When I was little, we used to watch the TV Chipmunk Christmas special that my parents had recorded on VHS. In it, Alvin has a dream and yells out in his sleep, "Money! I need money!"
I feel you, Alvin. For nearly a year, with the exception of December, I have been solely responsible for paying the daycare costs of my daughters. Their dad refused to help. After all, it serves me right for filing for divorce.
Now I have a new baby and more expenses. But money isn't really my only problem. I was raised to be self reliant. The idea of depending on another person to take care of my needs, at my very core, terrifies me and outwardly makes me feel like a failure. When my oldest daughter wanted a TV for the apartment, I told her we couldn't afford it. She quipped, "It's Ok. Grandma will get us one" and I died a little bit inside. My children should be able to look to me if they need something and know that I can provide it.
So yesterday I applied for a part time job. I keep hitting walls when I try to get hired in my field, so maybe I'll have better luck staying where I am and adding hours in my spare (?) time. This has the added benefit of keeping me busy.
I do know that I can't let myself fail in this. My kids deserve to have the best I can give them. And I intend to give it to them.
Well, here it is, November, and I haven't written a word since April. Not that it hasn't occurred to me. I was busy working and somewhat enjoying my "summer break" and then school started again and BAM, ice and snow everywhere. Luckily for the 12 people who read this blog, today I drank an extra large cup of caramel macchiato from the local gas station at four o clock in the afternoon, so I am ready to write. Besides the copious amount of caffeine I've consumed, the major inspiration for this post is actually something that has been rattling around in my head for sometime now. Maybe it's because I spend a lot of time sitting around feeling sorry for myself (hahahahaha! Time. See, it's a joke because I actually have no time ever. See: opening sentence) but mostly it's because it's pretty personal and I have a hard time bringing it up without feeling like a total Debbie Downer pity-party, complete with cheese and whine (not the good wine that I li...
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