A House Is Not: A One-Act Play

SCENE: Inside the family car.  A woman, mid-thirties, is driving.  Her mother-in-law, in whose house she lives, is in the passenger seat.  A baby sleeps in a car seat  in the back.  They are coming home to Illinois from Wisconsin.

ANNIE: So as much as I wish I could be more active at school, that I could volunteer in my spare time, I know I have other priorities.  I mean, we only have one car.  I have an infant daughter.  We don't have a home.  I need to focus on those things right now.

MIL: You have a home.

ANNIE: (Blushing). No, I know.  That's not what I mean.  I mean, we don't have a home of our own.

MIL: I just don't want you thinking that you don't have a home with us.

ANNIE: No, I don't think that...

(Awkward silence.)

END OF SCENE

Remembering

Autumn is here.  In Northern Illinois, the leaves on the trees are starting to turn golden and scarlet.  The days are shorter; the dark cloak of evening comes quicker and stays longer every morning.  We've kept the windows cracked open slightly, letting the crisp breeze from outside freshen the house.  My mother-in-law took down the bright, pastel seasonal decorations and replaced them with orange and brown ones that signify Fall.

Over the weekend the season officially changed, and it became apparent to me when I attended the annual Walk to End Alzheimer's with my husband's family.  This year we chose to participate in a more rural locale, west of where we live.  As we drove we passed through cornfields ready for harvest, the sky a cool blue with clouds stretched wide above.  Here and there were little pumpkin patches with hand-painted signs stuck in straw bales.

It all reminds me of last Fall.  I was six months pregnant last year at this time.  Bruce and I lived in our townhouse.  One day, coming home from somewhere, we spontaneously stopped at a pumpkin farm.  We held hands and strolled around, looking at the Halloween crafts for sale.  We sampled apple cider donuts and took pictures in front of the pumpkins, me holding my tummy and beaming.  Bruce bought me a lovely pot of mums, which we placed on our back patio.  We were so happy, so excited to start our own family.  We never envisioned the turn of events that would lead to us moving in with Bruce's parents.

So on Sunday my husband, his parents, the baby, and I met his aunt and cousins in the walk to benefit the Alzheimer's Association.  Alzheimer's disease is a tragedy that has blanketed Bruce's family.  His paternal grandmother passed away this year after suffering from it for many years, too many years.  Those who are familiar with the disease know that it's not only the person afflicted who suffers.  Every loved one suffers, too.  We walk to raise money for the charity, but also to celebrate Bruce's grandma's life - a physical tribute to her memory, to her memories.

I think of this woman, who lived her youth a long time ago, who had babies that would grow up to be Bruce's uncle, father, and aunt.  She experienced so many proud moments in her lifetime and so much hardship, too.  At the end, she couldn't remember the moments anymore.  They were lost to her, but not to her family.  Her life inspires me to cherish what I have.

When summer is over, I always feel a little wistful.  This year I can't help but recall the past, when Bruce and I had a home and everything seemed possible.  To be truthful, remembering hurts a little now.  The future seems so unclear.  Yet despite the aches of yearning for what is gone, I have to remain grateful.  I have my family.  I have my memory.  And I'm going to keep them as close as I can, for as long as I can.

Autumn will turn into winter, which is going to feel endless this year.  But eventually, spring always arrives.

Without All the Train Wrecks, Though

Yesterday after school my friend arranged to pick me and Emmie up so we could all hang out.  I had just flung my schoolbag down and grabbed a quick bite to eat when she pulled up in the driveway.

"Bye, Dad!" I called, as I hauled the baby in her carrier out the front door. "I'll be home later!"

As I got in my friend's car it dawned on me: Hey, a few minor differences and my life is just like a teen mom's!

They Don't Make This in Adult Size

Sweet Home Chicagoland

We're not going to make a habit of it, but on Friday night Bruce and I went out and acted like we had money to spend. It was my friend's 30th birthday and we went to the city to celebrate with her. When she said, "Do you guys want to check out the new bar next door for a drink?" Bruce and I didn't have to exchange worried glances. It felt good.

Driving in on I-290

The mussels and frites at Reservoir in Uptown

Emmie stayed home with her grandparents.  We are fortunate to be able to go out as a couple without the annoyance of arranging a babysitter.  When Bruce was little, his maternal grandparents watched him every day so his mom could go back to work.  He always says he shared a special bond with them because they spent so much quality time together.  I can already tell that Emmie will have a similar bond with Bruce's parents - she's crazy about them.

 

It's so important to me that Emmie gets plenty of time with my parents, too.  When I was growing up, I had one set of grandparents here in the States that I knew quite well.  My other set of grandparents were on the other side of the earth, literally.  I visited them a only handful of times before they passed away.  I wish I could have known them better.

 

Yesterday we took Emmie to a little country festival near my folks' house.  My mother met us there.  Emmie got to see goats and cows and even a turtle and an owl.  We rode on a wagon through the prairie and took a tour of an 1800's farmhouse.  Everything was new and interesting for the baby.  We all enjoyed ourselves!

 

We stayed until the cows came home

In the evening Emmie got to go from country mouse to city mouse when we went back out to Chicago.  We were visiting a couple who have a daughter, too.  These friends are great.  Some people avoid the whole living-with-parents thing.  I think acknowledging our difficulties can be uncomfortable for them, or they feel sorry for us, or something.  The really good friends always ask, "How's it going?" And then they listen.

 

We ate pizza and wings and talked and played games.  Their daughter played with Emmie, who crawled all over the hardwood floors of the apartment without restraint.  When we left, we walked down Addison toward our car with Wrigley at our backs, the neighborhood buzzing with nightlife.  On Friday it was Bruce and me in the city with friends, just like our life a few short years ago.  This time, it was Bruce and me in the city, with a sleepy baby in my arms.

The Dog Days Are Over: Finance Friday Part II

Or, they're at least on their way out!  I am writing to you in a state of euphoria.  Ladies and gentleman, I got PAID!

Today I got a paycheck from each of the schools I teach at.  Sure, I got paid for the substitute teaching I did over the summer, but that money just helped us scrape by from week to week.  These paychecks will actually create PROGRESS.  Even better, I've continued to sub at the other school and have a few more dates lined up.

For the first time since we moved in here and we stopped paying an exorbitant rent plus utilities, I feel a sense of relief.  I just paid all my bills for the next two weeks.  As a matter of fact, I almost paid a little one off - one that we had to break out and use recently because times were getting tight. 

Normally, after I would pay the minimum towards the credit cards, we wouldn't have much left.  Now that I am a contributing money maker, I was actually able to put some in savings AND have a satisfying amount left over for expenses!

I am not trying to brag.  Remember, we are living with my husband's parents.  The whole point of this was to start over.  Now, it is clear that this might really work for us.

The plan remains the same: to aggressively pay off the smallest card first, then take the amount we were paying on that card and add it to the next card's payment.  This is called the "snowball effect".  Like a snowball rolling down a hill, the idea is to gather momentum.

Bruce and I made a difficult decision and took our debt-paying a step further.  I had a very small 401(k) from an old job.  We decided to pull out the funds in that 401(k) and use it towards our debt.  Now, I wouldn't recommend this as a general rule.  But for us, it made sense.  Even though we have to pay a fine for removing our retirement money before retirement age, it is in our best interest.  As one financial advisor put it, the money will make more of an impact on our lives now than it would when we retire.

We are young enough that we can recoup the money before retirement age.  It isn't that much.  Is IS enough, however, to pay off a couple of my credit cards.  And when we have those paid off, our overall debt-to-income ratio will be decreased.  Our monthly payments will be less.  That means the money we were paying towards interest and principle on those cards can go elsewhere.

Everyone we consulted, from our personal banker to other financial advisors, have all said it was the right thing to do.  Bruce used to be a personal banker and he said the same.  And yet I'm not proud.  I guess when we get our debt paid off, have savings built up, and our retirement accounts are nicely padded, I'll look back and agree with them more confidently.

That's our goal; that's why we are making the hard choices, like living here.  When I am driving home after a long night class, simultaneously wired and exhausted, I remind myself.  The goal is not only to get back on our feet, but to stand tall.

Pas de Deux (Plus Baby)

Bruce and I were watching a recorded episode of So You Think You Can Dance in bed the other night.  Recording shows and watching them later is a gift to parents, who can't focus their attention away from their children for longer than two seconds.  It is a luxury afforded to us by Bruce's parents, who have the fanciest cable package.

I started to drift off.  I was awakened by my dear husband, telling me to get under the covers and by the way, "You just missed the most amazing dance.  I'm not kidding.  It was so good." 

My husband, you see, is really a very advanced man.  The ideal man, really.  He's completely macho and loves his football and baseball and beer.  He's refined, waxing poetic on the flavor notes of that beer he's drinking, probably a rare microbrew.  He's also unafraid to tap into his cultural, some would say, softer side.  He can view a program where the men twirl around in tights with almost as much veneration as he would the Thursday night game.

The next morning, Bruce urged me to watch the dance.  He seemed emotionally affected by it, in his manly way of not really saying anything at all.  The fact that he was bringing it up again said everything.  So I put the show on:

The first time I watched it, I thought, "That was really impressive.  The dance symbolizes so much about loss and pain, especially in cultures that have been persecuted."  It reminded me of the end of Fiddler on the Roof, where the Russian Jews are forced out of their village.  But I couldn't understand why it had so much impact on Bruce.

Today, in the shower (I do a lot of thinking in the shower) it hit me like the girl running full force into the guy's arms: THIS IS OUR DANCE.  If you look at the dance from a different, more personal angle, it is an artful representation of Bruce's and my struggle.  It is a couple united, without a home, clinging to their possessions like a trophy of the past.  Their frustrations and angst come out in silent screams.  If a baby was added to the routine, I would think the choreographer had us in mind when he created it.

These obstacles we are overcoming are hard on Bruce, too.  In many ways, harder.  So maybe he won't admit it, but I think this dance spoke to him.  About being a husband, about feeling lost.  Even though we aren't actually homeless, aren't actually alone (rather, the reverse - it's crowded here), that's how it seems sometimes.

Like the dance, our plight will come to an end.  But the love I have for my husband will play on forever.

Missing Freedom

I drove Bruce to work this morning because I wanted to have the car.  I'm off on Fridays and I was excitedly conjuring up all the things I could do with my mobile freedom.

"I'll go grocery shopping!" I thought, thinking of meals to cook and items we need.

"The baby and I can go to the mall," I mused, imagining me pushing the stroller while brushing at soft clothes hanging on racks.

"Maybe not the mall, maybe the town museum!" My mind switched to a scene of me holding the baby and brilliantly discussing preservation with the curator, who would offer me a part-time job.

Guess what we're going to do: Probably a whole lot of nothing!

The first time Emmie went down for a nap, I used my independence to take a shower.  Before I could finish slathering my freshly washed face with moisturizer, she was up again.

After I fed her, we went downstairs to eat an early lunch - to get a head start on the day.  I fixed my grilled cheese as she swung her feet in her highchair, munching on a wafer.  So far so good!

I put her in her exersaucer so I could wash dishes.  That contraption has been a lifesaver for the past few months.  If you are unfamiliar, let me explain.  An exersaucer is a giant frisbee on the bottom, which is attached to a donut-shaped area topped with toys.  In the middle of the donut hole is a cloth bucket seat.  You drop the baby in the leg holes, and the baby can "stand" and play with all the toys around her.  The frisbee on the bottom keeps her from tipping over.  The donut around her keeps her upright.  The idea is to exercise the muscles associated with standing.  I love it because she is safe and can't go anywhere.

Emmie is 8 months now and all she wants to do is pull herself up on stuff.  She wants to crawl and explore.  She wants to play with everything she's not supposed to.  She does NOT want to be held back by the wretched exersaucer!  Hell no, she won't go!  Give her liberty or give her - well, she'll throw a tantrum, anyway.

I wanted to wash my dishes.  I hate to leave them in the sink for my in-laws to see.  The last thing I want them to think is that I am a lazy slob.  Emmie was getting fussy in the highchair, so I put her in the exersaucer.  Then came the screams.

We spend most days mainly upstairs, which has been babyproofed.  The downstairs has not.  I don't know, it just seems too overwhelming to try and babyproof a house that has been lived in for twenty years and never had a baby in it.  I feel like we'd be turning my in-laws upside down.  Everything would have to change, and that's a lot to ask of them.

Dog bowls, cords & appliances

More cords, slots in which to stick little hands

Door to the basement kept open for cats to get
 to litter box, breakables in low places

More breakables down below

So when the baby started to scream, I abandoned the dishes.  We went upstairs, but she was too worked up and wouldn't calm down.  After some time I put her in her crib and went back downstairs to finish my task, her tortured wails tormenting me all along.  Eventually she fell asleep.  Soon I'll have to pick up Bruce from work.  All my plans have vanished.

I wish I could have washed the dishes with the baby playing at my feet.  But I can't put her down, she crawls too fast now and there's too much trouble she could get into.  When we do get a house, Bruce and I could babyproof it and do chores galore.  Hello, multitasking!

What breaks my heart is the reality that by the time we get our own house, we my not need to babyproof.  By then, Emmie might not be a baby anymore.

Feeding the Family

I've been craving a flavorful plate of chicken curry for ages. 

Bruce and I used to frequent this awesome little Indian place in our old neighborhood.  It was one of those places that you felt intimidated walking into because inside you were the only non-native to the cuisine.  That's also how you know the food's really good.  The set-up was great, kind of like Chipotle, where you walk up and order and they prepare it in front of you.  You can take it to go or sit at one of the few tables.  The guys who worked there would let us sample the curries by ladling them into tiny plastic cups.  Otherwise we'd have no idea.  And mmm - the naan bread.  Buttery and warm and light.

Oh, I'm sorry.  I got lost in my delicious memories there for a minute.

Anyways, I'm a big fan of curry.  Though my mother and father would cook all kinds of dishes that use curry paste as an ingredient, they never made actual Thai curries.  They, like many other people I don't understand, have an aversion to curry.  Have you ever walked into an apartment building that a South Asian may have lived in, and the smell of curry pervades?  Some people wrinkle their noses.  I go, "Yum!"

So when I was shopping at Aldi the other day, I noticed they were selling Asian spices, including curry powder.  Granted, the store is definitely not authentic and using a spice blend isn't either, but I couldn't resist.  I bought it, went home, and Googled chicken curry recipes.

I found one I wanted to make.  But I didn't know how my in-laws would feel about it.  I asked them if they'd ever had curry.  My FIL said yes, he'd had it once and thought he wouldn't like it, but he did.  My MIL had never tasted it.  They both said they'd love to try what I cooked.

So I made this recipe last night.  It was hearty and hit the spot.  My in-laws ate it up - we all went back for seconds. 

The best part is, the dish is full of onions and my FIL had no idea.  He hates onions, which kills me.  Everything I cook has onions in it.  My MIL will alter a dish to his particular tastes, but after a couple times cooking here, I've decided not to.  If he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to eat it, I say.  In the very unlikely event that somebody made something unpleasant to me, that's what I'd do!  I diced the onions really small and problem solved.

During dinner Bruce's parents laughed about how I'm expanding their culinary horizons.  They've eaten several Thai dishes now like spicy omelette and fish cakes.  Last night they had an Indian-inspired English chicken curry meal.  I'm thinking of making chop suey next.

I am proud of my in-laws for being so open to new things.  Every time I make something foreign to their table and they sit down and eat it, I feel as if they are accepting who I am.  I feel like, through food, we are getting to know each other better.  And that's very fulfilling.

The Comparison Game: It's Unhealthy and Not Fun

This is the fourth weekend in a row that I've had plans with Bruce's family in some capacity.  Some of it has been awesome - like celebrating his sister's birthday in Milwaukee last Saturday by going on a riverboat brewery cruise.  Before we lived here, we used to joke that we were "best friends" with Bruce's parents because we enjoyed hanging out with them.  But now - it's a lot. 

It is a lot to live here, with no car to go anywhere (I borrow Bruce's dad's car to go to my day class on Tuesdays and Thursdays), with Bruce's dad retired and always home, too.  It's a lot to spend all week with your husband's parents and then spend the weekend with his family, too.  Today we are celebrating his mother and sister's birthday here with aunt and uncles.

This is the thing.  We've always spent a lot of time with Bruce's family - birthdays, holidays, there is always something going on for which we need to be present.  But now we live here and I am really hitting my limit.  I know it's not fair to do this, but I can't stop playing the Comparison game.

The game goes like this: I think to myself, "Here I am doing something for Bruce's family again.  We never do anything like this for MY family."  That is a very dangerous game to play.  Nobody comes out a winner in this game.  But, like the gambling addicts in the casino, I find myself pulling the lever to spin the wheel again. And again.

We don't make a big deal about birthdays or holidays in my family.  We simply put aside a day and a time, get together and have a meal.  If it's a birthday, we have a cake (always a yellow/chocolate cake with fresh strawberry filling and buttercream frosting) and sing.  That's it!  Maybe a small gift, maybe just a few on Christmas.  Some years my mother doesn't even put up a tree.

Bruce's family, on the other hand, will have birthday festivities for several weeks.  The actual birthday, the day we get together, the day they have a party.  They also LOVE presents - giving them and getting them.  They will spend hundreds of dollars on presents.  When I first starting dating Bruce, I was blown away by their generosity.  His sister and his mom have turned gift giving into a true art form - they are incredibly thoughtful, and will buy anything they see if they think it would make a good gift for someone.  Opening presents is a lengthy process around here.

While I appreciate everything they've ever given me over the years (most of my accessories & beauty products were gifts from them), in the reverse this is a ginormous amount of pressure to live up to.  I'm always worried that I should have given more or better presents. 

Plus, it is so damn expensive.  Bruce's mother and sister have birthdays that are only about a week apart.  Add up the expenses of dinners, cruises, gas that it took to get to Milwaukee twice, plus cakes and presents and cards, and we are left with basically nothing.  This past month we had to go without necessities because we just didn't have the money.

When I look at my bank account that has less in it than my change jar - I start playing the Comparison game.  Left unchecked, the Comparison game mutates out of control.  I start to get resentful.  Then I am ashamed of myself.  I love these people and they are good to me.  But I haven't seen my own family in weeks, and they live across town. 

I told Bruce that we need to make a conscious effort to make plans with my family and our friends for the next several weekends.  So we did.  When those days come around, I'm sure my attitude will be refreshed.  I sure hope so.

Tell me - do you ever play the Comparison game? Any advice on how to avoid it?

UPDATE: The party turned out to be really nice.  Emmie got to see her great aunts and great uncle who haven't seen her in a while.  They fawned over her and she cooed and giggled.  Then yesterday we went to a baseball game with our friend Denny and his daughter.  It was fantastic to get out and I felt normal again.  Today we are seeing my folks. 

So I guess the lesson here is that when your patience is getting thin, do your best to endure it a little longer.  Everything will work out in the end!