Fear and Parenting in Las Vegas

Three years three months.

That’s the age difference between you two.

But you two are as close as a brother and sister could be at this age.

You are his teacher and his hero.

You are her playmate.

You are always “it”.

She can always sneak up on you.

You live to make him laugh.

You share secrets and conspire surprises.

When I can’t be with you, you still (nearly always) are together.

Close.

Please stay this way.
Beacuse this is the way I’ll always remember you.

And I don’t mean “haha” funny. I mean “weird” funny.

The other day, I was at the grocery store and, at the checkout, I couldn’t help but get pulled into a conversation between two courtesy clerks about relationships and money.

You see the young lady courtesy clerk espoused her point of view that no “real” man should be “taken care of” by this woman. He needed to make is own money, pay his own bills and be relatively self sufficient. It was okay for the woman to make more, because, a woman should be able to make more than her man, but he had to contribute financially to the relationship.

Her young male co-worker furrowed his brow and shared that his girlfriend felt the same as she (the co-worker did), but added that she wasn’t satisfied with what he was making as a courtesy clerk.

I sat back and watched the conversation unfold. My eyes glanced back and forth like a tennis match in close proximity.

My groceries were bagged and loaded and the conversation was far from over.

I wanted to stay and watch, but it would have been rude.

I wanted to ask them what was more important, having a job that made you money or having a job that you loved. (Yes, I realize that it’s hard to be happy when you can’t pay the rent, but from the looks of these kids, they had roofs over their heads.)

I wanted to tell these two, on the cusp of their 20′s, that money is important, but not in the way they thought it was.

I used to think that money brought security.

I learned that the more you have, the more you need.

I used to think that it was important that each side of a relationship contributed equally to the financial health of the household.

I learned there are other, more valuable ways to contribute to the health of a household – ways that can’t be financially assessed or taxed.

I used to think that talking about finances made people stressed out.

I learned that it was the insecurities, not the finances that created the tension.

I used to think that admitting financial struggles made you appear weak and irresponsible.

I learned that owning your struggle makes you real, that everyone struggles, and, in many cases, people want to help if and however they can.

Money is a strange and powerful thing only because we give it its mystique and empower its control.

Funny, no?

Dear Homeworld:

Thanks for letting me hang out on your surface for a little more than 38-ish years. It’s been my favorite planet so far (at least as far as I can remember).

You’ve got some cool rocks, beautiful oceans and amazing wildlife.

There are days that I’m amazed you can hold it together.

I mean, with 70,034,334,738-ish humanoids running around, I don’t know how you handle it. I have a enough fun working to support the humanoids under my roof. I can’t imagine what’s on your “to do” list each day. I mean with the tides, the weather, erosion, plate techntonics and the constant spinning? Geez. What a pain in the ass.

And here we go, polluting and generally abusing you day after day. Like a hoard of belligerent know-it-all teenagers, we act like we own the place, constantly asking for more and whining because you need to blow off a little steam or throw your weight around to remind us who really rules the roost.

And here we go, silly humans, in our attempt to appease your anger with a goddess-like day of worship to your motherhood. We spend the day making promises about recycling, reducing, and reusing. We set up carpools and bus passes. We install new lightbulbs and switch to rechargeable batteries. We adjust our sprinklers and consider ripping out out lawns and planting astro turf, rocks and cactus.

All in the name of saving you.

Well, I get it. It’s not about saving you. It’s about saving us.

The truth of the matter is that you, Mother Earth, were doing quite well on your own for eons of time before we humans climbed out of the primordial goo or were plopped down into a lush garden by the hand of God (take your pick — it really doesn’t matter too much in this case).

And you will do quite well once we’ve managed to let our wastefulness and greed and sloth drive ourselves into extinction. Finally us “kids” are out of your “house.”

And maybe then you can get a good night’s sleep.

So happy “you” day Mother Earth. I will try to be kinder, use less, waste less, and share more. Not because I think it’ll have a huge impact in the long run, but because it makes me feel better to be nicer to you.

I’d bring you breakfast in bed, but from the looks of Iceland, it seems that you already have a case of heartburn. For the sake of international travel, I’ll keep my sausage and biscuits at home.

Love,

Nancy