Why I embrace suburbia - Part 2

Have you guessed it by now?  How this girl growing up on three acres of hillside became the mom living behind sidewalks and bike paths, with neighborhood associations and fees?

I'll bet you wouldn't be too surprised if I said it was all due to my kids.

It didn't start out that way.  Our first house was the house in a new town that we could afford.  It was actually downtown rather than suburban, but it was a small downtown in a little place called Plymouth, MI, just far enough from the big city of Detroit.

We wondered then why the realtors were talking so much about the great schools.  What did we care at the time?  We were a good five years from having our first child then, and still amazed that a mortgage company was actually letting us buy a house just based on the promise of a job for Darrell. Yes, folks, I can trace the housing bubble/mortgage crisis back to 1993, when a signed letter from Ford was enough to get two 22-year-olds into a house.

So, here it is, the reasons I've come to love suburbia:

• Great schools. Do you hear about the generally really good schools in the cities or out in the country?  No, they're typically in the 'burbs, where taxes per square foot are high, but give us our money's worth in terms of a great education for our kids.  I've found this to be true in at least five states.
•  A ready-made supply of friends (for the kids).  I grew up with exactly three neighborhood friends. And I was lucky - there was no one near the age of my little sister.  My kids have always been able to walk down the street to find a friend near their age.  That doesn't mean I won't drive them across town to meet up with a good friend, but it's nice that I don't always have to.  
• A ready-made supply of friends (for me).  Thank goodness.  See my post about girlfriends to understand how important this has become to me, a slightly reformed so shy I was afraid of my own shadow kind of girl.  Oh, and being able to car pool now and then can save a mom's sanity as well.
• Amenities like a neighborhood pool and such.  I wouldn't have a pool in my own back yard, but I love having one just down the street.
• Biking/walking paths.  I've only recently discovered what I've been missing out on.  I lived in a great neighborhood for running in Lexington.  I live in one twice as good now due to abundant trails.
• A wide choice of homes.  Try finding your dream house on a few country acres without having it custom built.  Good luck with that.  Try finding your dream house in several neighborhoods with hundreds of houses each.  Can you guess where you'll find it first?
• Location.  Location.  Location.  At least that's what the realtors say.  It's never taken us more than two months to sell a house, in just about every economy imaginable.  We've done it six times, probably more than hundreds of newer realtors.  That happens by carefully choosing a home in a neighborhood with good resale value.  Well, that and you have to take care of your home (but that could be an entirely separate blog post).

So, yeah, I guess I've learned how to live closer to my neighbors.  And I've learned to love it.  At the same time, I suspect that once the kids are out of school and we finally settle down (ha!), it may be on a little more property somewhere. We'll see.  After all, I've still never lived outside of the Eastern time zone.  Maybe another adventure is yet to come...

Why I embrace suburbia - Part 1

I saw a friend's post on Facebook about wanting to live in a farmhouse with no neighbors and just peace and quiet, and I realized how much that isn't what I want, at least at this stage of my life.

I grew up in the hills of West Virginia.  That will forever be a part of me, and to this day, 20 years after moving away, my pulse quickens and I breathe more deeply whenever I cross the state line and go back to where I'm from.  If you haven't seen West Virginia in the fall, with the glorious colors of changing leaves all around, you've missed out on one of God's glories that you owe it to yourself to experience. 

 I couldn't find fall pictures, but you get the idea, right?

I didn't grow up on a farm, but I did grow up on a three-acre hillside.  Up on that hill, I had a special rock in a clearing where I'd go to sit when I wanted to get away from everyone, including my family.  It wasn't far from my house, but it felt far, because when sitting down on that rock, I couldn't see our house, or any other house on the hill.  When the snow came, I could sled down that huge hill, better sled riding than any I've experienced in other states, right in my back yard.

When I ran cross country, it was real cross country, running up and down steep hillsides and through creeks.  My own hill was so steep, that to run to the top, up to the radio tower above our property, seemed so far away that I could barely make it up there at a jog, even in the best of shape.  I'm sure it was less than a mile away.

I went hunting on that hill with my father several times, although I didn't ever even really try to kill anything.  I was a pretty good shot though, the best scoring girl (third place ribbon to prove it) in a gun safety course I took as a preteen.  And my father had the boys who called my home asking for me as a teenager believing that I hunted and trapped often, or at least he tried.

I wouldn't change a thing about the way I was raised and where I grew up, and yet, I had a wanderlust all along, knowing as far back as I can remember that I'd go other places and see other things.  I always wonder about people who live in exactly the same town their entire lives.  Don't they know that they are missing out on so much?  And they probably wonder about me as well.  Don't I know what I'm missing out on, not living near my life-long friends and family, not experiencing everything my hometown had to offer?

In the first home Darrell and I bought together, I felt claustrophobic.  It was so weird to step into our fenced in back yard and see neighbors on both sides so close that I could reach out and touch them if I went up to the fence.  It was weirder still to have the neighbor girl tell us what we watched on TV the evening before.  How did she see through the curtains?  And why was she looking into our window in the first place?

So, why have I lived in true suburban neighborhoods ever since?  Stay tuned for Part 2 to find out!

Growing up too quickly

In the beginning, it's all about making it to the next milestone.  That first smile, rolling over, sleeping through the night, crawling, saying their first word, walking...  And for a long time after that, it feels like you are just looking forward and making plans for them.  It's a whirlwind of viruses and playdates and preschool... and, life. 

At some point, your attention has to be more evenly spread between an outside job, more attention to that husband that you hardly remember seeing that first year or so other than to pass off the baby for a break, and eventually, maybe even a new baby.  You might not be able to imagine how your love can be spread between two (or more) children, but seemingly miraculously, your capacity to love increases proportionally.  Because what you really didn't understand, is that you'd love them just as much, even if in sometimes differing ways.

They get more active, signing up for pee-wee cheerleading, Brownie Girl Scouts, soccer, gymnastics, academic team, piano lessons, band, basketball (and that's just a partial list of my daughter's many activities over the elementary school years alone).

I'm not sure exactly when it happens, but somewhere along the way you stop looking forward quite so much, and start looking back, wishing for your child, maybe especially your firstborn, to be young again.  Since that can't happen, you at least want time to slow way down. 

You finally regret starting her in Kindergarten early, because that is now one less year that she could have lived at home.  By the time you debate coming up with any possible excuse to hold her back a year, it's too late.  When she talks about the fact that she could possibly even graduate early, at least you can put your foot down about that, but it's small consolation knowing that she will be going off to college at only 17 years old.

And she's always been the independent one.  Your son may beg to live at home during college.  But your daughter, your firstborn, has been ready to move out on her own (at least she thinks so) since about age 4.  You suspect that she talks of college in California just because it's the furthest continental state away from home.

Ah, my daughter, my beautiful, headstrong, independent, strong young woman.  There are so many things I want you to know before you venture out on your own.  Two and a half years doesn't seem long enough to make you realize everything I want you to know.

Forgive me when I look at you, and still see this little girl instead of the nearly grown woman you're so quickly becoming:

You are beautiful.  You are loved unconditionally, not just by me, your father, and yes, even your brother, but most importantly, you are loved by God.  You can do (almost) anything.  I push you hard sometimes because I know that you can go further than your father and I ever did, or could.  I expect a lot from you, probably more than is expected from most of your friends.  But I believe children live up to expectations.  I went to college because I was expected to.  I made good grades because it was expected of me.  I expect all that of you, and so much more.

You are the child I learned on.  I don't know if that means I'm a better mother to your little brother, of if knowing that I've made mistakes is a good thing.  I know I could have done better raising you, but I could have done much worse as well.  Hearing positive comments about you from your teachers, peers, and parents of your friends...  Just looking at you, I know that you will go far.

You are strong.  You are sometimes fearless.  You are honest.  You are amazing.  You are my daughter, and by that I've been blessed beyond measure.

The Importance of Girlfriends

This, my friends, is something I used to not appreciate nearly enough.  I had exactly two best friends all through high school.  Before Facebook, they were the only ones from my high school I kept in contact with.

Then, and sometimes even now, I found it much easier to strike up a conversation with boys than girls.  I can't really explain why, but it does explain that even though I was generally painfully shy, I did manage to have high school boyfriends.

After college, Darrell and I made a group of couples friends.  We were fresh out of college starting our new careers, all but one couple without kids yet.  There were a few singles we socialized with also, but mostly it was that core group of couples friends, one set from college and the others either transplants like us or locals to the Detroit Metro area.  We played board games on Friday nights, went out to dinner together.  They were the ones who would visit or even drive Darrell home sick from work when he was fighting Hodgkin's lymphoma.  They even helped us move away when the time came.  I would sometimes do things separately with the ladies, but it wasn't quite a cohesive group of ladies friends.

My first real dip into a group of adult girlfriends came by joining a playgroup with my daughter the few years I stayed home with her.  Those ladies saved my sanity!  Talking to them about what we were all going through as generally first-time mommies was the best therapy imaginable, and quite reasonably priced as well.  Their children became my daughter's first friends, but I am the one who remembers them and knows that they had a leading role in making that first year enjoyable, and perhaps even saving my marriage, probably without even realizing it.  I haven't kept in touch as well as I should, but they still mean the world to me.

The next time something similar happened, it took seven years to build in Lexington.  For the first time in my life, I became a real part of a network of friends, mostly girlfriends.  We carpooled our kids to activities, filled in at bus stop pickups, cheered each other on in going back to work/changing jobs, talked about our husbands, had book clubs and game nights, let my daughter watch their young sons, watched our kids (generally boys somehow) grow up together and play soccer/basketball/join cub scouts/etc. together, had Bible study together, hosted/attended various family gatherings, trick-or-treated together, had girls-nights-out together, even went on a cruise together.  I could go shopping at Target or Kroger and maybe even run into one of them there.

And for the first time in my life, I felt like I perhaps could not live without my friends.  Before, I'd always thought it might be Darrell and I against the world, with the help of our families.  Now I realized that we could call in reinforcements from so many more.  I cared about these ladies.  They cared about me.

Which might explain why I'm so darn excited that several of them are coming to visit me this weekend!  I've been so happy I've nearly been skipping around my house, definitely not typical Jennifer behavior.  I'm more excited to go to the grocery store for them than I have been in...  (well, perhaps ever?)

Those two friends from high school?  Yes, I still love them, too!  One of them is coming this weekend, too.  Lifelong friends that you can pick up the phone and catch up with anytime are priceless, and I won't give them up for anything, probably more so now that I realize more about the true value of friendship.

I'll always remember the little girl who wandered the grade school playground with no one to play with, who was too shy to ask to join others already playing.  I'm glad she's been blessed with more friends than she ever imagined as an adult.  Thank you, girlfriends, you are each amazing!

A Job Well-done

My view of what constitutes a good job at something has changed significantly over the years.  Early in my market research career, I thought it was important to be one of the ones who went above and beyond, put in extra effort, and stayed late.  I was even rewarded for that effort.  After starting out at what seemed like low pay for a college graduate at the time, I received ten and even 15-percent raises along with promotions those first few years.

Then we had our first baby, and I couldn't even imagine going back to work when she was born.  So I didn't.  I focused everything into that little girl, even though the baby stage is very tough for me.  I read every parenting book I could get my hands on, but was disappointed to find that even the experts weren't always right.  Dr. Sears was one of my favorite parenting experts, but once he insisted that exclusively breast-fed babies did not suck their thumbs, I wanted to seek him out to personally introduce him to my daughter (ok, maybe I wanted to slap him, too, but just a little).

The work of being a mommy is the toughest job I've ever had, but I still didn't find only it rewarding enough somehow.  I wanted something more than just being my daughter's mother and my husband's wife.  I admire women who can be fulfilled without a life outside their families.  The ones who bake home-made cookies not just at Christmastime, the ones who pack their children's lunches with sweet daily notes of encouragement each day, the ones who do all that stuff on Pinterest...  Ok, so maybe the perfect mom doesn't even exist, but I know there are many out there much more perfect at it than I.

So, I went back to work (the paid kind), but it was never quite the same as the work I did before.  Sometimes I'd try working really hard and putting in extra hours again, in an effort to get recognition or get ahead.  But then I'd feel like I was missing out on too much with my kids.  I tried working part-time.  I tried flexing my schedule.  I tried running my own business.

And what I learned is that it is more about the attitude and just plain learning to be more efficient as I get older than it is about finding the perfect balance or schedule.

I told a coworker recently that at the end of each pay period, the company and I are even.  I do believe that to an extent.  After all, I'm employed "at will" - they can fire me any day they choose.  But it's not quite that either.  I still want to do a good job.  I still want to make a difference.  And I hope that in my generally quiet way, I can be some influence for good in my work environment.

My family runs best when I work at least part time, not just because of the money I earn (which is important, of course), but because of the fulfillment and independence it gives me as well.  I would not work if I didn't make enough to make it worthwhile (i.e., I wouldn't have worked just to pay for daycare).  But I'm thankful that part of the reason I work is because I want to, not because I'm forced to.  And I like that I'm not forced to stay home either.

But my weekends are much more sacred to me than were when I've not worked for pay and compared to before I had kids as well.  I may glance at a work email that comes in on my phone over the weekend, but I won't sit down for long at my computer giving away my time.  Luckily, I honestly believe I'm more efficient at work than those younger coworkers putting in more time than I do.  And I don't dread things like being fired anymore.  You might think that's just because we make enough to be comfortable, but I promise it's not.  Darrell and I have both earned more at past jobs.  He could take a much more stressful job so that I could stay home, and vice versa, but neither of us want that.  Our family is too important for that, so the balance that works for us is to both work somewhat less stressful jobs.

And balance is a constant work in progress.  This Pew Research study indicates that, and I'm betting that your own life does as well.  I wouldn't ever expect my balance to be your balance, or my job well-done to match yours.  I'm just content to be in a place in life that it all feels right, for the first time in my life.  I can only pray that it lasts, and hope that you can find your balance as well.

How long does it take for a house to be a home?

You may have heard that we moved again.  Yeah, this is our seventh house.  Is there anybody else out there who can even say that?  Anyone?  Bueller....  Bueller... 

So, I've hereby decided that owning/living in seven different houses (that's just as an adult and not counting apartments or mobile homes) qualifies me as an expert on several things, amongst them knowing how long it takes for a house to feel like a home.

Now, I completely subscribe to the notion that my home is where my husband and kids are.  (Or maybe I just have to in order to keep my sanity at this point.)  But, that's not the same as feeling at home in a new house.

See, when you first move in, there are boxes everywhere.  Even if your husband's new company pays movers to do all the packing, loading, and unloading...  Even if you have family or friends that help unpack...  And especially if you jump right into your new job with barely a long weekend to start unpacking...  ...it takes time to even look like a house a family lives in rather than a temporary storage unit.

You miss your old home.  You ache for its familiarity.  You miss your old friends, and hurt for your kids missing their old friends, too.  Because even though you keep in touch, it's not the same as living down the street, or right next door.

You drive to an unfamiliar office in an unfamiliar town, not even the one you are now living in.  Your husband drives to a different unfamiliar town, but he has a three-month head start on you in feeling like he belongs here.

Blinds are put up on windows.  The stacked boxes come down and get moved around (please don't look in my basement for another year) until there are some rooms without boxes in them at all.  The wall decorations get hung.  The kids set up their bedrooms just so.  Maybe you paint a few rooms just before or soon after moving in.  You start meeting a few of the neighbors.  The kids get signed up for activities and start school.

And then one evening you go to a band boosters meeting, and suddenly, you've made a friend for yourself, two for your son, and one for your daughter, all in one little family.  Your son is asking to ride his bike down the street to meet another friend from summer camp and after school care.  Your daughter is regularly texting a few girls again, and talking regularly about certain people from school and church.  Your husband has a work friend over to help him work on a car and have dinner with us.  You are meeting a lady from work to work out once a week at the local rec center.  You're just about to the point that you'd consider her a friend as well.

Driving to work doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore.  You're considering adding some of your coworkers as friends on Facebook.  You trust the neighbor to get your son from the bus if he forgets to go to after school care on your work in the office days.  You walk around the house without a slightly lost feeling.  The rooms look and feel like they are yours.  You can sit down to read or watch TV in the evening rather than collapsing in bed from constantly unpacking/cleaning/decluttering.  And the couch feels right sitting where it is again.  It feels right to sit at the table eating dinner. 

You might even start to forget little things about your old house.  In the least, you think more often of the things that were wrong with it and are better in this house.

You tuck your son in at night, hug your teenage daughter goodnight, and it just feels like home.  It's been almost four months.  You're home.

Why I don't want my kids' best days to be during high school

High school was perhaps the worst four years of my life.  With the exception of a few very close friends (I thank God to this day for Shara, Rachel, and Heather) and getting the experience of heart-brake and braking a few hearts of my own, I was often pretty miserable.

I was the shy girl with acne who didn't even begin to develop a figure until halfway through high school.  I was so painfully shy that some mistook it for being stuck up and others just didn't even notice me.  I had overprotective parents who didn't allow me to go to middle school dances and events.  I didn't belong to the "Mannington crowd", or any other crowd or group for that matter.  I was a band geek, math field day nerd, track/cross country middle-of-the-pack runner.  I really had no idea who I was, to tell you the truth.

Today, I don't care if I fit in and I finally feel very comfortable as just me.  But every teenager wants to fit in and be "normal", and I was certainly no exception to that.  I remember the cruel comments that others thought I didn't hear.  I remember the cruel comments about me said right to my face.  And, I remember the mean things I did and said as well.  Teenagers just aren't the nicest people, including me.

It's bad enough to not fit in with your peers, but even my teachers couldn't remember me.  I was the straight A student who always did her work.  They paid no attention to me, as far as I can tell even looking back to this day.  Don't get me wrong, there were a few good ones, but a lot of the teachers that I even respected spent class time lecturing us about what a horrible job teaching was, and recommending that we never do it ourselves.  They may have done a good job teaching me math, but they also made me steer clear of something I thought I'd do someday, and they helped inspire me to leave my home state of West Virginia as soon as I could. I am so thankful that my kids' have had much better teachers all along the way.  Instead of good teachers being the exception as it seemed to be for me, it has been the general rule for them, thank goodness.

In my high school, teachers actually voted on who would get into National Honor Society.  It was a big deal my junior year when one of the Valedictorians wasn't voted in.  I had one and only one B one semester of high school, which positioned me just below the four Valedictorians.  No one seemed to care the next year when I still didn't get voted into National Honor Society.  I was the only one who graduated with highest honors in my high school without the NHS patch that year, and probably for most other years.  My name was the name left out of the list of highest honors graduates in the yearbook.

It hurt, and yet, even then, I felt a sense of pride at sticking out.  I tried to showcase not having the NHS patch the day I graduated, and hoped others would notice.  I felt a sense of pride that the following year, they changed the way NHS "voting" was done, having to at least list more information (GPA, activities, etc.) instead of giving teachers just a list of names to vote on.  So maybe someone actually did pay attention.

I can honestly say I didn't learn much in high school.  Math felt like the only subject I really advanced in at all, and even then we had warnings from previous high school graduates about how difficult Calculus would be in college - stories of North Marion graduates having to take it over, failing the first time or struggling to just get by.

I was so ready to get away that I was disappointed at first to be going to college as close as I did to home.  But it was immediately different and invigorating to be away.  College is where I bloomed, not high school.  College is where the classes challenged me, where I was around more diverse people, where I met my soul mate.  I was still in West Virginia, but it seemed a world away.

I was determined it would be different for my kids.  That they would be challenged through high school and not just after.  That's why I'm so happy they've had the opportunities to advance that they have.

But even then, I don't want their glory days to be in high school.  I don't want them to ever look back and think, yeah, those four years were the best of my life.  I wouldn't even say that about college.  For me, every season has brought growth and new challenges.  If you asked me the best season of my life so far, I'd quite honestly say my 40s, and I hope the next decade my answer changes to that season.

I want my kids to have the same, only better.  Isn't that what we all want?