Family

Tired of Feeling Bad for Being a Working Mom

May 23, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

Can you tell I am trying to figure out summer care, dance class schedules, and school transportation?

There are plenty of articles out there answering why people are choosing to not have children at all or are having far fewer than they would like.

I did choose to have them even with several of these misgivings, and I am tired of feeling bad for doing so while being a working mom.

I am also tired of a society designed around having one parent that stays at home if you do have children.

Yeah, those free Tuesday morning dance camp e-mails always get a scowl.

Don’t believe that the system isn’t designed for working parents? I know, it can be hard to believe that in 2019 the school system can still think it’s 1953, so here are some of my challenges.

My daughter is in school for a total of seven hours a day. That includes her lunchtime and recess.

Seven.

I have to work eight for it to be a full day, and my lunchtime is not considered part of my workday. That means even with my relatively short 20 minute commute, I am almost three hours short on the amount of time she’s in school versus the amount of time I am at work or traveling to and from work.

So, I pay for “wrap-around” care. On top of daycare for my youngest, and my youngest’s daycare costs us the equivalent of having a second mortgage payment each month.

did-you-sign-me-up-for-daycare-yes-what-did-35755895.png — College in my state is cheaper.

And the article linked above wonders why people think daycare is too expensive.

Of course, you could stay home. Always an option. But as many other articles have noted, you’re paying a premium for that both in terms of total lifetime earnings, but also in terms of promotion and advancement opportunities. Being “mommy tracked” in my industry is a career-limiting-move.

And, frankly, I love my kids. I would do almost anything for them, but I suck at dealing with kids. I have no training in it, and even now, I regularly feel sorry for my kids that they got stuck with me instead of someone that has a clue how to raise them.

Do you know how many parenting books I read?

Do you know how many were helpful?

Yeah, none. Because as I learned, kids don’t follow manuals.

They eventually outgrow daycare, so you’re “just” paying for the wrap-around care. Then there’s the extracurricular activities. Back when I was a kid, these were truly “extra”. Now, the amount of pressure to have your kid in everything is amazing.

What do you mean your child isn’t in soccer, ballet, basketball, volleyball, and taking piano lessons?!? What kind of parent are you?

One that works.

All of these extra-curricular activities require transportation to and from them (not to mention the additional cost). Because of course I can leave work at 3pm to fetch my daughter and have her to dance class before 4pm. /end sarcasm.

And I am not alone. In families with both parents still living together, almost 50% are dual income households.

And driving their kids places is a significant stressor.

I need a self-driving car just to cart my daughter to and from her activities. Which, I limited her to two because I truly believe kids need time to play and engage their imagination.

There’s that writer in me.

Why I Disagree with Internships

May 9, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

A bit of a segue from my normal writing discussion, but something that has been bothering me for a long time.

Unpaid Internships

I have been frustrated with the rise of unpaid internships. That someone, somewhere, thinks it’s okay to ask people to work, to provide value, and then not to pay them for that work. Sure, the intern is learning something, but then so am I much of the time I’m at work. And I still expect to be paid for it.

All the stranger that the government allows companies to use workers without paying those workers and the corresponding taxes that should go with those workers. Or, maybe not.

Paid Internships

I hadn’t thought much of paid internships until I was having lunch with the director of engineering and he was talking up a candidate he was interviewing. The young man was a sophomore in college who already had extensive international engineering experience after two high profile internships.

Experiencebeforeexperience — Because that’s totally reasonable.

I reviewed the candidate’s resume, and while it was good, I asked the engineer how he thought the young man got such prestigious internships so early in his academic career. After some discussion, the engineer agreed it was unusual. He chalked it up to the candidate being stellar and went on to make the young man an offer.

The candidate didn’t accept with us, so I never met him. But a part of me suspects there was more to it than a brilliant young mind. After years of watching my company’s internship program, I’ve learned a few things.

Poor kids usually don’t do internships. They can’t afford a car to drive to the facility. They can’t afford to pay room and board in addition to whatever agreements they’ve signed back at school. And most poor kids don’t have the connections to get their foot in the door in the first place.

That young man with the incredible internship experiences before sophomore year? I can almost guarantee there was some family connection there. Sure, he did the internship, but he got it through established privilege. And the internship masked the privilege as merit.

That one candidate really made me pause to examine the entire internship program. If internships were as prevalent when I was in school as they are today, would I have been able to land the first job I did that propelled me through my career? Or is this another way to limit social mobility while masking it as meritocracy?

I’m not sure.

But internships are not about to go away, so I think it’s something we should all be asking ourselves.

Growing Old

April 11, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

We recently visited my grandmother and my extended family. They live almost seven hours from us, and there is no easy way to get there by airplane. It’s not a trip we make often, though I wish it was easier so we could. Two kids in a car for seven hours is no one’s idea of fun.

My grandmother lives in a very rural part of the country, and she has neither cable TV nor internet. It made for an interesting trip for kids whose hospital pictures we took with our iPad. They learned to appreciate Netflix a whole lot more when we got back to the hotel.

My mom made the trip as well, and she took my oldest daughter in her car with her. This allowed my husband and me time to reconnect. We had seven hours in the car with minimal distractions other than talking to each other. I was reminded how much he makes me laugh, what a good partner he is, and how supportive he is.

Sometimes in the rush of kitchen remodels, making supper, doing dishes, and running the kids to school and dance class you can lose sight of these things. Makes me realize how much we must start making time for date nights.

The other thing the trip made me realize is that we’re growing old.

Yeah. Harsh.

But true.

I remember standing at the same sink my daughter was at to wash her hands when I had to stand on tiptoes to reach the faucet. She can already reach the faucet.

I remember when “the back room” seemed like this huge, cavernous space. Now, it’s like any other room.

I remember when her back yard seemed huge and to stretch on forever. It’s actually a relatively small yard.

It’s also hard for me to think of my uncle’s as grandfathers now, though they are. I remember when I was first visiting my grandmother, and my one uncle still lived at home while he was in school. Now, his kids are grown and on their own.

Time marches on.

While our vacation wasn’t a trip to Mexico or Disney World, it did let us see family and give me time with my husband. Not exactly a Pinterest trip, but that’s okay. This gave me a chance to reflect and remember what is important, even if it also reminded me of how much has changed.

What I do with that lesson is now up to me.

Financial Sacrifices For Kids

March 7, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

I work with numbers for my day job, so sometimes, it bleeds over into other things. Like when I think of my children.

I love my children, I truly do. But sometimes, I feel selfish for having them. I feel like children are really only for the very wealthy or those willing to make a lot of sacrifices for them.

Once, there wasn’t the same choice about having children. You either abstained entirely, or you had the number of children you did. And that was that.

Now, children are a choice. At least in my part of the world they are.

And children are expensive.

You either have to quit working (loss of an income) or pay for childcare. Children under two years old cost approximately $300 per week for care in my area. Over two and it slowly edges down each year to approximately $225 per week right before they start kindergarten.

Unless you are fortunate enough to have parent willing to watch your children, this is going to be a significant expense during their younger years.

Then comes after-school care, sports, trips to Washington DC, etc. Also, remember you are still going to be paying for summer care. Here in the US, that’s twelve weeks of care, not counting the four weeks of holidays sprinkled throughout the rest of the year.

Care is expensive.

This is by far our largest expense, and while it is brutal, I as a parent, I make it so that my kids get the care they deserve. These younger years are so important.

Still working on sacrificing my video game, though.

GamerParents — Super Smash Brothers is awesome!

Finally, they turn eighteen, and you have no more legal obligation or control over them. They are an adult and you hope and pray you have done your job and raised a good person.

Except, that’s when they hit you with one of the biggest bills yet.

College.

Can you tell I recently got my Edvest statement? I’ve been saving for each of my children since they had a social security number for me to open an account in their name, and I still don’t have enough for saved for either of them to pay for a single year at a state school.

And it baffles me why parents are expected to pay for their kids’ college at this point.

Not a little additional something. Not just lodging or food. The whole, entire thing.

How is it that a separate, legal adult’s financial aid is based on their parent’s income? A separate, legal adult whose parents can’t see their grades or medical history? Can’t even see their kids finances because their child is an adult?

Shouldn’t financial aid be based on the adult applying for admission’s income at the time? Or the future income that they expect to earn from whatever degree they’re seeking?

Besides, as many people will tell you, their parents income is no barometer for their parents willingness to spend that income on their children’s schooling. Particularly when that schooling costs more than a new car each year.

Especially as many parents are now being asked to pay that at the same time the parents are approaching retirement themselves.

I have several women in my department who are working solely to help put their kids through school. These kids are lucky. One of the people in my department has a mountain of debt because she couldn’t get any financial aid because of her parents’ income, but they wouldn’t pay anything for her school once she turned eighteen.

We’ve chosen to buy a much smaller house and own our cars much longer just to afford daycare. We also opened college savings accounts for our daughters as soon as they were born. This seems ludicrous to me. How is it that so much is being dedicated to these handful of years of schooling? Why are they so expensive? Is the payback really there at this price?

By the time my daughters get to be college age, would they be better off working for a couple of years and taking the $250,000 a four year degree would cost them and starting their own business?

Interesting thing is I learned more working (and getting paid) my first year in the Big 4 than I did all four years at a very reputable college.

But I couldn’t have gotten that job without the degree and mountain of debt that came with it.

My spouse and I had a long talk about it, and we will save what we can for our children. But in the end, it will have to be their choice and their cost.

They will get what is in their savings account. When that is gone, the rest will be on them.

If they choose to take advanced placement classes in high school, and take those classes seriously, we won’t ask them to work. Placing well on those exams will be worth far more to them than what they would make at a part time job.

It’s a really hard decision, but I see no other way. We can only give them so much, sacrifice so much. We love them dearly, but it does drive home the point that we have a very broken education system when parents have to spend a lifetime saving and it’s still not enough.

4 Lessons My Daughter Learned Raising Monarch Butterflies

July 17, 2018 by Elizabeth Drake

My daughter’s new preschool focuses on nature and has a very hands on component. They caught tadpoles in the spring and have raised them into polliwogs. My daughter has thought this to be the most marvelous of things.

Kind of gross and slimy to me, but whatever.

That is, until they started raising monarch butterflies.

The school she attends in on a large plot of land with a huge field where milkweed grows. The head of the program started ordering monarch caterpillar eggs several years ago for the kids to raise then release back into the milkweed.

This year, they were able to find eggs on their existing milkweed, which the director brought a few inside for the kids to watch hatch, grow, then spin their own chrysalis.

This has created a unique learning environment. So far, here are some the things we’ve talked about.

1. Caterpillars Eat a Lot.

They had to pick a lot of leaves to feed their little caterpillars. A lot. They learned that caterpillars eat 200 times their weight in milkweed leaves before becoming a butterfly. To put that into perspective, it would be like a seven pound newborn eating 1,400 pounds of formula in fourteen days. Yeah. Wow.

2. Gross Stuff Can Lead to Beautiful Things

Apparently, while in the chrysalis, a caterpillar digests itself. She called it caterpillar soup, which has even me a little grossed out. But, as she pointed out, after being soup, the caterpillar turns into a “beautiful butterfly”. I can guess from what book she stole that!

3. It Can Be Hard to Say Goodbye

After showing me the caterpillars then the chrysalis every day I picked her up, she was very sad the afternoon I came and the chrysalis was empty. As fun as it was to watch the caterpillar grow up, it was very sad to take the butterfly outside and set it free.

4. But It Can Still Be Amazing

While it was hard to let her butterfly go, she was ecstatic to watch him stretch his wings and fly. The excitement in her voice as she talked about watching him fly melted my heart. As we were walking to the car to go home, she saw a monarch fluttering around her school, and she decided it was the one she’d let go and he was coming back to say goodbye to her. Who knows. Maybe it was. I hope it was.

An Introvert’s Nightmare

July 3, 2018 by Elizabeth Drake

As I may or may not have said, my older daughter takes dance. My younger daughter has been begging for months to go to dance class.

So, I signed her up for the summer session at the same time as her sister.

Unfortunately the time slot meant a race across town from work to pick up the girls, and a race back across town to get to the studio, get them changed into their outfits and ready on time.

But, I figured I could do it, and it would let the younger child enjoy the class she wanted. So, I packed granola bars for the girls to eat in the car, and I packed up all of their dance stuff into their dance bag and put it in my car the night before so I wouldn’t forget.

drive — Too much truth for too many parents.

Then came the first day. I left work on time, but I went to two wrong doors before finding where my daughter is let out from her summer school program.

Okay, so I’m running five minutes late. No big deal as I had a fifteen minute cushion.

I got to pick up my second daughter about two minutes away. But the road construction has intensified, and traffic is backed up almost two miles from the red light. I am now starting to panic. It takes ten minutes to go a distance that should have taken no more than two. We’re now cutting it close.

I go to pick up the my younger daughter, and my older daughter starts making a scene. Of course she does. She wants to be the center of attention, and here’s a new audience. Then the younger child starts ripping out her ponytail, a ponytail she needs for dance class, and I failed to bring a second ponytail holder if she breaks this one.

So, amid tears, anger and frustration, I all but drag them back out to the car.

Where the chocolate chips in the granola bars have melted from the heat. I grit my teeth, give them to the girls anyway, knowing I’ll have a mess to clean at the dance studio.

We get in the car and head across town. We are now cutting it close. There will be less than five minutes to get the older daughter changed for her class.

Deep breath. I can do this.

Until I get stuck behind someone doing five under the speed limit, which results in me getting all five red lights between daycare and the dance studio red.

We walk in the door and a hurry the girls to the changing room. The older one is having trouble changing because we’re rushing, so I stop to help her. She’s changed and ready to go just as dance class starts.

Okay. I’m calling it a success.

Now for child two.

She has started to put on her tights as the older one got ready, but she is jamming her feet in. Tights are evil, even for adults, and wrangling a preschooler into them is torture. But we do…And then I realize she hadn’t taken off her shorts.

ballet-2789432_640 — Somehow, someone got them in tights AND shoes.

Gritting my teeth as people keep coming in and out of the changing room and leaving the door open, I help her take off the tights, get her shorts off, get the tights and leotard back on.

She hates the tights and wants them off. I manage to get her tap shoes on her, and we head back out to the waiting room. Yes, all the “dance moms” are giving me snide looks, but a few more minutes and the second child will be in dance class and I can ignore them while I read my book.

Dance class starts, and I try to walk her to the door, but she won’t let go of my leg. She screams and cries. As I’ve learned from preschool, I deposit her in the room and walk back to the waiting room.

Only she doesn’t stop.

After fifteen minutes, the dance instructor brings her back out to me. Where she proceeds to scream and cry for the entire rest of her sister’s class.

I was so embarrassed and mortified I think I managed to turn new shades of red. Here I am, being stared at with condescension and derision, as my child screams. She even tries throwing herself to the floor a few times. I can’t escape because I can’t leave the older one there alone. I can’t go outside because it’s too hot to sit in the car and pouring down rain.

All I can do is count down the minutes until the older child is done with class. Until I can escape.

I have no idea what came over my daughter. No idea why she wouldn’t go play with the parachute, or do froggy jumps, or all the other fun things they were doing in class. No idea why she begged to take this class for months. And frustrated beyond words that I paid for the class, tap shoes, ballet shoes, tights and leotards for her to attend.

But mostly, I never want to show my face in that dance studio again.

Family

Tired of Feeling Bad for Being a Working Mom