I'm thinking it's about time for us to decide once and for all what family traditions our little family wants to have. Forget dedicating the entire month of December to each set of grandparents and their own "Christmas." Forget trying to revolve around a sister who has decided she no longer celebrates the holiday that once meant so much to her because her boyfriend's religion. Forget trying to fit it all into one big all-encompassing package.
Take charge, Riffen! Get a back bone! It's now about you and your family. It's now time to define what it is that will mean a lot to YOU and YOUR girls. You can do it. Go, Reffin, Go!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Lunch Plans
Last week...
Me: It's been a long time since I've seen you. Let's do lunch!
Sister: I can't this week. I'm too busy. I sent out resumes and have a couple interviews scheduled for next week.
Me: Oh, that's great. I have a couple big presentations I'm giving Monday morning and I'm sure I'll need to go out to lunch for my mental sake afterwards. How does Monday work?
Sister: Great! I have my interview that morning and we can get together to unwind afterwards.
Me: Yay! Yay!
Today...
Me: I tried to call you a bunch of times for lunch but you never answered.
Sister: I know.
Me: How did your interview go?
Sister: Oh!!! Really well. Thanks!
After a few more minutes of chatting, still no inquiry about how my presentations went and no explanation for why she bailed on me.
Yep, once again I feel like I'm below the bottom of the totom pole. Not exactly the "unwind" lunch I had anticipated or needed. Sigh.
Me: It's been a long time since I've seen you. Let's do lunch!
Sister: I can't this week. I'm too busy. I sent out resumes and have a couple interviews scheduled for next week.
Me: Oh, that's great. I have a couple big presentations I'm giving Monday morning and I'm sure I'll need to go out to lunch for my mental sake afterwards. How does Monday work?
Sister: Great! I have my interview that morning and we can get together to unwind afterwards.
Me: Yay! Yay!
Today...
Me: I tried to call you a bunch of times for lunch but you never answered.
Sister: I know.
Me: How did your interview go?
Sister: Oh!!! Really well. Thanks!
After a few more minutes of chatting, still no inquiry about how my presentations went and no explanation for why she bailed on me.
Yep, once again I feel like I'm below the bottom of the totom pole. Not exactly the "unwind" lunch I had anticipated or needed. Sigh.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Unbalanced Scale
At one time she gave you $1,000+ every month to help you through your unbalanced marriage. Now the scales have tipped and you're able to help her for a change. At a rate of $100 every month.
What's a couple 0's amongst family?
What's a couple 0's amongst family?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Excuses excuses
Isn't it funny how what may seem to be a random comment can stick with you forever?
I once dated (if you can call it that... 8th grade) a guy who was not very smart. That's putting it nicely. His brother wasn't very smart either. Rumor had it they shared a brain. But their father really liked me. I recall talking to him one day about how his sons both struggled with school. He told me about how their mother left them at a young age and that they really struggled with it, affecting all aspects of their lives - including school.
He said, "That's the reason, not an excuse."
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
That's deep. And now, 20 years later it's that statement that seems to be sticking with me lately.
I want to be understanding about healing and what hurdles one might have to overcome to do so. I want to be supportive. Perhaps it's just my lack of ability to truly understand, but I can't help but keep coming back to it.
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
Yes, that's the reason your life is this way. It's not an excuse.
I once dated (if you can call it that... 8th grade) a guy who was not very smart. That's putting it nicely. His brother wasn't very smart either. Rumor had it they shared a brain. But their father really liked me. I recall talking to him one day about how his sons both struggled with school. He told me about how their mother left them at a young age and that they really struggled with it, affecting all aspects of their lives - including school.
He said, "That's the reason, not an excuse."
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
That's deep. And now, 20 years later it's that statement that seems to be sticking with me lately.
I want to be understanding about healing and what hurdles one might have to overcome to do so. I want to be supportive. Perhaps it's just my lack of ability to truly understand, but I can't help but keep coming back to it.
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
Yes, that's the reason your life is this way. It's not an excuse.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Quick Vent
It really urks me to get marital advice from someone who is in the middle of their 5th divorce. It also urks me to be told that I do not enjoy parenthood as much as I should from someone who doesn't keep up with my blog.
That is all.
That is all.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
What goes around comes around
For much of my life, my mom has always been the most giving person I know. She is the main reason why I try to donate as much as possible. I think it's important because I'm so fortunate. I believe in the general rule of 'what goes around, comes around' and if you do good, the day will come when good will be done to you. I can think of countless times when she has given up her time to help someone who needs it, but more than that, she has no problem forking over money to help.
I guess I should say "had" instead of "has."
The divorce she's going through is taking its toll. I suppose it goes to show that it's easier to "help" if you're not worried about money. It's hard for me to watch what my mom is going through. She wants to help but just simply can not. It's now her turn to ask for help. And that's hard for her to do. And it's hard for me to watch.
And it's just the beginning, right?
Let's assume that things work out for her and she is able to somehow get out of this divorce still standing on two feet, or at least kneeling. Then there is no problem. But what if she doesn't? Then what?
Michael and I have a plan for retirement. Our plan is to put our children through school and have the retirement we want. Our plan is working but our plan does not include our parents. We assumed they had their own plans. What happens when theirs fall apart? What happens to our plan?
And strangely, this isn't even about my mom and her financial situation.
It's about my brother. My brother has never been able to, nor will he ever be, make much money. He has been working at the same job now for 16 years. That sounds good. The sad part is that he's still not a permanent employee. He works 40 hours a week but does not get any benefits. No vacation, but more importantly, he gets no insurance. He is insured through my mom. Don't get me started on how much that infuriates me.
See where this is going?
My brother has a major dental issue that will cost $4,000 to clear up. Where is my mom going to get the money for that? The answer was in her tears. She has no idea. The money will come from somewhere - it HAS to. And most likely a portion of it will have to come from us (if Michael happens to read this before I chat with him, obviously there is more to it than that).
Get him past this point and all goes back to normal, right? But what about next time? He is not getting any younger and certainly is a person who is most likely prone to having big medical issues prop up, instead of the small ones.
Yes Michael and I are very fortunate to have a plan, and one that looks promising. But where does that plan end? It's not like I can say "no" to my mom's needs? Or can I? And after her, then there's my brother? Oh, and why stop there? What about the other grandparents? What if their plans fall apart? When I look at the numbers, Michael and I are the only ones who can "afford" to help. But we can't afford to take it all upon ourselves. And is it fair to expect us to, simply because we're more responsible with our finances than others?
My father-in-law is burning through his money trying to take care of his father-in-law. What happens after that? Traditionally, the next generation takes on the burden. But where does it end? Is it really reasonable to expect the next generation to always pick up the slack? I don't want to do that to my children, but when I look at the possible worst-case, or even the possible likely-case, I'm not sure even I would be able to avoid passing on the burden.
And all this because my brother has a stupid tooth infection.
I guess I should say "had" instead of "has."
The divorce she's going through is taking its toll. I suppose it goes to show that it's easier to "help" if you're not worried about money. It's hard for me to watch what my mom is going through. She wants to help but just simply can not. It's now her turn to ask for help. And that's hard for her to do. And it's hard for me to watch.
And it's just the beginning, right?
Let's assume that things work out for her and she is able to somehow get out of this divorce still standing on two feet, or at least kneeling. Then there is no problem. But what if she doesn't? Then what?
Michael and I have a plan for retirement. Our plan is to put our children through school and have the retirement we want. Our plan is working but our plan does not include our parents. We assumed they had their own plans. What happens when theirs fall apart? What happens to our plan?
And strangely, this isn't even about my mom and her financial situation.
It's about my brother. My brother has never been able to, nor will he ever be, make much money. He has been working at the same job now for 16 years. That sounds good. The sad part is that he's still not a permanent employee. He works 40 hours a week but does not get any benefits. No vacation, but more importantly, he gets no insurance. He is insured through my mom. Don't get me started on how much that infuriates me.
See where this is going?
My brother has a major dental issue that will cost $4,000 to clear up. Where is my mom going to get the money for that? The answer was in her tears. She has no idea. The money will come from somewhere - it HAS to. And most likely a portion of it will have to come from us (if Michael happens to read this before I chat with him, obviously there is more to it than that).
Get him past this point and all goes back to normal, right? But what about next time? He is not getting any younger and certainly is a person who is most likely prone to having big medical issues prop up, instead of the small ones.
Yes Michael and I are very fortunate to have a plan, and one that looks promising. But where does that plan end? It's not like I can say "no" to my mom's needs? Or can I? And after her, then there's my brother? Oh, and why stop there? What about the other grandparents? What if their plans fall apart? When I look at the numbers, Michael and I are the only ones who can "afford" to help. But we can't afford to take it all upon ourselves. And is it fair to expect us to, simply because we're more responsible with our finances than others?
My father-in-law is burning through his money trying to take care of his father-in-law. What happens after that? Traditionally, the next generation takes on the burden. But where does it end? Is it really reasonable to expect the next generation to always pick up the slack? I don't want to do that to my children, but when I look at the possible worst-case, or even the possible likely-case, I'm not sure even I would be able to avoid passing on the burden.
And all this because my brother has a stupid tooth infection.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Vicariously living a good childhood at 60
My sister and I had a good heart-to-heart talk with my mom yesterday. She told us about her messed up childhood and how she thinks it has affected the decisions she has made throughout her messed up life. In the end, it's all horrid stuff that is not my story to share. As such, let's just stick to the more universal aspects of her story...
Generation gaps. They amaze me.
Generation 1: My grandparents
My grandparents were dirt poor. I'm sure that they struggled a lot with wondering how they were going to pay the bills, let alone heat the house, let alone feed EIGHT kids. When my grandma found out that she was pregnant with her 7th (and then 8th) she melted down and trembled with fear for telling Grandpa, who in turn got very angry. There was no joy in the news. In fact, there was no joy in their lives. My mom looks at her mom now and sees an old lonely woman who has missed out on so much in her life because she has never allowed herself a moment of joy. Perhaps she just couldn't afford to. Perhaps it was just the way that generation was.
Generation 2: My mother
My mother went through a lot in her childhood. Some of it was just plain sick and disturbing, but she used to (and perhaps still does) attribute it to her parents never being there to protect her. Perhaps that was just the way it was done back then. My mom has no, I repeat NO, happy memories of her childhood. Instead she shared heartbreaking stories of how she feared for her life and yet feared the wrathe of her father even more. She learned to just not tell her father. If she did tell him, he would either decide she was making stuff up and punish her for it or he would punish her saying "I'll give you something real to cry about." There was no soothing of her fears. There was no embracing, telling her it would all be ok. There were no hugs saying that they loved her and were proud of her.
Some of her stories of how her parents weren't around to protect her started way back when she was 3 years old. When I hear about what she had to endure (and I'm not even talking about the bad stuff), I can not imagine how scared and alone she must have always felt. The family of eight kids practically had to raise themselves. They couldn't go to their dad for support or protection because his punishment was more feared. And they couldn't expect their mom to help them - she tried it once and never again.
Generation 3: Me and my siblings
My mom quickly learned that she did not want to raise us the way she was raised. The amount of strength and courage this must have taken is absolutely astonishing. It's much easier said than done because if you don't raise your kids the way you were raised, then how do you know the alternative options? My mom used to sit on her hands so that she forced herself to not be able to spank us or slap us if she was upset. I remember her sitting on her hands throughout my childhood. I never knew why. My mom is not a perfect mother, but when I compare the way she was raised to the way she raised us, I have a lot of respect for her. The self-help books that we made fun of her for - they all make sense to me. She couldn't read them fast enough and always felt like she was only one step in front of us.
In many regards my mom raised us by herself. Technically speaking, that's not true, but she certainly didn't have any true partnership. She did not enjoy parenting but she felt obligated to it and felt strongly that she needed to shelter us so that we could have a better life.
I look at how I turned out and I compare it to my mom. She married her first husband after having known him for a week because she was absolutely convinced that it was her only chance to have someone willing to marry her. She was slapped when she told her dad she wanted to be an engineer, and though I even experienced a similar reaction from Grandpa, I had enough support from others in my life. She says she was almost 30 years old when she got her first hug from her father.
I don't know how she bridged that gap so well but I have always been so incredibly thankful for how drastically different my life was from hers, regardless of a few unavoidable similarities. Somehow a woman who has never had any self confidence was able to raise a daughter (perhaps two, but I can't speak for my sister) who has always been very self confident. I have always believed in myself because my mom believed in me. She never had that.
Generation 4: My daughters
When my mom spoke of some of her earliest memories I couldn't help but imagine my daughters in those situations. Mom's earliest memories were from when she was 3 years old, younger than my Ellie. I think more than anything else, that's the stuff that affected me the most. The horrible stuff I was able to be numb about (how can you not) but picturing my daughter having to go through the experiences my mom went through without any feeling of protection or love from your parents... that's when the tears would flow for me.
My mom says there is no better anti-depressent than spending time with my daughters. She says that she's always at awe with them and their lives. She finds herself staring at them realizing that this is the way children SHOULD be. They're allowed to run and laugh without their parents thinking they don't have enough work to do. They're allowed to giggle without being told they must be up to no good. They're given hugs and know that they are loved. Very much loved. They're comforted when they fall and hurt themselves or if they're terrified of something. If they tell us something of importance, we believe them instead of punishing them for making up stories.
It must be weird for my mom to watch them and wonder what her life would have been like if she had a childhood like the one they do. For me, it's heart breaking to think of my girls going through even a portion of the stuff my mom did.
What my children will grow up to think is "normal" is a complete 180 from what my mom thought was "normal" and a nice side effect of this is the fact that there are many more laughs going around.
It's heartbreaking for me to think about all that my grandparents missed out on and how miserable their lives must have been in order to raise their kids as miserable as they were raised.
I know it's a generational thing but I still can't understand it.
Generation gaps. They amaze me.
Generation 1: My grandparents
My grandparents were dirt poor. I'm sure that they struggled a lot with wondering how they were going to pay the bills, let alone heat the house, let alone feed EIGHT kids. When my grandma found out that she was pregnant with her 7th (and then 8th) she melted down and trembled with fear for telling Grandpa, who in turn got very angry. There was no joy in the news. In fact, there was no joy in their lives. My mom looks at her mom now and sees an old lonely woman who has missed out on so much in her life because she has never allowed herself a moment of joy. Perhaps she just couldn't afford to. Perhaps it was just the way that generation was.
Generation 2: My mother
My mother went through a lot in her childhood. Some of it was just plain sick and disturbing, but she used to (and perhaps still does) attribute it to her parents never being there to protect her. Perhaps that was just the way it was done back then. My mom has no, I repeat NO, happy memories of her childhood. Instead she shared heartbreaking stories of how she feared for her life and yet feared the wrathe of her father even more. She learned to just not tell her father. If she did tell him, he would either decide she was making stuff up and punish her for it or he would punish her saying "I'll give you something real to cry about." There was no soothing of her fears. There was no embracing, telling her it would all be ok. There were no hugs saying that they loved her and were proud of her.
Some of her stories of how her parents weren't around to protect her started way back when she was 3 years old. When I hear about what she had to endure (and I'm not even talking about the bad stuff), I can not imagine how scared and alone she must have always felt. The family of eight kids practically had to raise themselves. They couldn't go to their dad for support or protection because his punishment was more feared. And they couldn't expect their mom to help them - she tried it once and never again.
Generation 3: Me and my siblings
My mom quickly learned that she did not want to raise us the way she was raised. The amount of strength and courage this must have taken is absolutely astonishing. It's much easier said than done because if you don't raise your kids the way you were raised, then how do you know the alternative options? My mom used to sit on her hands so that she forced herself to not be able to spank us or slap us if she was upset. I remember her sitting on her hands throughout my childhood. I never knew why. My mom is not a perfect mother, but when I compare the way she was raised to the way she raised us, I have a lot of respect for her. The self-help books that we made fun of her for - they all make sense to me. She couldn't read them fast enough and always felt like she was only one step in front of us.
In many regards my mom raised us by herself. Technically speaking, that's not true, but she certainly didn't have any true partnership. She did not enjoy parenting but she felt obligated to it and felt strongly that she needed to shelter us so that we could have a better life.
I look at how I turned out and I compare it to my mom. She married her first husband after having known him for a week because she was absolutely convinced that it was her only chance to have someone willing to marry her. She was slapped when she told her dad she wanted to be an engineer, and though I even experienced a similar reaction from Grandpa, I had enough support from others in my life. She says she was almost 30 years old when she got her first hug from her father.
I don't know how she bridged that gap so well but I have always been so incredibly thankful for how drastically different my life was from hers, regardless of a few unavoidable similarities. Somehow a woman who has never had any self confidence was able to raise a daughter (perhaps two, but I can't speak for my sister) who has always been very self confident. I have always believed in myself because my mom believed in me. She never had that.
Generation 4: My daughters
When my mom spoke of some of her earliest memories I couldn't help but imagine my daughters in those situations. Mom's earliest memories were from when she was 3 years old, younger than my Ellie. I think more than anything else, that's the stuff that affected me the most. The horrible stuff I was able to be numb about (how can you not) but picturing my daughter having to go through the experiences my mom went through without any feeling of protection or love from your parents... that's when the tears would flow for me.
My mom says there is no better anti-depressent than spending time with my daughters. She says that she's always at awe with them and their lives. She finds herself staring at them realizing that this is the way children SHOULD be. They're allowed to run and laugh without their parents thinking they don't have enough work to do. They're allowed to giggle without being told they must be up to no good. They're given hugs and know that they are loved. Very much loved. They're comforted when they fall and hurt themselves or if they're terrified of something. If they tell us something of importance, we believe them instead of punishing them for making up stories.
It must be weird for my mom to watch them and wonder what her life would have been like if she had a childhood like the one they do. For me, it's heart breaking to think of my girls going through even a portion of the stuff my mom did.
What my children will grow up to think is "normal" is a complete 180 from what my mom thought was "normal" and a nice side effect of this is the fact that there are many more laughs going around.
It's heartbreaking for me to think about all that my grandparents missed out on and how miserable their lives must have been in order to raise their kids as miserable as they were raised.
I know it's a generational thing but I still can't understand it.
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