What do you want to be when you grow up?

While my husband has only had 3 or 4 jobs throughout his life, I've had many.  I'd like to think of myself as a renaissance woman.  Not the Ren Fest kind (though I do enjoy chivalry and a "friendly" jousting event, ooh! and I used to LOVE those turkey legs), but the renaissance person that was educated or experienced in twenty different things.  However, in today's world, I'm labeled as a person who gets bored easily when I'm not challenged, yeah that sounds SO much better.

I have worked in various customer service positions over a few years.  (I'm in my late 30's, do the math...I was going to put it down, but that number made me feel uncomfortable).  Food service, banking, veterinary assistance, retail sales, animal nutrition, car rental, movie theater management and auditor (not IRS-so chill), Jamberry consultant, and most recently recess monitor, are all jobs I have had.  Good gravy, that's a lot of customer service for someone who doesn't appreciate (READ: terrified of ) the fine art of conversation.  (I'm not including Navy wife or mother in this list because those jobs are an entire post unto themselves and everything else pales in comparison.)  

A few months ago, Princess had to write about what she wants to be when she grows up.  She immediately stated she wants to be a ballerina teacher.  I think this is based on her 6 to 8 classes of Intro to Ballet she took years ago.  Evidently, these classes taught her enough that she wants to share her knowledge with others. (This was a couple of years ago, now she wants to be either a teacher or environmental scientist - I'll write that post later.)

Either way, this made me think back to what I answered when asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

When I was her age, I wanted to teach.  I was an only child, therefore I felt that my bossiness was experience enough for teaching others about school or life in general. Plus without anyone around to argue with, or contradict me, I took this as a sign that I knew EVERYTHING.

As I grew older I remember wanting to write. I enjoyed keeping journals and writing short stories. I did not appreciate grammar enough to stick with it. My mom and her, "this is passive voice" squashed that dream for awhile. I can still see red marks or hear her voice informing me that my entire paper was littered with passive voice. (I probably have some in this post!)

Then came the phase where every child wants to be either a doctor or a lawyer. I found out that even though I could argue forever about any topic (whether I was right or not), being a lawyer involved A LOT of paperwork. I can tell you what's wrong with your paperwork, but I don't actually enjoy writing reports or filling out paperwork, so being a lawyer didn't exactly seem right.

I remember wanting to be a pediatric cardio-thoracic surgeon at one time. Evidently I just wanted to be in school for the rest of my life, because holy crap that's a lot of specializing! After volunteering ONCE for an hour at a veteran's hospital near my college, being a doctor was off my list. That's another story for another day, but please realize that as a country/society we treat our veteran's like shit, especially the elderly, that need medical care.

After seeing that humanity sucked royally, I decided that I wanted to take care of animals and switched my major to animal sciences. (My husband thinks there is something wrong with me when I watch movies. I can watch movie people slaughter each other, but so help me, if an animal is threatened, I will throw down.) While I never actually got a job in this field AFTER graduating, I enjoyed this field very much. I could argue that movie theater management, is very much in the animal science field, however that may require another post.

A while ago, I was offered a job at a local veterinarian's office as a veterinary assistant. I went in for my normal  "raping of my wallet," otherwise known as small animal veterinary care, with Maggie for her shots. There is a method to holding down any size dog in order to give it vaccinations, and after several years of experience, I still remember the method. The vet complimented me on my technique, so I felt the need to explain my experience. When she honestly asked me if I wanted a job, I was horrified.

I wasn't horrified  because I didn't want a job, or that a veterinary assistant was a position lower than a college graduate, blah, blah. I was horrified because I actually thought about it.

My current job as Navy Wife and stay-at-home mother is the most challenging and rewarding job I've had up to this point in my life, why would I change that? Well, after 7 months of my husband being gone, there comes a point when you crave the easy road. Yes, a job is the easy road.

When you are home all day with your kids, whether they are in school or not, it is a tough job. You have to manage to get done everything you need to get done, plus entertain and educate your children. If you are fortunate to have nappers, then you get a small break, in which I strongly suggest you lie your butt down and take a nap with them! However, you won't, because you think that one hour of peace, "just imagine the things you could accomplish!"

Your only real down time is at night when they go to sleep. You get to catch up on any shows you recorded, read a book, spend countless hours on Facebook, Twitter, etc. The problem is, some days, you pass out at 7:30 with your kids, just to start your day over.

I began this post several years ago. Since then I became a Duty Supervisor at my kids' elementary school. I volunteered and they convinced me to come over to the other side and get paid. I spend the hottest part of the day in the sun (sometimes it rains) watching elementary kids at recess or lunch. It's a hard job, but there are times when it is seriously fun and rewarding.
I went from two decently behaved kids to over 800 kids who have good days and bad days. Some days you wake up thinking I really don't want to go yell at kids today. Mostly because parents don't interact with their own children anymore, they are starved for attention when they get to school. It's hard to contain that energy all the time. Over the last three years, I have watched first graders turn into fifth graders. This June when school ends will be very tough on me. I'm moving away from all these kids I've watched grow. Who knew that my younger self would know what I would be passionate about in my late 30's?

As I look towards moving to another state, I still have no idea "what I want to be when I grow up." I still don't really consider myself "grown up" enough to need to know. Grown ups are people who have settled. My parents aren't even "grown up" in the sense that they are still learning new things, starting new hobbies, learning Gaelic!

I'm beginning to think that what you want to be is not what should define you as a person. Your job or career is not what makes you a great person, or even a bad person, it's what puts food on the table. If you have found something you are passionate about, that is what should define you. Whatever makes you a better person, that's what we should do as we grow up.

This post contains swear words

One day the kids and I were driving home listening to Pandora Radio. We were listening to the Pitch Perfect mix because that movie is a guilty pleasure of mine. Macklemore's "Thrift Shop" song comes on. I'm so used to hearing the radio edit, that I completely forget to skip the song. To my horror (not really, I was tired and amused) my kids started singing along. At a stoplight the chorus blared loudly and then I realized I was screwed.

I immediately paused the station and explained that the song had swear words in it and they were not to repeat them. My son says, "Yes mommy." My daughter asks, "Like the S-H word?"

Let me pause for a moment and let you in on a little secret...I have no idea why my daughter doesn't know swear words. She has me for a mother and a sailor for a father. We are either doing a great job of keeping our mouths shut around our kids, or she lives in a bubble. My son obviously knew enough to agree not to sing them. Princess actually thinks the S-H word is "shut up" not the real S-H word (yes, "shit").

I am very honest with my kids, or at least I try to be. When my daughter asks sex questions, I answer her honestly. There is no birds and bees crap in this house. My husband may pale during a few of our conversations, but I'm open and honest when it comes to serious stuff. I'd rather my kids learn about sex, drugs and all the other stuff, from me.

For some reason the F word just makes me stutter and feel uncomfortable. I can use it amazingly in sentences. I like to think I'm an artist some times. My daughter has now asked me on two occassions what it was and I just couldn't say it. Until now.....thank you Macklemore.

Instead of saying it, I just turned the song back on and after the F-ing awesome part, I said, "that, don't say that!" It was so simple, it was done.

"Mommy, what is fruckting mean?"
Damn (slap forehead).

Song is now turned off so I have their complete attention.
"You guys aren't going to be happy until you hear them are you?"
Little Dude with a huge smile on his face: "yep."
Princess: "No, I just need to know what they are so I can yell them if someone grabs me."

(It is my firm belief that adults will ignore a kid screaming. However, I believe a kid screaming at the top of their lungs while spewing out obscenities, will gather some attention. If they can't yell "Fire" then they have been given full permission to cuss like a sailor while they are trying to bludgeon their attacker. I don't care who I offend if it keeps my kids safe.)

"Fine, here they are: damn, shit and the one I don't ever want to hear unless you are being attacked or are old enough to know better, fuck."
Little Dude: (laughing) "Fuck?"
"Yep, that was your one time saying it. No more."
Princess: (huge smile on her intelligently smug little face) "Fuck?"
"And that was your one time saying it. No more."

While I believe I may have been set up for part of this conversation, I did enjoy it. My parents swore as I grew up. Since I can probably account for causing a solid third of those words; I don't think I ever got into trouble for using them in public. I knew that they were words that shouldn't be used in certain places. When I was a teenager and thought I knew everything (READ - blazing idiot) I tested them out regularly. In my 30's I believe I have them down to an art form.

As of yet, Little Dude is the only one that has swore. One day he was cutting corners on our walk around this field. I decided to have a little fun and told him that the next time he cut a corner, I'd turn around and walk back, making him walk much further. He cut a corner, so I turned around.
I hear this, "Damn it!" along with a sigh of frustration.
Since he used it in the right context, it was very hard not to laugh as I told him to refrain from using it in public.

Before the Macklemore discussion, when we were giving Princess guidance on using swear words during an attempted abduction, we gave her permission to scream out the f-word.
Princess: Seriously? I get to scream it and not get into trouble?
Us: Yes. Get it out of your system so it's easier to scream when needed.
Princess looks around like she's being set up.
Princess screams at the top of her little lungs: F WORD!
Military Dad: laughing, absolutely no help.
Me: Uh, Princess...
Princess: I feel better, thank you.
At this point MD is crying and can't offer any suggestions or help.
Me: Next time Princess you need to actually scream the word "fuck." Baby steps though. Good job.

Princess realizes she screwed up her one opportunity, while MD is still laughing. Parenting as a team, my ass.

Holy crap! It's been three years!

Evidently it's been three years since my last post. A lot has changed. While there have been no human additions to our family, we have added reptiles. We are now the proud owners of 2 ball pythons, 1 red-eared slider, and a leopard gecko. Military Dad's Blog on our zoo.

Princess is now in 5th grade and Little Dude is in 2nd. They are both doing great in school. I would know first hand since I began working as a Duty Supervisor three years ago. We are going to finish out this school year and then move to Rhode Island for our next Navy adventure. Rhode Island was not our first choice, or really in the top five, however we have accepted this new move with excitement.  You know what? Let's just go with we have accepted this move.

In the past couple months we experienced the job decision, Military Dad coming home from a nine month deployment (supposed to be four month), deciding whether to rent or sell our house, finally deciding to sell, donating about half of our things, and packing up the rest so it doesn't appear cluttered. (You know, like people actually live in the house.)

If you are a civilian and you've experienced a few moves you know what the average military family goes through. An average military family moves every two or three years depending on how lucky they are with the job slating process. Honestly I'm not sure how we managed it, but my husband was able to stay in San Diego for FIVE years! Now we need to let our beloved So-Cal go for a few years.

When you move around so much, you realize very quickly what stuff is important and what is actually necessary. My mom is a big fan of keeping things. I'm a big fan of: will it make the move, how much damage can this thing take, and have I actually used it in the last year? Judging by how much crap is sitting in our garage awaiting the DAV pick-up, we fell into the "staying in one place too long" role. Seriously, my two car garage is full.

Over the next few months, most of my posts will probably be dealing with moving anxiety and depressed thoughts about leaving warm, season-less CA. Bare with me and you may enjoy reading the blog once we get to Rhode Island...and I experience seasons again after almost ten years.

Thanks for stopping by!