It isn’t easy being a one-income household.
There are a lot things we go with out so that I can stay home, and take care of our boys.
We hardly ever go on vacation. If we do it’s short, and to some place we can drive.
And our cars? They’re older than my five year old.
We don’t have the hottest cell phones. Our clothes are from the sales racks at Old Navy and Target instead of the newest inventory at Macy’s.
The boys aren’t enrolled in Montessori School. I’m the pre-school teacher around here.
When we do purchase something like a new computer or a Wii, we don’t go out and buy it right away. We save until we can afford it.
If the car breaks down or there’s some sort of other unexpected bill, we pay that first. Then we wait even longer for our “wants”.
I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t admit sometimes I’m envious of other moms’ spa days and luxury mini-vans with entertainment systems.
But, you know, all that stuff?
It’s just stuff.
Though our society doesn’t view it that way, things like iPhones and weekly manicures and dinners out four nights a week are really luxuries.
In some homes, and yes even in this country, just having enough food to eat dinner every night is a luxury.
I am so grateful that our needs are provided for.
I could go back to work.
Then we could go on Disney vacations every year, and I could Tweet from my Blackberry.
But I’d miss out on the one luxury that does really matter to me.
The privilege of being at home with my precious little boys every day.
Oh, sure, there are times I desperately want to talk to someone over 4 feet tall, and want to pull my hair out, and want to lock myself in the bathroom.
But most of the time I’m laughing or giving snuggles or kissing boo-boos. And that’s the stuff I don’t want to live with out.
I wouldn’t give it up for any of that other stuff.
This is heavy on my heart, because several moms have told me recently they’re going back to work even though they don’t want to.
I know the economy is bad, and it’s scary. I know you wonder some days if you’re going to make it.
If you really want to work, there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t think everyone should be a stay-at-home-mom.
But if staying home with your children is what you truly desire, then I implore you to weigh all your options. Re-evaluate your financial priorities. Re-work your budget.
You might find a way to make it work.
It could mean giving up small things like gym memberships and designer jeans.
It could mean giving up big things, like downsizing your house or your vehicles.
Is being home with your kids every day worth it?
I think so.
What do you think?
Most people are probably tired of all the election coverage in the news, but I can’t get enough. I think politics are fascinating, and this year certainly hasn’t been a disappointment. To feed my addiction, I watch cable news. I have some pretty strong political opinions, (I might as well be up front and tell you that I am a moderate Republican who will vote for John McCain in the fall.) and it seems that my 3 1/2 year old son, David, is developing them as well.
Last week Barack Obama was giving a televised speech the day after he sealed up the democratic nomination. David was playing in the living room and heard Obama say something about “taking back the power.”
“Mommie, who is that man?”
“That is Barack Obama.”
“What’s he do?” Person, animal or thing, David always asks what it does.
“He’s running for President of the United States, our country. He might be the next president of the country we live in.”
“I don’t want him to be president.”
That surprised me. I wasn’t aware that David had any political views.
“Why not?”
“He’s going to turn off our electricity.”
“What? Why do you think Obama is going to turn off our electricity?”
“He said he’s going to take back the power. I don’t want him to turn our lights off.”
A string of bad storms caused our power to go off twice the week before for several hours each time.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s what he meant when he said that David.”
“Yes! Obama is going to take our power!”
It didn’t matter what I said. I couldn’t convince him otherwise.
Later a campaign commercial for John McCain came on.
“He wants to be president too, Mommie?”
“Yes. McCain and Obama are competing against each other. It’s kind of like a big game. We’ll have to wait and see who wins.”
“I want Mccain to win Mommie. He won’t turn our power off.”
Now whenever he sees McCain on TV he says, “He’s a nice man. I want him to be president. He won’t take our electricity away.”
Who says McCain doesn’t poll well in younger demographics?
I’m beginning to wonder if David will go to Kindergarten in Pull-Ups. (How big do those things come?) He’s turns three and a half tomorrow, so I resolved that this is the week we are going to conquer the toilet, once and for all.
Strategic planning for the bathroom blitzkrieg began yesterday. I took David shopping so that he could pick out some new “big boy” underwear. He chose SpongeBoob SpongeBob, of course. I hate barely tolerate SpongeBob, but Bob Le Sponge (That is what they call him in France. France! Even the French watch SpongeBob? How does that translate?) seems to posses motivating powers I do not. I told him if he wanted to wear the SB underwear, he had to go potty in the toilet and not in his pants. It’s working, so far. He kept them clean for seven hours before having a small accident. The most progress yet.
I asked David over and over this morning if he needed to go, and he kept saying he couldn’t. Suddenly, around 10 o’clock, he announced that, “My pee came back!” We ran to the bathroom, and he proceeded to do his thing. Then he proudly announced, “I peed standing up, like a big man!” and gave me a high five.
Just before nap time I coerced him to try again, and we had more success. After that I tried to put a Pull-Up on him so he wouldn’t wet the bed. Bad idea. He didn’t want to give up the SB underwear. I told him he could wear the SB underwear over his Pull-Up. He didn’t like that either. He ended up going to sleep with three layers; SB underwear, a Pull-Up and then another pair of SB underwear over the Pull Up. Oh, well. Whatever works.
I first started potty training with David when he turned two. He cried and screamed and refused to co-operate. More than one person told me that the best thing to do was back off, and try again in a month or two. Well, I’ve been doing that for a year and a half. Every other month of so I’d try again for a few days. And after a day or two, when both of us were completely frustrated, I’d give up — again.
I tried almost every method out there. I asked other moms for advice, I read books, looked up information on the Internet. I came across some methods that were completely insane. One included the practice of talking to your child with primal “caveman” like sounds in order to communicate with them on their level. (“My son is toilet trained, but Ugh is the only word he knows.” Um, no.) We resorted to bribery several times. Money, candy, toys, you name it. But nothing motivated him.
It’s not a matter of can. David goes hours between wet Pull-Ups. He knows when he has to go, and he knows how to go. It’s a matter of will. He’s stubborn. It’s not his idea, so he doesn’t want to do it. He’s not going to “tell me when he’s ready,” as many “experts” says he will. That would be like like surrendering to him.
The “experts” also say you shouldn’t force it, but I don’t think any of them had a kid with David’s relentless resolve. Tell him he can’t get down from the table until he finishes his broccoli, and he’ll sit there until bed time just to spite you. Oh sure, when he’s heading up a grass roots effort some day to effect important social change that tenacity will make him a great leader. But now, it just makes me a frustrated mom.
I’m tired. I’m tired of the looks I get from nursery workers, and other moms when they discover he’s three and a half and not potty trained. I’m tired of lifting a 40 pound kid onto the changing table. I’m tired of spending $20 bucks on a pack of disposable training pants. I’m not waiting anymore.
So this week I’m firing with both barrels. I’m using a little bit of force strong suggestion with an entire arsenal of motivation. We bought the SB underwear. And when he goes potty on the toilet he gets a sticker to put on a chart. When he gets seven stickers, he gets a dollar. There are also a pair of roller skates sitting on the top shelf in the bathroom that will be his the day he decides to poop in the toilet. (Something he so far has refused to do entirely.) That’s the plan.
There’s also unplanned “on-the-fly” motivation. This afternoon he was playing with some wooden blocks. He recently discovered all the wonderful ways glue can be used, and asked me to glue two of the blocks together. Normally I would say no to such a random request. Desperation causes you to do strange things. I said, “If you go use the potty, I’ll glue them together.” It worked. He used the potty, and now two of his blocks are permanently stuck together with Super Glue.
Of all the jobs I’ve had to do as mom so far, this potty training thing certainly is the most difficult. I never thought I’d be locked in a battle of wills with a three year old, and be the one on the loosing side. I will not surrender this time. Even if I have to dress up like SpongeBob and dance a jig in the front yard tomorrow to get him to poop in the toilet.
I TIVO’d last week’s space shuttle launch so my three-year-old son could watch it. He’s recently developed a fascination with rockets. While we’re watching the lift-off he asks, “Who’s those peoples?”
“They’re astronauts.”
“What they dos?”
“They fly the space shuttle. The rocket is called a space shuttle.”
“I want to be an astronaut.”
“Well if you really want to, you can be an astronaut when you get big.”
“But we need to go to Walmart first.”
“Why do we need to go to Walmart?”
“I need an astronaut hat. We need to buy one.”
“Oh, honey I don’t think they sell astronaut hats at Walmart.”
“But I need to buy one. I can’t be an astronaut when I get big with out a hat.”
“Sweetie, I think if you become an astronaut they give you the hat for free.”
We started homeschooling this week. O.K., everyone who knows me pick your jaws up off the floor. I don’t plan on homeschooling my son for the next 15 years. I’m just doing pre-school home-school, because quite honestly the only way we could afford to send him to pre-school is if I went back to work. That would sort of undo this whole SAHM thing I’ve been doing for the last three years.
Now you committed home-schoolers out there, don’t misunderstand me. I have nothing against homeschooling. It’s just not for me. I utterly lack the patience years of homeschooling would require. And frankly, selfish as it may sound, I look forward to the day I can load my son on the bus and take an uninterrupted shower and my freshly mopped floor will actually dry before little feet pad across it.
We did all kinds of activities this week. My son’s favorite craft was the pig we made out of a pop bottle. Martha Stewart and her quarterly magazine Good Things for Kids was the inspiration behind it. My son bestowed the simple name pig upon him. Pig has been a constant companion these last few days. Except for Wednesday night when my son had what I call a “boy” moment and decided to tear pig apart. Then he cried because he missed pig. Unlike Humpty-Dumpty, we were able to put pig back together again the next day.
Pig sleeps on the bookshelf beside his my son’s bed. Pig rode with us in the car yesterday evening to run errands. Pig watched TV with us and joined us for school this morning. Pig played Ring Around the Rosy with us this afternoon. Pig joined us for dinner tonight. My son craddles pig in his arms, and pets pig saying, “He’s a nice pig.” This is big stuff for a vessel that had humble beginnings as a Mt. Dew bottle. (It has crossed my mind BTW that I will not be getting my 10 cents back for that bottle.)
So at the end of home-school pre-school week 1 my son learned a couple new songs, started using safety scissors, is beginning to understand how to read a face clock and made friends with a paper and plastic pig tacked together with tape and glue sticks.
Just as I finished this post my son had another “boy” moment, and used Pig as a hockey puck. Pig looks like any of us would if we’d been pummeled by a toy hockey stick. My son’s not crying this time. Guess that’s the end of Pig. Good thing he’s immortalized forever on my blog.
01/23/08
This recipe was labeled as light. I wasn’t aware that pork chops were low-cal. Maybe it depends on the cut, or maybe you’re only supposed to eat three bits. (I definitely had more than three bits.) I was skeptical of this being diet food, but it sounded good, so I made it anyway.
Southern Pork Chop Recipe
Prep: 5 min, Cook: 10 min.
4 pork rib chops
1 clove garlic, cut in half
1 Tbs. paprika
1 tsp. seasoned salt
1 tsp. sage, crumbled
1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp. pepper
Prepare grill or broiler. Rub both sides of pork chops with garlic. Combine next 5 ingredients in a bowl. Press seasoning mixture into pork chops with hands to adhere. Grill pork chops 7-8 minutes per side or until cooked throughout.
I found this recipe here http://www.mealsforyou.com/cgi-bin/recipe?id.5050 .
This was good and really easy to make. Very fast as well. It is a little hot and spicy. If you prefer bland food, it’s not for you. I cooked them on a cast iron grill on the stove top. I think they’d be really good on the Bar-B-Q. If I’d had some smoked paprika I would have used that to add a smokey flavor. (It’s on my grocery list.) The only difficulty I had was getting the spice rub evenly spread on the chops. I had one or two bits that had too much spice on them.
Well I’ve done enough talking. This week I want to hear from you. Copy this meme and paste it into a post on your blog. Fill in your own answers of course. Link back to this post, http://mommiedaze.com/2008/01/23/wednesdays-for-wives-happy-marriage-meme/ Also leave a comment here with a link to your blog letting me know you’re participating. If you have blogging friends out there you’d like to share this with, go ahead and tag them with this meme. If you aren’t a blogger I want to hear from you too. Just leave a comment with your answer to question number 10, What’s the one piece of advice you’d give other wives about creating a happy marriage? Let’s share our stories to inspire and encourage one another.
- How did you meet your husband? We meant in college when we were cast in a play together.
- What first attracted you to him? He was hot! He was a soccer goalie, and in great shape. It was early fall, he still had his summer tan and he had this sort of unruly blond hair. I couldn’t help but notice him.
- How did you know he was the one? It’s hard to pin-point a specific thing that brought me to that conclusion. I just knew after a couple months of dating that I never wanted to be with out him.
- How long have you been married? 9 years, will be 10 this March.
- What’s something you learned about him after you were married that surprised you? He wasn’t the type to frequent the library in college if you know what I mean. He was mostly interested in extra-curricular activities like sports and music. I was surprised to discover he had an inner nerd. He reads books on topics that are far more intellectual than I would ever read, and he’s very interested in history and politics.
- What do you argue about the most? Money.
- What quality in him do you admire most? His optimism. I am probably his total opposite when I comes to that. I worry and can get negative very easily.
- What is the hardest part about being married? Being a servant, and learning to make meeting his needs a greater priority than meeting mine.
- What’s the best part about being married? The constant companionship. He is my best friend.
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What’s the one piece of advice you’d give to other wives about creating a happy marriage? You have to be able to laugh together. Even when life gets hard, finding the humor in it always makes the situation seem, somehow, more manageable.
