Procrastination and Its Fruits

Edit: The following is the comment from my teacher after grading my essay:"Kathryn,
Your personal narrative essay based on the exercise describing your educational goals has earn this enthusiastic A for the excellent development of your academic background and current efforts to achieve your plans for the future. It is easy to see why you were once enrolled In a creative writing course. Bravo, Kathryn!
The elements of first-person viewpoint and effective storytelling will be prominent features of upcoming assignments.  Your next opportunity to practice these skills will be in the process assignments due this coming week. I look forward to reading." 

The following essay is the first major essay assigned by my English 101 Composition class in my first semester returning to college. The assignment is a personal narrative essay and the topic is Where and How to Learn: My Educational Background. Basically, what's your background and attitude, how did it change, what changed it, how did you learn from your experiences and what is your attitude now? I am very proud of this work as far as style and content. I hope you enjoy it as well. 

     As I sit here looking at my assignment board full of multicolored reminders of what is due when, it’s like coming home: I’m comfortable, confident and I know it’s where I should be. My deep love of learning and all the trappings that come with it have been denied for years due to an overwhelming apathy. Horace Greeley said it precisely, “Apathy is a sort of living oblivion. “

     My mother passed away when I was eight, my father and step-mother were less than stellar in my eyes and I grew wary of their military and college educated, 9-5 lives. When I was barely into my double digits I decided I wanted to be a teacher and a mother in whatever order they managed to happen. I’d loved every teacher I ever had and longed to prove that I could be a better parent than those I was stuck with and the one who “left me behind,” as I saw it through my childish eyes. As time wore on and I grew up, I lost all passion in the struggle to live in a place where I felt unloved and utterly miserable. I focused on friends and ignored school enough to do well without excelling.

     In 2001 I graduated from my Dallas, TX high school as apathetic as it’s possible to be. We had all heard from parents and teachers that after high school you go to college; no reason why, that’s just how it’s done. My apathy led to enrollment in a community college because I’d never applied to any universities, leading to years of more apathy and procrastination.

     I knew I wanted to be a teacher but I was consumed with life. I had a job, my own apartment, dreams of my own car and friends who were not in school. I went to college the fall after graduation but failed a couple of classes for poor attendance and not turning in homework. I still had the bad habit of apathetic procrastination. I slept through 8am classes, didn’t turn in essays for creative writing, and dropped a history class. I went back the following fall with the same results. I skipped my evening class because after work I was too tired to go or wanted to hang out with my roommate and friends. I thought, “I pay for school with no financial aid or help from anyone. Who cares? I’m not wasting anyone’s money but mine, so what difference does it make?” So I decided that perhaps school wasn’t where I needed to be. I made enough money in my retail jobs to get by and still have a little fun.

     For eight years I moved around to many states including Florida, Tennessee and North Carolina. I stayed with family and friends and worked until I found myself in Central New York forced to stay due to personal circumstances. I’d moved to Utica because I knew someone here and thought it was as good a place as any. In the four years I was here I moved away and back twice. The last time I moved away was four days after the birth of my son, James. His father fought for shared custody of this tiny being that had depended solely on me since his creation, and a court order brought me back to Utica in the hopes I would be here just long enough to win custody and go back to my job with a promising future and family surrounding me. Almost three years and three custody losses later I was unemployed, still formally uneducated and desperate for a court acceptable reason to leave Utica. Despite zero involvement with his son and a total disregard for the custody he’d fought for, my son’s dad won every time I tried to get the judge to understand my reasoning for wanting to leave. The apathy had disappeared the moment I laid eyes on my own little miracle, and I knew my life needed direction with me taking the lead. But procrastination is a habit that’s a little harder to break.

     Every January for three years I applied to MVCC and faithfully completed my FAFSA and TAP applications, but since I’d always had a job I figured everything would be fine. The last job I held was great and it paid well. I thought it would turn into something permanent despite the “temporary/contract” tag on the end. I didn’t think I could handle a toddler, a full time job and full time schooling, anyway. When the contract was closed I knew there would be no more excuses because the decision had been made for me; I could live as a welfare mom, or make a change. January of this year, I redid my FAFSA and TAP applications; made sure I was still accepted to MVCC and got everything done. For fear I’d find a job and therefore another excuse to put off my life goals, I made sure to start as soon as possible: this summer.

     I had finally realized that if I wanted to leave this dying area and bring my son with me, I could no longer live paycheck to mouth and put off an education that would allow me to create a better life. I’ve always enjoyed learning even if I didn’t enjoy high school. Life experience has taught me that yes, you do go to college after high school, but it also taught me why: Even if you don’t immediately pursue a career, having that education opens more doors than simply a diploma. I still could have lived the life I had but with the option of settling down as soon as it was necessary. As it was, the life I lived was the only one I saw available to me without a college education.

     Looking around me I see the detritus of a parent. There are toys, dishes, clothes everywhere. Crayons and pens are scattered over scribbles drawn by the most precious fingers in the world. By working to realize my own pre-adolescent dreams of becoming a teacher in addition to the mother I already am, I know that MVCC is exactly where I need to be. All apathy has vanished and procrastination has no place here. Here is where I begin building the life I want and my son needs.

I AM the 99%!

AnonOps Communications: I AM NOT MOVING! #OccupyWallStreet

As I move from day to day, unable to get a job, pay rent or feed my child, I see how vital it is for me to stand up for what is Right. I pray I have the strength to keep moving from day to day. I pray I have the strength to stand up for what is right.

It doesn't stop me from looking for a job. It doesn't stop me from wanting real change in our government and welfare programs. But it does stop me from thinking there is nothing I can do.

Every voice screaming or whispering for equality deserves to be heard.

Change is coming. Real, honest to God change as opposed to the "change" Obama promised thre years ago.

Are you ready? Are you helping? Or are you sitting idly by?

The American INjustice System, Part Two: National Criminal Cases

*Disclaimer: This post is incredibly long as I am passionate and longwinded. I hope you’ll stick around for the whole thing. Thanks for visiting.*

In the first part I covered my depressing and degrading experience with the American INjustice System, specifically the NYS Supreme Family Court. In this second part I’d like to cover some criminal cases from around the country that have been brought to my attention. There are three cases that I’d like to touch on.

One is, of course, the Casey Anthony murder trial. However, I am not out to beat a dead horse or remind anyone of such a horrible tragedy and outrageous injustice on the part of little Caylee.

The second case is of one Marco Sauceda. He is a 30 year old man with the mind of a child who was mistaken for a burglar in his own house and subsequently convicted of evading arrest, found guilty by a jury.

The third case is of an Atlanta, GA woman, Raquel Nelson. She is a single mother of 3. Her son was hit by a drunk driver (who was also on pain meds and partially blind in his left eye), she was charged with vehicular manslaughter and found guilty by a jury. 

Let’s begin with the hugely infamous murder trial of Caylee Anthony. Personally, I believe she is 100% guilty of not reporting her daughter’s “disappearance,” wrongful disposal of a body and murder. All this time I’ve been raging against the jury for the “not guilty” verdict. How could 12 adults really and truly feel this woman was not guilty of all charges?! It’s like saying the sky isn’t blue, it’s neon pink. My sister then raised this very valid point: “The prosecutor and DA pushed to try her before they truly had enough evidence to convict her. They should have charged her with unlawful disposal of a body because then they could have held her while they gathered evidence to charge her with murder.” My sister is absolutely right. Because of double jeopardy Casey Anthony cannot be charged again for the same murder. We the public knew more about the case than the jury as they are not allowed access to media during the trial. As more evidence came to light before our eyes, they remained ignorant. So when their verdict came back we were outraged and rightly so. I challenge you to find ten people who think Casey Anthony is innocent of the worst crime against another human, much less your own flesh and blood. Forget ten, find three and get back to me. The jury, however, had no idea. Until they left the courtroom. I’d hate to be one of those jurors, wouldn’t you? As you get angrier while you’re reading this, I am not justifying any actions of anyone involved in this ludicrous show of justice. That is all this was: a show put on for the public and no real attempt at getting justice for those responsible for the murder and disgusting “burial” of a truly innocent life. Now Casey has attained celebrity status and will gain monetary rewards for her crimes. A coworker of mine said, “She’ll get hers, don’t worry. She’ll blow through her money and be out on the street and not a single person will help her. She’ll get hers.” It’s up to you, karma. It’s up to You, God.

Let’s drop that (phew!) and move on to Mr. Sauceda. A neighbor called the police reporting they had seen a black man kick in the front door of Marco’s house. Police arrived on the scene and entered the house while Marco ran into the bathroom and locked himself in. He does not speak English and like I said before, has the mind of a child. He refused to come out of hiding because he was scared. When police finally broke down the bathroom door, they used pepper spray, a pepper ball gun and wrestled him to the ground in his own living room. The prosecutor said with “police” and the Spanish “policia” being so similar the language barrier is no excuse. He could have said, “Me llamo Marco. Es me casa.” (“My name is Marco. This is my house.”) However, if strangers barged into your house screaming and yelling, where is your child going to go? He is going to run and hide! Prosecutors said his actions were consistent with a criminal and that is why they were charging him; it’s their job. Because Mr. Sauceda did not take the stand in his own defense, the sentencing judge said he found it difficult to sympathize with him. He said, “I don’t agree with the notion you are a victim in this case.” However, before issuing their verdict the jury sent the following note to Judge Flournoy:

 

“We’ve all reached a verdict. To us we feel he has been wronged. Please consider that in his sentencing.”

Without that note, Judge Flournoy says he would have sentenced Marco to six months in jail. Instead he sentenced him to 30 days in jail and a $500 fine. Mr. Sauceda’s lawyer, Mr. Ryan Deaton, intends to pursue a federal civil lawsuit against the city on Sauceda’s behalf which should take place January or February of next year. I am angry with this judge and with Marco’s lawyer. The judge had no way to know firsthand if Marco had the mind of a child without him speaking for himself. On the other hand, after such brutal force, was it really necessary to give him jail time and a fine? Why not just a fine and be done with it? And once again, I’m angry with the jury! I don’t believe for one second he was purposely evading arrest. He clearly had no real idea what was going on and felt very unsafe. If the neighbor reported a black man, why were they beating on an obviously Mexican one? Eye witnesses are often unreliable, but who confuses black with Mexican or Spanish? Ridiculous all around!

Finally, and most dear to me, is Raquel Nelson. Raquel is a black, 30 year old single mother of three: two girls and a boy. After grocery shopping at Wal-Mart with all three, she missed a public bus transfer forcing them all to wait an hour and a half for the next bus. Have you ever had to do that? I have, but not with three kids. Three tired and hungry kids. Whiney kids. So they finally get to their stop on the side of a five-lane speedway, their apartment in sight straight across said speedway. Her four year old son squirmed away from her while they were on the median waiting for cars to pass. Wouldn’t you know it, here comes a drunk driver who’d had “three or four” beers, two pain killers and was partially blind in his left eye, barreling down the road towards this little boy and his family. Ms. Nelson and her younger daughter had minor injuries and her older daughter was physically unhurt.

Recap over, the drunk driver plead guilty to a hit and run (!!!) and served six months of his two year sentence. He is currently serving five-year probation. After he’d been convicted of two hit and runs in the same day (February 17^th, 1997). He was originally charged with hit and run, first degree homicide by vehicle and cruelty to children but the last two were dropped and I haven’t been able to find out why. Raquel has been charged and convicted of homicide by vehicle in the second degree, crossing roadway elsewhere than at crosswalk and reckless conduct. (I’d like to add my sister is partially blind in her left eye due to a childhood injury, but she never drives drunk or while taking pain meds. The “partially blind” part just seems like the icing on a drunken, drugged cake.)

Never mind that the bus stop was a third of a mile from the nearest crosswalk. Never mind every single other passenger who got off at the same stop did the same thing she did and crossed in the middle of the street. Never mind all that. As David Goldberg said, “What about the highway designers, traffic engineers, transit planners and land use regulators who allowed a bus stop to be placed so far from a signal and made no other provision for a safe crossing; who allowed – even encouraged, with wide, straight lanes – prevailing speeds of 50-plus on a road flanked by houses and apartments; who carved a fifth lane out of a wider median that could have provided more of a safe refuge for pedestrians; who designed the entire landscape to be hostile to people trying to get to work and groceries despite having no access to a car? They are as innocent as the day is long, according to the solicitor general’s office.”

I signed a petition at Change.org for Ms. Nelson. It asked for her release as she was facing three years in prison and for a crosswalk at that location. At her sentencing this past Tuesday, July 26^th, Cobb County Judge Katherine Tanksle was handed this petition signed by over 140,000 people nationwide. This compassionate judge gave Raquel a choice: 12 months’ probation and community service or a new trial. This keeps this woman out of jail for now and hopefully for good and gives her the chance to clear her name before a new jury. Hopefully this jury will be made out of her actual peers. The first jury was all middle-class whites who had never taken a bus in metro Atlanta. I have and it’s a huge pain! And it was just me then!

I would like to ask you to visit Change.org and sign this petition. I have a small child and if, God forbid, anything like this ever happened, I’m not sure I’d be functional, let alone sane enough to sit through a trial basically saying I’m the one responsible for the demise of my little boy.

Out of the three stories I picked only one has a happy ending, and it’s really only a hiatus. How is it that we have come so far from compassion and common sense? What world is this that we allow a child killer to walk free while another mother who watched her son get hit by a drunk driver is convicted of vehicular manslaughter? There are so many injustices in this world that get me going. The more passionate I get, the louder I get and people laugh at my vehemence.

But how is anything ever going to change if we don’t show the passion it takes to really make a difference?

Timeless Words From My Past

Here is a journal entry I wrote on November 8th, 2004. It was titled, "If you think I don't love you well then you're just wrong." I was listening to Counting Crows and Sister Hazel while writing it. I love this and always have and felt it was time to once again show it the light of day and pull it out of the dungeon that is Live Journal. :P

I hope tomorrow is like today. It was a thick golden liquid warming my skin while I sat in a chair and read a book. When I went outside the sun was warming the chilled air that caressed my skin but did nothing to warm my toes that felt the cold dirt and grass as I walked aimlessly around the backyard. My heart beating in my chest with the childish certainty that my life could be and is as poetic as the book I had just read. It beat with an irrational knowledge that everything that happened to me and because of me was important and perfect and full of golden life, real and beautiful. Even mundane talk with [boyfriend at the time] was full, ripe, and juicy with life and my living body. I felt that way for the better part of today and most acutely for the hour or so after I finished reading that book. I was constantly on the verge of tears, constantly wondering if my life was as beautiful as my heart felt that it was. I felt in my skin and my clothes and my self as beautiful as my heart felt. No amount of weight or lack of self-esteem could change that feeling. I want to feel like that all the time. I want to feel limber and lithe and smooth and soft and girlish. I don't want to feel heavy, drained, pained or pessimistically mortal. I want that sharp ... juiciness (what other way is there to describe it?) that makes me understand that this time is temporary and that there's no use dragging it down and being angry about big things, much less petty things. I can't get past that word, "juicy," ha-ha... What other word could I use? Plump, pregnant, full, round, PRESENT. It's hard describing how I felt because it has faded and I'm desperately trying to catch it and pull it back. I'm afraid that if I read the book again too soon or too many times it will lose its magic and be unable to make me feel that way again.

That's why I hope tomorrow is like today. I hope the sun shines as warmly, the breeze swirls as coolly. I want to walk as far as my legs will take me and sit down wherever I am to enjoy the human fullness of the city (or suburb, whatever the case may be). I want to cram a life into a day and enjoy every bit of it. I want to sit on my bed in my room alone and write tortured but hopeful poetry while listening to songs written and sung by scarred poets who had lived through something painful that I wanted for myself. I want to fall in love, I want to be in love, I want to be with the one I love, I want to be with my children, I want to play with my friends, I want to be with my family (all of them), I want everything all at once. I want the learning of school, the harshness of growing up, the uncertainty of parenthood, the joy of love, the pain of longing, the comfort of an embrace with my lover. I want to experience an entire life and then come back to mine

Someone is bound to say, "Not everything has to be prominent, purposeful, meaningful, or ripe with life." But it does! EVERYTHING has to be golden and ripe and meaningful. If it isn't, you'll toss it out without thinking about it. The memory of the day you went driving around aimlessly with no goal or destination while your best friend sat beside you will fade away and you'll never realize it. The long talks about nothing as the sun turned orange and turned the day to melting riches will be forgotten. The laughter you shared will fade from your memory because it was a mundane day that you took for granted. You have to understand that every day is full and ready for the picking. Even if you're angry, if you're crying or dancing, the day is plump with life, ripe with mortality that lasts less than a hundred years while the afterlife lasts for the rest of eternity.

I wish I had the motivation to live life like every second was a grape that I had to pick and eat and enjoy before it shriveled into an inedible raisin, devoid of emotion or the pulse of life. I can only hope that I will be able to get rid of the always lingering bad mood/bad attitude that haunts me at work. I want to be nice to people, to the managers. I want to be sweet and liked and alive.

I want to live. I want everything that life has to offer and I want to take it and know that my experiences and emotions and motivations are my own and no one else's

Just because I want to live and pulse with bubbling life, doesn't mean I'll never be sad. It doesn't mean I won't allow myself to be sad. I don’t mean I don't want to be sad. Because pain is a part of life and it, as well as laughter, is proof that you are alive and feeling. As long as you feel the pain and then let it go. You have to feel it, for growing numb takes away the laughter of life, not just the pain. After feeling the pain and not allowing it to numb you, let it go. If you hold on to it, it will embitter you. The pain will become your life and everything will be an affront to you and your 'precious,' your pain and suffering. The center of your life should always be yourself, your loved one(s) or your God (religions say your God comes first). That way you always have something to take care of. If you let the center of your life be pain or loss then your entire life will be nothing but pain and loss, you'll never see the sun turn molten as it sets in the nest of the earth, crowned with blues, purples and oranges... You'll only see the death of the day, the birth of the cold, mean, lonely night.

I think this is what they mean by "turning over a new leaf" except that I'll wait until it actually happens before I say it. I've found the leaf that I want to claim as my own but I don't know if I can turn it. It's like an old car on a cold morning. I have to nurse it along, encourage the feeling, pet it and sweet talk it into taking hold. And when it does, I'll hold onto it like a mother to a child: With all the gentleness of fragile care, but with the tenacity and forcefulness of love.

"Rapture in the Fall"

On the streets in August

When the leaves are gold and green

The breezes and warmth still flowing through

As I sit down on a swing…

Liquid gold caressing my skin

The cold encompassing my feet.

I’m drinking in the coming fall

And my heart has just begun to beat.

The sun is setting behind houses and trees

Into the nest of the earth

Crowned with colors not yet named

The night waiting to give birth.

                                                                ~Kathryn, 21

Almost seven years later, I read this and was still astounded. This is one of my absolute favorite journal entries and poems that have ever come out of my brain. Did I ever turn over that new leaf? No, I did not. But God sort of turned it for me when I had my son almost two years ago. I’m much more aware of passing time and holding on to moments as they go by. Yes I’m still guilty of wishing days away and saying I “can’t wait” until this or that day. Sometimes I rush my son through our bedtime “routine” (me playing with him in his room for a while) so that I can get online or just plain go to sleep. It’s all about being human, being forgiving and loving. My life isn’t perfect nor would I expect anyone to believe my life is horrible. It’s just pretty average. All the same, I find myself sitting in a moment thinking, “I wish I could live in this moment for years and years.” The book I was referring to is The LovelyBones by Alice Sebold. She is an amazing writer and has inspired me to not only make a millionth attempt at writing (something I’ve been doing since I was about 10), but to live my life in a much more meaningful way. I recommend this book (but not the movie) to anyone, male or female, teenager to senior citizen. The movie, as tends to happen, lessens the passion and emotion of the book and leaves out so much that makes the book as inspiring as it was to me.

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

Is there a book you would recommend that moved you?

The Start of Something New

Today, March 21^st, I started a diet: the Atkins Diet. If you want more information, please visit the Atkins website as I will not be addressing any issues or misunderstandings you may have about this diet. I will be addressing my personal struggle to lose weight and keep it off for my health and for a better life for my little family.

I am starting in “Induction” where I am limited to 20 carbs per day. Today I only had about 11 total carbs. That includes my breakfast, snack, drinks and dinner. I did not have lunch today only because of the timing of my day. Between falling asleep on the couch and the nap I took (yup, both, lol), there wasn’t time for lunch, but the snack did just fine. What did I eat? Well, sausage, eggs with cheese, fresh tomatoes for breakfast. Snack was cheese cubes and a couple of pickles. Dinner was meatloaf (with a bit of ketchup and cheese on top) and green beans. I drank coffee, tea (both with Splenda), Powerade Zero (mmm so good) and Diet Sunkist.

Don’t worry; these posts about my battle with weight loss will not be a food diary! I have one for my personal use and will not be boring the general public with a list of foods. However, sometimes I will absolutely list what I’m eating as a way to help you understand what Atkins is all about. Also, it’ll help in understanding my effort.

First off I need to admit something. I love junk. Chips, chocolate, bread, pasta… I could go on. When I’m at work, I eat candy and chips like it’s my last day on earth. Sesame crackers, Ritz crackers, Cheez-Its, they all are great snacks to grab a handful and head off to another task. But, since they are loaded with sodium, empty carbs and calories, they are terrible for my body and my metabolism. Luckily, there are snacks that are available at my job that are in line with Atkins. Also, after the first few weeks, I can enjoy some sugar free candy! My favorite part about this diet is that I don’t have to do without the treats that make a woman’s stressful days a little easier.

I went on Atkins once before and lost about 25 pounds in two months. It was great! There was a noticeable difference in my face and my stomach. My shirts and pants fit better and looked better! This time, however, I will not be “taking a break” since that’s what killed the diet last time. I went on vacation and when I came back, I never went back on Atkins. One thing that has stuck with me, however, is since then I have only drunk diet sodas (for the most part). I actually prefer Diet Dr Pepper, Diet Sunkist, Diet Mountain Dew and Diet Root Beer, in that order, to any other sodas. So that's at least one thing I won't have to change.

Like a lot of women who don’t feel comfortable in their own bodies, I feel awkward and ungraceful. I have gained weight since I was pregnant and after I had my son, did not lose any of it, but instead gained it back. Right now I weigh about what I did when I was 9 months pregnant and waiting to pop any day. I am much clumsier than I used to be and my body is feeling the strain.

When I have a long day at work, it’s not just my feet that hurt. One of my knees has started complaining and I have sciatica which has led to a heel spur in turn causing plantar fasciitis. By the end of the day, I can barely stand the 7 minute drive from work to my house because of my back and feet. A huge goal of mine in this endeavor is to feel better. Plain and simple, I want to stop the aches and pains that come with too much weight on a body’s frame.

At this point in my life, I realize that if I wait much longer, it will be harder to lose weight. I would like to enter my 30s as a happier, healthier and more comfortable me. I look forward to my mini goals (like my friend’s summer wedding in June and the day I realize I have more energy) and my ultimate goal which is to lose 165 to 185 pounds. The window is large (no pun intended) because when I get close to my goal weight, it won’t be a number, it’ll be how I look that determines when to adjust my carb intake.

You are not a number. Neither am I. We are not defined by our age, generation or weight. Do not let anyone label you against your will. You define who you are. I define myself. I am losing weight because it’s what I want and I truly believe that it will make me happier. I also believe it will make me healthier and that is something that is priceless when compared to what it will mean to quality time with my son and other family. I stand by what I’ve said before: There is no greater love than improving yourself for the betterment of your family and yourself.

Parenting on Minimum Wage

I am a part-time clerk at a drug store. I'm not in the position I want (full time with more pay as a Pharmacy Technician) and that I'm trained for, but I am working. I'm attempting to blog every week to see what I can do to make a difference in someone's life (a good one, I'm hoping!). I'll be starting school in the fall to pursue a Doctorate of Pharmacy so I can make good money and afford more things. But right now, I'm parenting on minimum wage - well, close to it.

I recently tweeted (yup, I do that too: MamaPoodle), "99% of the time my bills are late notices. Sometimes we eat plain pasta and use discount diapers. But I sure do love my life. #happy" And that, my friends, is the God's honest truth. I am usually stressed out about one bill or another that I can't pay, some high-stress relationship or situation with my co-workers, how I don't make enough money per hour, or that I'm not being the best parent I can be.

If I could be a SAHM (stay at home mother), I would. In a New York minute! But since I am a single parent, I must work. I have to be away from my son as many hours as I can bear so that I can take care of him and myself. I choose to work only 4 days a week but have told my employers that I'm willing to work ten hour days if they want to schedule me for that. I struggle with knowing my son is at home with his NaNa (his Aunt Angelique) or at his paternal grandparents' house playing, eating, bathing, growing and learning without me. Working with the general public does distract me, but in just about every free minute I'm thinking of my little Ick. This stress alone is enough to drive me to drinkin'.

But I also have to worry about that electric/internet/phone/water bill that's due in 3 days and I just don't earn enough to pay it? Even if I worked full time?

Some of you may ask, "Why don't you get some assistance? Aren't there government programs to help people like you?" Yup. There are. I'm semi-ashamed to admit that, yes, I get food stamps. However, I earn too much for any "cash" assistance. And no, I don't get child support. Why? Well, technically, Ick's dad and I have "shared physical and legal custody" even though I am the sole financial responsible party for our little bundle of joy. We've been to court twice to change that and both times he has fought it and won. Ridiculous. The Family Supreme Court of New York has some issues that need to be worked out. But this isn't about that.

This is about how many, many parents out there are barely getting by and are doing everything they can. This isn't about the ones who play the system and refuse to work just because they "don't want to." I may get some government assistance (like millions), but I do have a job and I work very hard at it. I still struggle every month to pay my bills and they don't always get paid. I have to leave my child behind four days a week in order to make what little money I can.

As much as I struggle with all of this, the one thing I keep reminding myself is this: I am a good parent. I do what I have to in order to make sure my child is fed, clothed and is being taught everything he needs to know, whether it's by me, his NaNa or another caregiver. My son is loved, disciplined, and well taken care of. I am doing the best I know how at this point in my life.

Soon (as in a few years), even though I'll be a pharmacist, I'll be able to take real, paid time off, family vacations, make my own hours and my pay will be sufficient to give little baby Ick the right education and childhood. While nothing can make up for me being gone 40 hours a week, I can at least make sure he is getting top notch child care (hopefully from family) and a great education.

Soon, I won't be parenting on minimum wage, and I won't have to worry about how I'm going to pay that pile of bills or buy a whole new wardrobe because the clothes I bought 3 months ago don't fit him anymore. I look forward to that and every day I look forward to the time I do get to spend with Ick.



If you are like me and live paycheck to mouth, just remember that there is a way to make your life better. You can get the education and training you need to get a better paying job. And as long as you are "doing what you're able, putting food there on the table ... that's something to be proud of." (Montgomery Gentry, "That's Something to be Proud Of"). Don't let others put you down for getting assistance, or because your baby wears garage-sale clothes.

Make a change and prove that you are the best parent there is, because you know that there's always room to improve yourself to make a better life for your family. There's no bigger love than that.

Developmental Anxiety

In August of 2009, one of the most wonderful OB/GYN's I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, delivered my beautiful son into the world via c-section. He was 6lbs, 8.5oz and 21in long. When I briefly saw his face before being put under the finish up the surgery, I cried tears of joy and total pride in the incredibly small, helpless infant. In that moment, he was the best of me. When I finally got to hold him to my chest and kiss his precious face, I swore to myself that I would do everything right. I wouldn't push him to learn too fast, but I'd teach him as early as possible so he could get a head start on literacy the way my mother taught my siblings and me. I wouldn't agonize over whether he was walking or talking "on schedule" and I would give him the best meals and never skimp on nutrition. Basically, I did what most first time mothers do: I set my standards sky high!

Since then, I've given in to Kix and yogurt for dinner, bedtime "babas" and dozing on the couch while my little man plays on the floor. I'm naturally a quiet person when I'm 'alone' and have a hard time holding up a one-sided conversation so sometimes Ick doesn't get as much exposure to words as he should. He is now 15 months old (well on the way to 16 months) and knows about 5 words and still isn't walking alone. I am anxious when I shouldn't be. A former co-worker of mine had her son almost 4 months after I had mine and he is walking unsupported already. He isn't even a year old yet and it causes me worry. I have a hard time remembering my friend's son has an older sibling (a sister who is in the neighborhood of 5 years old) to chase after whereas Ick only spends two afternoons a week with his cousin (who is about 22 months) and they don't play very well together. They pretty much play alone in the same room, ha ha.

When Ick does say the words he knows, I praise him and lavish kisses and "Yay!"s on him. I walk with him every day holding just one hand, encouraging him to walk alone, stumbles and all, building his confidence.

Regardless of everything the parenting articles say about each child being on their own time-table, I still struggle with letting my active ball of energy go at his own pace.

He shows no interest in books other than holding them open and babbling as if he were actually reading it for about 5 seconds then throwing it down to grab a car and spin it's wheels. His interests lie mostly in wheels and anything else that spins or things that open and close (like doors and books). Buttons, switches (other than light switches) shapes, colors: none of those interest him for more than about 3 seconds when he realizes there's nothing to open or spin. This lack of exploration bothers me as well.

Shouldn't he be able to sit for 2 minutes while I read a baby book? Shouldn't he be able to put shapes in their respective holes, or at least want to try? Shouldn't he want to look at pretty colors and point to them? He still reaches out with his whole hand.

It's not all negativity and worry. I do let him eat with a fork and he's very good at it. He enjoys feeding himself and often won't eat at all unless I let him do it himself. It takes forever but I try to sit patiently.

I know that my time for worrying has only begun and I can't control every aspect of my baby's life forever. I can only keep trying to reign in my anxiety so it doesn't show when I interact with Ick. I can only keep trying to better myself so that I can be the best parent I'm capable of being.

These next 17 years are not just about this energetic whirlwind of potential growing up and maturing, it's about me doing the same.

Parenthood Changes Everything

I will admit up front that I am a dirty person. I go long stretches between showers (As long as I look and smell ok, what difference does it make?), I put off dishes and taking out the trash. I sweep maybe once a week and RARELY mop. I don't have carpets, so no vacuuming. Laundry is usually only done for special occasions (like court for custody, or a job interview). I live alone so I'm not really worried about the toilet or the tub. I make sure my 8 month old is bathed and clean and well cared for, and always wearing clean clothes. So, I never skimp when it comes to my baby.

However, how many times when you were a kid do you go to someone's house and it was a wreck? Did you ever see dishes in the sink or dirty clothes in a pile on the bedroom floor? Were the floors dirty? The toilet stained? The mirror over the sink spotty with toothpaste?

It's come to mind that I have to change my deeply ingrained messiness for the sake of my son. Now, my dad and stepmom were very clean people. VERY. So, it's not their fault that I'm like this. I'm lazy and a HUGE procrastinator! Why do today what I can put off until tomorrow?

Well, as my son grows (and he's doing that pretty darn well) he's going to be crawling and walking soon. The floors will need to be swept and mopped everyday. We're going to need all the clean dishes possible. He's going to need clean clothes all the time in case he gets dirty and we need to go somewhere. I'M going to need clean clothes for the same reason! Also, when he gets even older, I don't want him to be embarrassed to bring friends over, or other moms to not want them at my house.

I am also going to have to find the time to do all this while I'm going to work (and hopefully school soon). Granted, I'll only be working part time, but the days I'm off, I'll have Ick with me. So, chores will need to be done while he's asleep for the most part. Especially if I'm going to be working ten hour days because there's no way I'm coming home and cleaning after that.

I could use some tips on how to start this change because I'm telling you: The thought of my favorite shows just sitting there unwatched on my computer's hard drive while I stare at some dirty dishes is just NO contest! I've thought of making a cleaning schedule to go along with Ick's sleeping schedule. Also, he's with his dad for 6 days this week so that's a great opportunity for me to get the place clean to get me off to a great start.

It doesn't help that I get really depressed when Ick isn't here. I don't feel like doing anything. And when he IS here, I'm too worn out from playing with him and taking care of him all day that I'm so grateful for the chance to chill out after he goes to bed.

I realize that it seems like I'm using any excuse I can find to avoid doing housework. Did I mention I was lazy?? And a procrastinator?

So, I think it comes down to time management. As long as I can make time to enjoy my favorite shows and relax a few times a day, then I think I can make sure I get everything else done. And I think the going rate for doing something until it becomes a habit is 21 days. So, the challenge is on.

Tomorrow, I will do a nice, full spring cleaning complete with laundry folded and put away and trash and recyclables ready to be taken out Monday night. Monday will begin my 21-day challenge to a nicer, cleaner home for me and my son. Not to mention, a journey to being a better person. Goodbye laziness and procrastination!

I hope you'll join me for my daily updates and offer your own tips and encouragements.

Oh, and one last thing... Cleaning out the car will have to be one of those days, lol, cus it's a mess, too. Just don't expect a miracle, because I can't clean my house AND my car all in one day.

Edit: I will be the first to admit that my laziness and procrastination have gotten the better of me and I still have not started this project. Oh, well. I will. One day. Probably when I move. Ha ha, at least I'm honest!