock of a screaming hungry baby at 3:30 in the morning.
11. Pay your bills on time.
12. Don't ever think that material possessions will make you happy.
13. Never forget to remind yourself of your blessings.
14. Don't put yourself down, people can only intimidate you if you allow them to.
15. Put your goal's ahead of immediate gratification.
16. Take chances, color outside the lines, surprise yourself.
There are so many more little pearls of wisdom I could share, but duty (okay, really big laundry pile) calls.
In the end, I would tell my kids, this:
You don't ALWAYS have to listen to your mother. I may have my opinions, my wishes, my hopes for you, but in the end, this is your life. Make your own choices, but remember to value your mother's voice of experience. She's usually right.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
AM I a good Mom?
The night before last, we went out for a family dinner. We were celebrating an important anniversary, 20 years (!) since my husband and I met. Usually, people celebrate wedding anniversaries and birthdays, but, that night, 20 years ago, was so magical, it will always hold a special place in my memory bank. (For a full description, you can see my post from last year!)
My husband, (sweetheart that he is) lifted his glass of ice water to make a toast. "To my wonderful wife and the best mom in the world". We clinked glasses, and I felt, both flattered and embarrassed. Surely I'm not the best mom in the world, but would I even qualify as a "good" mom?
I hate homework (they should be able to do it themselves) , I don't make lunches (I send in some lunch money), I don't make their beds. I never remember to pick up toilet paper at the supermarket. I haven't attended a PTA meeting in years. I RSVP'd for Addie to attend a birthday party on Sunday, then completely forgot to take her. I don't feel particularly mature, or particularly together. The laundry never gets finished. There are weeds to pull, that I never get to. I don't like playing catch outside, I'm bad at pretend. I've missed a few soccer games, here and there. I always forget to fill out permission slips.
I have the makings of a HORRIBLE MOM!!!
Okay, here's the part where I make myself feel better.
NOBODY is a perfect mom. We all have our gifts, we all have our weaknesses. And though my list of weaknesses is a mile long, at least I know where my strengths lie.
We sit down for a family dinner most every night. We turn off the TV, cell phones and computers for that brief 45 minutes.
My husband and I proudly show our affection for each other, and I believe we've shown the girls that a loving relationship is based on mutual respect and trust, and genuine friendship.
My daughter's confide in me. (Sometimes more than I'd like them too!) But they trust me enough to tell me stuff that I could never have shared with my own mother (who, by the way, is the ultimate great mom).
My daughter's treat other's with respect. They always remember to say please and thank you.
I've demonstrated to my daughters the importance of family, not just our little nuclear family, but our extended family, as well.
Of course we all love each other, but we actually LIKE each other as well.
We know how to laugh at ourselves, and find humor in just about anything.
The stuff I'm good at, isn't necessarily the day to day organizational side of parenthood. That part doesn't come very naturally to me. It is the intangibles that are my strength. Whether that's better for my children in the long run, I don't know. But when you get down to it, we're all just trying to do our best.
I'm sure my mother made mistakes, but I never once questioned her love for me. And, in the end, I'm hoping that my daughters will be able to say the same thing about me.
Happy Mother's Day
My husband, (sweetheart that he is) lifted his glass of ice water to make a toast. "To my wonderful wife and the best mom in the world". We clinked glasses, and I felt, both flattered and embarrassed. Surely I'm not the best mom in the world, but would I even qualify as a "good" mom?
I hate homework (they should be able to do it themselves) , I don't make lunches (I send in some lunch money), I don't make their beds. I never remember to pick up toilet paper at the supermarket. I haven't attended a PTA meeting in years. I RSVP'd for Addie to attend a birthday party on Sunday, then completely forgot to take her. I don't feel particularly mature, or particularly together. The laundry never gets finished. There are weeds to pull, that I never get to. I don't like playing catch outside, I'm bad at pretend. I've missed a few soccer games, here and there. I always forget to fill out permission slips.
I have the makings of a HORRIBLE MOM!!!
Okay, here's the part where I make myself feel better.
NOBODY is a perfect mom. We all have our gifts, we all have our weaknesses. And though my list of weaknesses is a mile long, at least I know where my strengths lie.
We sit down for a family dinner most every night. We turn off the TV, cell phones and computers for that brief 45 minutes.
My husband and I proudly show our affection for each other, and I believe we've shown the girls that a loving relationship is based on mutual respect and trust, and genuine friendship.
My daughter's confide in me. (Sometimes more than I'd like them too!) But they trust me enough to tell me stuff that I could never have shared with my own mother (who, by the way, is the ultimate great mom).
My daughter's treat other's with respect. They always remember to say please and thank you.
I've demonstrated to my daughters the importance of family, not just our little nuclear family, but our extended family, as well.
Of course we all love each other, but we actually LIKE each other as well.
We know how to laugh at ourselves, and find humor in just about anything.
The stuff I'm good at, isn't necessarily the day to day organizational side of parenthood. That part doesn't come very naturally to me. It is the intangibles that are my strength. Whether that's better for my children in the long run, I don't know. But when you get down to it, we're all just trying to do our best.
I'm sure my mother made mistakes, but I never once questioned her love for me. And, in the end, I'm hoping that my daughters will be able to say the same thing about me.
Happy Mother's Day
Sunday, April 5, 2009
When I say Colic was Easier, I MEAN IT!
The subject of teen drinking has been an ongoing conversation in our house for the past few months. It's completely rampant. It's completely available. And it's completely frightening.
We have rules. When invited to a party, there must be a parent there.
We encourage good choices.
We remind them about peer pressure, and how not to succumb.
We tell them horror stories, about drunk driving accidents, alcohol poisoning, vomiting, acting stupid.
We are fighting an uphill battle. There will always be kids who's parents aren't as vigilant as we try to be. There will always be kids who want to bring your kid down to their level. There will always be parties, where, though supervised, booze makes it way into the front door.
I want my daughters to have fun with their friends. I want them to make good choices.
If we are made aware of a dangerous situation, we act upon it.
Last night, we were made aware of the fact that our daughter was at a party, with no parent at home. In charge was the 18 year old brother of the boy that invited her.
I can easily make the assumption that if no parents are about, there will be alcohol.
We picked her up and brought her home.
If you are 15 years old, this is about as embarrassing as can be. I recognize this. I actually feel bad about this. But I'm not going to take any chances when I'm made aware of a situation.
I'm constantly reminded by her, that the other kids' parents don't care like we do. (As if this is a bad thing)...I can't believe that. I can't believe that other parents would turn the other cheek if they were made aware of the situation, as we were last night.
Do I expect her to make it through her high school years without being exposed to temptation like drugs and alcohol? Of course not. I can't make it go away,(oh how I wish I could!); but I can't condone it either.
Aaarggh!
This is so much harder than I thought it would be!!!!!!!!
We have rules. When invited to a party, there must be a parent there.
We encourage good choices.
We remind them about peer pressure, and how not to succumb.
We tell them horror stories, about drunk driving accidents, alcohol poisoning, vomiting, acting stupid.
We are fighting an uphill battle. There will always be kids who's parents aren't as vigilant as we try to be. There will always be kids who want to bring your kid down to their level. There will always be parties, where, though supervised, booze makes it way into the front door.
I want my daughters to have fun with their friends. I want them to make good choices.
If we are made aware of a dangerous situation, we act upon it.
Last night, we were made aware of the fact that our daughter was at a party, with no parent at home. In charge was the 18 year old brother of the boy that invited her.
I can easily make the assumption that if no parents are about, there will be alcohol.
We picked her up and brought her home.
If you are 15 years old, this is about as embarrassing as can be. I recognize this. I actually feel bad about this. But I'm not going to take any chances when I'm made aware of a situation.
I'm constantly reminded by her, that the other kids' parents don't care like we do. (As if this is a bad thing)...I can't believe that. I can't believe that other parents would turn the other cheek if they were made aware of the situation, as we were last night.
Do I expect her to make it through her high school years without being exposed to temptation like drugs and alcohol? Of course not. I can't make it go away,(oh how I wish I could!); but I can't condone it either.
Aaarggh!
This is so much harder than I thought it would be!!!!!!!!
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