Five

Dear sweet neglected blog.  I still love you.  I'm sorry I'm putting you in the corner, but I'm supposed to be studying.  However, I thought I would feed you a short, arbitrary list of things that are making me happy lately.

1. Nivea In-Shower Body Lotion

I stink at remembering to put on lotion.  Plus, I hate the way it feels - all slimy and sticky and thick.  Consequently, I spend all winter itchy and ashy looking.  I saw this at Target and decided that it was worth a try.  It's so great!  I don't feel slimy and sticky because once you rinse it off you just feel moisturized and clean! Yay!

Only problem is, old habits die hard and I keep turning off the water without applying it.  Anyone home when I shower must wonder why I turn off the water and then immediately turn it back on again.

2. Tune-In Radio Pro app

No link for this one - search for it in the Play Store or iTunes.  I love it because I can listen to my local radio station on my phone, listen to playlists by genre (sort of like Pandora) or I can choose from an enormous list of podcasts.  My job is mindless.  Super, super mindless, and I have hours of time to listen to whatever I want.

Me? I'm a podcast junkie.  I want to hear stories, laugh, learn something, and feel engaged.  So what am I listening to?

• The Nerdist - Although I don't 'get' comic books or sci-fi, this show is smart, funny and thought provoking.  More often than not I don't know who the guests are until I come home from work and Google them, but I still really enjoy listening!  If you want to try it out, try the episode with Kal Penn (from Harold and Kumar) or Lisa Kudrow (from Friends) or if you're way younger than me: Grace Helbig.
• Comedy Bang Bang - None of these shows will get a G rating, but this one probably earns a R-rating on a consistent weekly basis.  A little raunchier, it features conversations with stand up comedians.  They're not doing their bits, but in the course of talking they riff off of each other and it can be hilarious. And raunchy.  So don't listen if you're easily offended.
• Unfictional - Okay, so this one will get a PG-rating.  It's an NPR podcast that features true stores, usually 2 or 3 that revolve around a theme each week.  Some are funny, some are sad, some make you appreciate another person's point of view.  I like almost all of these shows, but I thought I am Montgomery Clift was especially interesting.
• Pop Culture Happy Hour - The folks at NPR weigh in on pop culture.  Too highfalutin too talk about the Real Housewives, but down to talk about Orange is the New Black, Breaking Bad, The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.  It's clean, insightful and also gives me stuff to Google at the end of the day.  
• (hangs head in shame) Watch What Crappens - Of all my guilty pleasures, Bravo is my guiltiest.  I don't even mention that I'm a RH junkie to people I know unless I get a strong vibe that they might also share my enthusiasm.  Otherwise, I'd just as soon you don't know that I have this weakness.  In my defense, I grow up in a very sheltered world and until my late 30s I just had no idea that everyone wasn't just like me and my family.  So this fly-on-the-wall vantage point into other worlds is fascinating to me.  (Yeah, yeah, I know.  It's not real reality. I know that watching a bunch of rich entitled people bicker isn't the same as taking a course in sociology.  I don't care.  It's mesmerizing to me.)  And these two guys from somewhere near Beverly Hills talk about the shows on Bravo.  They're not clean, I don't always agree with them, I don't always think they make sense, but they're goofy and talking to me in my guilty pleasure language.  So I'm hooked.  Shh.  Don't tell anyone. 

3. Paper Mate Flair Pens

I'm studying for a 'big exam' (she said, casually and generically, hoping not to jinx herself), and I have lots of note taking to do.  I invested (wink, wink) in these medium point flair pens to make the process a little bit funner.  (Fortunately the test isn't spelling/vocabulary/grammar related.  And yes, I know it's "more fun" but funner is...well...funner.)  Anyway, the colors are really pretty, they're bolder than a ball point but not as fat as a Sharpie, and they don't bleed through the paper.  

4. 3-in-1 Lens kit for cell phones

This was an Amazon Deal-of-the-Day a while back and in a moment of weakness I clicked.  It's really fun!  You get adhesive backed rings that you stick to your phone around the phone's lens.  There's a magnet at the base of each of the three lenses, so when you're ready to use you just stick it to the metal ring.  So far the lenses stick nicely and I'm still on the original ring, but you do get a couple extra rings.  So far I've only used the macro lens, and it's been a blast.   

5. Nerds Bumpy Jelly Beans

Okay, I'm not actually suggesting that anyone pay $10 for a bag of candy. Wowsers! 

Anyway, I picked this up at Target to put in the kids Easter baskets and as luck would have it, I bought one bag too many.  They're weird: bumpy, hard and sugary on the outside and more jelly bean-ish on the inside. Some are a little sour, others are more tart, they're all magically delicious.  This one is on the list mostly so I remember to get them again next year! Suddenly I'm strangely excited for next March.  

Not making the list, but close runners up:

This peach cobbler recipe (which is helping me use up an industrial sized can of peaches that we bought in a moment of Sam's Club insanity.)

Anything having to do with miniature Dachshunds, especially this and this.

And a couple of movies that might have flown under the radar: The Lunchbox and for the nerds among us, Kerig recommends: Jodorowsky's Dune (the greatest science fiction movie never made).

And with that, I'm hitting post without proofreading because it's waaaaay past my bedtime!  Later babies!  Thanks for stopping by!

Too long and boring for a Facebook post....

So burying it on my blog seems like the appropriate thing to do!  Warning: this has absolutely nothing to do with scrapbooking.

The interview process that I went through in December got me thinking about WHO I want to educate, as well as what problems and challenges different families face.  As I mentioned in my "soft underbelly" post, the school that I interviewed with was religious, and it was catering to students whose only other option were the failing public schools in the area.  Something like 70% of the students at the school met the federal guidelines for poverty. "But surely, since these parents care enough to seek out better schools, they'll take a more active role...?"  I'm not even certain I got the whole question out before they gave me a sheepish half smile and said, "They're not seeking us out.  WE'RE seeking them.  We literally knock on doors.  Make phone calls.  It actually takes a lot of convincing that there's a better way.  We meet a lot of resistance."

A couple of years ago I read a very enlightening book called "A Framework for Understanding Poverty" by Ruby K. Payne. It talks about the mindsets of different classes and how they approach just about everything from family to money, to discipline and authority and more.  And I think that a lot of us assume that many of these mindsets are a race thing, when in fact, these issues are far more universal within economic boundaries than just within any given race.

During the interview process, I thought about that book a lot.  Reading it had been eye opening.  So what else didn't I know?  Well, that's a classic conundrum, right?  But I did some spelunking around and decided to borrow a book from the library called Unequal Childhoods: Class, Race and Family Life.  I managed to request the book-on-CD version, which is probably a good thing...when the CD version turned out to be FIFTEEN CDs, I looked at the paperback version: I just don't think I have the stick-to-it-tive-ness to power through 480 pages.  But with my short 20 minute commute, sure, I could listen to the book for...oh, you know...like, 45 days. :P  Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I really have been listening for the better part of a month.

The book is an ethnographic study of 12 families: 4 middle class, 4 working class, and 4 poor families, both white and African American, and how they approach raising their children.  In the book, there is a lot of talk about "concerted cultivation" and "natural growth" and very clear divisions between the classes.  Concerted cultivation - and this is my very rough impression - seems to be the idea of embracing teachable moments, talking to develop language skills, negotiating rather than giving concise directives, and enrolling children in organized activities (sports teams, music lessons, religion classes, etc).  Whereas natural growth is a more relaxed approach: fewer activities, less adult-child interaction, more free-play time for children with extended family and neighborhood children.

It's interesting to listen to (or read, if you're so inclined) the similarities among the classes, regardless of race.  In the middle class, families were booked with activities: soccer, gymnastics, piano lessons, church activities and of course school.  Families often had multiple activities a day, meals were rarely spent with every family member at the kitchen table, and when issues arose at school, the middle class parents were quick to intervene and negotiate better outcomes for their children.  There were fewer differences between the working class and poor families, again, regardless of race.  In these families, children spent considerable amounts of time hanging out with cousins, playing with neighborhood kids, watching t.v.  Their parents would give concise directions, and would rarely get whining or back talk in return.  In the working class and poor families, children rarely complained of being bored, whereas in the middle class families children complained of boredom when they weren't fully booked with activities.  With regard to school, the working class and poor families seemed to regard educators as experts - on the same level and doctors - and rarely questioned their authority or pressed the schools to do what they wanted.  Even if their children had severe issues in school that weren't being adequately addressed, parents trusted that the schools and teachers were doing everything they could.

One detail that I've failed to mention is that the study focused on families with a 9 or 10 year old at one of two elementary schools at an undisclosed northeast city.  While the children were the focus of the study, the family was an integral part of each child's life.  The study was done in the mid-90s and the book was originally published in 2003.  I feel lucky to have only stumbled on the book now, because the 2nd edition had the added benefit of following up with the kids 10 years later.

In many regards, the middle class families seemed to be...well...exhausted.  Both parents worked full time, traveled, and the activities they enrolled their children in had them running in multiple directions on a daily basis.  Frequently, family events (birthday and graduation parties) were missed in favor of not missing sports tournaments.  By the same token, parents had deeper conversations with their children, asked probing questions, encouraged their children to interact confidently with the outside world, coached them to make eye contact and shake hands, and negotiate for what's in their best interest.

By contrast, the children of the working class and poor seemed energetic and imaginative, well behaved (in the sense that they followed directions without back talk) and were unspoiled, rarely asking for material things and truly appreciating what came their way.

At the end of the end of the study, it was clear that each family loved their children and wanted only the best for them.  Each set of parents was doing what they knew how to do and while it was clear that the middle class families knew how to negotiate with schools to get what they wanted for their children, it never seemed as though the working class and poor weren't doing their best.

Going into the 10 year follow up I had great hope that the children of the working class and poor would be doing well.  Their parents, after all, cared and loved them deeply, they weren't neglected, school wasn't de-emphasized, they were raised to know right from wrong...  I had no doubt that the middle class children would be fine, and for the most part they were.  There were minor setbacks (not getting into their first choice school, a less than perfect grade in an important class, broken hearts, etc), but for the most part they were right where I'd imagined they'd be: in good colleges working towards degrees, working during the summer at "better" jobs, including internships to help further their intended careers.  The working class and poor, on the other hand, had...harder lives.  Some went to community college for a semester or two, one dropped out but received a GED, they were in unions, some where married, a couple had children (at the time of the follow up, the kids were 19-21), and some had lost a number of friends to violence.

I realize that I've essentially written a book report, and maybe it looks like I miss my time in school, but ultimately, writing is a way to process my thoughts.  And this book was both interesting (sort of, I did find the author to be frequently redundant) and depressing.  The author gives her thoughts for 'fixing' the problems, but they lean toward socialistic.  While I know first hand how difficult life can be for the working class (for example, there is no room in my* budget to enroll my children in extracurricular activities, even thought I'm fully well aware of the benefits: working on a team, time management, learning to deal with disappointment, feeling comfortable in public settings, understanding rules and their consequences, etc), I also know that it's unrealistic to expect society to shoulder the bill for others.

It's also depressing because it further solidifies the adage that "the rich get richer".  Yes, the families studied were middle class (not rich), but they had the economic wherewithal to say yes to opportunities for their children, whether it be playing travel league sports, enrolling their children in summer school to boost knowledge (and confidence), sign their children up for SAT prep classes, and visit a number of colleges to help their children make informed decisions.  By contrast, because the working class and poor had not navigated the college course themselves, they lacked the knowledge to help their children in that regard.  They didn't see the need for SAT prep courses, didn't understand the college application and acceptance process, and some didn't really grasp the difference a GED and a high school diploma.

Ultimately, it seems that we are a product of our environments, and it is exceptionally difficult to break free from the place where we begin life.  Obviously, there is much work that needs to be done in our society to figure out a way to give equal footing to children of all classes.  I will have a lot to think about for a long time.

Every blog post needs a picture.  This one was taken inside the classroom where I did my student teaching.  Why a flag? Well, this is America, and we are problem solvers and don't run from difficult things.  This issue seems difficult, but it's totally worth our attention.


* There is no room in my budget for extracurricular activities for my children.  Thank goodness, my ex-husband is able and committed to providing these experiencing these important benefits for them.  And while I am "working class" currently, my middle class background allows me to provide other important benefits for my children.   

Open on Sunday.

My store is closed 47 Sundays out of 52.  I can't complain.  As far as retail environments go, I'm blessed and I know it.  However, we're open, it's Sunday, and we didn't run an ad, so no one even knows we're here. We've had two customers so far.  I sort of brought something to do, but I couldn't drag it into a 5 hour task.

So here I am.

I made this layout a couple of weeks ago.  I had originally intended it to be a Silhouette blog post but I made layouts that I liked better and were more seasonally appropriate, so this one got benched.

Little shy on the journaling, eh?  I made this shortly after I got the high blood pressure diagnosis.  I had a pity party that lasted for a couple of days, before realizing how lucky I was.  That catching it allowed it to be treated.  And treatment means avoiding ugly surprises, like, oh...say...a stroke. And my treatment is so easy: I take a half of a diuretic pill every morning.  Whoopee.  I am glad that my gynecologist caught it and that my family doctor is testing the easiest treatment first and keeping an eye on me.  I'm watching my salt and caffeine intake and being more conscientious of my body cues.  So yes: Life if good.

I've said that I think the sports pages are challenging.  And they are.  But I also think that super girly pages are not my forte.  I don't think this is "super girly" but it has more pink and pastels than any layout I've done in the recent past.  It was challenging, but also fun to switch out of my color-scheme comfort zone.  The thing that I really like on this layout is the pink line around the edge.  I just used a fine tipped paint brush in Tattered Angles spray mist.  I am often too heavy handed when I try to outline things in pen, so I tend not to attempt that anymore.  But the paint brush was much easier for me to use without making a mess out of it.

Alrighty then! Happy Sunday to you all!

100th 3rd

When I first moved to Ohio, several things baffled me.  I don't know why, but I've been thinking about it for a while now.  And I've been thinking that I'd really like to make a layout about some of the weird differences there are in the different places I've lived.  That thought is brewing.

Close to the top of the list will be Fifth Third Bank.  You don't have to be Math Girl to know that that just doesn't makes sense.  It took me a while to settle in, and since I'm not one to socialize it took me several months before I was finally able to ask someone about the bank's name without looking like a blithering idiot.  Turns out it came from the bank mergers of the Fifth National Bank of Cincinnati and the Third National Bank of Cincinnati.  I guess that makes sense, but 12½ years later it still makes me screw up my face when I drive past their branches.

So 100th 3rd?  Well, today is a semi big day around here.  This is my 100th post and the third anniversary of my blog.  I suppose that it's not really that big of a deal, but it is to me, sort of.  I started this blog when my life was in the midst of some big changes.  In the June of 2009 my ex-husband lots his job.  The economy was still in the throes of what no one wanted to label a recession.  He was unemployed for a total of 11 months.  In September he came to me and asked if I would move into his house with our kids so he could move in with his brother in Pennsylvania and work at his hedge fund company.  He had hopes that he could learn a new line of work, get out of the manufacturing industry and tread water until selling his house made more sense.  Naturally, the idea of getting to be the full time mom to my kids was something I jumped at. But the rest? Uh...no.  Live in my ex-husband's house? Weird. At best.  My nearly 100 mile daily round trip commute to a job that I didn't like? Expensive.  And heading into winter? With my crappy car? Dangerous. And little things like the fact that I had just signed a one year lease with my apartment complex and they wouldn't let me out.  And of course, there's also a relationship to consider.  How crappy a girlfriend are you when you say "Listen. Really dig you. But I'm gonna move into my ex-husband's house"?  As luck would have it, that may have been a mixed blessing for a number of reasons.  But that it is a whole other, really long, way too personal post. That's not going to happen.  But it has a happy ending, so the details aren't that important...

But I said yes and I moved. And I felt like a stranger with my kids for quite some time.  It's not that I didn't see them a lot when they lived with their dad, it's just that they had an entirely different routine at Dad's house than at Mom's apartment. And they were at "home" - I was the one in a strange land.  And dear God, did it feel strange.  Which is weird - it was filled with furniture and kitchenware and linens that I had purchased, but was no longer "mine." I felt like I was trespassing. I had to ask where things were, and I confined myself to my bedroom, the kitchen and the laundry room.

As luck would have it, I scored a new job, back in the camera industry - back where I felt comfortable and in my element.  It was closer to home - 20 miles away.  The boss was (is) fantastic. Accommodating, understanding, flexible.  I couldn't ask for a better work situation than what I have right now.  Lest I ever sound disgruntled, please know: I am not.  I feel lucky and blessed every day.  Oh please. Not every day....but most days. ;)

It took some time, everything settled into place.  I'd be lying if I said there weren't times that things still feel...weird.  Like, it's hard to explain this.  So a lot of time, I avoid talking about personal things with people who aren't already in "the know."  But on the whole, it's been wonderful.  I love that the kids are always HOME.  I leave on the weekends and spend time with Kerig, and Dad comes home - no more packing them up and disrupting their schedules.  I like cooking for them, and - oddly - doing their laundry and sending them to school in clothes that haven't been sitting crumpled in a laundry basket for a week.  I like over-seeing their homework, and even dishing out chores. I love being the mom, and I take that role seriously.  When I left, I asked their dad to keep them - he made more money, he had a 9 to 5, Monday thru Friday job. I didn't. It was in their best interest. But getting this chance to be with them has been a blessing.  For me, and I think, for them.

So this blog has seen me through a lot.  I started this shortly after I moved in his house. After the kids went to bed I'd be in my room.  Computer, internet, books...and still very bored.  I needed some kind of creative "thing" and I needed to give my head something to do.  I've been a fair weather friend, to be sure. But in my defense, it's been quite a ride. I've added more to my plate, and given my brain plenty to keep it occupied.  I've branched out in the house, and taken over the dining room and made it my scrap room.  But the blog has been a creative outlet, a way to share, a source of free therapy, a way to communicate my undying love for my Silhouette...

So...Happy Anniversary to me!

And because no blog post is complete without a picture, he's a REALLY old picture of Kerig and I.  Thanks, friend, for always being there for me, for graciously taking the back seat when necessary and being my rock. I think you're the best.

Snapshot of Today.

A post about absolutely nothing.

Gas: $3.14 (in Parma, but the average seems more like $3.30 in the area.)
Car: Nissan Rogue...Superblack.
Phone: Samsung Galaxy SIII.
Ringer: R. Kelly's Remix to Ignition.  Heard three times, including a wrong number at 12:38 am.
Alarm set for: 7:45
Commute: 25.4 miles/Half hour.
Work Day: 9:15-5:25, including teaching a Nikon class.
In-between: Calc homework: setting up and evaluating triple iterated integrals.
Listening to: NPR.  Election talk, Hurricane Sandy aftermath.  "On Taking Pictures" podcast.
Dinner: Brown Bag Burger (Voted best burger in Ohio by Kerig and Caroline)
Cost: $18.58
After dinner errand: Target for a light bulb for over the range.
Also: Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies with little bits of candy cane in the chocolate. Jury's still out.
Waiting for: Louis C.K. on Saturday Night Live
Fantasizing about: Having time to read a book without guilt.
Missing: My kid.
Wearing: big comfy Lakeland hoodie.
Weather: High: 44º, Low: 35º Grey, cloudy, occasional drizzle
Other points of note: 3 days til presidential election.  President Obama visited Mentor High School.
Picture:

(no actual tongue contact made. Surprise.)

One less monkey on my back.

In December 2008 I sat down to pay my bills and cried.  I had dug a hole deeper than I could get out of. And every month it was getting worse and worse. I had to do something.

I was $15,000 in debt and took home about $800 every two weeks.  I had rent, a car payment, a cell phone contract, DSL internet (but no cable t.v.), insurance and the occasional kid to feed.  I am not a frivolous spender, but I had put everything from a mattress and box spring to gas to an MRI on my credit cards.  I had nothing of substance to show for my purchases - no big screen t.v., no jewelry or designer clothes. My car could get from A to B and my knee could bare weight. I had hocked what I could - a couple of lenses, some scrapbooking supplies and a wedding ring that wasn't being used.  I was down to the stuff that doesn't sell at garage sales. 

I had heard Bob Brinker (a less annoying Suze Orman type who hosted a show called Money Talk) advise people in my position to go to Consumer Credit Counselling Service and talk to them about debt consolidation.  

I instant messaged my manfriend and fessed up about how bad my financial situation had become.  There were more tears. Angry ones. Embarrassed ones. Worried ones. SCARED ones. And all of them were fat and ugly. Lord, I am an ugly crier. I asked him if he'd come with me to the appointment I was mustering up the nerve to make.  Yes, he said. I asked him if he'd stand by me when I was really poor. Yes, he said.  I asked him if he thought I was stupid or weak. No, he said.

So I made the appointment.

I needed a second pair of ears to make sure everything I was told would come home with me.  I needed a second brain to make sure all the questions got asked. And so on a cold, dreary day in January we entered the back door of an unassuming office building in Parma.  We sat down with Casandra Hudak and I told her things about my money that no one wants to tell anyone. Hi. My name is Caroline. I don't make much money.  I've spent more than I make, and now I'm in deep doo doo. Please help.

She looked at my income. She looked at my bills. She asked me how much I pay for haircuts and how often I buy shoes and why I didn't have a line item for clothing. She punched numbers into her calculator. She entered numbers into her spreadsheets.  She clucked and shook her head and printed out the bad news. 

It would take $435 a month for 42 months. All my credit would be shut off, CCCS would negotiate a lower interest rate, all over limit fees would be waived. Late fees wouldn't be an issue because on the 20th of every month CCCS would take their money and make the payments on my behalf, and, unlike me, they would be really kick ass about making payments on time. I had to agree not to apply for any credit cards for the duration of my time in the program and if their auto-deductions were declined more than once I would be kicked out of the program and left to the mercy of my creditors. 

She pointed out that haircuts and clothing weren't going to be something I could afford.  She advised me not to do the program because there simply wasn't enough income to make it happen without other issues cropping up.  What if your car breaks down? What if I had a medical emergency that required copays?

Yeah? What if? Because I didn't have any money left over after making my payments anyway.  So please, just print out the contract and give to me to sign before I lose my resolve.

We left and it was still cold and dreary, and I was still scared and embarrassed and worried, but I also had butterflies of giddiness.  I could get out of this mess. There might be an end. 

And for the last 41 months I've watched as CCCS has taken $435 out of my checking account.  Most months I've really sweated that money being there.  I've learned to time my other bills and my paychecks to accommodate that withdrawal.  

The bills still came.  Sometimes I would open them and throw them away in disgust.  Progress was steady, but it was SLOW.  Lower interest rates were helpful, but because there was interest, my monthly payments were making dings, not dents, in my total debt.  

Most months I told myself that I was better off not looking at the bills.  They got shredded in a sealed envelope.

Over the last three and a half years I've heard surprisingly little from CCCS.  I got a letter letting me know they were being absorbed into Apprisen Financial Advocates.  There was a tiny flurry of communication a year ago when my bank switched my debit card from Visa to MasterCard.  Aside from that, we haven't been in touch. They make it surprisingly easy to hand over all your financial dirty laundry and let someone else deal with it while you walk away and try to not spend money.

And for all that lack of communication, I was a little surprised to get a message today from Thomas at Apprisen, asking me to call him about my "services" with them.  Once I placed the name I steeled myself for the worst: it was going to take longer than predicted or some other yuckiness.  Megan answered and I told her I was returning a call from Thomas.  Rather than passing me off, she took my name and social security number and proceeded to tell me that I had a zero balance.

What does that mean?

I am done. I have payed everyone off.  A month earlier than planned. I dutifully took notes through the rest of the call, writing down when I should check my credit report (3 to 5 months), what I should look for there (anything that looks out of place), the website that they recommend (annualcreditreport.com) and why looking at the credit report is more beneficial than just buying your scores. I listened politely, asked her to verify that they had my correct address to send the final paperwork, thanked her and hung up.  

And then I cried again.

Big Love

I've finally found a way to watch season 3 of Big Love. I love this show, it's a peek into a world that is foreign to me. The idea of really believing in something is a notion I find enviable. And believe or not, there is something very enticing about the notion of sister wives, and that whole concubine way of life that is appealing. I'm not exactly certain I could share a man's affections, but I could probably get on board with the group mothering and having other like-minded women there to share life with.

But that's not what this is about. And spoiler alert: if you haven't begun season 3, I may be blowing things for you. But I'm pretty sure that (A) there's no one actually reading this, and (B) I'm late enough to this rodeo that I won't ruin anything.

At any rate: Sarah Hendrickson is pregnant. Daughter of devout, polygamist Mormons, high school senior, bright, beautiful, her whole life ahead of her. And she can kiss her future good bye. She's only just found out, so at this point I'm mostly just speculating. Hell, for all intents and purposes, I'm projecting. But here's how I see it: She's a disappointment, she's a disgrace. She's cast her parents in terrible light. Chances are good that her potential just took a free fall. I look at her and think "What if she had been dealt another card? Something other than the dreaded 'early pregnancy' card? What could she have become?"


You see, there are times that I feel I was dealt that card.


It's not exactly a secret: I got pregnant, out of wedlock, when I was 22 years old. I had just graduated from college when it happened. To be exact, I found out the very day I was offered my first real job.

It's not like I was promiscuous. I really and truly wasn't. Obviously I wasn't virtuous until I got married, but still. Let's put it this way: there wasn't any possible way that I could have become a teenage statistic. If you catch my drift. wink wink

So looking back, I kind of think that way: I was dealt a card. The early pregnancy, change your life card. At the time, I felt like I was being punished: I had done something wrong and I had to pay the consequences. Now that I've had 18 years to think about it, I wonder: What about all those girls? How come they didn't have to pay the consequences?? Was I stupider than the other girls? 18 years and 3 other children later, I realize that no, I wasn't stupider, I wasn't being punished for doing something wrong. However, I am FERTILE. Women who have difficulty conceiving aren't being punished. It's unfortunate, and I'm certain maddening for them, but it's not punishment. I find it telling that I can feel such empathy and pain for women who have problems conceiving, but I can't issue myself any forgiveness for my own physical shortcomings. Wait. Scratch that. Couldn't. I can now. I've had time to think about it, to feel my shame, to repent, to question, to grieve, to be angry, to think more and finally to forgive.

But I often wonder: What would it have been like if I had been dealt some other card?