New Year

Resolutions.

Most people love to hate them, but I just love them. I don't know that I've ever really followed through on any of them for very long, but it is a fun way to begin a new year.

I just dusted off the workout tapes I bought last January, and am going on day four. Yesterday it was Billy's Boot Camp. I now realize why I never joined the military. Phew.

Santa brought us a Wii Fit for Christmas, too. I'm happy to report my Wii Fit age yesterday was 27, which is slightly less than my actual age. I also have high score on Super Hula Hoop, so today I'm feeling pretty good about myself.

It helps that I have extra motivation this year. My husband and I are going to Cancun at the end of the month, and hitting the beach with my body in hibernation mode is just not an option. I have a few more weeks to fix years of laziness.

Time to sweat.

Do As I Do

My son had a science lesson a few weeks ago about the traits we inherit and traits we acquire. It was fun for our family to see which traits we have in common and where we differ. For example, my son is the only one in our house who has blue eyes, and I am the only one with attached earlobes. I didn’t even know there were attached and detached earlobes, and now I am very self-conscious. A few of us are double jointed, and we all have dark hair. My daughters inherited my bad eyesight, and my son got his 20/20 vision from his father. We enjoyed comparing our inherited similarities and differences.

But those inherited traits we give our children are the ones over which we have no control. I am realizing more every day that it is the acquired traits that require our parenting skills. Our kids watch us more than we think, and what we tell them to do will never be as important as how we live our own lives. I remember as a child hearing, “Do as I say, not as I do.” Yet we know that our kids model our behaviors—the good, the bad, and the inappropriate.

I remember one bath time when my middle daughter was about four. I dropped the shampoo bottle into the tub and said, “Damn it!” I tried to not make a big deal about the bad word, hoping maybe she hadn’t noticed, but a few days later we were driving down the road with my mom in the car. My daughter dropped something she was holding and yelled, “Damn it!” Oops. My mom looked stunned for a minute, but then I told her the story and she tried to hold back the laughter. She always told me that one day she hoped I would have a daughter who was just like me.

We make a lot of mistakes as parents, but we hope that our positive examples will trump most of the negative ones. One thing we strongly believe in and try to model is the importance of service. We are all involved in many community organizations, and just spent the past weekend volunteering at our regional AYSO tournament. The kids put in almost as many hours as we did, and were so proud that their hard work was a huge factor in making the tournament a success. We hope they notice the time we spend trying to make a positive impact on our community, and will do the same when they are on their own.

Because they need more from us than blue eyes.

Downsized

Working in the auto industry used to mean good money and relative stability. When I met my husband he was an engineer at Ford, but there were so many opportunities at small automotive suppliers, soon after we were married he took a job for a lot more money and fewer hours. Switching jobs was a no-brainer.

That particular job lasted not quite two years before another opportunity arose. This time, his former boss at Ford called, encouraging him to apply for a job that would take us to Australia. Our son was about four months at the time, so the only hesitation was taking him away from family for three years. We quickly decided that it was only a few years, and after his interview (on the golf course, of course) and offer letter, we packed and sold our house and were gone within two months.

Our overseas adventure lasted about two years before his company moved us back to work on a big program here in the states. That was great for us—back close to family, now with two young kids. But the new project came with the long commute, long hours, and added stress. So when another former co-worker called to let him know about a job opportunity at a company closer to home, he again submitted his resume and switched jobs within weeks.

This type of job switching was common in the industry. People with the right skills and connections were contacted by friends and head-hunters, and salaries increased with every call. My husband dislikes changing jobs, and never thought his resume would be so peppered, but it's hard to pass up lucrative jobs.

But what started as opportunity ended up survival, as he would attempt to find new employment as his current company appeared in trouble. Since his days at Ford, he has worked for seven suppliers—one was sold, and three went out of business. Luckily, he managed to stay ahead of the trouble, and managed to leave if his company appeared to be in trouble. But the days of easy jobs and good money were quickly going away.

It finally caught up to him last summer. After a year of downsizing, my husband’s company announced it was following too many others and was closing its doors. No severance. No vacation pay. Nothing. The banks came in to tie up loose ends and kept a few people to help for about two weeks, but then it was over. Three years ago I wouldn’t have worried a bit, because my husband would have lined up another job by the time they locked the doors, but last summer it was an entirely different environment. With the market flooded with downsized skilled workers and nobody hiring, it didn’t look good.

Thankfully, my husband is one of the hardest workers I know. I knew that even if he didn’t get a great auto-related job, he would do anything to take care of his family. We follow Dave Ramsey’s principles, so we didn’t have to worry about debt or how we would make payments. Our emergency fund was in place, so we didn’t feel the stress I know many of our friends in the same situation faced. Plus, we had my parents living in our basement to help care for the kids and give us a little extra income. I was worried, of course, but we were as prepared as we could be.

Our job search was aggressive. I searched the internet for jobs for both of us. My husband insisted he would not find a job that way—his only opportunity would come from his personal contacts—but that didn’t stop me from sending his resume to any posting I found that looked remotely promising. I did end up finding a job for myself in Abu Dhabi, but that’s another story.

It took six weeks for my husband to start a new job. He was right about the internet thing—of the maybe 50 resumes and carefully crafted cover letters I sent out on his behalf, he did not get one call. Instead, his networking and reputation landed him a job with a company based in Grand Rapids, and he now works out of the house. No more daily long commutes. We got him fuzzy slippers for Christmas, for his “commute” to work.

I learned through all of this that we can try to plan our futures, but really we don’t know what the future holds. All we can do is try to plan for the "Unexpected." Get a nice pair of fuzzy slippers, just in case.

Oil Spill

My husband works for this innovative company--the possibilities are incredible. BP gets thousands of ideas sent to them every day, so any help spreading this solution around might make it a reality.

Dance

My little one, who is not so little anymore, is a dancer. Her nickname is “Skippy,” because she is not capable of just walking from point A to point B, she has to dance or skip wherever she goes. I hear her banging above my head as I write this. Most mornings I have to yell over the music in her room to get her ready for school.

I was never a dancer, so until a few years ago this whole dance thing was foreign to me. The first year my oldest daughter danced, I took her to a studio one of her little friends went to and found that the moms were a little nuts about the whole dance thing. They were three, for goodness sakes, and some moms put a little too much pressure on them to be perfect. I didn’t think my daughter was going to grow up to be a prima ballerina, so the next year I found a place where the people were a little more realistic about the whole experience.

My older daughter ultimately chose soccer over dance, but I can’t see Skippy doing that any time soon. She loves the excitement of performing, and would be happy if she could go to dance class every day. She’s hoping to add classes next year if they’ll let her.

This is recital weekend, and today is the last performance. Skippy wishes the show could go on, but I’ll be happy when it’s over. I love watching them show off all of their hard work, but after all the back and forth, costume changes, make-up, etc., I’m ready for a break.

Break a leg, Skippy. We’re proud of you!

Last Day

Tomorrow is the last day of school. My 5th grader will be clapped-out of the school he's attended since kindergarten, and I will be crying.

I know I'm not the only parent who loves having the kids home all summer. Leisurely mornings and lazy days...I look forward to the next few months.

And then I will be ready for them to go back in September.

The Laundry Fairy

Ever wonder why there is a Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Magical Leprechaun, and Santa Claus, but no Laundry Fairy? Seriously…taking teeth and handing out gifts is easy…give me someone useful.

There are usually clothes strewn about my house in various states of “doneness.” I don’t mind sorting, washing, or drying—it’s the folding, hanging, and putting away part that trips me up. I always begin with ambitious hope to get every piece cleaned and in its proper place, but by that time in the process I’ve completely lost interest and moved on to more interesting projects.

I used to dump the clothes from the dryer on my bed so I’d have to fold them before going to sleep. That didn’t work out well for me. I’d usually end up tossing them all back into baskets to wait for morning. Then we were all frantically scrounging for socks and skivvies from baskets, which sometimes stayed for days. Now I at least try to fold or hang the things that will wrinkle easily, but I’m still left with piles in the laundry room.

Now that the kids are older, they sort the socks and fold the towels, so it’s a little easier. They take their clothes to their rooms, but if they put them away themselves, they end up a jumbled mess in their drawers. When my husband helps, all the clothes end up in the wrong places—but I think he does that on purpose, because he doesn’t like the job any more than I do.

Forget ironing, too. Occasionally I’ll touch up a dress shirt, but for every day items I either spray them with that miracle formula Downy Wrinkle Release (it does work!) or I’ll throw the item back in the dryer for a few minutes with a wet towel. Good enough.

Maybe if I’m really good this year the Laundry Fairy will pay me a visit. Just once I’d love to be able to leave the laundry room door open.