Mama called the other day, asking a question she has asked me often of late. "I need your uncle's date of birth. Have you asked your brother to look it up for me, yet?" I answered "No" as I've answered her a dozen times already. But since I was on the computer and stranger things have occurred when I was playing on the computer, I thought I'd just look up my uncle by name. I was a little leery. He wasn't the most pleasant person in the world and had an unsavory reputation. Heaven knew what I might find!
But to my surprise what I found was information related to his birthdate, the very information my mom wanted. And I found it on my dad's old geocities account. It was still there. After all this time, though he died two years ago, hadn't posted in years due to his illness. Just hanging out in cyberworld waiting for me to stumble upon it once more.
It felt eerie and creepy and bittersweet all at once, as I read the family history he'd outlined on the page. Then I clicked on the link for family photos and found myself staring down history. What fun! There were photos there I'd never seen before and faces of relatives I'd had the joy of knowing, but who were long gone.
And towards the bottom of the page were the three of us: myself and my two brothers. My dad, who'd disappeared from our lives for 7 years before reappearing, my dad who rarely spoke to us, never called and never wrote the last 7 years he lived next door, had kept those photos in his wallet for years.
Every single person in the photos is no longer living except myself (obviously), my youngest brother, our cousin Diane and possibly cousin Leonard. I'm not sure about him... But there was my dad, who for so many years had seemed to withdraw and avoid contact showing off these photos on his blog with pride and a real feeling for family. How sad that he'd rather live with the memories of what had been than to keep building memories to store away, to cherish.
Another robbery, another bit of thievery by the the old deceiver, Satan.
http://www.geocities.com/chasga310/photos.htm
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Moods and Madness
I had a terrible time of it Sunday night. I went to bed about my usual time and had soon read myself to sleep...Nothing unusual in that. But then I awoke in the most whiney, foul mood. Husband wasn't abed as he should have been and I lay awake worrying that he'd fallen asleep on the couch, which always makes his back ache horribly next day. Finally I got up and discovered he was on the computer. Now mind you, he seldom gets a chance at the computer. He leaves it mostly to dd and myself and he might get it for 10 or 15 minutes.
Occasionally he has trouble sleeping. We'd had a storm Sunday evening, with lots of bad weather reports and a tornado touching down in our county...good enough reason for him to not be able to sleep. And he does like to write, has two blogs where he shares his own thoughts and does it very well. But finding him on the computer didn't set well with me. I knew I was being unreasonable and didn't say a word, just peeked into the room, saw he was typing and went off back to bed. But not to sleep. Not to sleep.
I sulked. I felt hurt and angry and upset. I knew I was being unreasonable and willed myself to go back to sleep but to no avail. I felt much as a two-year-old does, throwing a tantrum. You can plainly see the toddler is thoroughly disgusted with himself but can't seem to find the 'off' switch,lol. I was just that way. I prayed. I rocked. I reasoned. Finally, I turned on the light and read. Still no sleep. Four chapters later, I tossed the book, got up and stood in the kitchen doorway. "Come to bed."
Rightfully my husband pointed out he was typing, that he was in the middle of something, that he'd been careful to be quiet. I didn't care. "Come to bed." Oh, how I hate to feel as I did! Oh, how I wanted to just go to sleep and rest and let it go. I had no desire to argue but I did have the unreasonable desire to make him do as I wanted him to do. I wanted him to come to bed to soothe me back to sleepiness. I wanted him to put his arms around me and rock me a little until I felt warm and drowsy and peaceful once more. But I didn't tell him these things. Instead, I commanded.
Thankfully, we agreed long long ago that nighttime is no time for arguments. I went back to bed, he finished his posting, and all should have been well. But it wasn't. I continued to be irrationally hurt and moody. He was feeling less than happy, as well. We did cuddle but sleep was elusive. I watched the clock tick away 2 am before going off to sleep once more. There's nothing worse for a bad mood than knowing you've been petty and unreasonable. That low mood sinks you right into the depths of self-loathing.
Early yesterday morning we arose. My bad night lingered, not at all dispelled by the incredibly blue sky or bright sunshine. I slipped away with my cup of coffee to a quiet spot, in an attempt to improve my outlook. My late father-in-law used to say, "Everything looks better in the morning." Certainly, the sky was clear and bright. Why not my mood? What crack had the darkness found in my armor?
The day before as we sang an old hymn, one line stood out "He made all the darkness depart." As my partner sang the line, she made a 'poof' motion. Suddenly I felt shivery. I'd never before thought of God dispelling the darkness in a 'poof'. I'd always thought of it as a slowly decreasing darkness, much as a sunrise. I liked the imagery of a sudden disappearance of darkness. I wanted the same kind of lightened outlook, a 'poof' moment to dispel my ill mood.
It wasn't that easy. It was a gradual lightening that came as we pushed through the housework. It's not woman's work alone in our household, though I am a stay-at-home wife. I watched as this man of mine, the same one whom I felt had mis-used me the night before, vacuumed, and washed clothes and hung laundry to dry and made the beds, while I swept and polished and straightened. I looked around with real satisfaction an hour later. I thanked him sincerely and prettily. And then my dark mood was gone.
I realized my mood had less to do with what I was being given and more to do with what I was willing to give. I'd been ungrateful, looking at what I didn't have for a moment instead of what I have for a lifetime. All I needed was a new perspective.
Occasionally he has trouble sleeping. We'd had a storm Sunday evening, with lots of bad weather reports and a tornado touching down in our county...good enough reason for him to not be able to sleep. And he does like to write, has two blogs where he shares his own thoughts and does it very well. But finding him on the computer didn't set well with me. I knew I was being unreasonable and didn't say a word, just peeked into the room, saw he was typing and went off back to bed. But not to sleep. Not to sleep.
I sulked. I felt hurt and angry and upset. I knew I was being unreasonable and willed myself to go back to sleep but to no avail. I felt much as a two-year-old does, throwing a tantrum. You can plainly see the toddler is thoroughly disgusted with himself but can't seem to find the 'off' switch,lol. I was just that way. I prayed. I rocked. I reasoned. Finally, I turned on the light and read. Still no sleep. Four chapters later, I tossed the book, got up and stood in the kitchen doorway. "Come to bed."
Rightfully my husband pointed out he was typing, that he was in the middle of something, that he'd been careful to be quiet. I didn't care. "Come to bed." Oh, how I hate to feel as I did! Oh, how I wanted to just go to sleep and rest and let it go. I had no desire to argue but I did have the unreasonable desire to make him do as I wanted him to do. I wanted him to come to bed to soothe me back to sleepiness. I wanted him to put his arms around me and rock me a little until I felt warm and drowsy and peaceful once more. But I didn't tell him these things. Instead, I commanded.
Thankfully, we agreed long long ago that nighttime is no time for arguments. I went back to bed, he finished his posting, and all should have been well. But it wasn't. I continued to be irrationally hurt and moody. He was feeling less than happy, as well. We did cuddle but sleep was elusive. I watched the clock tick away 2 am before going off to sleep once more. There's nothing worse for a bad mood than knowing you've been petty and unreasonable. That low mood sinks you right into the depths of self-loathing.
Early yesterday morning we arose. My bad night lingered, not at all dispelled by the incredibly blue sky or bright sunshine. I slipped away with my cup of coffee to a quiet spot, in an attempt to improve my outlook. My late father-in-law used to say, "Everything looks better in the morning." Certainly, the sky was clear and bright. Why not my mood? What crack had the darkness found in my armor?
The day before as we sang an old hymn, one line stood out "He made all the darkness depart." As my partner sang the line, she made a 'poof' motion. Suddenly I felt shivery. I'd never before thought of God dispelling the darkness in a 'poof'. I'd always thought of it as a slowly decreasing darkness, much as a sunrise. I liked the imagery of a sudden disappearance of darkness. I wanted the same kind of lightened outlook, a 'poof' moment to dispel my ill mood.
It wasn't that easy. It was a gradual lightening that came as we pushed through the housework. It's not woman's work alone in our household, though I am a stay-at-home wife. I watched as this man of mine, the same one whom I felt had mis-used me the night before, vacuumed, and washed clothes and hung laundry to dry and made the beds, while I swept and polished and straightened. I looked around with real satisfaction an hour later. I thanked him sincerely and prettily. And then my dark mood was gone.
I realized my mood had less to do with what I was being given and more to do with what I was willing to give. I'd been ungrateful, looking at what I didn't have for a moment instead of what I have for a lifetime. All I needed was a new perspective.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Bitten off more than I can chew?
I started this blog to get a bit of relief from the persona I was inspired to create. To reveal who I am...but the fact is that by the end of a morning of housework and writing, I am too tired to be who I am. I want only to go to my comfy chair, put up my feet and take a ten minute nap instead of watching the coveted 'design and rearrange' portion of a favorite decorating tv program. I am too tired to be me. What does that say about me?
So this morning, I've taken a break. I've slipped into 'me' mode and I can tell you that I am weary. Too many very early morning risings. Too many nights of waking two or three times in the night to lie awake, not in panic or worry or for any good reason except to lie there, experiencing the loveliness of being in bed and in the dark, in my own home, knowing the alarm isn't going off for hours yet and that the man next to me is so loved and so loving it takes my breath away. I don't think of what I don't have, nor what I wish I had. I just am. Perhaps I am closer to the real me at that time of night when all is still around me. What comes across is this: I am content. I am happy with the life I have, with the person I've become, with the circumstances I've got.
Prehaps I have bitten off more than I can chew in the light of day, but the dark of night says, "There's plenty of time to chew...Go ahead and enjoy yourself."
I can do that.
So this morning, I've taken a break. I've slipped into 'me' mode and I can tell you that I am weary. Too many very early morning risings. Too many nights of waking two or three times in the night to lie awake, not in panic or worry or for any good reason except to lie there, experiencing the loveliness of being in bed and in the dark, in my own home, knowing the alarm isn't going off for hours yet and that the man next to me is so loved and so loving it takes my breath away. I don't think of what I don't have, nor what I wish I had. I just am. Perhaps I am closer to the real me at that time of night when all is still around me. What comes across is this: I am content. I am happy with the life I have, with the person I've become, with the circumstances I've got.
Prehaps I have bitten off more than I can chew in the light of day, but the dark of night says, "There's plenty of time to chew...Go ahead and enjoy yourself."
I can do that.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Time Slipped Away While I Wasn't Having Fun
It's been a crazy and hectic time these past two weeks and I am ready for the slow down that today brought. I am home. The sun is shining. Supper is partially prepared for tonight. I need only make dear husband's lunch for tomorrow and clear dishes tonight to finish off this day of housework in my happy home.
I had a birthday this week. It wasn't one of those landmark birthdays. By my family's standards I am just over the middle aged hump and started on my journey down the other side of the hill. Age, thankfully, doesn't bother me. Given an opportunity to tell my age, I will, after quickly calculating in my head how old I am...And I do tell gladly, because thankfully, I don't look my age! I know I don't look my age because my 15yo is telling me all the time, "Mama, at least you don't look your age." My daughter is one of those frighteningly honest to the point of painful truth types. And is incredibly sensitive, a trait I've discovered a lot of these frighteningly honest people share.
It wasn't much as birthdays go. The most quiet, least celebrated birthday I've had in a long time. I hadn't bothered with the usual big buildup about it being my birthday. I had low expectations in fact, and when I'd probe a bit I found I was slightly blase about the whole deal. Until the evening of my birthday when I realized that it had been even more low key than I'd thought it might be. So the day ended with me in tears, feeling very mis-used and unloved and unappreciated and un-celebrated. When dear husband asked later why the tears, I told him. I wanted more fuss. A bit of bother. "At least we can make it up next year!" I said, which seemed to settle wrong with him, as though he were solely to blame for the low key day. He wasn't. Poor dear worked all night and all day and frankly I didn't expect much. I expected something however and he didn't deliver, but then neither did 3 out of 4 of my children, only one of my friends and my mom. I suppose it could have been worse...my mom might have forgotten as well!
We've attended two funerals since I last wrote. My ex fil died and there was the whole "I'm not a part of the family, should I or shouldn't I attend the funeral?" dilemna. Which was combined with the "Gee, I just hate to have to deal with the ex" dilemna. In the end, we did attend, as both dear husband and I liked ex fil rather well and besides there was 'the boy' as my husband refers to the 6 foot tall, 230 pound, 23yo male child. He felt we should go in support of him. And at the end, when my son was suddenly overcome and I saw my husband, whom he calls "Dad", wrap his arms around him and sob right along with him, I was glad we were there.
Then there was the funeral for my husband's boss' mom. She was a woman well loved by her family and who loved her family well. Her career was homemaking, and she did just that. She made a home and was praised high and low by all who knew her. It is the first and only funeral I've attended where a woman was praised with the words of Proverbs 31. I thought it the most loving tribute any could pay to a woman and was especially moved by it.
So this week has passed and all is well, if not all that much fun...But then there's always next week!
I had a birthday this week. It wasn't one of those landmark birthdays. By my family's standards I am just over the middle aged hump and started on my journey down the other side of the hill. Age, thankfully, doesn't bother me. Given an opportunity to tell my age, I will, after quickly calculating in my head how old I am...And I do tell gladly, because thankfully, I don't look my age! I know I don't look my age because my 15yo is telling me all the time, "Mama, at least you don't look your age." My daughter is one of those frighteningly honest to the point of painful truth types. And is incredibly sensitive, a trait I've discovered a lot of these frighteningly honest people share.
It wasn't much as birthdays go. The most quiet, least celebrated birthday I've had in a long time. I hadn't bothered with the usual big buildup about it being my birthday. I had low expectations in fact, and when I'd probe a bit I found I was slightly blase about the whole deal. Until the evening of my birthday when I realized that it had been even more low key than I'd thought it might be. So the day ended with me in tears, feeling very mis-used and unloved and unappreciated and un-celebrated. When dear husband asked later why the tears, I told him. I wanted more fuss. A bit of bother. "At least we can make it up next year!" I said, which seemed to settle wrong with him, as though he were solely to blame for the low key day. He wasn't. Poor dear worked all night and all day and frankly I didn't expect much. I expected something however and he didn't deliver, but then neither did 3 out of 4 of my children, only one of my friends and my mom. I suppose it could have been worse...my mom might have forgotten as well!
We've attended two funerals since I last wrote. My ex fil died and there was the whole "I'm not a part of the family, should I or shouldn't I attend the funeral?" dilemna. Which was combined with the "Gee, I just hate to have to deal with the ex" dilemna. In the end, we did attend, as both dear husband and I liked ex fil rather well and besides there was 'the boy' as my husband refers to the 6 foot tall, 230 pound, 23yo male child. He felt we should go in support of him. And at the end, when my son was suddenly overcome and I saw my husband, whom he calls "Dad", wrap his arms around him and sob right along with him, I was glad we were there.
Then there was the funeral for my husband's boss' mom. She was a woman well loved by her family and who loved her family well. Her career was homemaking, and she did just that. She made a home and was praised high and low by all who knew her. It is the first and only funeral I've attended where a woman was praised with the words of Proverbs 31. I thought it the most loving tribute any could pay to a woman and was especially moved by it.
So this week has passed and all is well, if not all that much fun...But then there's always next week!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Vote for ???? As President
I'm not fond of politics, folks. But I have a responsibility and I'll do my best to live up to it. I've been listening to the candidates and the pundits and the commentators and I'm not just sure whom I'll vote for at present. I kind of feel like I need to get to know these people a bit better. After all, the last two presidents spent 8 years each in office...That's about half the time my first marriage lasted. It's a LONG time to spend with someone you end up regretting having voted for...
I've been listening and I'm here to tell you that people can be downright disturbing in their viewpoints. Like the liberal commentator who suggested we skip what issues each candidate stood for and vote for either Hilary or Obama 'just to show the world that women and blacks can be voted into office regardless of sex and/or race..." Isn't that voting based on sex and/or race? I'll skip on voting solely based on that "logic" (serious clearing of throat).
Then there's the age factor in my opinion. I've watched young men seriously age while in office. Do I really want to vote in a man who is in his 70's and not in the best of health at that? I mean, that sort of leaves the office open for a kind of crap shoot if we end up with the vice president in office instead, doesn't it?
Do I want to vote for a man who stood by his city in a time of crisis and was on Ground Zero with his city's rescue workers? Maybe. But then again this is the same man who said, "Oh well, I ran NYC all these years, Washington is nothing!" But NYC isn't the whole nation sir, it's just a tiny portion of the USA and her territories. He isn't running for mayor of Washington. He's running for president...Maybe his perspective is a bit skewed.
Do I want to vote for a man who left the ministry and entered politics? Or one who looks as though he thought he'd just landed on GQ's cover? Or the candidate that looks like he just swallowed vinegar?
I'll vote for the one who gives the straightest answers, how's that? But that means someone will forgo the usual political fence straddling, and it remains to be seen if any can do that.
Maybe I'll just vote for Undecided.
I've been listening and I'm here to tell you that people can be downright disturbing in their viewpoints. Like the liberal commentator who suggested we skip what issues each candidate stood for and vote for either Hilary or Obama 'just to show the world that women and blacks can be voted into office regardless of sex and/or race..." Isn't that voting based on sex and/or race? I'll skip on voting solely based on that "logic" (serious clearing of throat).
Then there's the age factor in my opinion. I've watched young men seriously age while in office. Do I really want to vote in a man who is in his 70's and not in the best of health at that? I mean, that sort of leaves the office open for a kind of crap shoot if we end up with the vice president in office instead, doesn't it?
Do I want to vote for a man who stood by his city in a time of crisis and was on Ground Zero with his city's rescue workers? Maybe. But then again this is the same man who said, "Oh well, I ran NYC all these years, Washington is nothing!" But NYC isn't the whole nation sir, it's just a tiny portion of the USA and her territories. He isn't running for mayor of Washington. He's running for president...Maybe his perspective is a bit skewed.
Do I want to vote for a man who left the ministry and entered politics? Or one who looks as though he thought he'd just landed on GQ's cover? Or the candidate that looks like he just swallowed vinegar?
I'll vote for the one who gives the straightest answers, how's that? But that means someone will forgo the usual political fence straddling, and it remains to be seen if any can do that.
Maybe I'll just vote for Undecided.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Guarding My Time
Though I am a stay at home wife and mom, I have to guard my time. This has been a hard lesson for me to learn over the years. I mean, I am, after all, a stay at home mom. I should have all the time in the world to accomplish every thing I want to do, every thing I ought to take care of, and any thing anyone else should want me to do, too. Right?
Wrong! No matter how you approach it, there are and always will be just 24 hours in a day. For health reasons, I find it necessary to appoint 7 of those hours to sleeping. For spiritual reasons, I try to devote at least 1/2 hour to God, in prayer and study and sometimes, I feel I need time than just a mere half hour. Let's say, for the sake of argument that I devote 1 hour a day to necessary bodily functions like eating and bathroom breaks. I've used up 9 of those 24 hours and I haven't even begun housework or writing! I am now down to a mere 15 hours to accomplish everything I want to do, everything I ought to do and everything anyone else wants me to do, too. I feel my shoulders and neck tense just thinking of the time constraint.
Because my family is, to all intents, grown (the youngest is 15), and our family is small (just 3 plus two cats and a dog in our home), I am able to keep my home looking nice and neat by spending a mere 2 hours a day at basic pick-up and cleaning housework. I devote about an hour to the preparation and following clean-up of each meal. Oops, I just lost three more hours! Now I have 12 hours to call my own.
Wrong! No matter how you approach it, there are and always will be just 24 hours in a day. For health reasons, I find it necessary to appoint 7 of those hours to sleeping. For spiritual reasons, I try to devote at least 1/2 hour to God, in prayer and study and sometimes, I feel I need time than just a mere half hour. Let's say, for the sake of argument that I devote 1 hour a day to necessary bodily functions like eating and bathroom breaks. I've used up 9 of those 24 hours and I haven't even begun housework or writing! I am now down to a mere 15 hours to accomplish everything I want to do, everything I ought to do and everything anyone else wants me to do, too. I feel my shoulders and neck tense just thinking of the time constraint.
Because my family is, to all intents, grown (the youngest is 15), and our family is small (just 3 plus two cats and a dog in our home), I am able to keep my home looking nice and neat by spending a mere 2 hours a day at basic pick-up and cleaning housework. I devote about an hour to the preparation and following clean-up of each meal. Oops, I just lost three more hours! Now I have 12 hours to call my own.
I write two newsletters and a daily blog on Xanga that is linked to one of those newsletters, and I have a deep-seated need to just write, I allot at least 4 hours per day to writing. Now we've squashed my remaining day into 8 hours.
Given my home is just like any other there are always major projects going on. Whether it's the necessary deep cleaning chores, re-organization of a problem area, the acquisition of something new that requires re-arranging a room, yard work, mending, home decor problems to address, etc. There is the time allowance also for any thing anyone else thinks I should devote time to, like playing chauffeur or secretary or grocery shopping and such. I can easily use up another 4 hours.
I reserve the final four hours for 'resting', which in a woman's world, means that I get up and down from my seat nine or ten or twenty times to find what can't be seen by the naked eye of others living in the household (Thank God for mom's having 'x-ray' vision to see what is right in the front of any cabinet or fridge!), fetch a cup of coffee for my tired working man hubby, help dear daughter locate the ONLY shirt she can possibly wear to school the next day, retrieve any number of other 'lost' items that I am told only I could have possibly moved (but we all know I would never have put it THERE!), turn on the fan because someone is too hot, turn down the bed (my doesn't it look welcoming...sigh), switch on the outside lights for the dog who is afraid of the dark, load the dishwasher at least six times more (how can that sink continually refill when we aren't eating?!), etc, etc.
And this is the day of a woman who can actually say with a straight face that she has time of her own! Believe me, my heart aches for the mother of babies and toddlers, who are active from sunlight to sunlight with brief naps in between. And working moms who give up ten hours or more of their day to a job outside of the home jobs that require their attention.
I say all of this because, quite simply I came this close (-) to signing up as a guest writer on another website to do a weekly article. And just as I filled in the required info, I heard my husband say, as he did just a couple of weeks ago when I stated I'd begun a new blog, "But dear, do you really have time to write MORE every day?" He was more concerned about me than I am about myself. Well really, why shouldn't he be?
He is the one who is most likely to reap the woman who is too tired to think at day's end, who groans each time she moves. I assured him that this blog is meant just for me, a quiet spot to reason out a few things, to write without editing too closely, and wasn't meant for daily posts.
So I stopped just before hitting 'send' and listened to what he was saying to me just a few days ago. "You do enough already. Don't shortchange yourself or your family. Reserve a little time for the every day things. Don't be spendthrifty with your time, you can't reclaim it."
Whew! I came darned close! I have to be more vigilant about guarding my time.
Given my home is just like any other there are always major projects going on. Whether it's the necessary deep cleaning chores, re-organization of a problem area, the acquisition of something new that requires re-arranging a room, yard work, mending, home decor problems to address, etc. There is the time allowance also for any thing anyone else thinks I should devote time to, like playing chauffeur or secretary or grocery shopping and such. I can easily use up another 4 hours.
I reserve the final four hours for 'resting', which in a woman's world, means that I get up and down from my seat nine or ten or twenty times to find what can't be seen by the naked eye of others living in the household (Thank God for mom's having 'x-ray' vision to see what is right in the front of any cabinet or fridge!), fetch a cup of coffee for my tired working man hubby, help dear daughter locate the ONLY shirt she can possibly wear to school the next day, retrieve any number of other 'lost' items that I am told only I could have possibly moved (but we all know I would never have put it THERE!), turn on the fan because someone is too hot, turn down the bed (my doesn't it look welcoming...sigh), switch on the outside lights for the dog who is afraid of the dark, load the dishwasher at least six times more (how can that sink continually refill when we aren't eating?!), etc, etc.
And this is the day of a woman who can actually say with a straight face that she has time of her own! Believe me, my heart aches for the mother of babies and toddlers, who are active from sunlight to sunlight with brief naps in between. And working moms who give up ten hours or more of their day to a job outside of the home jobs that require their attention.
I say all of this because, quite simply I came this close (-) to signing up as a guest writer on another website to do a weekly article. And just as I filled in the required info, I heard my husband say, as he did just a couple of weeks ago when I stated I'd begun a new blog, "But dear, do you really have time to write MORE every day?" He was more concerned about me than I am about myself. Well really, why shouldn't he be?
He is the one who is most likely to reap the woman who is too tired to think at day's end, who groans each time she moves. I assured him that this blog is meant just for me, a quiet spot to reason out a few things, to write without editing too closely, and wasn't meant for daily posts.
So I stopped just before hitting 'send' and listened to what he was saying to me just a few days ago. "You do enough already. Don't shortchange yourself or your family. Reserve a little time for the every day things. Don't be spendthrifty with your time, you can't reclaim it."
Whew! I came darned close! I have to be more vigilant about guarding my time.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Parenting in the Spirit
I think that parenting has been the most opportunity filled role I've faced, (though I'd tell you readily enough that marriage is nose to nose with parenting). This week I had one of those parental opportunities to grow. My youngest daughter is 15. A mature 15. Which means that while she is wiser and older and far more determined in some respects than I was at 15, she is still a fairly young age. A fact of which I have to remind myself often.
This child firmly believes that where there is a will there is a way. She wanted a cell phone of her own. Her dad and I, not buying into the 'cell phones are a necessity' argument were then treated to the "Everyone in my school except for me has one," argument. Due to my thrifty nature, well developed and honed over the years, I refused to buy a cell phone for her personal use. I do have a pre-paid cell phone which is strictly reserved for emergency use only. And I do truly mean emergency, "The car is broken down on the side of the road and I need you to come fetch me, " type, not the "someone else is using our landline phone," variety.
Given her nature, I knew it was only a matter of time before this child figured out that she could have what she wanted if she supplied her need. And being raised in a frugal household she knows that money may be saved towards a purchase. At last, she had enough saved to purchase her own phone. Not the basics only model that mom has, but a fancy schmancy type with built in digital camera and text pad, etc. But despite arguments on my part, she insisted on a phone that looked 'cool' even though the website plainly stated she couldn't get service in our area. Well, of course, she found to her dismay that the phone didn't work and after two weeks of frustrating attempts to locate a tower in any number of surrounding towns she gave up and boxed the phone up to return.
I'd personally hoped that was the end of the whole cell phone controversy. It wasn't. Dear daughter then went online and researched phones that would service our area. And saved more money to cover the much higher cost of the phones she saw online. And after careful research she found not only the model she wanted selling at a clearance price AND the company offered to double her minutes for the lifetime of the phone. She ordered the phone, and it was everything it had promised and more and she was pleased, even though she had only enough money left over to purchase 20 minutes of time.
She got the phone in October and managed to save enough of her snack (and I suspect, lunch money) to cover the purchase cost of another patch of airtime. Again, she researched her options and discovered that purchasing directly from the company that serviced the phone, as opposed to a retailer meant she could save about 1/3 of the cost. I was, frankly, impressed with her savvy in doing all this footwork. The only hitch was the need to use my credit card to purchase the airtime, but she gave me cash to cover the purchase, which I set aside in our account to pay the bill when it arrived. She carefully budgeted her airtime and used the landline phone when she was home. All well and good.
I did notice as December rolled in that the cellphone was more and more in use, but assumed she had enough minutes to use it. And then she came to me with a $20 bill from her Christmas gift monies and said, "My phone automatically renews when it runs out of minutes, but this will cover it." I was busy at the time and ignored the small alarm that went off in the 'parenting' segment of my brain. Now here's where I let my guard down.
I assumed she knew what she was talking about because she'd been so careful in her purchase and usage up to that point. Imagine my shock to discover that my credit card statement was seriously high. Seriously. I keep careful track of any charges I put on my card and knew just about what to expect when the bill arrived, especially as I'd used it to purchase a few gifts online that weren't available locally.
My balance was about 1/3 higher than I'd expected. My stomach did a queer flip flop when I opened the bill, which arrived on New Year's Eve. Since it was late, and I was involved in another task requiring careful thought, and I was certain there was a horrid mistake, I shoved the bill aside until I could review it more closely and give it my fuller attention the next day.
The next day I carefully added up the charges related to the cellphone and calculated that there were roughly $50 in charges. Okay, she'd given me $20, and we'd promised to purchase $10 more in minutes for her after her brother called her cell phone during a personal crisis to talk to us when we were all away from home. That meant she'd gone over her time limit and still had an extra $20 in charges. But as I looked more closely at the charges on my statement, I saw that for two or three days she'd used up all her minutes twice. TWICE. That alarmed me.
And that alarm that rang went deeper, this time. I decided to look up my card statement online and see how many more charges had been incurred in the two weeks since the statement dropped. To my absolute horror my credit card balance was TWICE what it ought to have been. I felt sick. And angry. And frankly, betrayed.
First of all, I hadn't given her permission to 'automatically renew' her minutes. And looking at the charges I discovered that several days in a row the minutes had renewed twice or more. The total charges that weren't paid now came up to about $100. This was serious money, and it was money I didn't really want to pay out. What's more, I knew that she didn't have the money to cover the charges either and that at her usual rate of savings, she'd be paying that balance off for quite a while. And finally, since she wasn't even at home at the moment, had been spending the night with her best friend, I was fairly certain that cell phone had been in heavy use the past twenty-four hours. Which meant still more charges would be added to my bill in the next few days.
At this point, I was pretty much livid. I tried to call her on the cellphone but got her voice mail. I tried to call her friend's home, but they weren't answering the phone nor was the answering machine on. I tried calling the friend and the friend's mom on their cellphones without an answer. And you'd have to know how frustrated I was to even consider calling any of those three cell phones in the first place. I was clearly breaking my own "Cell phones are for use in emergencies only," rule.
Which was all well and good in the end, I suppose, because when I realized that things were out of my control, I remembered that God is always in control, and I turned to prayer. I was heartsick. In my book of values, my child had stolen from me. I didn't for one minute want to believe that she'd done it deliberately. After parenting five children you pretty much know the nature of each and everyone. And this wasn't her nature.
So how did I handle the situation? My immediate reaction had been to let my anger roar. This seldom resolves anything and generally leaves me feeling as badly as the person who received the full wrath of mom. Besides that, it was the first day of the New Year. I certainly didn't want to begin my New Year with an argument, angst and anger. I had ample opportunity to pray about the situation and by the time the best friend's mom called to ask if I'd tried to call earlier, I was able to say quite calmly that I'd needed to talk to my daughter, but it could wait until she got home.
When dear daughter came in, I greeted her calmly. Then I pulled out the statement, with highlighted charges, and additional charges written in. Her face went white. I knew by her reaction that the statement was more of a shock to her than it had been to myself. I explained that she'd have to pay for the charges, and in the meantime, I thought it best if she give me her phone, which she did without argument. Then I explained how upset I'd been both with the bill and with her carelessness. DD shed a few tears, pulled out her piggybank and managed to scrape together all but $20 of the funds needed to pay the bill. She then pulled up her account online and found out how to turn off the auto renew feature.
Then that glimpse of maturity revealed itself once more in this 15yo daughter of mine. "I think I should be the one to tell Daddy what I've done, don't you?" I agreed with her that would be best. And that evening when he came home, she did just that. She went right out to tell him, not even giving him a chance to come in the house. We all agreed that repayment and no phone until all payment was received was punishment enough.
I learned something too that day. Trusting in God to help me deal with a situation that is beyond my parenting norm serves me far better than doing it all by myself.
This child firmly believes that where there is a will there is a way. She wanted a cell phone of her own. Her dad and I, not buying into the 'cell phones are a necessity' argument were then treated to the "Everyone in my school except for me has one," argument. Due to my thrifty nature, well developed and honed over the years, I refused to buy a cell phone for her personal use. I do have a pre-paid cell phone which is strictly reserved for emergency use only. And I do truly mean emergency, "The car is broken down on the side of the road and I need you to come fetch me, " type, not the "someone else is using our landline phone," variety.
Given her nature, I knew it was only a matter of time before this child figured out that she could have what she wanted if she supplied her need. And being raised in a frugal household she knows that money may be saved towards a purchase. At last, she had enough saved to purchase her own phone. Not the basics only model that mom has, but a fancy schmancy type with built in digital camera and text pad, etc. But despite arguments on my part, she insisted on a phone that looked 'cool' even though the website plainly stated she couldn't get service in our area. Well, of course, she found to her dismay that the phone didn't work and after two weeks of frustrating attempts to locate a tower in any number of surrounding towns she gave up and boxed the phone up to return.
I'd personally hoped that was the end of the whole cell phone controversy. It wasn't. Dear daughter then went online and researched phones that would service our area. And saved more money to cover the much higher cost of the phones she saw online. And after careful research she found not only the model she wanted selling at a clearance price AND the company offered to double her minutes for the lifetime of the phone. She ordered the phone, and it was everything it had promised and more and she was pleased, even though she had only enough money left over to purchase 20 minutes of time.
She got the phone in October and managed to save enough of her snack (and I suspect, lunch money) to cover the purchase cost of another patch of airtime. Again, she researched her options and discovered that purchasing directly from the company that serviced the phone, as opposed to a retailer meant she could save about 1/3 of the cost. I was, frankly, impressed with her savvy in doing all this footwork. The only hitch was the need to use my credit card to purchase the airtime, but she gave me cash to cover the purchase, which I set aside in our account to pay the bill when it arrived. She carefully budgeted her airtime and used the landline phone when she was home. All well and good.
I did notice as December rolled in that the cellphone was more and more in use, but assumed she had enough minutes to use it. And then she came to me with a $20 bill from her Christmas gift monies and said, "My phone automatically renews when it runs out of minutes, but this will cover it." I was busy at the time and ignored the small alarm that went off in the 'parenting' segment of my brain. Now here's where I let my guard down.
I assumed she knew what she was talking about because she'd been so careful in her purchase and usage up to that point. Imagine my shock to discover that my credit card statement was seriously high. Seriously. I keep careful track of any charges I put on my card and knew just about what to expect when the bill arrived, especially as I'd used it to purchase a few gifts online that weren't available locally.
My balance was about 1/3 higher than I'd expected. My stomach did a queer flip flop when I opened the bill, which arrived on New Year's Eve. Since it was late, and I was involved in another task requiring careful thought, and I was certain there was a horrid mistake, I shoved the bill aside until I could review it more closely and give it my fuller attention the next day.
The next day I carefully added up the charges related to the cellphone and calculated that there were roughly $50 in charges. Okay, she'd given me $20, and we'd promised to purchase $10 more in minutes for her after her brother called her cell phone during a personal crisis to talk to us when we were all away from home. That meant she'd gone over her time limit and still had an extra $20 in charges. But as I looked more closely at the charges on my statement, I saw that for two or three days she'd used up all her minutes twice. TWICE. That alarmed me.
And that alarm that rang went deeper, this time. I decided to look up my card statement online and see how many more charges had been incurred in the two weeks since the statement dropped. To my absolute horror my credit card balance was TWICE what it ought to have been. I felt sick. And angry. And frankly, betrayed.
First of all, I hadn't given her permission to 'automatically renew' her minutes. And looking at the charges I discovered that several days in a row the minutes had renewed twice or more. The total charges that weren't paid now came up to about $100. This was serious money, and it was money I didn't really want to pay out. What's more, I knew that she didn't have the money to cover the charges either and that at her usual rate of savings, she'd be paying that balance off for quite a while. And finally, since she wasn't even at home at the moment, had been spending the night with her best friend, I was fairly certain that cell phone had been in heavy use the past twenty-four hours. Which meant still more charges would be added to my bill in the next few days.
At this point, I was pretty much livid. I tried to call her on the cellphone but got her voice mail. I tried to call her friend's home, but they weren't answering the phone nor was the answering machine on. I tried calling the friend and the friend's mom on their cellphones without an answer. And you'd have to know how frustrated I was to even consider calling any of those three cell phones in the first place. I was clearly breaking my own "Cell phones are for use in emergencies only," rule.
Which was all well and good in the end, I suppose, because when I realized that things were out of my control, I remembered that God is always in control, and I turned to prayer. I was heartsick. In my book of values, my child had stolen from me. I didn't for one minute want to believe that she'd done it deliberately. After parenting five children you pretty much know the nature of each and everyone. And this wasn't her nature.
So how did I handle the situation? My immediate reaction had been to let my anger roar. This seldom resolves anything and generally leaves me feeling as badly as the person who received the full wrath of mom. Besides that, it was the first day of the New Year. I certainly didn't want to begin my New Year with an argument, angst and anger. I had ample opportunity to pray about the situation and by the time the best friend's mom called to ask if I'd tried to call earlier, I was able to say quite calmly that I'd needed to talk to my daughter, but it could wait until she got home.
When dear daughter came in, I greeted her calmly. Then I pulled out the statement, with highlighted charges, and additional charges written in. Her face went white. I knew by her reaction that the statement was more of a shock to her than it had been to myself. I explained that she'd have to pay for the charges, and in the meantime, I thought it best if she give me her phone, which she did without argument. Then I explained how upset I'd been both with the bill and with her carelessness. DD shed a few tears, pulled out her piggybank and managed to scrape together all but $20 of the funds needed to pay the bill. She then pulled up her account online and found out how to turn off the auto renew feature.
Then that glimpse of maturity revealed itself once more in this 15yo daughter of mine. "I think I should be the one to tell Daddy what I've done, don't you?" I agreed with her that would be best. And that evening when he came home, she did just that. She went right out to tell him, not even giving him a chance to come in the house. We all agreed that repayment and no phone until all payment was received was punishment enough.
I learned something too that day. Trusting in God to help me deal with a situation that is beyond my parenting norm serves me far better than doing it all by myself.
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