Monday, April 21, 2008  

TEENAGERS!!!!

UGH! If there was ever a demographic more mysterious to adults everywhere, it's the teenager. The more I try to figure out what makes them tick, the less I understand. Being this is my first attempt at parenting a teenager, it is even more frustrating. I don't know if my actions now will backfire on me later. Will he think that I am as crazy as I thought my parents were? Geez, I hope not.

My original intent for this post was to continue my stories of the Philippines, especially since I feel I am losing touch with that sense of fascination I felt when first coming back to the States. Earlier I had read a story about the rice shortage in the Philippines (see below). http://www.blogs.usatoday.com/ondeadline/2008/04/philippines-thr.html
It brought me back to the day we ventured to the Banaue rice terraces, the roads narrowed by lanes of drying rice kernels. I was inspired, when all of a sudden....

...my teenage son walked into the kitchen. I had received an email from his math teacher that progress reports were sent home today. He mentioned that he boosted his grade up from an 81% to an 88%, to which I said, "Wow buddy, that's awesome. You must have been really working hard." Then, I made the grave mistake of asking to see the progress report that was sent home by his teacher. OMG! You would think that I had asked him to hand me over his beloved Gameboy or PSP system. What nerve I had to ask for such secret information. Pulling a tooth without the use of novocaine would have been a less painful experience.

OK, maybe I'm being harsh. He is, after all, a very private and guarded kid. I have yet to figure out the best way to coax him out of his cave. If he's not willing to share something that documents what a great job he's doing, what's to prevent him from hiding the more serious stuff? All the mommy warning flags go up. My mind starts racing. What is on this progress report that he doesn't want me to see? Did the teacher make any comments that I should be aware of? He says no. So what's on the report? Nothing he says.

So I asked him, "Is there something on there that you don't want me to see?" He says, "Yeah." OK. Now I'm really stressing. Doesn't he realize that all I have to do is contact the teacher and ask her to email a copy of the report to me directly? Even after pointing this out to him he still refuses to let me see it. So now I'm finding myself in the difficult position of breaking the very fragile sense of trust he feels by talking to the teacher or living with the agony of not knowing what it is he doesn't want me to see. Is there not a handbook to refer to or some Wikipedia entry that defines how to deal with teenage behavior?

The dictionary entry, if I wrote it, would look like this.
teenager (noun): enigma

For now, I've decided to hold off on contacting the teacher. If it's serious enough I'm sure I would have been contacted directly. It's more important that I gain his trust and get him to the point of feeling comfortable and confident enough to share. Then again, I wonder if I can get into his backpack when he's sleeping...

Chronicled @ 10:38 PM

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Tuesday, April 15, 2008  

Tax time

Yes, I am one of those people who waits until the absolute last minute to file my income taxes.
Over the years, I've taken those tax documents with me on vacation, 'cuz tax time usually coincided, as it does this year, with Spring Break. Bearing the post-marked date of April 15, my tax forms have been mailed from across the Western States, from Seattle, Washington to Las Vegas, Nevada.

This year, considering the sky-high price of gas, and a very tight budget, our family has decided to stay home during the break. For the first time in many, many years, I will not be among the last minute post-office partiers who line up in the streets to drop their envelopes in the appropriately marked bins. I, being an advocate for the green movement, put my trust in technology and e-filed. It saves both trees and gas. No paper forms, no paper checks, no sitting in long lines in my car burning precious fuel. And no worries, at least until next year. Yup, there's nothing like good 'ole tax time.

Chronicled @ 2:26 PM

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Monday, April 14, 2008  

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like...

...my bedroom closet.

I'm going through some very trying times here. If job hunting is not the most humbling experience besides parenthood, then I don't know what is. Once that baby enters your life, all control is handed over to the little six pound bundle of joy that you've been talking to, preparing for and loving for nine months. You no longer sleep when you want to, eat when you're hungry, take a shower when you're stinky. It's a reality that some find difficult to accept and that some relish. I fall somewhere in between. Though my children are far from the diaper changing, vomit all over my shoulder, crying uncontrollably at the most embarrassing moment stage, I still deal with struggles. Just on a different level.

"He's touching my stuff!"
"She took the cat out of my room when he was sleeping!"
"Why do I have to do that when they're not doing anything?"
"But I vacuumed the stairs last week!"
"I don't like what you made for dinner. I'm going to eat cereal." Whine-whine-whine-whine-whine. Nag-nag-nag-nag-nag.

My dear and much wiser friends always warned me when I fussed about my 5-year old's temper tantrums in the toy department. "It only gets worse." Why did I not cherish those moments more? How did I get to this stage of uncontrollable daily chaos? Is there a full moon outside because they're acting crazy and I'm seconds away from losing my cool. What did I just say? And did I really mean it? I sound like my crazy parents! And then, as I look at those oh-so-adorable faces of my cherubic children after blowing my top for the hundreth time in a day, I realize how completely blessed I am to have children to dote over. It is at that point that the humbling begins and the voice of reason takes over.

It's like the job hunting. Unemployment was imposed upon me. Yes, just like parenthood, I had been wishing for it, dreaming of it, for years. But nothing truly prepares you for the blow of being cut off from your livelihood. Thank goodness for the EDD. I say that now because, as I am searching for work, I am realizing that most companies are not willing to pay what I believe my worth to be. Come on. Someone wants to pay a marketing rep with a college degree $15/hour? And who do they think will actually apply for that? Ummm, maybe I will.

In fact, I've had a lot of humbling "gee that doesn't sound so bad" moments. I could deal with being a Hallmark card merchandiser. Retail doesn't sound sooooo bad. How about... Hold on! Reality check time. What the f-#?! I did not toil over those over-wordy textbooks and sit through hours of long-winded lectures for a piece of paper that says I met all requirements to earn a BS degree for nothing, regardless of how BS it was. Nor did I spend thousands of dollars in tuition and fees to take a job that wouldn't even cover the cost of parking at the university. That's not what I'm about. I am not going to allow myself to settle for less.

I willingly admit I have been feeling despondent these past few days. Completely and utterly discouraged by the news of the looming recession nobody wants to discuss. Frustrated by the lack of professionalism displayed by companies who say, "We will contact you next week when the decision is made," and never do. The absence of interesting, fulfilling work that provides the financial and flexible support I need to maintain my family's lifestyle.

The thing is, I've allowed myself to fall into that mire, not seeing that all I had to do was be appreciative that I have the opportunity and time to do what many wish they could. Create a new me. Find a new career. Taste a bit of freedom. Spend time with my kids. And get paid for doing it. Now that's my kind of job! But, in preparation for the reality that will soon hit in less than two months, I need to go to that place where I can find peace of mind and regroup. In a previous life, that place was my job. Right now, it is behind locked doors, sans kids, in the comfort of my walk in closet, staring at those work clothes that haven't seen the light of day for nearly four months, sipping on a warm cup of tea, wishing for that perfect career that I dream to have when I grow up.

Chronicled @ 6:50 PM

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Friday, April 4, 2008  

Stress detox

I've been struggling with author anxiety. Thoughts and the written words that should accompany them are simply not flowing. I am experiencing a drought in creativity. How do I get it back?

Perhaps the quickly approaching cutoff from my unemployment benefits has carved a deep chasm in my creative psyche. It's difficult to focus when the bills come in faster than the income. Property tax, car insurance, home insurance - all due within a month. Who timed all of this? I've calculated that as of April 6 I will have a total of 9 weeks left on my unemployment claim. It barely covers my expenses this month.

Knowing that, I've really kicked the job searching into 3rd gear. By next week, I'm sure I'll have shifted into 5th. I've sent out a few resumes, had a couple of interviews. I have yet to see anything come to fruition. It doesn't help that the unemployment rate and number of jobs cut last month are the highest they've been in years. Still, I am faithful that something is waiting for me. I'm putting it in writing for all the world to see.

My perfect career:
Requirements: Must have flexible hours that work with my children's schedule; pay comparable to that which I earned at my previous place of employment; growth opportunity; minimal amount of BS (every job has a BS factor); interesting, challenging, creative and intelligent environment; benefits. No manual labor please.

With that said, if any of you are aware of any such opportunities I would truly appreciate you assistance. There. I've got that brain blocker out of my head. Now I feel better. More words to follow later...

Chronicled @ 1:14 PM

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