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.
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