Tag Archives: thoughts

Working 9 to 5: Stay-at-Home Moms & Career Moms

I don’t bring home the bacon, but I do fry it up in the pan.

When a woman becomes a mom, she’s faced with a most difficult decision – to work outside the home or not to work outside the home. It’s not easy to make a choice, and when you do, you end up doubting that choice for years and years to come.

When Hilary Rosen said Ann Romney never “worked a day in her life,” she was wrong. I don’t know a woman who hasn’t worked a day in her life. To tell you the truth, I don’t know many women who get a whole day off. Life is pretty much synonymous with work. Throw a child or three into the mix and your life IS work.

The decision to work outside the home or be a stay-at-home mom is a tough one. I said that already, but it bears repeating. It’s TOUGH! Today it is financial suicide to have the mom (or in some cases, the dad) stay home to be with the kids 24/7. It can be done, but it comes at a cost. I know that firsthand. Losing a salary isn’t easy no matter how much money you make. When I decided to quit work and stay home, we suffered financially. I don’t think there’s any way to get around that.

Before I left work on maternity leave, I had a too-good-to-be-true arrangement worked out with my company. After six weeks “off”, they were going to come into my home and set me up with a computer, dedicated phone line, fax machine, and anything else I may need to work from home. Other than attending sporadic meetings, I would be able to work on my schedule at home. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it? I thought so; however, right after I gave birth, the company was sold and the new owners put a kibosh on our plan. I could either work from 8-4:30 + two hours of commute time or I could quit.

I chose not to work because I didn’t want my son in daycare for ten and half hours a day. For me, the decision was a no-brainer. I didn’t have a career though, I worked a job. Perhaps walking away from a career would have been more difficult, but for me, I believe the decision would have been the same.

Please don’t misread this post and think that stay-at-home moms are better at parenting than working moms. I do NOT think that’s true. I’m just telling my story.

Every time a mom told me “You’re so lucky you get to stay home. We could never afford to do that.”, it would make me crazy angry. I wasn’t lucky. It wasn’t easy for me to stay home. I wore the same outfit to church for a year, because we didn’t have the extra money to buy another. It was a choice. We weren’t so financially well off that we didn’t miss the income. And sometimes, I just wanted to work to get out of the house.

I made a decision to stay home with my children. That’s it. Then we worked through the tough spots. Although I was incredibly fortunate to be able to spend every waking moment with my kids, luck played no part in my day-to-day life.

Now before you get bent out of shape, I realize there are moms and dad raising their children without the help and support of a spouse. Obviously they cannot just make a decision to stay home with their kids. They have no choice, but the moms throwing around the “you’re so lucky” phrase were never sole breadwinner/sole parents. They were women in the same basic position as myself at the time. We were on a level playing ground and chose differently. That is all.

Now I’m twelve years into this mother thing and I can reflect a bit on my choices. I do not regret staying home. Not at all, but I haven’t “not worked” the entire twelve years. When my children were babies, I sold Pampered Chef. Yup, imagine me cooking in front of groups of people. It was always interesting. I’ll just say that. Then I worked for a very short time in a day care. I brought my children with me and they cried every single day. My son was three and he became a cry-baby monster in day care, so when a friend of mine. who is a nurse, approached me about watching her children during the week, I jumped at the chance. My children were delighted to have best friends in the house all day while they were able to play with their own toys and nap in their own beds.

A few years later I worked part-time in Kohl’s. My hours were Mon.-Wed. and Frid. from 8 – 2:30. It was a dream job. Work was my “time-off”. Honestly. I totally viewed my job as a break, but my daughter still reminds me that I wasn’t home to get her off the bus when she was in 1/2 day kindergarten. She is still upset, if that’s even possible. It’s funny because on those days, we arranged things so my husband got her off the bus. It’s not like she became at latch-key kid at five.

So I’m saying all this to say, I don’t have a profession and that’s not always viewed as a good thing. I too often end up feeling “less than” or like I royally screwed up somewhere between graduation and childbirth. I know other people don’t mean to insinuate that I lay on the couch eating bon-bons all day (they would be M&M’s), but I get comments like, “Well you don’t understand, because you’re not working.” Or, and I love this one, “Your job isn’t a career like mine, so you wouldn’t understand the stress, pressure, etc.”

They’re probably right. I wouldn’t understand. There’s that saying about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes and I think there’s a lot of truth in that; however, we all make our choices and live with the natural consequences of that choice.

I do understand that I started graduate school when my daughter was three. Then I moved from Florida to Maine, got a job, and had countless responsibilities in church ministries. I understand that I couldn’t think past the present day or else I’d have a nervous breakdown. I know that there were not nearly enough hours in the day. I know we were short on money, lacking in time, and large on love. We did a lot.

But, I wouldn’t understand stress, pressure, time constraints, child juggling, etc. Not a bit. (Sorry. That was just a hint of sarcasm.)

I graduated high-school at 17 and college at 21. I got a job because I needed money, not because I wanted that particular job to be my life-long career. I was married at 22 and had my son at 25. No career. No profession. Just a job.

I may get another job tomorrow, but it most likely won’t be a profession and that’s the problem. People want to know what I do. What do I do?

I am a wife.

I am a mother.

I am a housekeeper.

I am a taxi driver.

I am a cook (definitely not a chef, just a cook).

I am volunteer at school.

I am women’s ministry leader.

I am a blogger.

I am me.

Happy, but without a profession. I don’t bring home the bacon, but I’ll fry it up in a pan and I’ll certainly help eat it.

I think we all make the best decisions possible for our families during each stage of life. There’s really no room for criticism in that. We all make mistakes and live with some regrets, but we keep waking up every day and loving our families. That’s what’s important. Careers and jobs will come and go, but our families will be around for a while. And, I have a pretty fabulous family.

What about you?

Do you have a career? If so, do stay-at-home moms make insensitive comments about your work?

Are you like me? Although you’ve worked a lot in life, you don’t necessarily have a career.

Were you/Are you a stay-at-home mom?

Do you regret your decision to work or not to work?

Comments 45 Comments
Categories Family

My Mission: Organization Part 2

29 Mar

I couldn’t leave yesterday’s post alone, now could I? There had to be a part two, because by now, every single one of you thinks I am a slob. I am not. I’ve been reformed!

I ran to the dollar store and bought eight little plastic boxes. Eight isn’t a magic number, but since I had a $10 bill, it worked with the budget.

Those little drawer organizers came in sets of three. Now that’s a bargain! The colors are what they had and cheapskates can’t be worried about the color of organizers that will be hidden in drawers and cabinets, at least this cheapskate isn’t worried. I’m new to the whole organizing deal, so don’t burst my bubble and tell me everything should match. Ok?

First I tackled the drawer that was a sea of serpent like phone charger wires, webcams, and other assorted chargers. I moved all those to a plastic box and put the chargers we use the least into little baggies, so the wires don’t become like a bowl of spaghetti.

If I were really organized I might move my chapstick to the bathroom and put it in my makeup case, but I like to have a Burt’s Bees chapstick in every room. Call me crazy. I am. I just hate chapped lips and I’m addicted to this stuff.

Here’s the cabinets in my kitchen island. Pretty impressive, huh? It might not be Martha Stewart good, but it’s a far cry from the jumble it was this morning.

I have a box for chargers, a box for extra party supplies (like ribbon, tissue paper, extra balloons, etc.), a box for for packing supplies that I use for my Fringe Vanilla (including my business cards), a box for batteries, and a box for kitchen gadgets that I only use once in a while. Now I need labels, but one thing a time.

Is there a twelve-step program for reformed slobs?

Maybe we should start one…hmmm…God grant me patience to accept the clutter I cannot change…ya, I don’t know. If you hear of a program, pass along the info. I’ll try and find a sponsor.

That’s as far as my ten dollars and ambition got me.

You must check out this kitchen though. It’s like nothing I have ever seen. Ever!

After you look at it, you’ll be finding yourself a sponsor and signing up for twelve-step program too.

Today I’m linking with…

Happy Weekend! I can assure you, I will not be thinking of organizing this weekend, so don’t expect more pictures next week.

Comments 8 Comments
Categories Passions

My Mind – Streaming

21 Mar

Happiness over the sun shining several days in a row.

Pain from a rogue migraine.

Frustration.

Enjoyment.

Thankfulness.

The mind battle over weather to eat the last scoop of ice-cream in the freezer or NOT.

Intense love.

Anger.

Isn’t it amazing all the emotions we can go through in a day? If you’re a hormonal woman, you can run through all those emotions in five minutes.

I’m going nowhere with this…welcome to my stream of consciousness post. Be scared, very scared.

I have damp and slightly smelly laundry hanging all over my house, because my stupid dryer stopped working. Actually, it will work for two-minute intervals, but FringeMan said unless I want to burn down the house, I should NOT attempt to use it. He’s declared it dead, and he fixes nearly everything, so if he says it’s ready for the grave, it’s beyond resuscitation.

Mourn with me people!

There are underwear hanging from the towel-bar in the kitchen. Now is not a good time to stop by, but I’m sure everything will be dry by seven o’clock tonight when the ladies arrive for Bible study. NOT.

The sun is glowing on my front porch/lawn and I am so tempted to cast my laundry out as if I were spreading grass seeds. It would dry quickly, I am certain; however, my neighbors may never fully recover from my public display of a freshly washed load of whites.

For the past two nights my daughter has become Susie-homemaker. She even busted out the broom and mop. Her room nearly sparkles. She told me that “we should do this spring cleaning every year, because it looks so nice.”

“Spring cleaning?” I said. “What you did is not spring cleaning, it’s just CLEANING. You should be doing this every week.”

Stunned. She was stunned.

I guess I’m pretty lax when it comes to my standard of clean for my kid’s rooms. I do regularly send them to clean, but my expectations are generally low. Even when it does get good and clean, it doesn’t last long, especially if more than one child is involved. Messes multiply in the presence of children. They can’t help it. At some point, I believe they were genetically altered to create disaster from order.

Now I’m left to contemplate snowpants, more specifically whether I should chuck the beat up pair of pink ones hanging from the hook in my hallway. It seems odd to keep out a pair of snowpants when you sent your child to school in shorts, but I’ve shoveled my way out of many April snowstorms. I am leery of this summer weather, enjoying it fully, but leery just the same.

I’ve notice spring doesn’t really exist anymore, not in the North East anyway. We go from snow to 80 degrees overnight. When I was kid, we had what we called “spring jackets”. There’s no need for them now. One day you’re wearing a snow suit, the next day you’re wearing your bathing suit. It’s a bit of a shock for our bodies, but I’m sure we’ll survive. I just pray we do not go back to snow suits.

That’s it. My brain just shut down.

You can move on the emotion that rejoices when I fall silent.

Many happy spring blessings to you.

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Life

The Day After Ugly

20 Mar

So my “ugly” post is being received about as well as bowl of poison berries. I just felt like I had to say life is ugly. Sometimes. We may white-wash her, prop her up in a corner, and paint her lips, but she’s still ugly. There are people who are hurting, who have lost everything, who need some hope. Some days are all about washing machines leaking puddles of sudsy water all over the floor and dryers burning up. (true story) The blessing is hope, even in the middle of all the ugly.

Enough about that. Maybe I should stick to words and forget about artistic expression through lousy snapshots.

Now on to more frivolous, but equally important topics…

This Sunday FringeMan and I were anchors in a tug-of-war. We were on opposing sides in a four-way tug-of-war. Think about that. How much of a chance do you think I stood when pit against FringeMan. He most certainly had an unfair advantage. Both myself and every single unfortunate child on my team went flying through the air. I lost my flip-flops!

I think the Awana leaders set us up for comic relief.

Then it was parents/team-leaders against kids in a game of dodge ball. Those children don’t mess around. It was war and we handled those dodge balls like they were live grenades. I launched one directly at my daughter and it walloped her in the head. Perfect shot. It exploded on impact. Then they told me head-shots don’t count. In what war do head shots not count? It’s my own kid I took down and you’re gonna give her a second shot at life?

Dang.

It was a fierce game, but they gave us ice-cream sundaes when a cease-fire was called. Ice-cream heals many wounds.

Maybe it’s the cure for all the ugly in this world.

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Life

The Ugly

20 Mar

For many months I’ve had this thought in mind…do a post on the ugly.

I don’t really know why, but I feel I must share with you the ugly, because sometimes life isn’t pretty.

Usually bloggers, including myself, only photograph the lovely, the good, and the bright; however, we all live with some ugly. At times, the ugly takes over, but don’t lose hope. God makes all things beautiful in His time.

Maybe that’s the message I really want to bring you.

*************************************************************

FringeKid and I armed ourselves with a camera and set out for a slow stroll around the block.

Yes, this is my neighborhood I am showcasing. In the three years I’ve lived here, we’ve had so many houses burn it’s like regularly scheduled programming, only it’s terrible. Real people lose everything.

Some of the fires were arson, but mostly it’s just because this town is old and there’s no money in it. People cannot afford to update the systems in their houses, so they fail.

Will you walk with us as we journey through real life?

An abandoned house, the third house to the right of my own.

This house had a fire our first fall in town. It’s been vacant ever since.

These steps could welcome the Morticia, but others?

You can rent-to-own this gem. Wanna be my neighbor friend?

Burned two years ago. Arson.

Soon enough, this dumpster will smell as bad as it looks.

Are you feeling better about your ugly, whatever that means to you?

The grass isn’t always greener. Sometimes it’s dead.

Even the flag looks tired of flying.

And just when you think all hope is lost…

a little glimmer of new life grows up and surprises you from the inside out.

He has made every thing beautiful in its time…

Comments 14 Comments
Categories Life

Date Night: Taking Chances

17 Mar

Last night I went on a date with my husband. That’s two months in a row, possibly a new PC (post-child) record.

I woke up feeling like Mexican food, because, honestly, Mexican food combines all my loves – cheese, fried, meat, cheese, chips. Throw some salsa on it and a side of refried beans with cheese (of course) and you have a spicy meal. It’s all good and it’s generally cheap. Besides, I love bright colors and Mexican restaurants are usually full-on tacky.

Love.

We just don’t have any Mexican restaurants near where we live. It’s kinda spooky. If we had known enchiladas would be so hard to come by, we may never have moved here in the first place. Even our Taco Bell is a case of food poisoning waiting to happen. Note: I happen to like Taco Bell and they are usually fairly clean; however, this one is an exception. When an eleven year-old boy, my son, even thinks a place is too dirty to eat, it’s bad. Health Department where are you?

For this cause, FringeMan took to searching the internet. He came up with a Mexican name, claiming to serve food, about 30 minutes from our house. We’re adventurous, so we set out, our tummies rumbling for spicy.

As we pulled into the parking-lot, my spidey senses kicked into high gear. At first glance, things didn’t appear quite right, but the lot was full, so we proceeded. I entered, took one look around, and would have bailed, but FringeMan thought it seemed worthy of a try and we had very few alternatives. McDonald’s was around the corner. Enough said.

We stayed, we ate, we survived to tell the tale. Besides, they had a beautiful mosaic on the wall below the counter. If I ever live in the southwest, I am so gonna pimp my place with mexicali mosaics. Rest assured we would have the tackiest house on the block.

Source: fairiesandfrenchfries.blogspot.com via Lila on Pinterest

Why is it some dives have the best food?

I had chili cheese enchiladas that came with rice and refried beans. They were more than I could eat, but I gave it my best shot. They were very cheesy, very good. I’m not sure I’ll ever go back, because let’s face it, I’d be pushing the odds of getting food poisoning; however, I have no regrets. Sometimes you have to risk your abdominal well-being and eat on the fringe.

What about you?

Where do you enjoy eating out?

Would you test fate and risk eating at a dive?

Comments 8 Comments
Categories Family

Ten Trivial Things I Know

15 Mar

I admittedly do not know much, but these few things I know.

My son’s room will never be truly clean.

Laundry is a constant.

In America, free speech is welcomed until it clashes with mainstream media. Then you best be silent or grow a very thick skin.

My daughter is growing up because she wants me to do her hair every single morning. This is a first in her ten years of life. Now I’m watching YouTube videos and scrambling to learn how to create any other look besides bedhead.

My body needs a diet. My mind hates that idea. My clothes like me a few pounds slimmer.

Every year when winter melts into spring, or even when it hesitates, I buy a new pair of shoes, as seen here and here and here. (The first pair is terribly ugly. The second two pairs are much cuter.) Shoes seem to be my lifeline out of winter’s depression.

I really cannot think of a good reason to bungee-jump. Ever.

My Facebook friends are very wise. Last night I put together an advisory board and they fixed my problem in moments. Really, we have an amazing resource called friends and family. We ought to tap into that resource from time to time.

I am very picky about which foreign countries I would like to visit. There are many on my must-see list, but others tend to fall off the little “earth” I’ve created in my mind.

I don’t do “puke” well. Just yesterday a little girl riding in the back seat of my car uttered the words, “I’m getting car-sick.” Immediately I panicked. “You’re not gonna throw-up – Are you gonna throw up – Tell me if you feel like throwing up – Please don’t throw up in the car!” I scared the car-sickness right out of that poor child.

Now it’s your turn. In this world of constant unknowns, tell me what you know.

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Life

Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200

6 Mar

This week the FringeFamily will get to experience winter and spring all in the same week. It’s pretty incredible really. Monday was snow flurries and Thursday will be fifty-seven degrees. That’s shorts weather in these parts.

Apparently the excitement in my life has hit an all-time low, because I feel the need to blog about the weather.

I did beat my kids in a riveting game of Monopoly on Sunday afternoon. I’m not sure what’s more exciting than swindling a ten year-old out of St. James Place, because you need it in order to buy a house.

Monopoly is our go-to game. I think every family has a certain game that the kids gravitate towards when they are bored. I only wish our go-to game was tic-tac-toe. I’m confident in my ability to come out a champ in that game, not to mention it’s about 3 hours 28 and half minutes shorter.

FringeKid always adds her own unique spin to the game. The boot, bag o’ money, and top-hat aren’t good enough for her. She insists on using characters with bug eyes and flashy colors. At times she insists we all use them.

It’s a direct reflection of her personality, but while she may look goofy, she has all the Chance and Community Chest good luck fairies on her side. She generally only buys railroads, never bothers with property that requires houses, and hoards stacks of money. She never ever picks a card that send her to jail without passing Go. Dare I admit I get a little frustrated with my daughter’s lack of strategy and luck of the draw?

Even FringeBoy gets a bit annoyed by her good fortune.

And don’t let her fool you, it’s not just Monopoly she’s good at. She sweeps hand after hand of UNO without giving one thought to the cards she’s throwing down.

I guess we must come to terms with the fact that she’s a natural-born winner and we may be not so natural.

So while we began this week with snow and board games, we may finish it with sunshine and a swim.

You just never know what excitement lies around the next cold front.

What about you and your family? How are you passing the long cold days of winter? Or are you a lucky dog living in a place with palm trees and blue skies?

On a serious note, my heart is sad for those whose lives have been forever changed because of tornadoes. My thoughts are with them and my prayers for them.

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Family

The Day My Cell Phone Aged Me

15 Feb

This past weekend I lost my cell phone. Since it was my birthday, I chalked it up to age and hoped my next mishap wasn’t losing my teeth.

Don’t worry about the cell phone. My son found it for me. I think children are hard-wired to locate items of modern technology. It’s a skill similar to radar devices that detect heat-seeking missiles.

But, on Saturday, my phone was lost.

I wasn’t worried. You see, I haven’t spent money on a phone in years. Oh, I pay for the service, just not the telephone. It’s my dirty little secret. I collect, some say hoard, old cell phones and chargers. I take all the reject phones from friends and family and put them to good use. I like to think of myself as a recycler rather than a techno-moocher.

Saturday was my big birthday shopping excursion and I found myself in a mall that makes a football stadium seem small. I took FringeKid and told my husband and son I’d give them a call later and we could meet up for a bite to eat in the food court. I discovered my missing phone when hunger pangs struck.

Since I was near H&M, I figured I’d browse and then ask a clerk to use the phone. The young men behind the counter broke out into laughter when I inquired about a phone. Apparently a person without a cell phone is a like a person without ears, only more hysterical.

So I set out in search of an older, wiser, hopefully more helpful sales clerk. Lord & Taylor was nearby. Generally when I go into a store like Lord & Taylor, I am ignored. Maybe they recognize the Target clothes on me. I guess I look like I cannot afford their merchandise, and it’s mostly true. My daughter usually gives us away when she picks up a price-tag and yells $298 dollars! It’s all awe and wonder for her. She’s only familiar with $19.99.

So I found a lovely clerk at the makeup counter, mustered my courage and asked.

“Excuse me. I have a crazy request for you. I seem to have misplaced my cell phone, and I am wondering if I can borrow the store phone for a quick call?”

“That’s not too crazy.” She said. “Believe me, I’ve had people ask for worse things.”

“Really? Worse than asking for a store phone, because the guy with the eight inch gauged earlobes in H&M thought that was a request from some time in space, like way back in the 90′s or something.”

Stuck in an aging gloom that wrinkle cream couldn’t help, I considered all the outdated things I cling to. I mean, I still have a VCR in my house. I felt technologically stunted, deficient in the new ways of an ever-changing world. I felt like my cell-phone came with an antenna.

I was aging right in front of my ten year-old baby girl, and feeling older than my usual twenty-nine until a women in Macy’s stopped me and asked for my help.

“Excuse me dear. Do you know how to work a cell phone?” She asked.

“Well the nineteen year-old in H&M doesn’t think so, but let me give it a try.”

She explained how she was trying to take a picture of some leopard-print stilettos for her daughter, but couldn’t get her cell-phone to cooperate. I grabbed the phone, scrolled through the options, flipped it over in my hand and said, “I’m so sorry, but your phone doesn’t have a camera.”

In that moment, all the pieces of my old-fashioned world fell into place. I knew there was hope for me and my outdated technology, because my lost cell-phone has a camera. I wanted to hug that woman with the antique cell phone. She gave me the greatest gift of all – my youth.