AYDAF: Hard Work Pays Off

It's that time again.  Time for another installment of Advice You Didn't Ask For!

Today's topic:  Hard work pays off.

Ah, the sweet memories of my childhood.  The time when my parents, grandparents, teachers, and any authoritative adult in my life gave that wonderful piece of advice.  I remember being praised for my good grades, my dedication to school, and getting a job at the young age of 14.  I remember those adults telling me that as long as I kept working hard, I would soon see the benefits of that hard work.  In my mind, that meant if I worked really hard, I'd make bukus of money.  

Now, here I sit, 36 years old.  I have a Master's Degree, a Bachelor's Degree, and an Associate's Degree.  I am a few days from starting my 7th year as a teacher.  My yearly salary, after all the take outs, sits right above the federal poverty line.  The amount I owe in student loans from getting all of those fancy degrees was the equivalent of TWO YEARS of my salary BEFORE take-outs.  Even with my husband's pay, we often find ourselves juggling bills, cutting out extras, and sticking to a pretty strict budget to get by.  

So, where all of those adults wrong about hard work paying off?

Yes and no.  Depending on how you take that common piece of advice.

As an educator, it's literally my job to tell my students how important their education is.  As a parent, I have given my own children that piece of advice since the first time they questioned anything they were doing at school, or in life in general, that they struggled with.  I explain to my students and my children that in order to get anywhere in life, they need a good education, and they need to work hard.  Even though there are lots of children out there that won't ever have to worry about money, many more children won't have that luxury and have to work hard for everything they get.

I've worked hard my entire life.  I've done all of those things that I was advised to do.  I went to college, even though I was raising three children.  I pursued my dream career.  I spent many a sleepless night huddled over text books and my computer to write papers and complete assignments.  I continued to hold down a job while going to school.  I worked HARD.  So, did it pay off?

The first milestone

When I was 19 and a single mother to two very small children, I had no choice but to utilize public assistance.  I had food stamps, my kids had state insurance, and I had day care assistance vouchers.  My job paid the rent and the bills.  Even with all the assistance, I lived paycheck to paycheck.  After a couple of years of living that way, I decided to start working a little harder to find a job that would help ease some of my burdens.  I ended up landing a pretty decent job working for an extremely large retailer at their corporate headquarters.  

I went from a job that made $7.50 an hour to a job that paid almost $12 an hour.  That was pretty good money, back then.  I will never forget the feeling I had when I got that first letter telling me that my income no longer qualified for food stamps.  I wasn't worried that I was now going to have to buy my own food.  Making another $5 an hour made a HUGE difference, and I took that as proof that my hard work truly had paid off.  I was able to feed my children without the use of public assistance.

The college plunge

After a couple of years of working in retail, I was inspired to pursue a college education.  I'd wanted to be a teacher since I was 5, so I decided it was time to make that dream come true.  For four years I took full-time college courses, worked part-time, and raised my kids.  I lacked sleep, money, and patience, but what an amazing feeling when I walked across that stage to receive my Bachelor's degree.  A year later, I was hired as a 4th grade teacher in the school where I now currently teach.  I worked my butt off, and had finally made a 20+ year dream come true. 

The great chase

If you've read the Prologue section of the blog, you'll know that Casey and I met in high school, lost touch, and reconnected 14 years later.  From the minute I saw Casey again, I just KNEW I still loved him.  Actually, I never stopped loving him, the emotions just all flooded to the surface when he was standing in front of me.  What I haven't disclosed, however, is that it wasn't a "love at first sight, got back together" reunion.  Casey and I weren't even on speaking terms at our first meeting, due to drama with his then girlfriend.  I was simply taking our daughter to meet Casey for the first time.

That first meeting, however, put into motion a very long, grueling, emotional chase to rekindle our love.  We both ended our current relationships, and Casey moved to Arkansas.  He didn't move to be with me, he moved to get away from a nasty living situation and to start over.  I ended my relationship because I knew I had feelings for Casey, and it just wasn't fair to be with someone when I didn't love them.  

For the following three months, I went through an emotional roller-coaster.  Casey told me CONSTANTLY, he didn't want a relationship, but I knew that we were supposed to be together.  I knew fate had brought us back together for a reason, and so the hard work began.

I worked my butt off, and eventually managed to convince Casey into giving us a chance. He was so worried that his past would interfere with our future, and he was right, but we just worked through it.  We've had our downs, we've had our struggles, but we've worked hard, and now we are very happily married,  He is my best friend, and I just couldn't imagine my life without him.  My hard work definitely paid off.

It's not just about money

So, I've worked very hard throughout my adult life, and I'm not rich.  I'm not swimming in monetary compensation from all the hard work.  What I am swimming in, however, are the other blessings that have come with my hard work.  I raised three amazing children, I put myself through college, I got my dream job, and I am married to my soulmate.  None of those things were easy.  I worked long and hard to get the things I'm most truly thankful for.  

Sometimes, we have to remember that money isn't always the reward for hard work.  In fact, money shouldn't be the only reason to work hard.  Work hard to follow your dreams, work hard to get something you want, and work hard to rise above difficulties.  When you do those things, you will be very happy with the reward.  

Hard work DOES pay off.  

That's your advice you didn't ask for.  You're welcome!

'Til Next Time!

Advice You Didn't Ask For: Parenting Gets Easier

It's Wednesday, so that means it's time for: Advice You Didn't Ask For.  Each week, I pick of advice I've been given at some point in my life, that I didn't ask for, and I share how that advice worked out for me.

The backstory

I got pregnant with my first child when I was 17.  I turned 18 just two months before my daughter, Payton, was born.  I was scared, unsure, and didn't really know what to expect.  I am the oldest of 6 kids, so it's not like I hadn't been around babies, but having one of my own was a whole new ballgame.  The advice I received A LOT while pregnant with my oldest was that infancy was the hardest part of motherhood, but it didn't last long.  I recall several women telling me, it was going to be tough at first but it would quickly get easier.  

If having a baby at 18 wasn't tough enough, I gave birth to my son, Brayden, just 11 months after my daughter was born.  I thought I was scared being pregnant at 17, but that was nothing compared to the fear I had of having two babies just 11 months apart from each other.  Throughout my second pregnancy, I was reassured that my second child would be a lot easier than the first, because I already knew what to expect. 

I got a little break before I had my last child.  My youngest, Jada, was born 6 years and 8 months after my second child.  The whole time I was pregnant with her, I knew that I wasn't worried or scared at all.  I had taken the "kids get easier" advice to heart.  Everyone told me that I'd been there, done that with my first two kids, so I had nothing to worry about.  There was nothing this kid was going to do that I hadn't already been through.  

Piece of Advice #1:  Kids get easier with age

Payton is now 18.  She's graduated from high school and ready for adulthood.  My response to the "kids get easier with age" spill is:  NO IT DOESN'T!!  I remember, when she was an infant, waking up in the middle of the night to feed her or change her.  Even though I was somewhat sleep deprived, I will NEVER forget the moments of holding her in the complete stillness of the night, smelling her wonderful baby smell, and wishing that she would stay that small forever.  Guess what?  She didn't stay that small forever.  She got bigger, really quickly actually, and THAT'S when the real fun began.

Eventually, kids start to talk, they start to walk, they start to throw temper tantrums, they start to get into things they're not supposed to get into, they start talking back, they start thinking they know everything, and then they become teenagers.  Oh, Lord, help me!  Here's some advice for you:  Cherish those times you get up in the middle of the night with your infant.  That's the time when parenting is the easiest it's ever going to be!  

Piece of Advice #2:  Parenting is easier once you have another child

When Brayden was born, my daughter was still a baby.  She still wore diapers, she still drank from a bottle, and she could barely walk a few steps.  Thank the Lord God Almighty that she slept through the night!  Having two children, both under the age of 1, is probably very similar to having twins.  Twice the feedings, twice the diaper changes, twice the car seats to lug around, and twice the supplies needed in the diaper bag.  How I made it through the baby years with my two oldest children, I don't know.  Even though I knew how to change diapers, feed, bathe, and take care of my son doesn't mean it was any easier.  The only difference was I now had DOUBLE the work.

Once they were a little bigger, things should have gotten easier, right?  WRONG-O!!  Between the ages of about 3 and 14, my kids fought.  Non-stop.  For 11 years straight.  Looking back, I really wished I had recorded myself yelling, "Stop fighting!", "Leave your sister's toys alone!", "Get out of your brother's bedroom!", and "Why can't you both play TOGETHER?"  Had I recorded those sayings, I would have saved myself a LOT of breath.  I could have just played the recordings on a continuous loop, and it would have fit perfectly to how often I had to say them.  It wasn't until they reached their older teen years that they finally started to be civil to one another.  And now?  They're best friends.  Now that they're old enough to move out, graduate from high school, and no longer require my taking care of their every need, they FINALLY get along.  Go figure.

Piece of Advice #3:   Third time's a charm

Now, here's where the story takes a little turn.  When Jada was born, it really was a lot easier.  Payton and Brayden  were a little more self-sufficient, and they actually helped me out quite a bit with their baby sister.  She was a hoot.  When she started talking and walking, she kept us constantly entertained.  Payton and Brayden were very patient with her, they shared their toys, and didn't get too bent out of shape if she invaded their personal space.  Life was pretty good.

Since Jada started school, she's a lot quieter, shyer, and less social than my oldest two children were/are.  She doesn't make friends as easy as Payton and Brayden did, she is more self-conscience about herself, and she is much more comfortable by herself than in a group of people.  Not something I've "been there, done that" with.  Payton and Brayden have always been social butterflies, so Jada being more of a loner is something VERY new to me.  Jada is also EXTREMELY sensitive.  While I could yell and scream at Payton and Brayden, and they wouldn't even blink an eye, Jada doesn't respond the same.  If I raise my voice at Jada, she gets extremely upset.  Do you know how hard it is to discipline a child, who can often have a serious attitude problem, when she responds like I've completely broken her heart?  Yeah.  Not fun!  Definitely NOT easier.

Conclusion

At the end of the day, I absolutely ADORE my children, and wouldn't have changed every single second for anything.  It's been tough at times, I've wanted to pull my hair out, and I've cried uncontrollably thinking I'm a horrible mother and just won't ever "get it".  Then I realized, THAT'S parenting.  No matter how many people tell you that it gets easier, it really doesn't.  Sure, there are some women that seem to be complete naturals at the motherhood thing.  I have no problem admitting I wasn't one of them.  All that matters is you love, learn, and go with the flow.  All of my kids have turned out just fine, and I'm so proud of all of them.  Life hasn't always been easy for them, but I did everything I could for them, and I am so proud and happy that I got to be their mom.  No kids are going to be exactly alike, and that's totally fine.  Roll with the punches, and tell yourself over and over "I got this!" 

That's the advice you didn't ask for, you're welcome!! Please leave me a comment.  Did you receive the same advice?  How did it work out for you?  I'd LOVE to hear from you!!  

'Til next time!

Advice You Didn't Ask For: The Way to a Man's Heart...

I'm really excited.  Wanna know why?  Because today I'm starting my first series of posts!  Allow me to introduce "Advice You Didn't Ask For".  

You all know that anytime you have a major event in your life like starting a new job, moving in with your partner, getting married, or having a child brings out "those people" who like to offer you advice you definitely didn't ask for.  I know that I've had my fair share of the advice givers that have caused me to smile politely, nod my head as if I'm paying attention, and then roll my eyes the minute the person isn't looking.  It seems like many people who have ever gone through a significant life event have automatically become experts on the topic and just can't help but warn you and advise you on the "situations" you will face.  

My goal with this blog series is to highlight some of those pieces of advice that are given without asking.  Sometimes I will show how the advice actually paid off.  Sometimes I'll share how absolutely WRONG the advice is.  And sometimes, I'll share weird advice that's been given to me that's left me scratching my head and questioning how I ever ended up associating with the person giving the advice.  Believe me, in my eighteen years of adulthood, I've received enough advice I didn't ask for to write a book.  Instead, I'm settling for a blog series that will give me a writing topic each and every Wednesday for the rest of my blogging life.

So, without further ado, let me introduce this week's piece of advice you didn't ask for:

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Come on, you know you've heard this piece of advice.  I will place bets that it was either your mother, grandmother, or some random, older lady sitting next to you on a bus that looks down and sees an engagement ring on your finger.   It's one of the oldest pieces of advice in the book to any woman who's in a new relationship, newly engaged, or newly married.  

If you ever encounter one of these sweet, older ladies and you want to give them a little sarcastic humor, feel free to look at them with a shocked face and say something like:

"Seriously?  My mom always said the way to a man's heart is through his zipper!"

Or...

"Nah, my man said I won his heart the minute I walked around the house in my underwear."

Although, I don't advise using these lines if it's your sweet, 90 year old grandma or future mother-in-law.  Actually, just scratch that altogether.  Just say it in your head, smile politely, and just give that agreeable nod.  You don't want his grandma or mom thinking you're some harlot corrupting her innocent grandson/son, or worse yet, your grandma wondering what on earth went wrong with your upbringing.

I've been given this piece of advice with each relationship I've had in my life (all three of them).  This piece of advice always made my eyes roll because the sad truth was, I didn't cook.  I hated cooking.  My equal-rights, woman power defensive mode would switch on, and I'd think to myself, "yeah, I like to eat too, so he better recognize that the way to MY heart is through MY stomach".  

What I've come to realize, however, is that this piece of advice is very, VERY true.  Even though I never asked for this advice, and I had heard the saying a gazillion times, it wasn't until after I got married three years ago that I realized the real meaning and truthfulness to this statement.

So, let me go back to my statement about not cooking and hating to cook.  I've always been like that.  In fact, my children can attest to this better than anyone.  My oldest refers to herself as "a Chef Boyardee kid".  That means she spent a great deal of her childhood eating food that wasn't prepared from scratch, with the love and endearment that many parents put into the foods they prepare for their children.  Foods such as hot dogs, mac & cheese, Chef Boyardee ravioli and spaghetti rings, ramen noodles, frozen pizza, and Hamburger Helper were the food staples while my kids were growing up. My idea of a homemade meal was cooking up some hamburger meat and spaghetti and throwing in a jar of spaghetti sauce.  If I wanted to get really fancy, I'd throw some frozen garlic bread in the oven to eat with it.  The last thing I wanted to do after working all day was come home and cook some big, fancy meal.  My kids ate, they didn't starve, don't judge me.

Cooking just wasn't ever my "thing".  In all honesty, it still isn't.  A couple times a week, I muster up the desire to cook a meal that's considered "homemade worthy", but for the most part I'm looking for ways to get in and out of the kitchen as quickly as possible with dirtying up the least amount of dishes.  

What I've found, though, is paving a path to your hubby's heart IS through his stomach, it just doesn't have to be done with fancy, three hour prep, made from scratch dishes.

My husband can eat.  Boy, can he eat.  And he's one of those people that can eat, and eat, and eat, and still walk around sporting six-pack abs and fit physique.  I, on the other hand, look at a slice of bread and gain 5lbs. (Insert eye-roll).  Due to the fact that my husband has the highest metabolism I've ever encountered in my life, he requires food on a regular basis.  At first, I saw this as a problem.  I mean, not a problem per-say, more of an inconvenience.  I don't like cooking to begin with, and I'm going to marry a man that wants to eat more than the one meal a day I'm used to preparing?  Uh, check please!

The truth is, he is so happy and appreciative to ANY food that I prepare for him.  That's the part Grandma forgets to tell you.  Grandma likes to lay it on thick with the explaining how she got up at 4 AM every morning, just to cook Grandpa's breakfast.  Then, she'd cook or prepare a hearty lunch for him to take to work, and if that wasn't enough, at 3 PM she'd start preparing the evening meal that took her about 3 hours to prepare and cook.  Ain't Nobody Got Time For That!! Am I right, ladies?

You know what's even better?  I'll get to tell my grandkids, one day, that the way to Grandpa's heart was through his stomach, I'll just make sure I let them know that I didn't have to work hard to keep his heart (and stomach) happy.

It amazes me each and every day how happy my husband makes me with his excitement of being fed.  Many mornings, I'll cook him a bagel or something quick for breakfast.  Everyday, I pack him a lunch to take to work consisting of a couple sandwiches and some chips or other type of snack.  When he comes home in the evening, he's greeted with something I've prepared (aka thrown in the oven) for dinner.  And not a day goes by that my husband doesn't melt and shower me with love just from having the food prepared for him.  He doesn't give a flying flip how fancy the food is or how quick and easy it was for me throw it together.  As long as he has some food, he's happier than a pig in mud.  

What's even weirder is that as time has gone on, I've found myself wanting to get more creative with my cooking and prepare him more homemade style meals.  I look at it as if he gets THAT excited over some hamburger meat covered in a jar of spaghetti sauce slopped on top of some angel hair pasta, then what happens when I add bell peppers, onions, mushrooms and some spices of my own?  What happens is he showers me in compliments, savors every bite, and makes me feel like a Michelin Star chef.  

This summer, I've stepped out of my comfort zone a little and got a little more comfortable in the kitchen.  I've used some recipes, I've made some of my own creations, I've sat in front of the TV and watched episodes of Chopped to get some inspiration, and I've tried to be a little more "wifey" and make some homemade meals.  And, I'm not gonna lie, I'm doing it 100% for the attention I get for doing it.  I don't think it'll ever get old to see the look on his face when he walks in the door, takes a big sniff, and his whole face lights up in anticipation and excitement.  I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing how much of an amazing wife I am for simply throwing some cream cheese on a bagel and fixing a couple of turkey or PB&J sandwiches for him to take for lunch.  And I know for a fact that I won't EVER get tired of him cooking for me on the weekends because "I've spent all week taking care of him, and now it's my turn to be pampered".  Oh yes, he does that, and it's A-W-E-S-O-M-E!!  

Just yesterday, I was encountered with the well-known "I don't know what to fix for dinner" syndrome.  It happens a lot.  I've got some hamburger meat thawing, but I have NO idea what I'm going to do with it.  My first reaction is I'm going to grab some frozen pizzas and save the hamburger meat for something else the next day.  The problem is, Casey isn't going to be home until around 6 PM, he has my car, his car doesn't have brake lights (why he's driving my car), and I can't get to the store to buy the frozen pizza.  I start perusing through my cabinets, sizing up what I can throw together and call a meal.  I find a box of Jambalaya mix, got some canned veggies, and wah-la, I've got the ingredients for something. I cooked up the hamburger, threw in the mix, threw in a can of corn and green beans, added some garlic, sprinkled in some onion powder and other spices, sauced it up with some salsa, and dinner was ready.  I just knew he was going to take one look at the stuff and question what the heck I was thinking.  But, you know what?  It didn't actually taste that bad.  Even better was the fact that he ate it, with his normal showering of compliments, and didn't bat an eyelid to the fact that I literally threw some stuff we had in the pantry together and called it a meal.  

It's stuff like that reaction that makes me realize that just the act of providing my husband something he can put in his belly after a long, grueling day at work is the way to his heart.  And the part of the advice that I can add is that it's also the way to MY heart.  I love making my husband smile.  I love hearing his compliments and praises at how awesome I am.  

So, in closing, I'm going to say that this piece of advice, while often not asked for, is important and true.  I will add, however, that if your husband is anything like mine, any form of sustenance you put in front of him will make him happy.  You don't have to slave over a stove for hours.  You don't have to plan, prep, chop, and plate a gourmet meal in order to win over his heart.  You just need to feed the guy, after he's worked all day and just wants something in his belly.  He'll be happy no matter what it is.

And there's my first piece of advice you didn't ask for.  You're welcome.