Back to your roots...

Though I knew this day was coming, I still wasn't prepared for it.  My daughter came home from school with an assignment that I just wasn't ready to tackle.  No, it wasn't an algebraic equation, or a novel I had never heard of.  It was an assignment about your family tree, simple as that.  My husband's side of the family has a full and vibrant family tree.  Everyone knows where they came from and everyone has a branch on the proverbial tree, it's as simple as that.  My tree however looks a lot like that Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  Oh wait, it's not even a tree, it's a twig on the ground.  No roots, no leaves, just....a mess.  And with this assignment that my second grade daughter brought home, comes a lot of hidden information and secrets. 

My family "tree" is a taboo subject in my family, a history of lies, shame and secrets.  And by family I mean my mother and grandmother.  My mother and her mother, that is all I know for family.  There, it's out there, I've said it.  My "father" left town as soon as my mother (at age 19) informed him she was pregnant.  I didn't even know his name until I was in high school.  My mother and the man I would learn to call "Dad" began dating when I was 2 years old.  He's the only father I've ever known.  In fact, I was a pre-teen when I learned that he wasn't my real dad.  My grandfather, my mom's dad died shortly before I was born, my grandmother remarried when I was a young girl though old enough to not call this man grandpa, or whatever I would have called him.  My grandmother's family life is not much better.  She had 9 sisters and brothers but none of them had the same father.  It's hard to imagine, nine different men in my great-grandmother's life, especially decades before the term "baby daddy" even came into existence.

So last night we started to tackle this project of listing the countries that our family came from.  I was dumbfounded.  There is so much nobody knows in my family, that I have no idea who came from what city, never mind what country my family originated from.  I'm trying not to project my shame/embarrassment on my daughter.  We are slowly opening up a dialog on my family history and while it's not pretty or something I'm proud of, she deserves to know.  Thank you second grade social studies homework for giving me a reason to start to open up with her. 

Where has the summer gone?

So here we are, it's the middle of August and lets see what we have accomplished academically...

We know Spongebob and his misfit friends on an intimate level (really, I saw the episode where SBob sports a thong!). 

I know there are 101 days of summer vacation and school comes along just to end it, or at least that's what Phineas and Ferb say to us every day ad nauseum. 

So, where is the summer reading that I swore we would conquered on the first vacation?  The math workbook I bought especially for the second vacation?  The letters and postcards to my daughter's cousins in Arizona?  The crafts we would fashion out of recycled goods?  I have no idea...

Then what did we do this summer? 

Road our bikes, played in the sand, amassed quite a collection of rocks, sea glass and shells.  Captured and released countless bugs.  Played flashlight tag, watched the full moon rise over the lake.  Witnessed an eagle soar above us as we lounged on a raft in a lake.  Kayaked, canoed, jet skied and sailed. 

Yep, I think we learned a lot the summer!

I gots me a job!

Yes, that's right!  In a few weeks, I will be starting a new job.  I've been at home with the twins since they were born, and they will be four in November...which means, I haven't worked outside the home in almost 4 years!  It was a very strange existence for me these past few years.  I have had a job since I was 14 years old and babysat before that.  I always had my own money for as long as I can remember. The past few years were very different for me, I had to think twice before buying that new mascara and expensive hair cuts and foils were considered frivolous to my husband.  For the past four years, I have lived within my means...cutting coupons, buying drugstore makeup and getting a single-process hair color! 

But more than the financial impact of not working was the social aspect of it all!  My work defined me all those years as I climbed the "corporate ladder" in academia.  I worked at a rather prestigious college, and just mentioning where I worked would garner respect (sure I was just the administrator, but still).  For the past four years, staying at home meant that I was a housewife....and nothing more.  Occasionally, working moms I knew would be envious, but more often than not, I think they pitied me.  I envied my husband and his ability to have hours-long lunches at great restaurants.  He could escape the crying, fighting and all the other drama that our three kids provided.  He could come home and they would be fed, clean and ready for bedtime stories.  Drama-free, if you will. 

I recently had to be out of the house at my new job (woohoo) for a meeting and orientation.  Probably the longest I have had to be away from the house in a while.  My husband held down the fort while I was away.  Sure he made them sandwiches for dinner, and ok, the girls' hair should have been brushed after their tub, but I digress.  I was the one who came home just in time for a bedtime story.  And you know what?  I missed them, and I had much more patience for their silly requests for backrubs before bedtime.  I think I'm ready for this transition back into the "real world".  Yep, I gots me a job!

Day Camp Blues...

So the day started off bad...

Went to drop the twins off at day camp this morning and they refused to go.  This equals a day of fights, crying, and broken toys at our house.  WTF? 

Will try again tomorrow:(