No kids? No problem!

The Wall Street Journal is not somewhere you'd expect to find articles on parenting, but they actually have a blog called "The Juggle" that brings up some interesting work and family-related issues.

Yesterday's column posed the question: "Has the workplace become so pro-family that if you don’t have a child, you have to make one up in order to get fair treatment?" For those who say "yes," there is, apparently, a solution of sorts: The Office Kid. "With one simple kit, you can do as your coworkers with children do -- make excuses, miss work and blame it all on your kid," the site says. The kit includes a framed snapshot of a child and a childish drawing to display in your cubicle. (!)

I've blogged about being childless/free in the workplace before. I guess I'm fortunate that I've never really felt taken advantage of at work because of my childless status. (Of course, until just a few years ago, few of my immediate coworkers had young children.) I'm willing to cut my co-workers some slack for whatever reason, so long as they don't abuse it, & I expect they would do the same for me, kids or not.

Also, I've never been one to hang around the office at the best of times. As a couple of the commenters said, you have to manage people's expectations. Maybe I'm foolish -- and I'm not particularly ambitious -- but I'm just not into accumulating face time to score brownie points with the boss. I'm already away from home 11 hours a day, including the commute -- and after a certain point in rush hour, the trains only run once an hour. That's a long enough day, in my opinion. I don't mind picking up slack for sick or overly busy coworkers occasionally, and I will stay late (or take work home) if it's necessary -- but most days, when the clock strikes 4:30, I'm outta there. I may not have kids, but I have a life too. (At least I think I do, lol.)

But I do know this is an issue for many childless/free people.

One anonymous commenter (who apparently can't spell) had this to say:

"Why do you fell this way, having kids DOES entitle one to flexibility, if you are jealous of you co workers having flexibilty because of kids, simple fix is to have your own kids, then you can actually contribute to soceity instead of wishing for what others have. Grow up"

I felt like cheering when, a few comments down, I read this:

"I most likely can’t–and many others can’t either. Thanks for providing such a “simple,” empathetic, and well-thought out solution, those struggling with fertility (and those, like me, who have come to terms with being childless) certainly thank you. Wow. I’m able to manage my situation quite well, but I am a manager. Others aren’t so fortunate. Since being a mom doesn’t appear to be in the cards for me, I’ve developed a full life outside of work that should command just as much respect as those who have children."

Whoever you are, thank you!!

Contrast & perspective

I got on the elevator this morning with two of my colleagues. Both single, in their 20s, young enough to be my daughters (!), marriage, children and mortgages all still ahead of them. Dewy complexions, latest fashions, radiating the absolute confidence of youth. They gave me a glance & a perfunctory nod, but continued chattering about their BlackBerrys and data plans. It was like they were speaking a foreign language.

Once, I was like them. (OK, minus the BlackBerrys.) I know they would find it hard to believe, but some day, they too will be in their late 40s, tired, struggling with their weight and fine facial lines and grey hair, wondering how this happened.

I got off the elevator -- & almost ran into an elderly man, hobbling along slowly with the assistance of his cane.

Once, this man was young and handsome -- a varsity track star who became famous for dancing with a princess, went into politics and, briefly, was the prime minister of Canada. He recently celebrated his 80th birthday. (And he still goes to work.)

Some day, I, too may grow to be as old as he is.

And probably wish that I was in my 40s again.

Aunt Lori panics

BIL called last night to invite us for Thanksgiving dinner (which here in Canada is this coming Monday) -- pre-empting my ambitions, outlined in my rant at Eastertime, to start making our own holiday plans & maybe go away somewhere for the weekend. At least he called us a week ahead & not at the last minute.

Besides, I really can't miss this one:

Our oldest nephew (who will be 21 in December) is bringing his girlfriend to meet us.

Gulp.

I am so not ready for this. How do parents do it??

Here comes the bride...

My parents moved into a new home in a new town in the spring of 1984, shortly before I arrived home from grad school. I wound up living with them and working locally for the next 14 months while I planned my wedding to dh.

The neighbours across the street had two small boys -- AND a new baby girl -- a real cutie with strawberry blond hair, big, long-lashed blue eyes and a rosebud mouth. Little boys I couldn't quite relate to, but a little girl -- well, THAT, my family had experience with. We were all quite taken with her.

Almost as soon as she could walk, she was toddling over to our house to play. We'd watch her from the living room window as she tromped through snowdrifts & stomped on every frozen puddle along the way, lol. My mom dusted off the ancient high chair that had belonged to me & my sister, as well as our old toys & books. My dad would give her piggy back rides and build tents with her, as he had done with me & my sister and our cousins, and my mom would sit on the stairs with her & "play cards," helping her learn her numbers by reading the numbers on the cards & counting the number of aces or hearts on them. As she got older, she loved to join in our family's card & board games (still does!).

When dh & I arrived home for our first married Christmas, Parents' Neighbours' Daughter (PND) was the guest of honour on Christmas Day, resplendent in purple velveteen, and was showered with gifts. Eventually, she got her own stocking under the tree at our house. She would come over for dinner on Christmas Eve and then back again the next morning to open presents with us, after opening gifts with her own family. Sometimes the other members of her family would come over too (we'd have small gifts for them too). She hasn't always been able to make it on one day or the other, but to this day, some time during Christmas week, she will stop by for dinner, open her gifts and play cards with us.

Christmas 1998 was a difficult one for my family, reeling from the loss of both my baby & my beloved grandfather, who had spent every single Christmas with us, no matter where we lived. PND, then 14, was a godsend, giving us something else to focus on and lending our family a much-needed dose of holiday spirit.

When I started scrapbooking in 2002, one of my first projects was to make a scrapbook as a high school graduation gift for PND (something only a clueless beginner would take on...! lol). I had so many cute photos of her from almost day one to share. It was a labour of love. The scrapbook eventually became a gargantuan project (I actually wound up giving her the first part for graduation & the rest of the pages as I finished them). A scrapbooker herself, she was flabbergasted when she opened the package. "I can't believe you did this for me," she said, giving me a big hug. Everyone -- her parents, my parents -- got misty-eyed looking through the pages.

She once called me her "role model." She forever endeared herself to me when my mother told me a story: in conversation with little PND, my mother once said, "We all know who's the REAL boss around here" (meaning herself, joking). PND nodded solemnly & said, "Lori." lol

When PND was little, she referred to my parents as her best friends. When she got older and went to school, she started making friends her own age, but she would still come over to watch TV, help my mother make cookies and wrap Christmas presents, etc., albeit with less frequency. When PND's parents & brothers moved away, after she was finished high school, she spent one summer living with my parents. She continued to live in the town where she'd grown up on her own, work part-time and commute into the city to go to school, an hour away. She started going out with Fiancé four years ago, & eventually moved in with him.

This week, she called dh & me (& tickled us both hugely by doing so) to tell us the big news -- she's engaged!! The community hall is already booked for the Victoria Day long weekend in May.

So -- on top of my 25th wedding anniversary, my parents 50th & a family reunion next summer, I've also got to set aside time to fly home in May for a few days for her wedding. (eek) Needless to say, wild horses wouldn't keep me away.

It is bittersweet to think of PND getting married. I keep thinking "She's too young!" -- but she will actually be 26 by the time of the wedding. I was 24. (yikes) She has one more year of school left -- she's going to be a teacher (& she will be a great one, too).

I remember when we had a big party to celebrate my dad's 50th birthday. PND was 6 years old then. My aunts wanted to take a family photo. "I'm part of the family too," PND piped up. "Yes, I guess you are!" my mom said, laughing, & welcomed her into the photo.

And she is. My parents have sometimes referred to her as "the honorary grandchild." She certainly helped fill my parents' empty nest after my sister & I had left home, & took (some of) the pressure off dh & me as newlyweds on the grandchild front.

My sister has referred to her as "our little sister" (and you can almost hear the air quotes as she says it). I don't know exactly how to label our relationship. I know I am old enough to be her mother, but it's hard to imagine myself having a daughter that old.

All I do know is that I feel so lucky & privileged to have had this girl in my family's life (and grateful to her own family for sharing her with us). I may never have had a living child of my own to parent… but I've played a part in PND's life and been able to watch her grow up into a beautiful & accomplished young woman. I will never see my own little girl dressed in bridal white, walking down the aisle, but I will be there when PND does. My parents may never have their own grandchildren, but they have watched PND grow up and have played a significant role in her life. The geographic distances between us being what they are, I know they have spent far more time with PND than they ever could have with any grandchildren I ever could have given them.

We are all so very proud of her.

And I know that I'm going to be a blubbering mess next May 22nd.

Coming soon: Blog Talk Radio: Deciding to Live Childfree

Pamela Tsigdinos, aka Pamela Jeanne, of Coming2Terms and Silent Sorority, among other places on the Internet, will be a guest on Creating a Family, an Internet radio show that deals with family building issues, on Oct .7, 2009, at 12 noon. Those able to listen in live can call in with questions. If you have to work (as I do)(boo, hiss), the broadcast is archived so you can listen in later at your leisure. Always great to hear from Pamela! : )

NYT article: "After a Death, the Pain That Doesn't Go Away"

The New York Times had a good article about complicated grieving last week. Grief is a complex emotion, of course -- no two people will grieve the same way, even when they're both grieving for the same person. One person may grieve the death of one person one way, and another person another way. We often don't know just how we're going to react until we are in the middle of the experience.

As always, the comments are at least as interesting as the article. (Unfortunately, new comments are no longer being accepted.) I braced myself for the "get it over it" jerks, & yes, there were a few of them -- but I was pleasantly surprised by how few -- perhaps because the discussion was about complicated grief generally, & not grief over a miscarriage or stillbirth ("but you never got to know them...")?? There were some heartfelt stories about the effect that grief has had on their families, and sympathetic words of comfort & advice. Here are some of my favourites:

• Comment #11 (from a woman whose husband committed suicide): "I received no professional assistance, but I was expected to wipe the slate clean and move on (by well-meaning and supportive family members), but I never recovered from that loss. It colors my every waking hour."
• Comment #14 (from a hospice nurse): "Death is not something our society embraces. It is really odd that we pretend that it could never happen to us. But it does and it will. I think that much of the problem lies in the fact that people, including family members, simply do not know what to say. So they are silent or try to change the subject. Here is some advice. Talk about the deceased. Don't worry that bringing them up will cause the bereaved more pain. The pain is always simmering. Talking about a loved one is a comfort many times. It proves they were important, that they have not been forgotten. Call a friend or family member on the anniversary of a death. Send flowers. Take them to a movie. Don't let them be alone. That is a tough day, even 10 years later. Hug them a lot. Try to understand that many times letting go of the grief feels like you are abandoning the deceased. Do not advise them to "move on". That is simply cruel... Grief is not that complicated. It hurts a lot, and it does goes on and on, some just simply cope better than others and some have learned how to hide it very well. Allowing people to grieve is the most important thing we can do. For however longs it takes."
• Comment #26: "For me cyberspace has become the collective unconscious. After starting a blog I connected with other elder bloggers and could suggest that since writing is considered good therapy for grief doing it as a blog could be even more therapeutic."
• Comment #28 (a widow): "While on the surface all appears well, underneath the public mask is great sadness and doubt. I don't like the term "moving on", to me it means leaving behind. I prefer "moving forward", taking the best of what memories I have with me."
• Comment #29: "It took many years of therapy and support by a few steadfast and wonderful friends before I finally came to the realization that bad things happen to good people. It was as simple as that."
• Comment #40: "as grieving and "closure" -- for get that - you will always at some level grieve for someone you loved.... it's just that way... at the best you can grieve and remember happy times concurrently."
• Comment #49: "Western culture tries so very hard to control the uncontrollable in life, but grieving is hands-off. And grief needs to be encouraged. The only way out of grief is through it. With or without the help of others. I believe more damage is done by hiding or 'stuffing' grief because our society doesnt want to have to share in the really painful emotions of others, and so it is frowned upon to wail or weep incessantly where others are present... The person(s) suffering from deepest loss find themselves with a load of pain and nowhere to vent it. So yes, it turns into depression. Yes it turns into addiction. We are trying to kill this pain!"
• Comment #51: "Of the many hideous and stupid things people said to me during that period, the most thoughtless one was something I saw in this article: "You've got to get on with your life."As every widow and widower knows, I couldn't "get on with" my life. My life -- the life my husband and I had planned together, the names of the children we wanted to have, the work we wanted to do, etc. -- had ended. So I couldn't get on with something that was over. I had to find a new one... I just hope people don’t feel there is something wrong with them because it’s taking longer than their non-grieving friends think it should. Grieving is normal and natural. Most people don't need professional help. They just need time and friends. There aren't enough good listeners in the world. Just listen."
• Comment #56: "If death were treated as part of life, which it is, then these conversations would be a natural topic of discussion with our doctors or healthcare providers always, not when we're suddenly faced with grace illness. It wouldn't strike as much panic in our hearts if we dealt with this sooner and more completely."
• Comment #77: "The death of a spouse renders us no longer a couple; the death of a child deprives us of being a parent; the death of our parents makes us no longer anyone’s child. We cannot “recover” from this; our task is to create a new identity."
• Comment #90: "I can't help but think part of the problem with bereavement in general is that our whole culture is structured around the denial of death. I have often seen situations where those grieving are almost treated like pariahs, specially if they don't quickly "get over" their loss. We should look at other cultures where there are extensive rituals around death and mourning, where friends and relatives gather around to allow one to grieve and to grieve with them, where it is OK to grieve deeply and for much longer than a few days, weeks, and even months. I wonder of "complicated grief" exists to the same extent in those societies."
• Comment #126: "Eventually I arrived at the realization that you never "get over" a major loss like this. Rather, you incorporate the loss into the totality of your person, you eventually grow around the void, but the void remains an integral part of who you are. In time -- sometimes a very LONG time -- that void ceases to define you or dominate your life the way it once did, and you do begin living once again. But it is always, always with you."

Many people found the article interesting, but weren't sure whether complicated grief needed to be classified as a psychiatric disorder. They debated whether psychiatrists can help. A few people took exception to the idea that "grief, like the tape, can be picked up or put away." I didn't particularly like that idea myself. Eleven years after the loss of my daughter, I don't walk around crying all day. I carry my grief with me, as part of me. It's not put away on a shelf, to be brought out & dusted off on special occasions.

Still, from what I've been told in training seminars for my pregnancy loss support group, and from what I've witnessed in my own experience, there is a certain value to telling one's story, over & over again. That's why we ask everyone at every meeting to tell their story, or at least some version of it -- even if we've all attended meetings together for a long time & could practically recite each other's personal histories.

We had a guest speaker at one of our training sessions once, who spoke about about complicated grief. She likened it to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a comparison the article also makes. If I remember correctly, she said we need to tell our stories something like 50 times over before it can get "unstuck" in our minds & we can really begin to process what has happened to us. And each time we tell our story, we process another piece of it in our minds and absorb it, until it becomes not just something awful that has happened to us, but part of who we are now. And as we tell the story, it changes -- new bits & pieces may emerge that we hadn't thought about or discussed before, or new insights. I've known our co-facilitator since she started coming to group as a client 7 years ago, and every now & then, even today, she will come up with some new little detail about the awful night she lost her daughter that I've never heard before. She's said the same thing about me!

Of course, the problem is that far too many of our family members & friends -- even the most patient & sympathetic among them -- don't want to listen to us recount the details of our losses, over & over again. That's where support groups play such a valuable role in helping bereaved parents integrate their losses into their new lives, by allowing them to talk (& talk, & talk, & talk...) about their losses, and providing a listening ear.

Have a read & let me know what you think!

Show & Tell: My new "toys"

Dh & I have been in this house 19 years... so that means that our stove, refrigerator, washer & dryer (all Gen.e.ral Ele.ctric brand) were also... 19 years old. A few of them were beginning to show signs of wear & tear, so while I was at home on holidays in mid-August, I finally got a repair guy in to look at them.

The stove & fridge were fairly easy fixes (he commented that they're both in mint condition ) -- but he took one look/listen to the washer (which had recently started making a horrible loud squeaking noise while agitating the clothes) & told me it wasn't worth fixing. Something about the agitator being slowly stripped, & it would eventually just stop agitating the clothes, possibly even float off & get oil on what I'm washing. He said was OK for the time being but not to leave it too long. He didn't charge me anything for looking at it.

I didn't have him look at the dryer, but one of the cycles wasn't working anymore (the dial seemed to get "stuck" without actually completing the cycle & shutting down), so I figured it was time for a new dryer too.

I mentioned that several of my friends have gotten (& love) the front-load models recently. He said he actually didn't think too much of them, that they have been known to develop a musty odour that permeates your clothes & is impossible to get out (although some of the newer models have features to try to prevent this).

This surprised me -- so I sent out a mass e-mail to a bunch of my friends, quizzed my co-workers and posted on some of my regular Internet bulletin boards to find out what they thought & to get their recommendations on brands, features, etc. I also did some Googling.

Everyone told me they loved, loved, loved their front loaders. Most of them hadn't even heard of the odour problem, but from those who had, & what I read on Google, I learned a few tips:

• wipe the rubber gasket dry after finishing your laundry for the day.
• leave the door open when the machine is not in use to allow it to dry out thoroughly.
• use only the recommended detergents & fabric softeners -- i.e., ones labelled "HE" (high efficiency).
• once a month, run a cycle (some machines have a special cleaning cycle) using hot water & bleach, or a special HE machine cleaner.

After surveying our friends, looking around & talking to a very knowledgeable saleswoman, we wound up buying a Ken.mo.re pair (manufactured in Germany by Whirl.po.ol) for a quite decent price. The saleswoman said she bought the same set for both her sons when they got married, which I figured was a pretty good recommendation. ; ) Decided to skip the platforms, which would have added an extra $400-500 to the price. I figure for $500, I can bend over, lol. Plus, as she pointed out, you can fold things on the top when they're lower down (which I often do).

They got delivered this past Saturday morning. I was having serious anxiety & could hardly sleep all Friday night -- I had it in my head that the machines were not going to fit through the laundry room door. The laundry room was built 10 years ago by my FIL around the old machines. The door is also at such an angle that I feared the machines' passage in & out of the room would be blocked by the furnace.

But all went well. The delivery guys -- scheduled to arrive "sometime between 7 a.m. & 1 p.m." arrived at 8:45 a.m. In less than half an hour, the old machines went out to the curb (where they were scooped up overnight by some treasure hunter!) & the new ones went in smoothly & were installed without a glitch.

Well, almost. The hoses that came with the washer were too short to reach the taps, so dh & I had to make a trip later that day to Home Depot & hook them up ourselves. Neither of us is very mechanically minded, but all went well, & we ran a test cycle that worked perfectly. I was amazed by how little water the washer used!

I am looking forward to doing my first full loads this weekend!




To see what others are showing & telling this week (& to check out her spiffy new digs), visit the Stirrup Queen's blog here.