WHATEVS…

Sierra's online journal

Musings of [don’t you dare call me] a Millennial April 27, 2020

Filed under: Daily Writing Prompt — sierrak83 @ 3:05 pm
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(Day 10: Write about something for which you feel strongly.)

 

By definition, Millennials are those born between 1981 and 1996. So by definition, I am a millennial. But don’t you DARE lump me into that category. I’ve always felt pretty strongly that I’m more of a gen-x’er at heart. And that feels more and more true the older I get. And I’ve come to terms with the sad reality that that’s what’s happening. I’m getting older. In fact, it has already begun to happen. I am old. 

I’d like to pause here and acknowledge that when 50-year-old me (or even-older-than-that-me) looks back to these musings of 37-year-old me, I’ll laugh and laugh. I’ll shake my head derisively and think, “If only you knew….” in the same way that I reminisce about how fat high-school-me thought I was or about how self-assured about parenting 30-year-old-me thought I was. I get it. My understanding of this phenomenon called aging will change over time. It’ll evolve with me. But today, right now, this is very real. I’m. Freakin’. Old. 

It happened around day 8 of this lockdown. I was leaning into the bathroom mirror, maybe to daub at some tears, maybe to wipe away some errant Nutella…. You know, typical quarantine stuff. And there it was. A glittery strand of silver sprouting from my temple. My first silver hair. Silver. Not gray. Because I sparkle, obviously. It was the final nail in the coffin of my youth. No denying it. 

How can I be so sure? Well, as I said, the lone silver strand was the final undeniable straw. Prior to that, though, there were a string of indicators that when considered individually, seemed unusual at best. A fluke. Nothing worth mentioning. Some were pretty nuanced. Others were harder to ignore.  But taken in total, they all point to one conclusion; OLD.

 

Ma’am

woman paying with credit card

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This was among the first signs that I noticed. It probably began with some pock-faced teen-aged cashier at the grocery store and surely elicited an eye roll from me when I recounted the story to my husband. “Can you believe it? She called me ‘ma’am!'” But over time, it became more common to hear. So much so that now being called “miss” feels uncomfortable, almost patronizing. As if I’m some white-haired grandmother and they’re just trying to make me feel good about myself.

 

Attraction

You could argue that I’ve always had an appreciation for men who are perhaps slightly too old for me. So looking back, I can see how this change actually began long before the first “ma’am” was uttered in my direction. But it didn’t full-on hit me until circa 2010 when I discovered The Gilmore Girls on Netflix. It was that series that I credit with my epiphany that I’d entered a “sweet spot.” You know the spot. It’s when you think, “Rory’s boyfriend Dean is dreamy” but also “Damn, Luke is hot!” and suddenly realize that men almost young enough to be your son AND men almost old enough to be your dad are equally attractive. Tell me I’m not alone.

 

Slang

I distinctly remember a conversation with my husband that took place about nine years. We were getting ready for my nephew’s sixteenth birthday party when, in passing, I referred to us as his “young, hip aunt and uncle.” My husband chuckled and told me that by merely using the words “young and hip” I’ve proven that I’m anything but. I argued the point without a whole lot of conviction at the time because I didn’t yet know how much was at stake. He was right. I just didn’t know it then. Since that night, my nephews have opened me a whole world of new slang that, if I’m honest, I have no idea what any of it means. Squad. Life. Say less. No cap. On fleek. Are they even speaking English sometimes?

 

Spending

In my youth, splurge buys included things like weekend excursions or a new car. When the bills were paid and money was left over, I’d pony up for concert tickets or hit the casino. Hubby and I would throw a party or satisfy some whim. But over time, extra money began being filtered into adult (read: boring) things. A new dishwasher. Replacing the roof. Preschool tuition. Our parties began to involve less alcohol and more pinatas and goody bags full of useless junk that other old people like us find ways to slowly discard without their kids noticing. The real eye opener for me was when my husband and I picked out our new washer and dryer last Christmas…and were actually excited for what we knew Santa would be delivering.  

 

Age spots

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Do you see it?!

A couple of years ago, I noticed a birthmark on my left hand. It’s one tiny circle of skin that’s just a tad darker than the rest of my hand. “Hmm. That’s strange. I don’t remember that being there before,” I thought. Then I considered the fact that maybe it was dirt. But scrubbing didn’t get rid of it. So maybe it’s a stain of some sort. But weeks later it was still there. That’s when I came to terms that it’s an age spot. My first. And to date, still my only. 

 

Too young for you

I enjoy a good meme as much as anyone. And I’ll openly admit that I watched Jersey Shore when it hit MTV. So when the “she’s too young for you bro” memes began, I was fully on board. They were hilarious. Pauly D’s exasperated face and block letters insisting that “she’s too young for you bro” if she doesn’t know what X is. And X was lots of things. The original Nintendo console. A screen shot from Limewire. A picture of “Tom” from MySpace. The lyrics to the opening of Fresh Prince. But recently, X has started to become things that I’ve never seen before. (I’m lookin’ at YOU, Roblox and Fortnite.) This begs the question, Am I too young, bro? Turns out, no. But when you’re too old to get the “too young for you bro” references…then what? What kind of world is this?!  

 

Musical Taste

woman with headphones listening music

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I recently wrote a blog post about some of my favorite songs. And while working on that post, it drove home a point that until then I’d only let rattle around in the back of my mind. As I age, my musical taste continues to change. Sometimes drastically. I went from a CD wallet full of discs marked as explicit to Spotify playlists leaning heavily toward country, folk, and instrumental. Foxy Brown has been replaced with Kacey Musgraves, DMX with Ray Lamontagne. 

 

All kidding aside, having lost my mother when she was just 48 years old, I’ve always placed high regard to the following quote, source unknown: “Do not regret growing older. It’s a privilege denied to many.” So I’m going to take my age spot and my one silver hair and all the changes I’ve noticed in my personality and tastes and I’m going to embrace it all. Aging is a beautiful thing and I can’t wait to see the person I become. 

30-Day Writing Challenge

 

 

Living Like Me April 19, 2020

Filed under: Daily Writing Prompt — sierrak83 @ 2:52 pm
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(Day 8: Share something you struggle with)

One of the many positive things I’ve seen come out of this ongoing pandemic is that many people—including several of my personal friends—have opened up about their struggles with mental health. Suddenly, talking about anxiety and depression is okay for those who are living with it. And some people are feeling it for the first time. And even those lucky enough to have no idea what it’s like first-hand seem to have a good understanding of that now’s the time to check in with the people. To ask how they’re doing. To offer moments of levity. To spread cheer. To make sure friends know that they’re there to listen if anyone needs to talk. And that’s a powerful thing.

white and brown wooden tiles

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I’ve always been pretty open about describing myself as “an anxious person.” But I’ve never really owned the title. So here goes. I struggle with anxiety and depression.

What’s that mean, though? Well, it means that at any given moment, I am consciously working at keeping my thoughts and emotions in check. Picture it like the Whack-a-Mole carnival game. An ugly thought pops up? BAM! Not today. A niggling worry rears its head? POW! Not today. I wield my mallet and keep all the negativity at bay. And most days, I’m successful at that. I’m able to live what others would call a “normal” life. Yes, on the good days, I can make myself believe that I’m a good mom, a good wife, a good person in general. I do the right things, say the right things, and blend in.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much for a good day to turn bad. It often doesn’t even take any outside influence. Sometimes it’s as simple as forgetting to constantly remind myself that life is good, that I don’t need to worry so much, that I’m a good person. Other times, I don’t forget but rather am just too exhausted from constantly battling my own thoughts and simply can’t anymore. I put my mallet down and watch the moles pop up all over the place, feeling overwhelmed. And that’s when I snap or cry or stress out for what seems like no reason. Times like these, I withdraw. If I can isolate myself physically, I do. If I can’t, I try to “stay in my own bubble” by avoiding conversation and personal interactions. When this happens, I worry what “they” are thinking. I convince myself of what “normal” me knows are lies. They think I’m rude. They think I’m stupid. They don’t want to be around me. 

adult alone anxious black and white

Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

In the really bad moments, those lies about what others are thinking spiral out of control until they have solidified into facts. I’m a terrible mom. My husband should leave me. I can’t do anything right. Getting out of bed is a chore. Carrying out everyday tasks feels insurmountable. I don’t want to even try. I think life for everyone would be better if I weren’t in it.

Living with anxiety and depression has taught me a ton, not only about myself but about the world (and people!) around me. First, I’ve learned that these feelings are part of what makes me ME. It wasn’t until my first panic attack that it even occurred to me that not everyone feels like I do. It happened a little over ten years ago and landed me in the ER with uncontrollable shaking, an abnormally low body temperature, and the overwhelming feeling that I couldn’t warm up. They checked my vitals, ran their tests, and referred me back to my primary care physician for a follow-up. Nothing was physically wrong. I’d had an anxiety attack.

My doctor, in turn, referred me to a psychiatrist who, I was told, I’d have to meet with in order to obtain a prescription for anxiety medication. I told her I didn’t want medication. I just wanted to never feel that way again. She handed me a script and told me to bring it to the pharmacy to be filled, that it would tide me over until I could meet with the psychiatrist. Numbly, I followed her directions and when the pharmacist handed me that paper bag holding that amber bottle, she asked if I had any questions. And I did. I explained that my doctor had handed the script to me with no directions or explanation. What is it? When do I take it? The pharmacist read the label and told me, “Says here, three times per day by mouth.” And I was sent on my way. I took one in the car on the way home and within minutes was high as a kite. My husband read the bottle and gave me a shocked look. She had prescribed me a controlled substance intended to be taken “as needed.” But her instructions were to take it three times daily. And she had given me three refills. All before I even met with a psychiatrist.

My meeting with the psychiatrist came about a month later. He asked lots of questions, starting with the medication my doctor had given me and whether or not I felt it was working. I admitted that I had only taken a few of the pills; certainly not three times daily and I hadn’t had any need to order a refill. He asked about my life and how I’ve been feeling. We chatted for about a half hour during which time he offered me a prescription for a daily medication that would “take the edge off.” I declined. How I felt was normal to me. I didn’t want to not feel like me.

I’ve learned to cope with the feelings, to stay on top of them most times. And I’ve learned what to expect when I need a break from all the coping. I’ve learned how best to care for myself without negatively impacting those around me. I’ve learned who I can count on, to call at any hour of day or night to talk me off the ledge. I’ve learned how to fill my cup with the things that bring “good” with them and how to shield myself from the factors that most often lead to the “bad.” I’ve learned that I’m one of millions of people who live this way. I’ve learned that even at my lowest, I’m never alone.

30-Day Writing Challenge

 

 

(Only) 10 Songs I Love April 16, 2020

Filed under: Daily Writing Prompt — sierrak83 @ 5:10 pm
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I’m not musically inclined. My singing voice is reserved for the shower, the car, or any time/place that no one else can hear me. I’ve never learned to play an instrument and can’t read sheet music. But I’m a music lover, for sure. A song can change my mood in an instant. It can conjure up a memory and transport me to another time. I use music to keep myself going, to fall asleep, to unwind, and for a million other reasons throughout every day.

In his heyday, my dad was bassist in a band. When I was a kid, he fed me a steady diet of classic rock and blues…Rolling Stones, the Beatles, J Geils Band, BB King, a little Elvis Presley. I attended my first concert (Bon Jovi) when I was about 5 years old. I remember wearing Cabbage Patch Kid earmuffs to muffle the sound and feeling like queen of the world wearing my concert t-shirt to kindergarten the next day. My mom was a country fan through and through to the point that I still joke that Kris Kristofferson may be my biological dad. But she listened to a other genres, too. Growing up, I heard a lot of Carly Simon. Meatloaf. Cher.
Much to my parents’ chagrin, I developed a taste for hip hop and reggae in my early teen years. It took some coaxing to get their permission to attend rap concerts with friends in those years, but I managed it a handful of times. At one show, I met Lil Wayne, who was walking around the audience selling his “mix tape.” (Yeah. I’m that old.) But I never really abandoned my musical upbringing, either, which has left me with an appreciation for a little bit of everything, my go-to playlists changing every few years or so.
In high school, I listened to a lot of hip hop…DMX, Jay-Z, Ja Rule, Li’l Kim, Missy Elliot, 2Pac, Nas, and who could forget Ma$e? (Answer: Probably everyone has forgotten Ma$e. Let’s be real.) But there was also some alt-rock mixed in…311, Everclear, Stone Temple Pilots, Smashing Pumpkins. I remember a dirty dancing contest at a friend’s birthday party set to Closer by Nine Inch Nails, which I not only rocked but won. Then my college years were defined by the likes of Dave Matthews, Five For Fighting, Alanis Morissette, and Fiona Apple. I kept Maxwell’s cover of This Woman’s Work on steady rotation along with the City High album. In adulthood, my music has slowed down considerably, especially as the world of hip hop has devolved into absurdity. Now, I tend more towards country and “singer-songwriter” type of music. But ultimately, I’m still all over the place in my taste.

So the task of picking just 10 songs that I love is a tall order. But here goes. I’ve gone ahead and included a Spotify link for each song in case you want to give anything a listen. Please do!

No Woman, No Cry – cover by Fugees
Don’t get me wrong. I love me some Bob Marley. But when it comes to No Woman, No Cry, it’s GOT to be the Fugees cover. (Blasphemy, I know.) This one takes me back to the late 90s. I’m 15, playing Tetris on Nintendo in my bedroom. The old-style Nintendo that you have to blow into the console to get it to play correctly, because again, I’m that old. This song’s on repeat. My window is open and the volume on my stereo is cranked high. I’ve got no real responsibilities other than school and want nothing more than for the boy across the street to notice me.

Here We Go Again – Ray Charles & Norah Jones
This one takes me back to Willie Nelson’s 70th birthday party in 2003. The stage (and audience!) was star-studded. I’m sitting to the right of my then boyfriend (now husband) who has “that guy with the eyebrows from The O.C.” and his wife on his left. It bothered me the whole show that I couldn’t think of his name; Peter Gallagher. My parents are sitting front row and my mom keeps turning around to taunt Kris Kristofferson’s wife Lisa about the fact that she’s got a better seat. Performances included Bill Clinton (yes, THAT Bill Clinton) on the sax, Shania Twain, Wyclef Jean, ZZ Top…the list goes on. But the stand-out in my mind from that night was Ray Charles and Norah Jones.

Anna Begins – Counting Crows
I’m not really sure why but this song always makes me cry. This one’s on my list because of the lyrics. It’s a love story. And I’m a sucker for a good love story.

“If it’s love,” she said, “then we’re going to have to think about the consequences.” She can’t stop shaking. I can’t stop touching her and this time, when kindness falls like rain, it washes her away. And Anna begins to change her mind. “These seconds when I’m shaking leave me shuddering for days,” she says. And I’m not ready for this sort of thing.

I’ve since read that Adam Duritz wrote this song for/about a woman he met while vacationing in Greece and the fact that it’s a TRUE love story seals the deal even more for me.

Give It All To You – Luke Wade
I fell in love with Luke Wade’s music back when he was on Pharell’s team of Season 7 of The Voice. Since then, he’s toured in our area a handful of times and my husband and I have never missed a local-ish show. This song is among my favorites for several reasons but the most important reason has nothing to do with the song itself. It started when I came across Luke’s cover of Work Song. I hadn’t heard Hosier’s original at the time but was telling my husband about how romantic the lyrics were. (C’mon. He sings about crawling out of his grave to go home to his woman. That’s the ultimate in romance, no? No? Just me? Weird.) Anyway, weeks later, my husband serenaded me with Give It All To You. When he was done, he smiled proudly and I stared at him in confusion. He insisted, “You said it was the ultimate romantic song.” Realizing what had happened, I broke it to hubby that, though I appreciated the gesture, he’d learned and performed the wrong song. But since that night, this one holds a soft spot for me.

Greatest Love Story – LANCO
I know what you’re thinking. (Great…ANOTHER love story.) But this one makes the list because it reminds me of my daughter. Hubby and I took her to her first concert (Chris Young) when she was five years old. He had two opening performers for that tour: LANCO and Kane Brown. She loved the whole experience of being at a live performance and she fell in love with this song that night. Since then, she’s learned every lyric and often asks for it when we’re driving in the car or having karaoke night at my sister’s. And, yeah, it’s also a love story. Duh.

Caress Me Down – Sublime
Caution: NSFW. Sublime is some feel-good music, isn’t it? A little reggae-ish. A little Spanish. A little something else. “Ungh!” I can’t help but turn this one way up when it comes on. And it always makes me smile. Bonus Track: While we’re talking about Sublime, I’d be remiss to not mention Aimee Allen’s cover of Santeria. You’re welcome.

Yele – Wyclef Jean
Wyclef is my man. And the Carnival had several songs on it that I loved. But my favorite is hands down Yele. I don’t know what it’s about because the song isn’t in English. I’m not even 100% sure what language it IS, though I’m guessing Creole because he’s Haitian. What I do know is that I can sing along to every word and it evokes emotions that transcends language.

Moonshine – Erick Baker
My first introduction to Erick Baker was Unbroken Promise, which inspired a whole chapter of a book I’m writing. After playing that one on repeat for a while, I started to look more into his other work. I’ve since found that he was on the rise to semi-success in music when he gave up touring to save his marriage. Which makes me love him even more. He’s a good husband, a good father, and his music is pretty great, too. Moonshine is a feel-good song that makes me want to belt out every word with the car windows down. If this one doesn’t put you in a good mood, I’m not sure what will.

I wanna drink a little moonshine in the sunshine of a Summer day.
I wanna paint myself some blue skies to cover up the grays.
Cause everybody needs a good time every once in awhile.
A bad day that ends with a smile.
And some white light to wash all our troubles away.

Justice – Citizen Cope
When Cope tours in our area, hubby and I always buy tickets. Always. He began his musical career as a songwriter and eventually got talked into performing his own music, despite crippling stage fright. (In fact, to this day, he often opens shows with his eyes closed to avoid seeing the audience.) He’s got a unique sound, lyrics that can be interpreted many ways by many people, and is such an overall “chill” person. And the audience members at his shows are a reflection of that eclectic vibe. I’ve listened to podcast interviews and the Facebook Live “Q&A” sessions he does for fans and I’ve noticed that he NEVER talks about what his songs are about or what inspired him to write any given track. He leaves it all up to interpretation.

Drunk Girls in Bathroom Lines – Heidi Raye
This song single-handedly embodies an entire universal experience in a 3-minute ditty. My husband, who is a country fan, haaaaaaates this song because he says it’s annoying. But I can’t get enough of it. Maybe he needed to be there. In the line for the women’s room at a bar or a concert. It’s quite possibly the place that women are nicest and chattiest to each other. We’re all in a good mood. We’re all out, having fun. We’re all friends while waiting to pee. We’ve all made “BFF’s we’ll never see again.”

If you’ve stuck it out this long, I commend you. It means you probably love music as much as I do. Feel free to connect with me on Spotify and send me a song recommendation or two. I’ll never turn down a chance to discover some new tunes.

30-Day Writing Challenge

 

Pet Peeves: Quarantine Edition April 8, 2020

Filed under: Uncategorized — sierrak83 @ 7:44 am
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If you’d asked me to list my top three pet peeves a month ago, you’d have gotten a very different list. But this is where I’m at now…

1) Feeling both overwhelmed AND bored. At the same time. At all times.

My day begins with three hours of working remotely. And most days, that’s not enough time to get the job done, which leaves me feeling…spazzy… for several hours after. And during that time, I also encourage my girl to start her school work, which she’s not always able (read: willing) to do without guidance. So when I’m done working, an hour or two or three of being a teacher begins.

I prepare eleventy bajillion snacks and meals daily. And pick up twice as many toys/messes.

I do my best to keep my girl connected to school, teams, and friends…. Taught her how to use Microsoft Teams, encourage her to video chat with friends, got her tablet set up with the various apps—and there seems to be a new one added at least weekly—our district is relying on for “distance learning,” and staying on top of all the email updates from teachers and coaches. Which reminds me. I still have to Venmo her dance teacher for the Zoom dance classes.

And when all this is done, we’ve got HOURS left in our day to decompress, though it never seems to be enough time.

At 8pm, we head outside for “bell time.” (Town-wide, people are encouraged to ring bells or otherwise make noise from 8:00 to 8:02 as a show of solidarity in this social distancing era.) And while we play our musical instruments, for lack of bells, my girl dances and I silently think, “One day closer to normalcy.”

After our girl is in bed, it’s time for dishes, laundry, picking up toys (again), and cuddling up with hubby on the couch. By this time of night, I’m ready for a giant glass of wine as a remedy for the anxiety that’s built up all day.

Rinse and repeat.

2) Having to repeat myself.

Here’s a smattering of the phrases I catch myself uttering multiple times per day, every day day…

– “Just because we’re home doesn’t mean you don’t have to brush your hair.”

– “I said ONE snack.”

– “No, it’s not lunch time. You JUST finished breakfast!”

– “3:00 is NOT dinnertime.”

– “Turn off the tablet!”

– “C’mon, we have to get this school packet done before we go outside.”

– “If you want to play outside, you need to put on actual clothes. Not pajamas.”

3) People who don’t stay home.

I’m following the rules. Other than outdoor time in our yard and walks around the block, my girl and I have left the house exactly once in the past three weeks. And that was to take part in a birthday parade for my cousin’s twins, which didn’t require us to get out of the car. Hubby goes to work and occasionally the grocery store. That’s it. If everyone did the same, we’d all be able to get back to life as we knew it sooner.

 

Daily Prompt: I am a Rock September 5, 2013

Filed under: Daily Writing Prompt — sierrak83 @ 12:16 am
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The Daily Post’s daily prompt today was “I am a Rock.” We were encouraged to write about asking for help. If you’d like to read more about this prompt, check out their blog post: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/04/daily-prompt-self/

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I Need Help

I’m not one to ask for help. I’m more the type that would rather bury herself in a pile of paperwork at work, heap one too many to-do list items at home, and end up a frazzled, weepy mess by Friday than dare ask anyone to lend a hand. Which is why it’s a bit out of character for me to request help now. But I need it. I need help making sense of those who ask for and/or accept help a bit too freely. And by “ask for and/or accept help a bit too freely” I mean “take advantage.”

I grew up in a world where hard work led to accomplishments led to reward. Succeeding in school was non-negotiable. Anyone who wasn’t a student worked and everyone who worked made a decent living. In all fairness, I also grew up in a world where the average house didn’t have internet so it’s hard to know what life was like outside of my bubble of family and friends. But it sure seemed like life was a lot different.

Today, people have an air of entitlement and finding loopholes and/or cheating the system is the norm. Maybe it’s due to the economic downturn. Maybe the moral compass of our society is out of whack. Maybe both. Our government dishes out all kinds of help which—don’t get me wrong—is an important safety net to help families who have hit hard times. But it’s hard to keep that positive outlook about that help when I have seen (both in my professional and personal life) that very help fostering laziness and reliance on the system.

Unemployment vs Working

When the economy tanked, so did the job market. Lots of people lost money, their jobs, their ability to support themselves. And the government started writing paychecks. People accepted that help because they needed it. The recession has been a black cloud hovering over our country for several years. So long, in fact, that the maximum length of time that a citizen can collect unemployment was extended. A couple of times, I believe. But there are no checks and balances. I’ve seen people happily collect unemployment without so much as submitting a single resume or filling out a single application. I’ve seen people purposely botch interviews—or blow them off completely—and turn down job offers so as to stay on unemployment. I’ve seen people purposely under-perform at work to get fired so they can collect unemployment. I’ve seen people quit their jobs and be granted unemployment. Meanwhile, I’ve also seen single moms work multiple jobs to support their kids on their own. And I’ve seen gainfully employed people earning less than those collecting unemployment. And I’ve seen “help wanted” signs at dozens of places around town. So I need help understanding why some people no longer value hard work and how exactly the current unemployment policies are meant to help.

Health Insurance

It ain’t cheap. But being uninsured can be even more expensive if you need to see a doctor. So my husband Chris and I are certain that we maintain coverage for us and our newest addition. Thankfully, Chris’ employer not only offers a policy but also pays a portion of the premium. The balance of the cost is deducted from his pay. In addition to paying part of the premium, we are responsible for what the policy says insurance doesn’t cover. We, like everyone else I know who has health insurance, must pay copays and deductibles and coinsurance. And, of course, we must follow certain guidelines to be sure that our claims are paid. From what I can tell, insurance companies have done their very best to make the whole process as confusing as possible. But what about those people who receive their health coverage from the state? I’ve seen some use state insurance to help support their prescription medication addictions. I’ve seen some pop into the ER for minor ailments that would be more (cost-) effectively treated by a primary care physician. I’ve also seen gainfully employed people who are unable to afford health coverage. And I’ve seen people with health coverage incur crippling debt from medical services that aren’t covered in full—or at all—by their policy. So I need help understanding why we aren’t all afforded the same coverage currently only made available to those who can’t afford to buy their own policy.

Daycare

I maintain that if I had done my due diligence and researched the cost of daycare prior to deciding to start a family, Rylin wouldn’t be here. When I was pregnant, Chris and I began discussing our expectations for childcare, as one of us not working just wasn’t an option financially. I pictured her in a daycare center—one with brightly colored cubbies, certified teachers, and a pre-school curriculum. And then we began pricing said daycare centers. Some of them had a monthly rate higher than our mortgage payment. Not an exaggeration. So we began looking into a more economical option: home daycare. We lucked out. We found a home daycare provider who we like, who only somewhat breaks the bank, and we never question that Rylin receives quality care. Still, as long as I’m speaking honestly, if money were no object I’d have her in a center. But did you know that there is a government-funded program that subsidizes childcare costs at the daycare of your choice? I absolutely understand the necessity of the program (and wish that Chris and I qualified!). And you wouldn’t think there’s a reason to cheat this program, right? Well, I’ve seen parents apply—and qualify!—for assistance despite the fact that one parent is unemployed and fully capable of caring for the child. I’ve also seen parents limit their family size because they can’t afford childcare for another child. So I need help understanding why the burden of childcare costs—and regardless of your income, it is an adjustment!—is only alleviated for some but not all. And more importantly, I need help understanding why any parent capable of providing “daycare” to their own child would opt to send him or her off to a daycare provider instead!

It sickens me to see that so many people have complete disregard for their responsibility and a lack of appreciation for the help they are afforded and/or respect for the government that gives it to them. Those that cheat the system will eventually ruin it for the people who actually need the help and use the help as intended. The fact that some people seem to take pleasure in lying, cheating, and getting everything handed to them boggles my mind and leaves me feeling jaded. And I need help restoring my faith in humandkind.