I typically don't get online and complain about how hard my life is. I don't go onto facebook and complain about not having enough money for things. I don't whine about how much my husband is gone while I'm left managing what little money he makes for our family of four to try to live off of. You don't hear me complain because while life can sometimes be hard I feel as though my life is very fulfilling. I feel as though I'm a great mom and wife, with a great husband and amazing kids.
Of course, life IS hard sometimes. As fulfilling as it is... There are days while I'm folding clothes or wiping poop off of crib bars that I wonder if this is all there is. Sometimes when I check the mail only to find more bills or more reminder notices that I wish there were more I could do in order to get these bills paid on time. You just never see me say that. You never see me stress over it publicly... and here's why...
I finally DO say something about the bills... about eating spaghetti multiple times a week because it's very cheap to make... about introducing a potty and big girl pants to Abigail at an early age to help cut back on the cost of diapers... about my computer crashing and being completely unable to fix it or replace it due to the lack of funds... about the fact that I haven't had the oil changed in my car in over a year... about my iphone being so broken that shards of glass sometimes rip into my finger when I attempt to text someone simply because they are not "into" physically talking on the phone... I finally do say something... just to vent... for just a minute... and the reply I get is "maybe it's time you accept that it's time for you to get off your butt and get a job. Staying home is a luxury and a privilege."
Please excuse me for one moment. I've got to go grab my soap box...
Ok.. so lets take a short look at my background for those of you who don't know me. I worked form the time Angel was 9months old until she was almost 5. When I first went back to work we found a wonderful woman to watch her. She was old enough to by my mom and was the mother of a good friend that my family had known for years. She took Angel in as if she were her very own grandchild. She was affordable and Angel loved her. She gave Angel a blanket that Angel still totes around to this day. It was perfect... Until our dear sitter needed to go back to work. While she loved Angel dearly she needed more benefits than I could give (insurance and things). I kept working and at this point we began trying our best to work opposite schedules while tossing Angel off onto anyone we could find who would help. (like my brother, her grandparents, my grand parents, co-workers who were off work, ect..) I finally found a babysitter that was in the price range that seemed to work. She did work out for about 6 months. Then I finally got a bank job. Angel was 3 years old at the time. I found a great preschool close to my house. Angel loved it. She'd come home and tell me how much she loved her teacher and her new friends and how much fun she was having. Half my pay went to this school. A year later I became pregnant with Abigail. I worked all through my pregnancy. The preschool decided to start taking children as young as 3 months. I thought it would be perfect. I trusted them since Angel seemed to do so well. Once I was ready to go back to work after my maturity leave I signed Abigail up. It cost me almost $300 a week to send my girls there. That's $1200 a month and doesn't count the cost of food (I had to supply lunch and snacks that met their standards). I made right about $300 a week at my job, but I knew Angel would be starting kindergarten soon and I'd just make due until then...
Sounds great, right? Well pay attention to what I'm about to say next. Every day I'd show up and the girl who "taught" Abigail's class would tell me things like "oh she rolled over!" or "she drank her whole bottle! She was so hungry!" I knew she was lying about Abigail "rolling over" at only 3 months. She was still hardly trying to hold up her head. I thought she might be lying about drinking her whole bottle in one sitting (I would fill them with 8oz instead of 4oz to be safe in case I worked late she'd have extra). I ignored those things because they didn't matter, but one day I showed up and Abigail had a large red mark above her eye that was a little swollen. It doesn't bother me that Abigail got hurt. I understand that things happen, but what bothered me was when I asked her teacher what happened the response I got was "I was hoping that would have cleared up before you got here so you wouldn't see it. The director told me not to tell you about it if the red mark was gone." I did find out later from a different teacher that during nap time the girl took my baby and was holding her at the break-room table. Abigail who could not yet hold up her head was being held like a baby who could and so she fell forward hitting her head just above her eye on the corner of the table. The difference between my 3 month old and my 3 year old is my 3 year old was able to come home and tell me about any boo boos she received. My 3 month old was blindly put into the trust and care of this girl whose boss didn't think it necessary to tell me that my 3 month old baby slammed her head into a table... "she screamed, but once we gave her a pacifier and rocked her a while she stopped, so we knew it wasn't a big deal." It's easy to guess that I quit that job and have been home with Abigail ever since. I've done odd jobs here and there (art gigs, babysitting jobs, retail holiday help, ect..), but when I have to leave my baby with anyone I leave her with family or very trust worthy friends... People that I know will honestly speak on behalf of my voiceless baby.
Things are very tight for my family this is true, and they have been for a while. I have been actively (as actively as I can while raising my kids) looked for a job that paid well enough and was desirable enough for me to pay someone else to help raise my children for me. I found one. I'm going to start working again, but I'll be leaving my babies to a well trusted family friend whom I've known for over 15 years, who I trust to let me know if Abigail decides to jump off the couch and bang her head on my concrete floor (Sometimes she thinks she can fly), and I'll be honest... If there comes a time where she can't watch my kids and I can't find someone else as equally qualified then I'll quit this job (no matter how much fun it is or how much it pays) faster than I pulled Abigail out of that neglectful daycare in order to stay home and raise my children safety and to the standards that I feel necessary to have great kids.
..so I really don't complain much about not having money, and when I do I hate being told "go get a job." Like it's the easy. The truth is I'd rather be broke then have the wrong person watching my kids...
Of course, life IS hard sometimes. As fulfilling as it is... There are days while I'm folding clothes or wiping poop off of crib bars that I wonder if this is all there is. Sometimes when I check the mail only to find more bills or more reminder notices that I wish there were more I could do in order to get these bills paid on time. You just never see me say that. You never see me stress over it publicly... and here's why...
I finally DO say something about the bills... about eating spaghetti multiple times a week because it's very cheap to make... about introducing a potty and big girl pants to Abigail at an early age to help cut back on the cost of diapers... about my computer crashing and being completely unable to fix it or replace it due to the lack of funds... about the fact that I haven't had the oil changed in my car in over a year... about my iphone being so broken that shards of glass sometimes rip into my finger when I attempt to text someone simply because they are not "into" physically talking on the phone... I finally do say something... just to vent... for just a minute... and the reply I get is "maybe it's time you accept that it's time for you to get off your butt and get a job. Staying home is a luxury and a privilege."
Please excuse me for one moment. I've got to go grab my soap box...
Ok.. so lets take a short look at my background for those of you who don't know me. I worked form the time Angel was 9months old until she was almost 5. When I first went back to work we found a wonderful woman to watch her. She was old enough to by my mom and was the mother of a good friend that my family had known for years. She took Angel in as if she were her very own grandchild. She was affordable and Angel loved her. She gave Angel a blanket that Angel still totes around to this day. It was perfect... Until our dear sitter needed to go back to work. While she loved Angel dearly she needed more benefits than I could give (insurance and things). I kept working and at this point we began trying our best to work opposite schedules while tossing Angel off onto anyone we could find who would help. (like my brother, her grandparents, my grand parents, co-workers who were off work, ect..) I finally found a babysitter that was in the price range that seemed to work. She did work out for about 6 months. Then I finally got a bank job. Angel was 3 years old at the time. I found a great preschool close to my house. Angel loved it. She'd come home and tell me how much she loved her teacher and her new friends and how much fun she was having. Half my pay went to this school. A year later I became pregnant with Abigail. I worked all through my pregnancy. The preschool decided to start taking children as young as 3 months. I thought it would be perfect. I trusted them since Angel seemed to do so well. Once I was ready to go back to work after my maturity leave I signed Abigail up. It cost me almost $300 a week to send my girls there. That's $1200 a month and doesn't count the cost of food (I had to supply lunch and snacks that met their standards). I made right about $300 a week at my job, but I knew Angel would be starting kindergarten soon and I'd just make due until then...
Sounds great, right? Well pay attention to what I'm about to say next. Every day I'd show up and the girl who "taught" Abigail's class would tell me things like "oh she rolled over!" or "she drank her whole bottle! She was so hungry!" I knew she was lying about Abigail "rolling over" at only 3 months. She was still hardly trying to hold up her head. I thought she might be lying about drinking her whole bottle in one sitting (I would fill them with 8oz instead of 4oz to be safe in case I worked late she'd have extra). I ignored those things because they didn't matter, but one day I showed up and Abigail had a large red mark above her eye that was a little swollen. It doesn't bother me that Abigail got hurt. I understand that things happen, but what bothered me was when I asked her teacher what happened the response I got was "I was hoping that would have cleared up before you got here so you wouldn't see it. The director told me not to tell you about it if the red mark was gone." I did find out later from a different teacher that during nap time the girl took my baby and was holding her at the break-room table. Abigail who could not yet hold up her head was being held like a baby who could and so she fell forward hitting her head just above her eye on the corner of the table. The difference between my 3 month old and my 3 year old is my 3 year old was able to come home and tell me about any boo boos she received. My 3 month old was blindly put into the trust and care of this girl whose boss didn't think it necessary to tell me that my 3 month old baby slammed her head into a table... "she screamed, but once we gave her a pacifier and rocked her a while she stopped, so we knew it wasn't a big deal." It's easy to guess that I quit that job and have been home with Abigail ever since. I've done odd jobs here and there (art gigs, babysitting jobs, retail holiday help, ect..), but when I have to leave my baby with anyone I leave her with family or very trust worthy friends... People that I know will honestly speak on behalf of my voiceless baby.
Things are very tight for my family this is true, and they have been for a while. I have been actively (as actively as I can while raising my kids) looked for a job that paid well enough and was desirable enough for me to pay someone else to help raise my children for me. I found one. I'm going to start working again, but I'll be leaving my babies to a well trusted family friend whom I've known for over 15 years, who I trust to let me know if Abigail decides to jump off the couch and bang her head on my concrete floor (Sometimes she thinks she can fly), and I'll be honest... If there comes a time where she can't watch my kids and I can't find someone else as equally qualified then I'll quit this job (no matter how much fun it is or how much it pays) faster than I pulled Abigail out of that neglectful daycare in order to stay home and raise my children safety and to the standards that I feel necessary to have great kids.
..so I really don't complain much about not having money, and when I do I hate being told "go get a job." Like it's the easy. The truth is I'd rather be broke then have the wrong person watching my kids...
