Sweet Sixteen

Do other mothers wonder about the ways they might not have their child?

If I hadn't met your daddy or we didn't fall in love...
If your daddy had been sick just a little longer before they figured out what was wrong, or if they'd used a different drug combination to treat him...
If we hadn't moved from Michigan to North Carolina right when we did, giving me the excuse to finally try to get pregnant...
If something had gone wrong while I was pregnant with you...
If you hadn't finally come out after 22 hours of labor (the doctor was close to ordering a c-section, and you came out so blue that your daddy was very worried for a few minutes and I was wondering why they didn't immediately let me hold you)...
If you had been born with something genetically wrong that could take you from me too soon...
If you had been hit by a car one of the many times you tried, and one time successfully managed, to run out into the street...
If you had been seriously injured when you crawled under our closing garage door...

I am not a worrier in general. But I do worry about my children. What mother doesn't?

I spent too much time anticipating when you were little.

Watching for your first smile... your first step... your first word...
Preparing you for your first day of preschool... regular school... the world...
Being so happy/relieved/proud when you decided to be baptized...
Watching you finally find something to put your heart into with color guard...
Watching the way you gracefully handled moving away from friends and making new ones...
Seeing the hard work you put behind your "book smarts" in school...
Seeing your independence only grow, even when you started out so independent already...

I don't exactly want to go back. I just want more time with you. It just doesn't seem possible that you could be turning 16. I'd swear I just turned around to make dinner and straighten up the house, or some such things, with you looking much more like this:

I know I've messed up, and a lot, at this parenting thing. I'm sure I've given you plenty to complain about and swear you'll do differently when you are a mom someday. But know these things:

I love you, always.
You are my baby girl, forever.
I want the best for you, yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
I am your biggest fan, but I also will not lie to you.
You are beautiful, inside and out.

Happy sweet sixteen, dear daughter.

Perspectives

Am I the only one who imagines life stories for others? I've also always liked the saying above, and try to live by it before I become judgmental of others (although I admit I sometimes jump to conclusions that I shouldn't and sometimes assume the worst about people). Sometimes, when running, I'll peak at the front window of someone's house and invent stories for the people I have never met who might live there. When I check out at the grocery store, I'll from time to time invent a story for the cashier based on just the few words he or she and I exchanged. I wrote this a few weeks ago when I was in that frame of mind...

The alarm blared early from the six-inch smartphone on the nightstand. As she opened her eyes and a dream faded from her mind, it took a few minutes to realize where she was - waking up beside her snoring husband in the vaulted ceiling bedroom of her still new-feeling home. Ouch. Why did her arm ache? These mystery pains since passing up age 40 were no fun at all. She pulled workout clothes from her drawer, and heard her teenage daughter's first alarm sound a few minutes later. She got ready quickly, the day's events ticking through her head. A full day of meetings and research tasks awaited her after an hour-long commute to the office. Kids to marching band and soccer practice this evening. Trying to carve out some time to read a chapter of her textbook for her online class. What did she have handy to cook for dinner? Did the car need gas on the way in? What did she need to remind her teenage daughter and husband about today? She missed having lots of friends and other moms close by. She wished her husband would do and remember more on his own. She wondered if there was a way to get her teenager to believe she actually knew something about how to get through high school... She checked on her teenager quickly to be sure she was waking up, put the garage door up, and headed off to the rec center to meet a friend for their workout.

As she checked in, he said, "Good morning."...

He sat there thinking about what he could do after work today. Should he meet up with a few friends, maybe grab dinner and a beer out somewhere? Or should he instead spend some time at his computer searching job listings yet again? Really, how long would he have to work here as a college graduate? He'd started working at the rec center as a teenager to pay for gas and fun with his friends each weekend. He certainly never expected to still be working here six years later, after earning a bachelor's degree. But he couldn't seem to get a job anywhere else. The few interviews he'd had didn't lead to job offers. He wondered how much longer he could even afford to rent out his tiny apartment with his roommate. Maybe it was time to consider moving away to a different city where there might be more opportunities with his degree. Or maybe this degree was as worthless as his dad had said and he should go back to school.

"Lunch" time came early since he started work at 5am. He just had to get out of this building, so he headed to his apartment to make a sandwich. Crap. They were paving the other half of the parking lot today. He passed two men in hard hats.

He pulled off his hard hat, wiping the streaming sweat from his face with the back of his gloved hand. He wasn't sure how he'd get through another ninety-plus degree, high humidity day. For a moment, an image of his recently-passed mother flashed in his mind. Why hadn't he listened to her when she begged him to go to college? Instead, he was stuck in this job. Sure, sometimes it felt good to look back and see exactly what you'd accomplished each day. A road, once full of pot holes, could be smooth and black in a single day's work with his crew. But, every afternoon, he came home sore from work, and then put on a smiling face while his small daughter crawled all over him and his preschool son asked him to wrestle. On the way home, he stopped by the grocery store to pick up milk for his young wife. As tired as he was, he knew she'd be tired, too, after working this morning and spending the afternoon with the kids. The cashier didn't look very happy, and he hoped she was doing ok. Isn't that the same lady who the manager seemed to be scolding a few days ago?

She moved his milk across the scanner quickly, but didn't say a word to him. She barely felt like she was there at all. Why couldn't the manager understand that she tried her best to get here on time for her shift? Her son's dad didn't show up to watch him AGAIN, and she'd had to call her neighbor and beg the older lady to watch him through her five hour shift. This store was hardly giving her enough hours to get by the way it was. If she lost this job, then what? Her parents were not going to help out again, and how could she even bring herself to ask? And all these people coming through her register aisle just looked down on her. They didn't know she'd graduated near the top of her high school class. They didn't know about her short stint in college, ruined by the so-called father of her son. Next in line was a lady who appeared to be in her 40s. What was she doing checking out in sunglasses? The nerve of some people to come through her aisle with just a few things when they could easily go through self checkout! This lady obviously had everything she could ever want, and here she was out shopping without kids right after a cushy job, probably taking her time to get home to the nanny who watched her kids and her sparkly house cleaned by someone else.

She kept the sunglasses on as she checked out. Her mind was a million miles from the task at hand. She'd been crying all afternoon. How much longer could she pretend everything was ok? Her husband was drinking again. She wasn't even sure what time her teenage son got home last night, but at least he was home when she left this morning. When she tried to pay bills yesterday, there was only enough to pay the mortgage for now. Her family hadn't been to church in months. Her life was absolutely out of control. But without a job to support herself, how could she even begin to make things better? She walked out to her car, loaded the necessities she'd just purchased, and started to drive home. On the way, she passed a street corner where a man was holding up a sign, but she tried to avoid his gaze and didn't even read the sign.

He had been walking across town all day. The packaged pastry a kind lady had given him this morning was just a memory now, as his stomach rumbled. Last month, he'd hit rock bottom. Lost yet another job. Stopped going to counseling again. Couldn't face the few family members who were still willing to speak to him. Just up and left, filling a backpack and hitchhiking south. And here he was, with no plan for what came next. Maybe he should just kill himself and get it over with? No one would care anyway.

Where are we from?

We recently went on our first family cruise.  It was the first time my kids have been in another country.  It was probably the only vacation we'll get to take together like that while our teenage daughter still lives at home.  It was, in every way I can imagine, an awesome trip.

As we met people from many different US states and many different countries, a question was asked of us frequently, and the question was clearly intended to be for our family and assumed to have one simple answer:  Where are you from?

This Pew research survey is a little dated, but I continue to see similar statistics that indicate people in the US are just not very mobile, in general.  Most people have lived in the same state, many of those even in the same town, their entire lives.  Darrell and I, however, fall into the 15% who have lived in four states or more, and I'd be willing to bet we're in an even more select group than that 15% would indicate.  We've lived in six states and at least 10 different towns/cities.  We've owned seven different homes.  Our children were born in two different states.  We were born in two different states, and unlike most couples, we didn't end up choosing either of those states to "settle down" in.

So, what is a quick and simple question for most families requires a lengthy explanation from us.  Something like this (if I'm the one answering):  Well, I'm from West Virginia and Darrell is from New Jersey.  We met in college in West Virginia.  We moved to New Jersey right out of college thinking we'd find good jobs there, but found work in Michigan instead.  We left Michigan for the warmer climate of North Carolina, where our daughter was born, moved around there but ended up back in Michigan.  We left Michigan for good in hopes that we could settle back in West Virginia, where our son was born.  We left West Virginia for better work in Kentucky, where we really thought we'd finish raising our kids, but instead moved to Indiana seven years later.  I've stopped saying we won't move again, but I hope we can stay put until both kids are through high school now (at which point the teenager usually pipes in that she doesn't believe that).

Sometimes when we just mention that we've lived so many places, we get knowing looks and questions about whether we are military or if we were relocated for Darrell's job.  But we've actually never been relocated within the same company from one city to another, and the only one who has ever considered a military career in our family is possibly our daughter.  Every move seemed to have a good reason at the time, but it was also a choice.  There were times that it seemed a layoff was imminent, and we just didn't wait around for that.  While most people confine their job searches to the specific town where they actually currently live, we just give a general geographic area spanning multiple states.

Despite all of this, I never have a problem answering where I'm from.  I am from West Virginia, and proud to be.  I fell in love with a Jersey boy.  While many people say they'd follow their love anywhere, I like to think I've proven it.  I've given my children a bigger perspective on life by moving with them.  They've learned by necessity how to make new friends and work hard.  I really don't know what they'll say when they are grown and asked where they are from.  But I do think they will always know they are loved and have a home.

Thoughts of greener pastures and moving over the (cube) wall...

I don't write a lot about my job, in part because I'm not sure many folks would find it interesting, but mostly because I don't want to somehow jeopardize it by doing so.  But a lot has been weighing on my mind the past several months in relation to my job, so it's come to the point that I just have to write some of it down.

While nothing particularly bad has happened at work over the past year, I had come to think recently that I was not very appreciated there anymore.  Part of this was due to a few things that I was told would happen that didn't come to pass, part was due to recent hires seemingly being treated better than I in ways, and the rest was really just that intuition-y feeling that I sometimes get but can't describe. (I should say though that my intuition, which over the last several years I've come to believe is really God prodding at me, usually proves to be right).

I was fed up enough that I applied for a few job listings. Out of three online applications, two of them contacted me.  I had phone interviews with both, and even went for an in-person interview with one of the companies.  In the end, I was that company's second choice, and their first choice accepted the job offer.  I learned this even before the company followed up with me by looking up the position on LinkedIn.  Through that, I learned that their top choice had been out of work for a few months already due to her prior employer going bankrupt and that she had a very similar professional background compared to me.  She was of course able to start right away.  I have no idea of the salary offered, or if her ability to quickly start when I said in the interview I'd need about one month due to giving notice and scheduled vacation time had anything to do with it, but everything I learned certainly made me not resent her getting the job over me.

The other company asked to schedule an in-person interview, but over the course of the phone conversation, I learned that it was even farther away than my current job's commute, without the opportunity to work from home with any regularity. I already rush out of the office sometimes just in time to grab one kid or the other and get to their activities, and I work from home on their most activity-filled days whenever possible. I knew I could not do all that AND manage an even longer commute and potentially more stress-filled job. But, I also felt a real connection with the hiring manager, who did the phone interview with me herself (rather than the first company that screened me through their recruiting department).  She asked to connect with me on LinkedIn even though I declined the in-person interview.  She suggested a local women's business group that I should join, and perhaps even become part of their market research committee.  Since one of my hopes and goals this year has been for networking opportunities and even the opportunity to make additional friends and put down roots in Indy, it almost seemed like this was quite possibly the main reason I'd felt compelled to apply for other jobs, especially that job in particular.

Meanwhile, things have also turned around somewhat for my current job.  I recently moved back over the (cube) wall to marketing, which seems like a better all-around fit for me, just like I thought it was.  My now fourth manager since starting this job is not only someone I respect, but also someone I believe understands the value and complexity of the work I do AND will "have my back" so to speak at work, which is most of what I need a manager for anyway at this point in my career.  It isn't that I've disliked my other managers there, but just that this seems the best fit for me, and I really hope it is.  Also, after a few months of frustration at not being allowed to spend any money on projects and being idle enough that I felt like I had to search for and create work for myself, I'm busy at work again lately.  I even received a small award at work.  Not that it was anything big, but it's amazing how much knowing that folks appreciate you (and getting a $25 Starbucks gift card) does to renew enthusiasm.

I don't expect that where I currently work will be the company I retire from, but it has some great benefits that I've decided I'm not in a hurry to give up.  I've changed my primary "career improvement focus" to networking and also finding a way to get more training.  And that decision feels right right now, which is all I can really hope for anyway.

Is there something better for me out there either now or down the road?  Maybe.  Maybe even probably.  But being satisfied right now feels very good.  And that's good enough for me (at least for now).

Full disclosure:  There's also a slight chance I feel more content lately due to seeing sights like this for a week straight...

My Shortest Home

Of the many places I have lived, south Jersey was the shortest stint.  Two newly minted college grads packed up their dear pet cat, Callie, and their little bit of belongings back in the summer of '93 and headed east.  The plan was that we'd more easily find jobs in New Jersey than in West Virginia.  I took a job as a bank teller and Darrell worked in his dad's office while we both mailed out resume after resume.  I interviewed for a math teaching position at a nearby private school.  We both received lots of rejection letters.

But it didn't take much to support our household back then.  My parents had given me my college savings, and Darrell had a bit of his left as well.  We rented a mobile home in Darrell's friend's mother's park.  A weekend's worth of dining out, going to movies, and just hanging with friends could typically be covered by about $50.  We fixed up the tiny mobile home.  I cross-stitched a Monopoly board, while the streets on which it was based where less than an hour down the road from us in Atlantic City.

We'd only been married nine months.  Our biggest fears had nothing to do with health issues, children, or anything else big that I can recall.  We did fear not finding good jobs, but mostly, life seemed simple then, generally much less stressful than it's been since.  We could drive 20 minutes down the road and take the boat out or just float and swim at Darrell's parent's house on the Mullica river.

It was the first place I lived outside of WV, but it didn't seem entirely unfamiliar either.  I'd already visited a handful of times, the first one over spring break of my freshman year of college.  I still remember traveling here the very first time with my fairly new boyfriend at the time, Darrell singing along to Outfield songs and telling me all about the place he'd grown up all the way there.

His parents remember me first as the girl Darrell talked about the prior fall, when he'd met the woman he was going to marry.  He was right, even though I wouldn't have agreed then.

We didn't live here long.  Less than three months later, Darrell was offered a job with Ford Motor Company in Michigan, and we were quickly heading off to our third state of residence together.  But I'll always have memories of that summer.  Driving south Jersey roads is a little easier just because I drove them so much that summer.  We visit here more than any other place besides my parent's home in WV.

I may not quite be a Jersey girl, but my Jersey boy has been my other half for most of my life now.  It's a place I always feel at home.  And if there ever is a time we don't visit, I will miss it deeply.

Dear Dr. Kovalski...

I doubt you would remember me, but I don't think I will ever forget your name.  We didn't talk much, and you didn't even seem to want to give straight answers to some of my scariest questions, but you helped make decisions that have impacted the rest of my life.

We didn't keep in touch.  I think after 1994, Darrell and I just wanted to move on with our lives.  If not completely healthy, he was at least cancer-free and getting better every day.  For a few more years, there were follow-up appointments with you that slowly became less frequent, but after treatments were over, I seldom went to the follow-up appointments.  I do remember the relief of a clean CT scan a year after treatments.  But I don't remember many talks with you after Darrell's initial diagnosis and some of his treatment appointments.

You told us to hope for Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and you were so right.  For cancer, it was relatively easy to cure.  At least it was if you call six months of debilitating chemotherapy, six weeks of radiation, and illnesses that 22/23-year-olds just don't get easy.

Of course, the biggest thing I'd like to thank you for is your part in curing my husband.  I wonder if you'd like to know that we are still together?  Married nearly 22 years now.  I don't know if that is any more or less likely when a young couple goes through what we did.  But I wish I could tell you this.

Darrell and I walked into his first chemotherapy appointment thinking the mix of drugs he'd start getting through his port had a 99% chance of sterility.  I don't think this bothered him at the time.  But, beyond the chance of losing him, it is what probably scared me the most about that day.  There aren't many things that I've just always known, but that I wanted to be a mother was one of them.  We'd made precautions.  We said we'd adopt if we had to.  But a part of me still thought I had to mourn the babies I might have had, if he'd just never gotten sick.

But you and the rest of Darrell's oncology team made a decision shortly before that first treatment that I believe also changed the path of our lives.  The combination of chemotherapy drugs you chose instead had only a 50% sterility rate.

So, the other thing I wish I could tell you is that we have two beautiful, amazing children.  One of them is almost not a child at all anymore.  And being their mother, raising them, watching them grow into their own, has been so much more than I even imagined it would be.  And you are a part of that.  Before Darrell getting sick, we'd planned to wait five years to have our first child just because we were married so young.  After, we waited several years to try anyway because of the treatments he'd undergone.  We had absolutely no trouble conceiving either child.  Our perfect (to me) daughter was born only slightly behind schedule, not all that long after our sixth anniversary.  We debated having just one child after all we'd already been through, but I never felt that our family was quite complete until our son arrived five and a half years later.

I'm sure there are still days that will come that will disappoint, as many have before.  My children have their own faults just as the rest of us do.  But they are also two amazing creatures who make me proud almost daily to be their mother and to have some small part in the adults they will become.  You have a part in that, too.  If not for you, I might not have them.  If not for you, I might not even have my husband.

Maybe someday I will find the opportunity to tell you in person, but until then, thank you.

Sum sum summertime...

It's that time of year again.  Those few weeks I feel like cursing my two algebra teachers (also among my favorite teachers, by the way) for so strongly discouraging me from becoming a teacher.  Because after all, why ever would someone good at math actually consider teaching it?  But I digress.  Because it isn't visions of cultivating a love of math and learning that swim through my head.  It is visions of, well, swimming... or rather lounging by a pool all day as I glance up to see my offspring having the time of their lives.

Never mind that I get paid more than most teachers I know.  Never mind the two days per week I get to work from home.  Never mind that I have stayed at home with my kids full-time a few different summers (and didn't spend all that much time lounging by the pool after all, all while I was probably jealous of the work-for-pay moms).  Never mind that I'm not even very good at "lounging" or relaxing for all that long anyway.  For a short time each year, I'm jealous of all you teachers and stay-at-home-moms.

In this ever-connected world, I see your posts about not setting alarm clocks, summer road trips, and schedule-free days, and I sigh.  I want that.  And I want my job, too.  At least, I would want it again after a few months off.  Why do we as humans want it all?

I am so much more content than I was in my teens, 20s, and 30s.  Whenever I stop to think about it, I know that I already have all I ever dreamed of.  I have more than 90% or more of those walking this earth. And, most of the time, that's more than enough. But then something shiny catches my eye (and since I like tech gadgets, this statement is very literal sometimes), and I want it, too!

 I think I even bear a slight resemblance to dear Veruca Salt of Willy Wonka fame:

And sometimes I wonder if that's how God sees me - as an unappreciative, spoiled brat.  I have so, so much, but I keep wanting more.  All while I usually feel best when I want the least.  I'm learning contentment, but I'm not sure that I'll ever really get there completely.  Thank goodness for God's grace.

So, I may still feel a little jealous this summer, but I'll also stop to remember and appreciate what I have.  And that's enough for now.