Actually that title isn't exactly true. I can make a budget. I can make the most detailed, well-thought out, fiscally responsible budget you've ever seen. I mean seriously, I could make Alan Greenspan pea-green with envy over how perfectly balanced and lovely my budgets are. Making a budget is not difficult.
Following a budget is a whole other matter entirely. Because apparently it isn't enough just to write down your good intentions for your money, you have to actually follow through with what you've written down.
This is the usual scenario. See if you can relate.
I make a budget. Usually a budget that spans a few months. I plan out my very limited dimes and nickles to the last cent with very well-intentioned plans to be steadfast and to reliably pay those bills exactly as I've arranged. And I do. For the first month. And usually the second month. On occassion I even manage to go three months in a row following my beautiful budget. But by the fourth month it's always a wash.
Here's the problem. When you're on a very limited income and your mandatory expenses (rent, bills, food, etc) require nearly all your monthly intake, it leaves a very small amount for miscellaneous/recreational expenses. (By the way, this is also true if you are making a great deal of money, but are still living beyond your means - you know, paying more rent/mortgage than you can afford, have a high car payment, etc.)
While I can usually manage to go a few months denying myself and my daughter fun little extras like a movie, or a dinner out, sooner or later, I get tired of just existing. That's when the trouble starts.
I get frustrated and start to feel like, "Why the hell can't we have some fun? If I want to take Beth out for lunch, why can't I? If I want to buy her an ice cream cone on a nice summer evening, I should be able to." But my frustration is not appeased with a burger and an ice cream cone. I get a little rebellious (against who, I'm not sure) and say, "Screw it. I'm spending money and you can't stop me!" Again, I'm not entirely sure who I'm telling to "screw it" since the only one who ends up screwed is me.
Because before I know it, I've blown through the $200.00 that was supposed to buy us food for the month and am left with barely a can of corn to call my own. So, because, obviously my daughter and I need to eat, Hydro doesn't get paid. Or phone. Or rent. (Never a good idea!) And next month, I'm in the same broke place, but with bills that have grown and are now overdue.
So far, my only answer to this dilema is to start making more money but try to keep my mandatory expenses the same. That's my goal and it looks like I'm going to be there in the next year or so. I certainly hope so. Cause I sure like the peace of mind and comfort that comes from knowing that all your bills are paid and your cupboards are full.
Either that or I'll just win the lottery. What? It's a sound plan.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Comparisons; Or The Art of Finding Parents Who Are Worse Than You
We've all done it. Don't lie. You know what I'm talking about. That thing that parents do to other parents.
You're on a bus, in a store, at the doctor's office, or any of the plethora of places one might find a child having a meltdown. The child is screaming at the top of their lungs, red-faced, choking on their own rage because they desperately want - no, no they NEED - that thing that they wanted...that...thing...well, they don't really remember what the thing was, but that's not the point. Whatever it was, their cruel and unkind parent would not give it to them and now they must voice their shock and outrage at being treated so shabbily by someone who purports to love them. And voice it they do. Loudly. Over and over and over again. And many times, they even manage to add some crocodile tears into the bargain.
Now, while every child inevitably tries this same ploy in their efforts to gain more worldly goods, it seems that every parent will differ in their approach to dealing with it. But generally we can be grouped into five categories:
1. The Pushover - The name speaks for itself. Quick to flip flop on their stance, this parent will happily fork over whatever their little tyrant is demanding if only the shrill shrieking will cease.
2. The Competitor - This parent is sure that if they can just scream louder than their offspring, the child will stop screeching to try and make out the sage advice that's being bellowed at them.
3. The Beggar - Desperate to make the wailing stop, this parent often gets down close to the child and says things like, "Please, stop it." and "I need you to stop yelling."
4. The Briber - Closely linked to The Beggar (and often embodied in the same parent) The Briber can usually be heard to utter things like, "If you stop crying and are a good little boy, I'll give you a cookie when we get home."
5. The Ostrich - This parent is convinced that if they just pretend that the demon which has temporarily taken hold of their precious angel isn't actually manifesting itself, then said demon will disappear and their beautiful cherub will reappear.
In the past month or so, while out with my daughter, I have twice resorted to "The Beggar" and once to "The Ostrich", instead of being a "good mommy" and removing her from the public place until she'd calmed down. As a result of these experiences you'd think that I'd be more charitable to my fellow parents. But no. When I see a parent using any of the 5 tantrum coping techniques I tend to think, "Ugh! Can't you control your kid?" The answer that I should be giving myself is, "Can you control yours?"
Of course, there are always going to be parental behaviours I despise. (The Pushover and The Competitor really do set my teeth on edge.) But I need to learn to stop mentally flaying parents who are genuinely trying their best. Even if I think they're making a mistake by bribing their kids with the promise of sweets, or by passing over the toy, I need to be more charitable to my brothers and sisters in parenthood. In short, I need to cut them some slack and get that judgey look off my face.
Who's with me? Cause you know you do it too. Oh, you do so. No? Hmmmm...well, maybe I'm just a bitch, then. ;-)
Happy Parenting, Everyone!
You're on a bus, in a store, at the doctor's office, or any of the plethora of places one might find a child having a meltdown. The child is screaming at the top of their lungs, red-faced, choking on their own rage because they desperately want - no, no they NEED - that thing that they wanted...that...thing...well, they don't really remember what the thing was, but that's not the point. Whatever it was, their cruel and unkind parent would not give it to them and now they must voice their shock and outrage at being treated so shabbily by someone who purports to love them. And voice it they do. Loudly. Over and over and over again. And many times, they even manage to add some crocodile tears into the bargain.
Now, while every child inevitably tries this same ploy in their efforts to gain more worldly goods, it seems that every parent will differ in their approach to dealing with it. But generally we can be grouped into five categories:
1. The Pushover - The name speaks for itself. Quick to flip flop on their stance, this parent will happily fork over whatever their little tyrant is demanding if only the shrill shrieking will cease.
2. The Competitor - This parent is sure that if they can just scream louder than their offspring, the child will stop screeching to try and make out the sage advice that's being bellowed at them.
3. The Beggar - Desperate to make the wailing stop, this parent often gets down close to the child and says things like, "Please, stop it." and "I need you to stop yelling."
4. The Briber - Closely linked to The Beggar (and often embodied in the same parent) The Briber can usually be heard to utter things like, "If you stop crying and are a good little boy, I'll give you a cookie when we get home."
5. The Ostrich - This parent is convinced that if they just pretend that the demon which has temporarily taken hold of their precious angel isn't actually manifesting itself, then said demon will disappear and their beautiful cherub will reappear.
In the past month or so, while out with my daughter, I have twice resorted to "The Beggar" and once to "The Ostrich", instead of being a "good mommy" and removing her from the public place until she'd calmed down. As a result of these experiences you'd think that I'd be more charitable to my fellow parents. But no. When I see a parent using any of the 5 tantrum coping techniques I tend to think, "Ugh! Can't you control your kid?" The answer that I should be giving myself is, "Can you control yours?"
Of course, there are always going to be parental behaviours I despise. (The Pushover and The Competitor really do set my teeth on edge.) But I need to learn to stop mentally flaying parents who are genuinely trying their best. Even if I think they're making a mistake by bribing their kids with the promise of sweets, or by passing over the toy, I need to be more charitable to my brothers and sisters in parenthood. In short, I need to cut them some slack and get that judgey look off my face.
Who's with me? Cause you know you do it too. Oh, you do so. No? Hmmmm...well, maybe I'm just a bitch, then. ;-)
Happy Parenting, Everyone!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Poetry and Ramblings; Or Why Maya Angelou Should Rest Easy
Thoughts From A Park
When next you see a tree, find the highest leaf, the one that grows at the very top, that reaches the farthest toward the sky. That leaf, resting high above the ground, had its beginnings in an ancestor who was sunk deep into a hole and covered with dirt.
That ancestor seed was tiny, nothing really, just a small, round, hard thing. But inside she was full of promise. And with each passing day, year, and decade she shot forth her children. One year, only a skinny trunk stood, sickly looking and easily snapped. But it was pushed forth by its mother to emerge from the dirt and reach for the sky. Then more generations were born from the skinny trunk and soon it had grown strong and thick, nourished by its mother's roots and by its children's ability to find the sun.
As each year, decade, and century passed the tree multiplied until its generations became innumerable. Each generation reached a little higher than the last, building on the foundations their ancestors had laid, but stretching themselves in new directions, trying always to get closer to the light.
Even those branches who lost their battle against the wind and rain and bowed their heads back toward the earth, gave birth to new branches with new leaves who sought out the sun, pushing themselves ever higher. And for those branches who were broken by the storm, there was a soft place to land as they fell back to lie with their Grandmother in the soil. There they have helped her nourish all the new generations.
So, when next you see a tree, find the highest leaf, this new addition to an ancient ancestry, and watch it. You will see that from time to time it will tip its face downward to remember where it came from before turning its face once more toward the sun, and the next generation.
A Tanka Poem of Loss
The sun hits the street
Brightest orange on blackest tar
I miss the green leaf
I miss the clean, see-through stream
I'm so far from home
If Genies Were Real
I wish I had more joys and fewer trials.
I wish I knew how to create bliss.
I wish I weren't so fatalistic.
I wish my Dad could live forever and never leave me parentless.
I wish I didn't think morbid, scary thoughts sometimes.
I wish my Mom could be here to see me as a mom.
I wish she could shout down words of encouragement from heaven.
I wish I had a direct line to heaven.
I wish I was more sure about everything under heaven.
I wish I were happy more.
I wish I cried less.
I wish people didn't have the power to hurt me.
I wish I didn't give people the power to hurt me.
I wish I had someone to share my life.
I wish I had a pretty little house with a porch and a garden and shiny windows.
I wish I could be June fucking Cleaver.
I wish I could be perfectly happy as me.
I wish I was healthier.
I wish I was prettier, thinner.
I wish I didn't wish I was prettier, thinner.
I wish I had a million wishes.
Silly Limericks That Mean Nothing (But are fun to read out loud)
There once was a cat with no fur,
So all he could do was say, "brr!"
Till one day he found
some hair on the ground.
Now in his curls he's quite dapper!
There once was a bird named Henri
who found himself stuck up a tree.
He started to cry,
then remembered to fly,
and cried out, "oh silly me!"
When next you see a tree, find the highest leaf, the one that grows at the very top, that reaches the farthest toward the sky. That leaf, resting high above the ground, had its beginnings in an ancestor who was sunk deep into a hole and covered with dirt.
That ancestor seed was tiny, nothing really, just a small, round, hard thing. But inside she was full of promise. And with each passing day, year, and decade she shot forth her children. One year, only a skinny trunk stood, sickly looking and easily snapped. But it was pushed forth by its mother to emerge from the dirt and reach for the sky. Then more generations were born from the skinny trunk and soon it had grown strong and thick, nourished by its mother's roots and by its children's ability to find the sun.
As each year, decade, and century passed the tree multiplied until its generations became innumerable. Each generation reached a little higher than the last, building on the foundations their ancestors had laid, but stretching themselves in new directions, trying always to get closer to the light.
Even those branches who lost their battle against the wind and rain and bowed their heads back toward the earth, gave birth to new branches with new leaves who sought out the sun, pushing themselves ever higher. And for those branches who were broken by the storm, there was a soft place to land as they fell back to lie with their Grandmother in the soil. There they have helped her nourish all the new generations.
So, when next you see a tree, find the highest leaf, this new addition to an ancient ancestry, and watch it. You will see that from time to time it will tip its face downward to remember where it came from before turning its face once more toward the sun, and the next generation.
A Tanka Poem of Loss
The sun hits the street
Brightest orange on blackest tar
I miss the green leaf
I miss the clean, see-through stream
I'm so far from home
If Genies Were Real
I wish I had more joys and fewer trials.
I wish I knew how to create bliss.
I wish I weren't so fatalistic.
I wish my Dad could live forever and never leave me parentless.
I wish I didn't think morbid, scary thoughts sometimes.
I wish my Mom could be here to see me as a mom.
I wish she could shout down words of encouragement from heaven.
I wish I had a direct line to heaven.
I wish I was more sure about everything under heaven.
I wish I were happy more.
I wish I cried less.
I wish people didn't have the power to hurt me.
I wish I didn't give people the power to hurt me.
I wish I had someone to share my life.
I wish I had a pretty little house with a porch and a garden and shiny windows.
I wish I could be June fucking Cleaver.
I wish I could be perfectly happy as me.
I wish I was healthier.
I wish I was prettier, thinner.
I wish I didn't wish I was prettier, thinner.
I wish I had a million wishes.
Silly Limericks That Mean Nothing (But are fun to read out loud)
There once was a cat with no fur,
So all he could do was say, "brr!"
Till one day he found
some hair on the ground.
Now in his curls he's quite dapper!
There once was a bird named Henri
who found himself stuck up a tree.
He started to cry,
then remembered to fly,
and cried out, "oh silly me!"
An Introduction; Or Why I Crave the Demise of Wonder Woman
Never fear, this blog is not a call to action against the beautiful, Amazonian, superhero. I'm talking about a completely different kind of "Wonder Woman". You've met her; she's the one in all the ads we see and hear a million times a day.
She's the full-time Mom who works all day and still finds time to cook a big dinner for her family, clean her house up to hospital specifications, and work-out for at least two hours everyday. (How else is she supposed to keep that size zero figure?) She also eats "whatever she wants" but somehow doesn't gain an inch. Oh, and she's an animal in the sack; never too tired and always has perfect techniques. (She learned them from all those Cosmo tutorials.)
She's also the woman that frowns at any problems you have with your kids. After all, look at her kids - always tidy in their designer labels and always apoplectic for Kool-Aid or Ovaltine or Sunny D.
In short, this woman is perfect; a veritable wonder. She's also complete crap. She doesn't exist outside of paper and ink; she is created from cellulose and airbrushing. We all know this.
And Yet.
Yet, we search for her in the mirror on a daily basis. We want to live her life with all its ease and comfort; where a problem never lasts longer than 30 seconds and is easily solvable by a friend who just happens to be carrying around the exact product we need to fix everything.
But it is not the advertising that we need to escape. It is our compulsion for an untrue life that must end.
We need to realize that in our lives we have so much more than merely a snippet of perfection. Perfection is boring. In our imperfect lives we have love and anger, hope and fear, joy and doubt, chaos and order, silliness and sadness. These things exist in a balance and cannot exist separately.
It is not our job to be Wonder Woman. It is our job to be, simply, Woman.
So, here in this small part of an infinite cyberspace I'm going to try to remind all of us (especially me!) the importance of reality. I will share with you my day to day struggles with:
Womanhood. Motherhood. And All the Spaces in Between.
She's the full-time Mom who works all day and still finds time to cook a big dinner for her family, clean her house up to hospital specifications, and work-out for at least two hours everyday. (How else is she supposed to keep that size zero figure?) She also eats "whatever she wants" but somehow doesn't gain an inch. Oh, and she's an animal in the sack; never too tired and always has perfect techniques. (She learned them from all those Cosmo tutorials.)
She's also the woman that frowns at any problems you have with your kids. After all, look at her kids - always tidy in their designer labels and always apoplectic for Kool-Aid or Ovaltine or Sunny D.
In short, this woman is perfect; a veritable wonder. She's also complete crap. She doesn't exist outside of paper and ink; she is created from cellulose and airbrushing. We all know this.
And Yet.
Yet, we search for her in the mirror on a daily basis. We want to live her life with all its ease and comfort; where a problem never lasts longer than 30 seconds and is easily solvable by a friend who just happens to be carrying around the exact product we need to fix everything.
But it is not the advertising that we need to escape. It is our compulsion for an untrue life that must end.
We need to realize that in our lives we have so much more than merely a snippet of perfection. Perfection is boring. In our imperfect lives we have love and anger, hope and fear, joy and doubt, chaos and order, silliness and sadness. These things exist in a balance and cannot exist separately.
It is not our job to be Wonder Woman. It is our job to be, simply, Woman.
So, here in this small part of an infinite cyberspace I'm going to try to remind all of us (especially me!) the importance of reality. I will share with you my day to day struggles with:
Womanhood. Motherhood. And All the Spaces in Between.
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