Danny and I are going to London in April. Ashlyn is already there and we will join her for ten days. We get to see her graduate from her fancy pants design school and then it is the three of us in London, Baby.
Ashlyn has been there since January and has already hit the town. She will be able to direct us towards some of what we definitely want to do and steer us clear of the tourist traps. Always the trooper, Ashlyn will go back to the sights with us!
Now here is the problem. Or problems. Problem number one is that I am trying to plan this trip with Danny. Danny is great to travel with. He carries the heavy bags. He lets me sleep on his shoulder. He... ok Danny is great to travel with. We always have a blast (except in Bamberg) when we travel but trying to get that guy to focus on the planning has definitely been a challenge.
We have ten days. Now the tour company rep thought that was a long time to be in London, but when I start flipping through my London to do book, I cannot figure out how to get it all in in ten days. So when I try to corner Danny on what and when we are going to do what and when, I usually get some sort of vague reply. Last time, I got a raised eyebrow and an "ok!". We got nothing planned.
So where do I start? I am asking for, begging for suggestions. I have a travel book. I have a list of sites saved in my favorites. I have time, but not a lot of it because before I know it, it will be April and I will still be trying to plan this trip. So...
Tomorrow I should buy a giant white board. I should sit Danny down at the dining room table and make him focus on this trip. I should.
Or I should just pack my bag and show up on Ashlyn's door step and let her show us the sights!
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Happy Anniversary to Us!
Twenty two years today was a surprisingly warm and sunny Saturday. My mom was fretting for months that there would be an Iowa snowstorm and we would be left with piles of uneaten roast beef and au gratin potatoes. But I knew it would be ok. What else was I supposed to think? My mom had the dark cloud view covered so I took the rainbows and unicorns view. I would say rainbows and unicorns won!
I got the guy of my dreams, that is for certain. But the rest was an awful lot of compromise. All that talk about the wedding being for the bride and such didn't know Danny. He was all up in my planning business and frankly, I should have put my low heeled foot down and gotten my way. But circumstances being what they were, I thought I better include him because from the time we were engaged to two and a half months prior to the wedding, Danny and I were the only ones planning.
My mom and my dad were not overly enthused by my upcoming nuptials. In fact, I am pretty sure Mom thought the longer she ignored it, the sooner it would go away. Oddly, this was the one thing I was set on following through with, whether she helped or not. Lucky for me, my Aunt Mary Ellen, at Thanksgiving, shamed my mom into getting involved. After that, it was really quite wonderful to be doing wedding stuff with my mom.
Danny was set on having a very traditional wedding. I got a few wedding books, showed him a few ideas and was shot down at every turn of the page. I did not get my dream dress or my dream walk down the aisle song. Other than that, I didn't have a strong opinion on the rest of it. My parents insisted on a Mass. My friend, a former bridal consultant insisted that my dress be true white so it didn't clash with Danny's dress blues belt. My sisters insisted on a non bridesmaidy bridesmaid dress. All of these things were fine by me.
The Mass turned out to be the one hour that I was center stage, Danny and my first meal together and Danny's First Communion. Mom was right on that one. I snuck in my favorite childhood church song, Let There Be Peace on Earth. We had the very common reading from 1 Corinthians 13:13, you know the one about faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love. We have certainly taken that reading to heart over the years. Faith, hope and love are present every single day in this union.
The dress was my second choice. Choice number one was from the Beautiful Girl song scene in Singing in the Rain. Do you remember the flapper style wedding dress with 1.2 miles of tulle train? That was what I wanted to get married in. Instead, I got married in the top selling wedding dress pattern of 1926. I wore my mother in law's veil as my own mom's veil was too yellow. I had a handkerchief from my Grandma Snow and my garter was made for the fabric from my great grandmother's wedding dress on my mother's side. So there was my new dress, borrowed veil, old handkerchief and garter. I also wore a blue garter, that seems to be the only blue option.
The wedding march had always been the one from The Sound of Music. But how do you sell that to a guy that didn't even know the movie let alone understand all the emotions tied to that song. How could Danny had known that I married the Captain on a weekly basis growing up? How could he understand that this was a logical choice for me to use? How could I understand that my traditional wedding guy would pick trumpet voluntary. How would I ever guess that Danny would make amends on this many years later!
My mom was stunning in a red suit. Danny's mom was as well in a purple suit. My sisters had simple black jersey dresses. I wore a hundred dollar polyester dress. Violet orchids. bold and cost effective. No professional photographer, but a very generous aunt and uncle. A pretty full church. Our dear friend Linda sang songs from Pete's Dragon and An American Tail. My Dad never gave me a kiss at the end of the aisle. Danny was so hoarse from boot camp that even I had trouble hearing him vow to be mine. Danny's best friends from high school stood up there with him. I don't think they realized exactly what was going on. A couple of kids playing wedding, and then playing house, and then war and then playing family.
Danny, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you have made me. And not just that smiling happy but that my heart is about to burst because I cannot fit anymore happy into it kind of happy. You have given me the world, well the nice parts of it anyway. You have loved me through the cuts and scars, even when I used them against you. You kept at it. Don't even get me started on these babies of ours. Who would have thought that the likes of you and me would have created the likes of Ashlyn, Hayley and Jacob. Those are our best works.
And look at what we have done. We have done ok, that is for sure.
I cannot imagine my life with anyone more perfect for me than you. Remember how I used to say that our Guardian Angels must have been best friends, well, I still say that. Wouldn't you agree...
I got the guy of my dreams, that is for certain. But the rest was an awful lot of compromise. All that talk about the wedding being for the bride and such didn't know Danny. He was all up in my planning business and frankly, I should have put my low heeled foot down and gotten my way. But circumstances being what they were, I thought I better include him because from the time we were engaged to two and a half months prior to the wedding, Danny and I were the only ones planning.
My mom and my dad were not overly enthused by my upcoming nuptials. In fact, I am pretty sure Mom thought the longer she ignored it, the sooner it would go away. Oddly, this was the one thing I was set on following through with, whether she helped or not. Lucky for me, my Aunt Mary Ellen, at Thanksgiving, shamed my mom into getting involved. After that, it was really quite wonderful to be doing wedding stuff with my mom.
Danny was set on having a very traditional wedding. I got a few wedding books, showed him a few ideas and was shot down at every turn of the page. I did not get my dream dress or my dream walk down the aisle song. Other than that, I didn't have a strong opinion on the rest of it. My parents insisted on a Mass. My friend, a former bridal consultant insisted that my dress be true white so it didn't clash with Danny's dress blues belt. My sisters insisted on a non bridesmaidy bridesmaid dress. All of these things were fine by me.
The Mass turned out to be the one hour that I was center stage, Danny and my first meal together and Danny's First Communion. Mom was right on that one. I snuck in my favorite childhood church song, Let There Be Peace on Earth. We had the very common reading from 1 Corinthians 13:13, you know the one about faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love. We have certainly taken that reading to heart over the years. Faith, hope and love are present every single day in this union.
The dress was my second choice. Choice number one was from the Beautiful Girl song scene in Singing in the Rain. Do you remember the flapper style wedding dress with 1.2 miles of tulle train? That was what I wanted to get married in. Instead, I got married in the top selling wedding dress pattern of 1926. I wore my mother in law's veil as my own mom's veil was too yellow. I had a handkerchief from my Grandma Snow and my garter was made for the fabric from my great grandmother's wedding dress on my mother's side. So there was my new dress, borrowed veil, old handkerchief and garter. I also wore a blue garter, that seems to be the only blue option.
The wedding march had always been the one from The Sound of Music. But how do you sell that to a guy that didn't even know the movie let alone understand all the emotions tied to that song. How could Danny had known that I married the Captain on a weekly basis growing up? How could he understand that this was a logical choice for me to use? How could I understand that my traditional wedding guy would pick trumpet voluntary. How would I ever guess that Danny would make amends on this many years later!
My mom was stunning in a red suit. Danny's mom was as well in a purple suit. My sisters had simple black jersey dresses. I wore a hundred dollar polyester dress. Violet orchids. bold and cost effective. No professional photographer, but a very generous aunt and uncle. A pretty full church. Our dear friend Linda sang songs from Pete's Dragon and An American Tail. My Dad never gave me a kiss at the end of the aisle. Danny was so hoarse from boot camp that even I had trouble hearing him vow to be mine. Danny's best friends from high school stood up there with him. I don't think they realized exactly what was going on. A couple of kids playing wedding, and then playing house, and then war and then playing family.
Danny, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you have made me. And not just that smiling happy but that my heart is about to burst because I cannot fit anymore happy into it kind of happy. You have given me the world, well the nice parts of it anyway. You have loved me through the cuts and scars, even when I used them against you. You kept at it. Don't even get me started on these babies of ours. Who would have thought that the likes of you and me would have created the likes of Ashlyn, Hayley and Jacob. Those are our best works.
And look at what we have done. We have done ok, that is for sure.
USMC
Today is the 22nd anniversary of Danny graduating from MCRD. I did not go to his graduation. Mainly because my mom could not stand the pressure of me being across country the day before my wedding. I am sorry that I didn't go (though considering the circumstances it would have be foolish!) because I would have like to have been there when it all began. I guess it actually began in November when Danny left for boot camp, but the 9th of February made it official.
Ah, the military life, posh posh military life, the military life for us! It all began on that day in February. Well, it actually began the next day when we became a family. We became something more than ourselves. Rather, Danny became something more and I just went along for the ride. Oh, my time would come when I would buckle down on the home front, and I don't make light of that at all. Being a military spouse is serious business and we take our role seriously and proudly. But I wouldn't understand that for a few more months.
I cannot speak for Danny. I do not know how those DI's got in his head, but I know he came out the other side a better man. Something happened in Boot Camp that could have not happened anywhere else. I don't know what it was, but for twenty two years, I have watched that thing in action. Sometimes, that thing drives me crazy, like when he has to redo his police uniform a couple of times because it just isn't right. But most of the time, it just makes me so proud.
When he taught kickboxing, the Marine definitely came out. His voice would change, the pronunciation of words would change, we would all sweat and somehow, Danny would be laughing through it all. He even lead Hayley's soccer team in pre game warm ups a time or two and that voice would come out. They were not a big fan of that voice.
Danny is retired now. But a great deal of the military, the marine, the soldier, is still in him. I appreciate that they taught him how to keep his head and ass down. I appreciate that he learned to clear a room, to weigh the situation, to get out of there alive. I know that those skills are with him every night on the streets of Des Moines. I know that all those skills would have been taught to him by the different police academies that he attended, but the military afforded him live, hands on training. I am grateful for that in a twisted sort of way. When push comes to whatever is next in his line of defenses, I am glad to know that he knows exactly what to do.
The Marine Corps with its sunny Southern California bases and the Army with its' overseas locales. We were lucky. We had the time of our lives on Uncle Sam's dime. And I mean that dime quite literally looking over back tax forms. We struggled, as everyone does, but most of the time, it was pretty damn great.
I remember, after Danny was out of active duty and was in the Reserves, meeting up with a bunch of husbands and wives that did not have the same type of background as we did. They had college degrees and professional type jobs, doctors and lawyers and such. Those men were drooling as they listened to Danny tell stories of guns, helicopters, blowing stuff up. Yeah, most days, Danny went to work smiling. That says something.
I cannot believe that it was twenty two years ago that that very skinny, very hoarse, very sick Marine came off the plane. And less than twenty four hours later, I was his.
Ah, the military life, posh posh military life, the military life for us! It all began on that day in February. Well, it actually began the next day when we became a family. We became something more than ourselves. Rather, Danny became something more and I just went along for the ride. Oh, my time would come when I would buckle down on the home front, and I don't make light of that at all. Being a military spouse is serious business and we take our role seriously and proudly. But I wouldn't understand that for a few more months.
I cannot speak for Danny. I do not know how those DI's got in his head, but I know he came out the other side a better man. Something happened in Boot Camp that could have not happened anywhere else. I don't know what it was, but for twenty two years, I have watched that thing in action. Sometimes, that thing drives me crazy, like when he has to redo his police uniform a couple of times because it just isn't right. But most of the time, it just makes me so proud.
When he taught kickboxing, the Marine definitely came out. His voice would change, the pronunciation of words would change, we would all sweat and somehow, Danny would be laughing through it all. He even lead Hayley's soccer team in pre game warm ups a time or two and that voice would come out. They were not a big fan of that voice.
Danny is retired now. But a great deal of the military, the marine, the soldier, is still in him. I appreciate that they taught him how to keep his head and ass down. I appreciate that he learned to clear a room, to weigh the situation, to get out of there alive. I know that those skills are with him every night on the streets of Des Moines. I know that all those skills would have been taught to him by the different police academies that he attended, but the military afforded him live, hands on training. I am grateful for that in a twisted sort of way. When push comes to whatever is next in his line of defenses, I am glad to know that he knows exactly what to do.
The Marine Corps with its sunny Southern California bases and the Army with its' overseas locales. We were lucky. We had the time of our lives on Uncle Sam's dime. And I mean that dime quite literally looking over back tax forms. We struggled, as everyone does, but most of the time, it was pretty damn great.
I remember, after Danny was out of active duty and was in the Reserves, meeting up with a bunch of husbands and wives that did not have the same type of background as we did. They had college degrees and professional type jobs, doctors and lawyers and such. Those men were drooling as they listened to Danny tell stories of guns, helicopters, blowing stuff up. Yeah, most days, Danny went to work smiling. That says something.
I cannot believe that it was twenty two years ago that that very skinny, very hoarse, very sick Marine came off the plane. And less than twenty four hours later, I was his.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Play Nice
I cannot play nice. I cannot not say bad things about my fellow person. Oh, I try. I really do. Sometimes, I will have a spurt of two or three hours of nothing but good thoughts then someone comes around me being catty, and just like that, the claws come out and I start the mean.
I am forty two years old. I am not in high school. I have no clique to belong to. Why is it so hard for me to be nice?
I know a lot of my problem is that I am terribly insecure. I have always been terribly insecure. I also went through a period of great jealousy. I work on those problems, but when I think about insecurities, I know that is a problem that goes way back and way deep.
I used to have a friend. She wasn't really a friend by definition because I don't think we really cared for each other. Our personalities clashed like the titans. I always felt like she felt judged by me and vice versa. The fact was, she had a lot of traits and talents that I admired. When I would tell her, I think she believed me, but she was equally insecure so that belief didn't last long. We aren't friends anymore, she has moved away and moved on. I wish that I could see her one more time just to let her know that I didn't always mean to be not nice.
At work, I am jealous that I don't have the natural talent to approach people, to sell them stuff, to be remembered by them. That is not my strength. My strength is the background stuff. My strength was in my old, done away with job. So part of my not being nice is just because I am forever pissed that I don't love my job.
I was nice today. And it really is easier to be that way. I should be happy that there is someone there with the talent to sell. I should encourage that. I should learn from that. It is no secret that a happy work environment is a more productive work environment.
I don't want my kids to grow up to be not nice. I don't want an insult to flash through their mind before a compliment. I don't want them to be like I am.
I think being snotty is a defense mechanism. If I don't make friends, then I don't lose friends. Funny how the insecurities from grade school, middle school and high school can stay with me all these years.
So here it is, just a couple weeks until Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is kind of like a second chance at failed resolutions. Anyway, traditionally, people give something up for Lent but this year I am going to add something, niceness. I am going to somehow replace every mental putdown with a verbal compliment. I am going to stop complaining and bitching and whiny and just be nice.
And I will probably stop running with scissors as well.
I am forty two years old. I am not in high school. I have no clique to belong to. Why is it so hard for me to be nice?
I know a lot of my problem is that I am terribly insecure. I have always been terribly insecure. I also went through a period of great jealousy. I work on those problems, but when I think about insecurities, I know that is a problem that goes way back and way deep.
I used to have a friend. She wasn't really a friend by definition because I don't think we really cared for each other. Our personalities clashed like the titans. I always felt like she felt judged by me and vice versa. The fact was, she had a lot of traits and talents that I admired. When I would tell her, I think she believed me, but she was equally insecure so that belief didn't last long. We aren't friends anymore, she has moved away and moved on. I wish that I could see her one more time just to let her know that I didn't always mean to be not nice.
At work, I am jealous that I don't have the natural talent to approach people, to sell them stuff, to be remembered by them. That is not my strength. My strength is the background stuff. My strength was in my old, done away with job. So part of my not being nice is just because I am forever pissed that I don't love my job.
I was nice today. And it really is easier to be that way. I should be happy that there is someone there with the talent to sell. I should encourage that. I should learn from that. It is no secret that a happy work environment is a more productive work environment.
I don't want my kids to grow up to be not nice. I don't want an insult to flash through their mind before a compliment. I don't want them to be like I am.
I think being snotty is a defense mechanism. If I don't make friends, then I don't lose friends. Funny how the insecurities from grade school, middle school and high school can stay with me all these years.
So here it is, just a couple weeks until Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is kind of like a second chance at failed resolutions. Anyway, traditionally, people give something up for Lent but this year I am going to add something, niceness. I am going to somehow replace every mental putdown with a verbal compliment. I am going to stop complaining and bitching and whiny and just be nice.
And I will probably stop running with scissors as well.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Tax Time
Oh, the most wonderful time of the year! Tax time. I do a fairly decent job of keeping track of papers throughout the year so when it is time to gather it all for the tax man, it is not so bad.
I have been filing taxes since 1986. My mom did my first few years. Once we were married, we could take advantage of the free tax service provided by the military. Later, we lucked into a friend that would do them for us. I babysat her daughter during tax season and we would trade a few hours for a tax return. She was great about helping me in those home business years. After we moved to West Des Moines, I was able to do ours myself with the help of online companies. But when Danny was working two, three, four and more jobs, it got to be too much for me.
Our first hired gun turned out to have some ethical issues. We found that out the year Ashlyn was in Iowa City. I was trolling the Des Moines Register late one night and came upon the headline that said our tax man was under investigation. Actually it was his wife, but still. So we found a new guy. This is our fourth year at this office and we have not been audited and he has not been in the newspaper.
Our first tax return as a married couple was in 1990. We earned a whopping $15, 456.00. I am not even sure how that is possible. It goes down from there! I did not work when the kids were little. The following year, Danny's taxable income was under $9000. He had housing assistance and combat pay that were not taxed, but still, how in the world did we live? What amazes me is the we paid $500 a month in rent. I suppose this is why I am still paying off credit cards from the early '90s!
The year Jacob was born, Danny was earning just $15,000. Living in military housing overseas, we did not have rent or utilities. I don't remember ever really struggling for money. But with three little ones, it had to be tight all the time.
In 1987, I made $1948.85 at the hardware store. That was such an awesome job. I got $5.42 refund that year. The following year I made an additional grand at the hardware store. Must have gotten a raise and picked up a few more hours. In 1989, I am making almost $6000. I was working two jobs at that point. Had a wedding to save for!
These early tax returns are just a few pieces of paper, a W-2, maybe a bank statement or two. Now, I take a folder with me. There are W-2's, stock stuff, 1099's, B-52s, 10-4 Good Buddy and a bunch of other crap. Though my stack of papers is nothing compared to what my parents would haul to the tax man. I don't ever want to be that grown up that a back brace is required to carry the paperwork into the building!
Well, this was unexpected. My mom filled out my 1987 tax return, I haven't seen her handwriting in a long time. Who would have thought doing my taxes would make me cry...
I have been filing taxes since 1986. My mom did my first few years. Once we were married, we could take advantage of the free tax service provided by the military. Later, we lucked into a friend that would do them for us. I babysat her daughter during tax season and we would trade a few hours for a tax return. She was great about helping me in those home business years. After we moved to West Des Moines, I was able to do ours myself with the help of online companies. But when Danny was working two, three, four and more jobs, it got to be too much for me.
Our first hired gun turned out to have some ethical issues. We found that out the year Ashlyn was in Iowa City. I was trolling the Des Moines Register late one night and came upon the headline that said our tax man was under investigation. Actually it was his wife, but still. So we found a new guy. This is our fourth year at this office and we have not been audited and he has not been in the newspaper.
Our first tax return as a married couple was in 1990. We earned a whopping $15, 456.00. I am not even sure how that is possible. It goes down from there! I did not work when the kids were little. The following year, Danny's taxable income was under $9000. He had housing assistance and combat pay that were not taxed, but still, how in the world did we live? What amazes me is the we paid $500 a month in rent. I suppose this is why I am still paying off credit cards from the early '90s!
The year Jacob was born, Danny was earning just $15,000. Living in military housing overseas, we did not have rent or utilities. I don't remember ever really struggling for money. But with three little ones, it had to be tight all the time.
In 1987, I made $1948.85 at the hardware store. That was such an awesome job. I got $5.42 refund that year. The following year I made an additional grand at the hardware store. Must have gotten a raise and picked up a few more hours. In 1989, I am making almost $6000. I was working two jobs at that point. Had a wedding to save for!
These early tax returns are just a few pieces of paper, a W-2, maybe a bank statement or two. Now, I take a folder with me. There are W-2's, stock stuff, 1099's, B-52s, 10-4 Good Buddy and a bunch of other crap. Though my stack of papers is nothing compared to what my parents would haul to the tax man. I don't ever want to be that grown up that a back brace is required to carry the paperwork into the building!
Well, this was unexpected. My mom filled out my 1987 tax return, I haven't seen her handwriting in a long time. Who would have thought doing my taxes would make me cry...
Sunday, February 5, 2012
The Help
I have just finished reading The Help and I wonder what I would have been like had a been a young woman of the early sixties. Would I have thought about equal rights? Would I have thought separate but equal? Or would I have believed that I was part of a superior race?
I would like to think that I would have been like Skeeter. A writer quietly trying to create something special. Skeeter seemed to be caught between wanting to treat blacks as equals, but maybe just not ready to cross that line in a big way. Even in the end when it gets hard for the maids, Skeeter gets out. She was brave, but not brave enough.
I know that I would have not been like Hilly. No one hangs on my every word, no one follows my example, no one would want me to be league president. But, I cannot say that I would not have been as narrow minded as she was. Living in the South and knowing no other way of life, I may have thought the way she did.
Celia definitely had a lot of qualities in her that I liked. She never pulled a status card. She considered Minny an employee not a servant and she also considered Minny a friend. If Minny would have been able to friend Celia back much sooner, both of their lives would have been so much better. I think Minny could have saved Celia a lot of heartache and could have stopped Celia from trying so hard with the league women.
Unfortunately though, I would probably have been somewhat like Elizabeth and a lot like all the other nameless women who hired black women as maids. I would have been a much better mom then Elizabeth, but I don't know if I would have been a better boss. I cannot see myself being brave. I cannot see myself taking such a chance to try to make a change when those people were so brutally put down.
Would I go up against men with baseball bats? Police with fire hoses and dogs? Soldiers? I doubt it. I have never stood for anything in my life so I don't know what makes me think I would have stood from something then.
The Help has definitely made me think about my backbone.
I would like to think that I would have been like Skeeter. A writer quietly trying to create something special. Skeeter seemed to be caught between wanting to treat blacks as equals, but maybe just not ready to cross that line in a big way. Even in the end when it gets hard for the maids, Skeeter gets out. She was brave, but not brave enough.
I know that I would have not been like Hilly. No one hangs on my every word, no one follows my example, no one would want me to be league president. But, I cannot say that I would not have been as narrow minded as she was. Living in the South and knowing no other way of life, I may have thought the way she did.
Celia definitely had a lot of qualities in her that I liked. She never pulled a status card. She considered Minny an employee not a servant and she also considered Minny a friend. If Minny would have been able to friend Celia back much sooner, both of their lives would have been so much better. I think Minny could have saved Celia a lot of heartache and could have stopped Celia from trying so hard with the league women.
Unfortunately though, I would probably have been somewhat like Elizabeth and a lot like all the other nameless women who hired black women as maids. I would have been a much better mom then Elizabeth, but I don't know if I would have been a better boss. I cannot see myself being brave. I cannot see myself taking such a chance to try to make a change when those people were so brutally put down.
Would I go up against men with baseball bats? Police with fire hoses and dogs? Soldiers? I doubt it. I have never stood for anything in my life so I don't know what makes me think I would have stood from something then.
The Help has definitely made me think about my backbone.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
not what I was going to write about
I didn't know what I was going to blog about tonight. I thought about Harlow, again. She brings me such happiness so often that I like to share it with the world. I thought about being kind, but luckily my lesson in being kind called in sick today. My blog might be about being kind tomorrow.
At tenish tonight, Hayley came into the house and let me know what my blog was going to be about. My blog is going to be about changing the mind.
Hayley moved back home in December and switched from UNI and life in the dorms to DMACC and life in the bedroom next to ours. Though our house is very fun, there are no pick up football games, theme bathroom stalls or taco bars in our dining facility. Oh, she is saving a ton of money. I think somewhere around seven thousand dollars. And that is great. But at what cost?
Watching Hayley this past month, I think the cost is pretty high. Hayley is going to class, she is working at Hy Vee, she is babysitting. Hayley is getting her homework done. She has taken up boxing in the basement. She goofs off with Jacob. But every night Hayley is on the computer with her friends from UNI.
So tonight Hayley decided to go back to UNI in the fall. And Danny and I are supporting this decision. We were proud that she was trying to save money. That was a very grown up decision to make but Hayley is not a grown up. She shouldn't have to make those decisions yet. Hell, Danny and I are in our forties and we don't want to make grown up money decisions.
I am glad that she is going back to UNI.
In four years, Hayley will be broke just like every other kid that is graduating from college. Her debt might be a little less then some of the others, but it is going to be there just the same. But Hayley will have four years of memories that money can't buy. And there is no other place in her life that will be like college.
So, in eight months, we will move Hayley back up to UNI. The bedroom that was going to be my room that is now Hayley's room will become the guest bedroom. Danny has already started framing my room in the basement and if you ever read my Facebook status's, then you already know how excited I am about this room!
Hayley made the comment tonight that "at least she tried". In that comment was a hint of failure but she didn't fail. Not at all. Hayley made a decision based on money and made a better decision based on her happiness. I call that success!
At tenish tonight, Hayley came into the house and let me know what my blog was going to be about. My blog is going to be about changing the mind.
Hayley moved back home in December and switched from UNI and life in the dorms to DMACC and life in the bedroom next to ours. Though our house is very fun, there are no pick up football games, theme bathroom stalls or taco bars in our dining facility. Oh, she is saving a ton of money. I think somewhere around seven thousand dollars. And that is great. But at what cost?
Watching Hayley this past month, I think the cost is pretty high. Hayley is going to class, she is working at Hy Vee, she is babysitting. Hayley is getting her homework done. She has taken up boxing in the basement. She goofs off with Jacob. But every night Hayley is on the computer with her friends from UNI.
So tonight Hayley decided to go back to UNI in the fall. And Danny and I are supporting this decision. We were proud that she was trying to save money. That was a very grown up decision to make but Hayley is not a grown up. She shouldn't have to make those decisions yet. Hell, Danny and I are in our forties and we don't want to make grown up money decisions.
I am glad that she is going back to UNI.
In four years, Hayley will be broke just like every other kid that is graduating from college. Her debt might be a little less then some of the others, but it is going to be there just the same. But Hayley will have four years of memories that money can't buy. And there is no other place in her life that will be like college.
So, in eight months, we will move Hayley back up to UNI. The bedroom that was going to be my room that is now Hayley's room will become the guest bedroom. Danny has already started framing my room in the basement and if you ever read my Facebook status's, then you already know how excited I am about this room!
Hayley made the comment tonight that "at least she tried". In that comment was a hint of failure but she didn't fail. Not at all. Hayley made a decision based on money and made a better decision based on her happiness. I call that success!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)