So  in keeping with some of my fellow bloggers like Liz, who are contemplating other jobs and career moves, I have another job I’m mulling over too.  Some of you know that I am a research scientist and have been for over 11 years now.  At the same place!  It’s like my second family.  However, I did work at a pharmaceutical company right after college, and really didn’t like it.  I stayed there six months and then was offered a positon with my current employer.  We’ve been through buying several houses together, a divorce, numerous serious relationships.  My daughters entire existence I’ve been with this people.  And it’s a stellar job.  Downside?  It’s one hour from my home.  Two hours of commuting daily.  And my daughter is an hour away from me during the day.  Her dad is in town though for his job, which is why it works ok for us.  

I have a job coming up teaching in a Catholic school-chemistry and physics.  I went to grad school for a Masters in Education.  The only part of that degree I haven’t finished is the student teaching.  And I won’t, because I’d have to quit my job while I did it.  And that’s just not reasonable to me.  However if I take this job, I’ll have a big cut in pay, but it will count as my student teaching and we can push my certification through (NY State is a toughie when it comes to teaching requirements, for those of you who aren’t aware).  So, great job, summers and school vacations off, shorter workday, no commute.  Drastically lower pay.  

Everyone says take it.  Our business is doing well and the money isn’t really the issue.  However, I have my single mom mentality permanently ingrained.  What if this marriage doesn’t work out?  What if it’s just me and B again?  I can’t support her as I have in the past, with this type of pay cut.  

Oh and the kicker-my precious Gram Julia, while in the hospital shortly before dying, said to me (when I contemplated skipping one of my grad school classes to hang with her) “you go be a teacher”.  And in a Catholic school…oh Gram would LOVE that.

So why am I so afraid to do this???  I’m afraid to depend on my husband.  He says I do way more than my share here and take the job that will make me happiest.  But what job IS that?

Did any of you read “The Uneven Playing Field” in the NY Times Magazine?

I thought a lot about this article, and the subsequent interview on NPR, and whether or not my daughter was playing too much soccer already, at eight years old.  B loves soccer.  I coached her teams the first couple of years and loved it, but she really didn’t pay much attention to me.  (Ok, she WAS three when she started, but she really ran around in circles and picked dandelions behind the goal).  Now, she’s 8, on a premier, elite girls team and had a 4 game tournament this weekend, about two hours from home, in a 157 team event.  She enjoys it more than ever this year, does twice weekly practices and attends one or two yearly soccer day camps.  All events which she requests and enjoys participating in.  Her team is now on hiatus for a little bit, post tourney, until she starts again in the fall, indoors, with the same team.  

 

After her first game at the tournament-90 degree heat and only two subs, not withstanding.

 

 

This article, written by Michael Sokolove author of the book Warrior Girls, was a huge eye-opener for me. It offers evidence of the harm that is being caused to young girls bodies, by the continual practice/play of one sport, year-round.  Granted, my girl isn’t non-stop on that one sport all year, but it’s pretty intense.  So I’m going to start more actively “cross-training” with her.  Make sure we get our bike rides and roller blades and swims in, shoot some hoops and play some volleyball.  Work out those muscle groups that she doesn’t use as much in soccer, and give her “soccer muscles” some rest.  She loves doing all these things, I’ll just be a little more aware that she’s not so soccer driven.  And she’s not going to play on the city league that starts in a couple weeks, during her time off from her team.

From “The Uneven Playing Field”:

Anson Dorrance, the women’s soccer coach at the University of North Carolina, is a fierce critic of the tournament system, which he says began when the women’s game was young and good teams had to travel to find strong competition. “But now,” he told me, “everybody’s got a tournament. There’s the Raleigh Shootout, the Surf Cup in Southern California, and ding, ding, ding, they’re everywhere.” Dorrance was animated, his words coming out in a rush. “So now girls are going somewhere every two or three months and playing these inordinate number of matches. And you know what? They’re playing to survive. And the survival is not just the five games in three days. It’s the two or three weeks following. They’ve got a niggling this and niggling that — sprained ankles, swollen knees, aching backs. They were overplayed and they never rested. But part of what’s developing is this question of who’s tough enough, who can play through it?”

So what’s the answer?  The article points out that building up supporting muscles and proper conditioning and injury prevention training would be a huge help-but not many coaches are willing to “waste” valuable time on these concepts-refusing to take away time from other skills, such as shooting, learning plays, and running.  It is up to the parents to be sure that these things are done, but where is this time going to come from, when the kids are already at practice?  This part of sporting should be included in the actual sporting practices themselves.  During their off-field times, these kids need to be just that…kids.

Please moms of daughters (who tend to be more prone to these types of injuries because of our differing musculature), read these two articles and let’s brainstorm.  I want my girl to get to enjoy her soccer for years to come.  Without injury.

 

1. Do you remember how you developed a love for reading? My parents are huge readers, it must have been contagious!

2. What are some books you read as a child? My mom’s old Bobbsey Twin and Nancy Drews, all of the Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary, and I loved to go to the dentists because he had “Danny and the Dinosaur” which I just bought for my stepson, for that very reason.  And the Velveteen Rabbit, which was my daughter’s nursery theme and I collect the book.

3. What is your favorite genre? Non-fiction.  Classics.  Parenting and psychology especially.

4. Do you have a favorite novel? The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.  

5. Where do you usually read? On my couch in the great room, while I have my morning coffee or at night while M watches TV, in bed on a lazy day, in my car during B’s practices…everywhere really.

6. When do you usually read? Always in the morning before the kids are up, during my coffee.  And often, at night with my daughter.

7. Do you usually have more than one book you are reading at a time? Always.  Like 10.

8. Do you read nonfiction in a different way or place than you read fiction?  Absolutely. I have to focus more on nonfiction, and fiction I just breeze through sort of easily.  

9. Do you buy most of the books you read, or borrow them, or check them out of the library? Almost always buy.  I can’t part with books.  I really need to though.

10. Do you keep most of the books you buy? If not, what do you do with them? I keep them.  And need to stop.

11. If you have children, what are some of the favorite books you have shared with them? Were they some of the same ones you read as a child? B loved Eric Carle, and that wasn’t around when I was a kid.  WE both loved The Little Mermaid and we really love Charolotte’s Web.  And Harry Potter!

12. What are you reading now? Fiction-My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult, and Non-Fiction-Wine Bible, The History of  a Mining Town (Lyon Mountain-research for my book), an Abby Haye’s Book with B, another wine guide, The Golden Notebook.

13. Do you keep a TBR (to be read) list? Yeah, but I don’t update it normally enough.

14. What’s next? Not sure, I follow whims on my reading material.  I may never get through all the books I keep buying.

15. What books would you like to reread? I could read The Fountainhead and To Kill a Mockingbird, over and over, and over.

16. Who are your favorite authors? Ayn Rand,

I’ve Come To Realize

A meme:

1. I’ve come to realize that my life…is very blessed.

2. I’ve come to realize that my job…has been a real gift and it might be time to move on.

3. I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving…my mood is directly affected by the song I’m listening to and vice versa sometimes.

4. I’ve come to realize that I need…a more challenging career.

5. I’ve come to realize that I have lost…a lot of faith in the inherent goodness of people that I once believed in.

6. I’ve come to realize that I hate it when…there are demands on my time.

7. I’ve come to realize that if I’m drunk…I make foolish decisions.  Luckily I don’t really drink anymore.

8. I’ve come to realize that money…is important, but not the MOST important thing in life.

9. I’ve come to realize that certain people…should just be written off and you don’t have to humor their idiotic tendencies anymore.

10. I’ve come to realize that I’ll always be…curious. To a fault.

11. I’ve come to realize that I would like to….start doing bike racing instead of leg racing.

12. I’ve come to realize that my mom…is amazing and I don’t know how she does all she does and has done.

13. I’ve come to realize that my career is…wonderful, but I’m ready for a change.

14. I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning…I couldn’t wait til tomorrow when I’m off and don’t have to get up and can crawl in bed with my princess.

15. I’ve come to realize that last night before I went to sleep…I should not have drank that Vitamin Water.  It must have been what made me stay awake.

16. I’ve come to realize that right now I am thinking about…possible job opportunities.

17. I’ve come to realize that my dad…becoming more fascinating to me every day.

18. I’ve come to realize that when I get on my blog…I get to read comments from really neat people.

19. I’ve come to realize that today…is the day before a whole day off with my girly.

20. I’ve come to realize that tonight…I really need to catch up on laundry before we go away for the weekend.

21. I’ve come to realize that tomorrow I will…have an outrageous day with my little diva.

22. I’ve come to realize that I really want to…. be on the boat every possible moment.

This post by DadsHouse made me think about my dating history since I started falling in love-way back when I was 16.  My first love affair was with the senior captain of several sports teams, prom king, you know the deal.  I wasn’t interested in him at first, but all my best girlfriends were.  And they told me I was crazy to deny the affections of such a stellar young man.  (For the record, he was and still is a wonderful person-you couldn’t ask for a better first boyfriend).  So, for just about the only time ever, I caved to peer pressure and said “yes” to a big, fat, topaz birth-stoned, yarn-wrapped ring around my finger.  It was fun and I remember the first kiss, the first time he held my hand…there is nothing like that initial spine tingling sense of something you’ve never felt before.  And he had this fresh smell of fabric softener or soap.  To this day, that smell brings me back.  Anyway, digressing as usual.  The point is that although I thought we’d get married and so on, he was just the first in a long line of boys I thought I’d marry and spend forever with.  

Aaah, teenage love.

Anyway, DadsHouse’s post made me think about the pieces of ourselves that we lose when we end a relationship.  Mainly the emotional repercussions of sexual relationships.  I know I’m going to share that part of the dialogue with my daughter.  Sharing so much and such special times, hurts more when you do part…I still miss the people I spent lots of time with over the years.  Although I wouldn’t trade where I’m at, I do wonder if it would have been better to have those relationships be a little less “meaningful” maybe?  Every relationship I have, I give so much of myself and love so completely, that you can’t help but lose a sliver of yourself when it ends.  And to always have that “what if” factor?  And is that little piece you are missing more critical than the life experiences you gained while you were dating the people in question?  Some of my long term relationships taught me more about life than any college course ever did.  I learned about different types of people, various relationship skills and each partner brought something new to the table, whether it be a hobby they shared with me, a skill they taught, a book they gave me.  

The woman I am today is all even-keeled and low key, low drama, because of all those factors that combined together to make me who I am. 

But it’s hard not to wonder sometimes-especially when some of the people you left seem a much better fit for the now version of you, than they were for the then version. I completely don’t regret any of my actions, but a couple of years ago, I knew I’d screwed up big with the guy I was missing.

Do you think you left some people who would have made your life even better?

The girl knows no bounds.  I shipped her off to her Daddy’s like this today:

I’m preppy, a bit more conservative…not nearly as well accessorized.  This girl pulls it all together in a flashy, glam, trendy way.  It’s nice to see that most of my tomboy-ness did not wear off.  She’s the perfect mix.  She’s going to fireworks tonight with her Dad’s family (it’s his weekend darn it), and we took her via boat to see some last night.  Sitting on the front of the boat, talking about well, really nothing at all, I got to thinking how our traditions change depending on who we are with.  With my new husband, we take his sister and her husband and our two lovely nieces out on the boat tonight, along with his parents, to watch fireworks.  That’s obviously a new one.  B and I have always celebrated on our own or at a BBQ with my parents before now.  Divorce changed our normal routine of going to the parades and family things all together.  

What are your 4th of July traditions?  Have they changed over time?

 

I will never change our Christmas ones.  For some reason those seem much more concrete.

When you are eight, patriotism is red, white and blue braces!  B decided this would be her statement when she got them changed on Tuesday.  

Happy 4th of July everyone!

For those of you whose blogrolls I’m on, thanks.  It’s flattering when I see my name there.  Or my “Former Single Mommy”.  Do you guys get a rush when you get added to a blogroll?

On some of your sites, it’s sad because I don’t have a spot I could ever aspire to!  You have the “Single Mom” section on your blogroll and I don’t quite fit there (even though I could go on about how in theory, especially after hectic yesterday, I certainly remain in that category).  I should have kept my marriage a blog secret!

 

He’s a pampered pup.  

A friend gave me the info on where to get one of these made and of course I couldn’t help myself.  Would you?

I was born with Congenital Hip Dysplasia.  For those of you not in the know (which might be most of you), this is a disorder that happens more frequently with females and involves the top of the femur not being properly located in the hip socket.  The correction of this disorder is often timely and always costly.  Especially back when I was born, in 1974.  The correction involves putting the child (at least in my case) in traction to stretch the muscles back out, as they shorten with time.  This needs to be done in order to put the hip back in the socket, or to do as they did for me, which is adding an extra piece (sometimes of bone from another location) and using it to build up the socket area.  Can you imagine seeing your tiny, 8 month old baby in traction, heavy weights hanging on ropes taped to her legs, pulling her hip out of it’s socket?  Can you imagine having to keep her there for an extended period of time with very minimal breaks?  And then watching her go through major surgery to repair this “deformity”?  Then it’s not over…you still have months of enduring your little girl being strapped into this archaic brace that keeps her legs spread apart (a real joy to try and change diapers and clean her adorable bottom  through, from what I hear).  And then a lifetime of waiting to see if it worked.  Every fall, every accident, every time she has leg pain…will you have to go through this again?  I remember as a child, waking up with leg pain and my mom coming in my room and then me falling asleep to her soothingly rubbing my aching legs.  Until typing this post, I always attributed that to growing pains, and thought my mom so amazing for being in there, when she had to be so exhausted from working all day, taking care of my dad and her two kids and our home.  Now, I just came to the conclusion that she was probably worried about the surgery, that may never have been too far from her mind.  Why?  Because of who I would have been, had that surgery not been done.  I would have had a limp.  And that’s putting it mildly.  I would have had differing leg lengths and lifelong pain.  My parents wanted me to have a normal life.  It was treatable via surgery so they did everything and made every sacrifice they could, for that purpose.  But times were different.  It was different era.  Health insurance was not what we have today.  The bills were mounting.  And piling.  And my Dad had a Fender Mustang guitar that he adored, with a Gibson amp.  And a guy that wanted it.  Yeah.  He sold it.  For such a paltry sum it makes me shake.  Something under $200 for a guitar that today goes for such ridiculous amounts more, it would shock each reader.  $2000 would be a bargain on this guitar.  A bargain I say.  

Well, I wanted to find it.  Because he’s my Dad.  And because of what my life would have been if he hadn’t done this for me.  This is my Dad’s post, so it won’t be about Mom, but trust me…that woman has sacrificed for me a million times over.  I am such an amazing mother, because I was raised by one.  She gave me the strength to single parent, even though she didn’t know that’s what she was doing.  But if I hadn’t had that surgery, I would have been a very different person.  

I’m a firm believer that confidence really makes us who we are.  I was raised with confidence and belief in my own abilities and independence.  My sports-minded parents had me involved in athletics and I was rough and tumble from the start.  I can’t remember not being a runner, a soccer player…a tomboy.  Those things define me.  And through those things, I became confident.  Which made me smart, intellectual and self-assured.  It made me participate in sports teams, kept my body in shape, my mind active, my friendships based on the fun activites we did together.  The right kind of friendships.  I was an all around good teenager, because I had the right kinds of connections.  You know what I mean?  I didn’t even know about my hip until I was old enough to not really care.  It wasn’t affecting me, I had a killer right foot when I aimed at the goal, I was gymnastically nimble and a fast runner.  My body was toned and muscular because of those activites.  High school was enjoyable and filled with fun for me.  Prom court, dating the senior prom king…it was a good life.  I’ve been able to maintain that level of activity and although it’s trickier now (thank goodness for that metabolism Mom, I appreciate the gift you handed down to me genetically), I’m still in great shape.  

I was brought to tears thinking about who I would be if I hadn’t had that surgery.  Those defining moments in childhood when I wouldn’t have been able to keep up.  When I wouldn’t have had that confidence and would have been more of a wallflower, instead of dancing in front of everyone.  The sports would be out, which may have changed my physical appearance.  And in reality, the one thing I know is that my self-esteem would have suffered.  I wouldn’t be the laid back, low stress, life-loving person that I am.  The childhood taunts and teasing I would have endured would surely have affected me in many negative ways.  

So I tried to get that guitar back for Father’s Day.  As a thank you.  I called a lady who is the sister to the guy Dad sold it to.  The guy he sold it to, had died awhile back…but the sister knew right where it was.  It’s right down the road from our store.  I called the family, but never heard back from them.  Apparently, it matters to them-it was their uncle’s guitar for about 33 years after all.  And I hear that his niece plays it now.  So that’s sweet.  But damn.  I just always wanted to give it back to him.  I want to hand it to him, (I know I’ll have tears streaming down my face, just like now) and tell him “thank you”.    I want him to know that I  know.  That I know how much he did for me.  I get it now.  I’d give up a limb without hesitation for my girl…so I know why he did it.  But it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.  We aren’t huggy, we aren’t kissy, but I’m his only daughter (notice I didn’t say his only girl, because my baby is certainly his main girl these days    ), but I love him.  And thank him beyond words.

I love my Dad.   

And I wish I could give him this:

Maybe someday.  Maybe those people will one day let it come back.