Light Bulb

I have always worried about money.  Always.

I have always felt like I'm drowning in my finances.  Always.

When I was a kid, my parents weren't handing me 20's every week for the movies or new clothes at the mall.  It was made very clear, very early on, if I wanted that, I'd need to work.  So, I started babysitting when I was 11.  I even advertised.

I didn't get a car until I was almost 20.  And then it was my parents' 1988 Bonneville.  I paid and borrowed my way through college.  I racked up lots of debt the moment I graduated and decided to live on my own, even though I couldn't afford it.  Especially when necessities like rent and power were accompanied with happy hour bills and eating lunch out every day.

But, I pulled through.  I paid off that debt.  I bought a new car when the Bonnie died.  I paid off student loans.  I paid for my wedding.  I bought a house.  I did all of that with zero financial help.  And I'm proud of that.  Financial freedom, is freedom.  No one got to to tell me who was invited to my wedding, because I was paying for it.  No one could yell at me for skipping an 8 am class, because I was paying for it.

However, I have always worried about money.  Always.

My one wish has always been to not worry about it.  I'd like to not have to think about every penny.  I don't need to be rich or live in a mansion or drive a BMW, but I'd like to just go through life not worrying about everything I spend.  I've spent my entire teenage and adult life working towards that goal.

Yet, I do worry.  All. The. Time.

And then in the strangest of moments, your brain comes to realizations.  It happened last night as I was driving home from swim lessons.  It's important to note that I was driving home from swim lessons because they aren't cheap.

I sat at a light and watched a young woman walk the median holding a sign.

"Please help.  I have 2 children and can't pay the rent or buy food."

This is not a new sight.  I see people holding signs, asking for money at least 5 times a day.

I watched her pace and hold her head down.  I watched her look up shyly and accept money, whispering "Thank You" and "God Bless You."  And I remembered that I was her, and now I'm not.

It wasn't that long ago that my husband lost his job and I was pregnant with a second baby and we didn't have a year's worth of savings and we collected unemployment and bought groceries with credit cards and fell behind on mortgages.

The light changed and I held out my $10 and told her to take care and drove away.

There was a time that I worried about how I would pay for groceries when my credit card was maxed out.  And there was a time that I worried we'd lose our house and where would we go.  And during that time I had 2 kids that needed me to figure it out.

I don't worry about that anymore.  There's not a day that goes by that I wonder how I'm going to feed my kids.  Ever.  Sure, I think about how we only have 9 years until Ainsley goes to college and how on earth are we going to save for it by then.  And I worry about coming up with a down payment to buy a house when all of our savings seems to go to one of the rental properties we own.  And I worry about how I will pay for a vacation and a 3rd birthday party and a 40th birthday party and camps all in the course of one summer.  But I never worry that my kids will have a warm, dry place to sleep.  I worry about luxuries.

And all of a sudden a light bulb exploded in my head.  All of my wishing and working and hoping towards a worry free financial life?  Really, I have that.  I don't have to raid my coin purse to afford diapers.  I don't have to wait until pay day to buy milk.

Let's be honest, I'm still going to worry.  Apparently, that's what I do.  I'm not sure where all the brain activity would go without worry.  But I'm going to worry less.  And I'm going to remember that all of those things I worry about are not necessary.  And I'm going to hope that the young mom in the median with the sign gets to the same place one day.

Number Three

I sat there on the toilet puzzled.  Counting and recounting days.  Day 14.  No doubt, day 14.  So why was I seeing blood.  Twelve days early.

I stepped in the shower.  It's cancer.  I have cervical cancer or ovarian cancer or one of those cancers that never shows any signs and HOLY HELL I must make a doctor's appointment tomorrow.  I knew I shouldn't have waited on my annual, it was due a month ago.

And then...

What if it's not.  What if that pregnancy test I took two weeks ago was wrong.  What if my period wasn't a period.  What if the exhaustion isn't from the half marathon training.  Well, then I'm miscarrying.  In three pregnancies I've only bled once and it ended.  Just ended. 

I dry off and slip into yoga pants and a t-shirt.  I hand Clif $10 and send him to the store.  I stand in the kitchen waiting, googling "mid cycle bleeding," "cancer and bleeding," "bleeding while pregnant," "random female bleeding."  I come up with a million different scenarios.

I text my sister.  She's a nurse.  She doesn't know. 

Clif comes home and I take the test into the bathroom.

The positive sign appears before I can finish peeing.  I'm pregnant...but I'm not, I must be miscarrying.

Two weeks I've been pregnant.  Two weeks of caffeine and beer and sushi and over easy eggs.  Two weeks of running 5 and 7 and 11 miles.  Two weeks of crunches.  Two weeks...I'm pregnant, but I'm not.  I've done something wrong.

I have ultrasounds.

"Everything appears to be fine."
"This resembles a healthy 6 week fetus."
"I can see a slight flicker of a heartbeat, but I can't get a reading.  It's probably just too early."
"Right now, I see no blood around the fetus."

But the blood.  I was bleeding.  Bleeding in pregnancy is bad.  Very bad.  Tell me I won't miscarry, then I'll be excited.  Then I'll embrace this.

"Well, we can't say that exactly.  But we have no reason at this moment to believe you will lose this pregnancy."

So I wait.  I worry.  I know this is ending.  I won't be happy.  I won't get excited.  I won't tell anyone.

But I have to tell some people.  My sister, my mom, a friend I am spending a weekend at a winery with.  I have to tell them, because they'll know anyway.

They all say it will be fine.

But I'm sure it won't. 

So I don't get excited, I try to forget that I ever even saw that positive sign.  If I'm going to miscarry, it won't be like last time.  I won't be a wreck, because in my mind, I'm not even pregnant.  It's all a mind game anyway.  Miscarriage.  It's too early to feel it or know it.  You just fall in love with this idea and then poof, it's just gone.

I don't get excited when I can't keep my eyes open at 6 pm.  I don't get excited when I throw up my prenatal vitamins 3 nights in a row.  I don't get excited when I have to move the notch on my belt buckle.  I don't get excited when I see the first ultrasound, even though I can finally see the heartbeat.

I wait.  At 12 weeks I'll get excited.  We'll hear the heartbeat, then everything will be fine.

I am 12 weeks and 6 days when I'm sitting in the doctor's office waiting for my 12 week appointment.

There won't be a heartbeat.  I know there won't.  And then I'll miscarry and this will be over.

And then, just as that thought leaves my mind, a tiny little bubble deep in my pelvis.

Was that?

No.

Then another.

Yes, it was. 

You are there and you're telling me to stop worrying.

Be excited.

Nagging Questions

I've had a little voice nagging me for months now.  Pushing, pulling, arguing. 

Before we moved, Ainsley and Freddie were in a structured daycare environment.  It was like Preschool.  But it was daycare, because I work full time and Preschool?  Not full time.

Now, they are at the home of a woman who runs her own daycare center in her basement.  It's a very nice place, and mostly I'm happy with it.

But...
Ainsley is the oldest child there, by a year.
Although they have "classroom time," I don't know that it's comprehensive enough.
She'll be 4 in a month and I worry that she's in the wrong environment.

Another but...
I can't afford a more expensive daycare.
Since this place is convenient to our current living situation, we most likely will change when we move and I don't want to switch her multiple times.
Preschool is not full time, so that is not an option.

So I go back and forth, argue with myself, wonder if I'm making the right decisions for her future.  I know that she is so young, but I can't help but worry that she won't be in the right place come Kindergarten.

A few months back I decided we'd have our own little classroom time at home...but people? I am no teacher.  But what I am? Is a mother to TWO children, a wife, a housekeeper, a cook, a playmate, a dog owner, a full time employee.  Basically, my plan has not panned out.  I just don't have the extra time to spend learning letters and the sounds they make.

So now I am in the worry zone again.  Do I suck it up and just find the money somewhere to send her elsewhere? Even if that means cutting back on things like groceries and needed supplies?  Do I keep her up later at night so we can play school?

I'm not sure what the answer is.  What is the plan for your child's Pre-K education?  Any advice is greatly appreciated because I can't seem to find anyone in my similar situation.