I frequently have submissions to our local paper in the Bulletin Board section. Many of the contributors reminisce and strike a note of familiarity with other readers and writers. The MOM of Stillwater has one today, but read Sarabelle of Stillwater for a sweet story. It is tender. Perhaps, some can remember the "0" years at home with kids of your own fondly.
"Writes Sarabelle of Stillwater: "I received my Social Security statement in the mail the other day #150; the one that shows your work history.
"My first 'real' job was in 1968. I earned $689 that year working in the kitchen at the local nursing home after school. I served meals, washed dishes and set up trays for the next day. I also spent time keeping track of 80-something Sarah, who liked to run away. From my vantage point in the kitchen, I often could spy her shuffling away from the home, and I'd sprint out the kitchen door to catch her and lead her home holding her tiny, dry, scratchy hand. The nursing staff put an end to Sarah's escapes by taking away her shoes. She wouldn't go outside in her stocking feet. On the perpetual hunt for her shoes, she often wandered into the kitchen. I enjoyed her visits; she always provided me with pithy quotes to share with the nursing staff.
"Looking at my earning record recalls other stories, but my favorite years are the 10 years with a zero in the earnings column. These are the years I was home with my babies. Years poor in dollars and things, rich in love and memories. While those years (and sometimes days) often seemed to drag by with sick and fussy babies, headstrong toddlers, and not enough adult conversation, they actually flew by. What a joy it was to make up math problems for my daughter ('Make more, Mom. It's fun!'); supervise finger and body painting; teach my 2-year-old son how to crack eggs; rock my brown-eyed toddler as he nursed.
"Now my children are experiencing those years themselves. Our phone calls are timed by naps, and punctuated by an insistent toddler demanding to talk to 'Lamma.'
"What gives me pause, when I look at that Social Security record, is that the space allowed for work history and earnings is nearly filled up. I'm closer to the Sarah who ran away than the one who caught her. As a youngster in school, I used to think Ponce de Leon was a laughable character in his search for the Fountain of Youth. Now he's not so funny. I want one of those fountains myself. Not that I really want to be 20 again, though I sure wouldn't mind having that body back - but I really want the time. I have a long list of things to try, places to visit, friends to make, projects to do. I can't possibly squeeze it all in, especially when I seem to be moving slower and going to bed earlier.
"At least now I know what counts the most for me. Time spent with my family, young to old, is priceless. Time in my garden, with my friends, enjoying the natural world, reading and writing is as good as it gets.
"Guess that fountain is in my head." http://www.twincities.com/bulletinboard/ci_5944565?nclick_check=1
"My first 'real' job was in 1968. I earned $689 that year working in the kitchen at the local nursing home after school. I served meals, washed dishes and set up trays for the next day. I also spent time keeping track of 80-something Sarah, who liked to run away. From my vantage point in the kitchen, I often could spy her shuffling away from the home, and I'd sprint out the kitchen door to catch her and lead her home holding her tiny, dry, scratchy hand. The nursing staff put an end to Sarah's escapes by taking away her shoes. She wouldn't go outside in her stocking feet. On the perpetual hunt for her shoes, she often wandered into the kitchen. I enjoyed her visits; she always provided me with pithy quotes to share with the nursing staff.
"Looking at my earning record recalls other stories, but my favorite years are the 10 years with a zero in the earnings column. These are the years I was home with my babies. Years poor in dollars and things, rich in love and memories. While those years (and sometimes days) often seemed to drag by with sick and fussy babies, headstrong toddlers, and not enough adult conversation, they actually flew by. What a joy it was to make up math problems for my daughter ('Make more, Mom. It's fun!'); supervise finger and body painting; teach my 2-year-old son how to crack eggs; rock my brown-eyed toddler as he nursed.
"Now my children are experiencing those years themselves. Our phone calls are timed by naps, and punctuated by an insistent toddler demanding to talk to 'Lamma.'
"What gives me pause, when I look at that Social Security record, is that the space allowed for work history and earnings is nearly filled up. I'm closer to the Sarah who ran away than the one who caught her. As a youngster in school, I used to think Ponce de Leon was a laughable character in his search for the Fountain of Youth. Now he's not so funny. I want one of those fountains myself. Not that I really want to be 20 again, though I sure wouldn't mind having that body back - but I really want the time. I have a long list of things to try, places to visit, friends to make, projects to do. I can't possibly squeeze it all in, especially when I seem to be moving slower and going to bed earlier.
"At least now I know what counts the most for me. Time spent with my family, young to old, is priceless. Time in my garden, with my friends, enjoying the natural world, reading and writing is as good as it gets.
"Guess that fountain is in my head." http://www.twincities.com/bulletinboard/ci_5944565?nclick_check=1
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