Used, abused, not amused [part three]

WHO WILL PICK UP JAY?

The story continues...

image source

After Bre's* aunt left that day, I found myself really wishing I hadn't cracked under pressure. It was one of those moments that became real only after the facts. I had committed myself to something I hadn't even gotten prepared for. Jay's* Mom hadn't even left me a contact number and hadn't asked for mine either. She had only taken my name to add it to the school list.

Now, would you give your child over to a stranger for a couple of hours a day, yet not bother to exchange numbers in case of any sort of emergency, or even just to check on the state of the child? What makes people think that's okay? I would never give that much trust to a stranger even if they had "TRUSTWORTHY" written all over their forehead.

Nevertheless, this new arrangement meant that every day this school year, I couldn't go anywhere from 2 to 4PM. I now had to get Jay from the bus stop and spend some time with him until the arrival of his cousin Bre. Bye bye nap time!

The first time I met Jay at the bus stop was a Wednesday. When Bre came to pick him up that Wednesday and the following Thursday, I waited for her to hand me some cash or at least say something about money. She didn't.

There was no way I was going to do this for free --- nah uh. 

On Friday, I had to go for it.

"Did your aunt leave anything for me?" I asked Bre.

"Hum, no."

"Well, did she say anything about money and how much she'd pay me?"

"Oh there's something I almost forgot!" Bre exclaimed. "My mom wants to talk to you."

Great. I guessed she had been ready to discuss wages too.

Bre dialed her mother's number and handed me the phone. The woman thanked me incessantly for agreeing to take care of her nephew. I reminded her each time that it wasn’t a problem. The short conversation ended without any reference to money.

Ok, not good.

The following week, Bre informed me that her mother and her aunt would discuss my wages among themselves before addressing the issue with me. Ok, fine, whatever. (In the meantime, I continued to care for Jay). I didn't want to push or put pressure on anyone. I was trying to be patient here, which I'm usually not.

The week after that (this was the 3^rd week since I had entered the agreement), Bre's mother set aside time to meet me on Friday. 

Finally! Halleluiah!

Well, not so fast: she didn't show up at my door as scheduled. No show, no cancellation, nothing. Frustration was starting to rise within me.

On Monday (4^th week), I gave a note to Bre for her mother. It looked like meeting together was going to take a while, and with the way things were going I was unwilling to hand over my phone number. We were already on the 4^th week of school and I wanted my money. 

On the note to the mother, I had marked my price: $75/week, payable cash on Mondays.

When Bre came the next day to get Jay, she reported that her mom had found the price too high. Her offer?

"$20-30/week."

(¬_¬)

I was pissed.

(to be continued)

*Names have been changed to protect identity and avoid retaliation. Any resemblance to you, anyone you know or think you know is purely coincidental. Or not.

Used, abused, not amused [part two]

WHO WILL PICK UP JAY?

image source

At the beginning of this school year, two ladies came to my house unannounced. I had met neither one of them before. I had heard of Bre* in the past, the teenage girl who lived across the street, but it was the first time I was actually coming face to face with her. She had brought her aunt along with her to talk to me.

The aunt (whose name I didn't even retain) immediately apologized for the interruption. I wanted to tell her that I was indeed pissed, that I hated having my afternoon nap cut short by strangers who decided to just barge into my home. Instead, I smiled and told her it was ok. You shouldn't say everything that goes through your head, right? Unfortunately, yea.

Bre's aunt said it was sort of an emergency. She needed someone illico to volunteer to pick up her son from the bus stop. And since she had found out that I was at home around that time, she wanted to ask me an obvious favor. Hum, how did she find out about my schedule? Hum, ask my ever so nosy next-door neighbor. After Bre and her aunt had come to her and she had declined her help, she had pointed them in my direction. She later apologized to me about that, but still...who are you to tell strangers what time I'm at or away from home? People really need to mind their own business. 

"Would you please pick up Jay* from the bus stop?" The aunt asked me. "When Bre gets out of school later, she will come by your house to get him. You won't have him for very long."

After all the mess that's going on in the world, people still so easily hand their kids over to strangers? 

Ah-mazing!

"I live in Indiana and I'm just here to drop him off with his aunt (her sister, Bre's mom)." She went on, "He's going to be staying on this side with her. We didn't want him to miss a year of school because of age requirements."

She went on and on about how good of a boy he was, that I wouldn't need to feed him or anything; I just had to watch him for a couple of hours. She asked how much I'd charge her. Honestly, I had no idea. But those details weren't really my concern at that moment. I wasn't even sure I was going to go it. I was more concerned about the fact that I would have to be at the bus stop 5 days a week, around 2:15PM no matter what. If I missed the bus, I would have to drive to the school to pick up the boy.

Argh.

I was starting to get annoyed with the prospect of it all. So I told her that I would think about it and get back to her the next day. That was only fair. Truth was, I wanted to say no; however, the good-hearted Christian in me (whatever that means) wanted to give it some thought.

But, hear this:

The aunt looked sheepishly at me and said that she didn't have much time. She was leaving the next day for Indiana and if she hadn't found someone by then (meaning, that day), she would have to return with Jay...and she didn't want that. I was Jay's last chance to stay here and attend kindergarten this year.  

WTH. 

Why was she making me feel like it was all on my shoulders. This wasn't my issue. This wasn't my kid. This was last-minute inquiry. I could say no. That wouldn't make me a bad, inconsiderate person. So why didn't I just say no??

I must have sighed a hundred times. I was hoping she'd get a clue by looking at me, but she was so adamant about it that it didn't matter to her whether I wanted to do it or not, as long as I agreed to do it.

Crap, crap, crap.

I shrugged and said yes. Why not, I was at home at that time anyway.

And well, it didn't look like the woman was going to leave my house without a yes.

Sigh.

(to be continued)

*Names have been changed to protect identity and avoid retaliation. Any resemblance to you, anyone you know or think you know is purely coincidental. Or not.

Tonight...

I feel fat, heavy, repulsive. Actually, I've been feeling heavy for the past couple of months. I've been eating like there was no tomorrow, as if the world was coming to an end. Therefore, the weight is coming back. Coming back with a vengeance.

Sigh.

I need to pull myself together and do something about this. Two months without a proper workout and/or a good diet isn't acceptable. Every part of my body is affected. My thighs, my legs, my stomach, my cheeks... Soon, my pants will no longer fit. The buttons of my shirts will fail to fasten.

I can't let this happen. I can't let myself go this way. I've worked hard to maintain a routine and lose some weight. It will stink to have done all that work in vain.

Tomorrow, I weigh myself.

Tomorrow, I start fresh.

How to be a conscious spender (at the grocery store)

+ Always ask yourself if the item you wish to purchase is a want or a need
A need is what is necessary (fruits)
A want is what is desired yet not necessary (chips)

+ Make a shopping list
It gives you an idea of how much you'll be spending and it keeps you from throwing anything and everything in the basket (only to find yourself having forgotten the important stuff and having purchased a lot of junk).

+ Take the cash, leave the card
Purchases made with cash are easier to control. The shopping list should give you an idea of how much money you need to have with you. Round up the amount and take it with you in cash. Leave your card at home if it might compromise your spending.

+ Compare the ingredients on store-brand and popular-brand items
Sometimes, you pay extra for the brand name and not so much for the quality.

+ Don't purchase items merely because they're on sale; that's what they want you to do
The need/want questioning should also be applied on such items. You shouldn't suddenly need something because it's 25-cent cheaper (only for it to go rotten in your fridge).

+ Spend a reasonable amount of time in the store; it's not your home
The more time you spend in a grocery store, the more items you're tempted to purchase. This is why the shopping list is important: it keeps you focused, therefore you're in and out with little distraction in between. If you wish to walk or stroll, there's the park.



Any other advice you might have?
Do share!

I might be broke right now...

...but at least all my bills are paid. (^_^)
And I don't owe the bank (or anyone) money.

As of today, I have less than $20 in my bank account... and this amount is about to go lower because of a couple of things I need to purchase.

I can't even compute how much money I've spent in overdraft fees in the past. I used to really not care about being charged $30-40 in overdraft fee per transaction. All I was thinking about was survival. The bank could charge me now; I'd pay them later.

When I had about $10 left in my account, I'd go to the store, purchase something, do "cash back" and take out $100 (the max you could take out at the register). I would do this twice and leave the store with $200 in my pocket --- and about $250 deficit in my account (includes the fees). The next money entry was so far down the road (a couple of weeks is far when you're dead broke) that all I cared about was having enough cash in my pockets to make it through.

And that method worked.
Except that the bank made a lot of dough from me and well, I got tired of it.
It was time to be responsible!

So a few years ago, I decided that no matter what I wouldn't spend more money than I actually had. I'd be more conscious of my spending and would mostly purchase things that I needed. Perhaps it helped that I had majored in a business-related field. The fact that I'm a detail-oriented person has definitely had a great impact as well. I like to know where money goes and why. When I check my bank account, I have a rough idea of how much is in it. If the amount is off, I review my debits and credits to see what I've missed (or if someone has been using my card... it's never happened, but that stuff happens, so be careful!)

Now, there is stingy and there is conscious.

A stingy person holds on to money like she's going to run out of it any day now. The stingy person has a hard time pleasing herself. She's so caught up in having money in her pockets (or bank account) that she doesn't spoil herself. The stingy lady focuses on her needs and ignores her wants. She just doesn't like to spend her money. She'll spend yours before she spends hers (and she'll spend yours like she's on some shopping spree).

The conscious spender is exactly that: aware of where her money goes, aware of her spending and aware of the things that truly matter in life (and they're not monetary). The conscious spender will treat herself to a pedicure from time to time and will purchase those jeans she's fallen in love with. However, she won't buy the whole store and will stay price conscious. Without ignoring her wants, the conscious spender endeavors not to put those wants above her needs.

I'd like to think that I'm a conscious spender.

ツ We're not the same

We're not the same. I'm me; you're you.
Identical twins aren't that identical. Two raindrops are not alike.
Why compare ourselves to others? Others ain't us.
We might live in the same society but we're still individuals.
I love coffee while you might love tea.
Chocolate is my drug of choice; cake might be yours.
No biggie, I ain't mad at you. I'm still me; you're still you.

No matter how hard you try, you won't be like her.
You can wish all you want but you are you and will never be her.
We are not the same. Me, you. You, her.

We don't have the same path and aren't meant to travel on the same road.
One way will work for them and another will work for us.
The nose you've got is the one that has been made for you.
Don't wish you had her skin, her personality, her shape, her laugh, her hair...
Be thankful you've got your skin, your personality, your shape, your laugh, your hair...
We are products of our background, our experiences, our culture.
So why do we compare to others like we're supposed to be like the rest of them?

Do you and let them do them.
We don't have the same goals; why then should we go down the same road?
What's good for you might not be good for me.
One loves numbers; another loves colors. Yet, one isn't better than the other.
We need to appreciate the people that we are, as unorthodox as some of us might be.
We shouldn't desire to be like others; we should desire to be our true self.
Find out who you are and stick to it.

Be the original you. Not the copy. Not the edited version.
Let no one fool you: Authenticity is IN. Photoshop is OUT.

Don't compromise.

Most single women are like ripe mangoes...

...anxiously waiting to be picked.

image source

In the house I grew up, there was a big yard with three mango trees. When I wanted to eat some mangoes, all I had to do was give the trunk of the tree a couple of hits and the ripe mangoes would descend like raindrops. The more ripe the mangoes were, the less force it would require to make them fall. A light blow of the wind would be enough to have the ripe mangoes break off of the branches and fall onto the grass. The really really ripe ones would fall on their own without any "outside" help. They were orange, ripe, juicy and tired of just hanging there on the tree branches. They were as ready as they come.

Nothing wrong with being a ripe mango, but everything wrong with lowering standards to secure matrimonial union. We can't be so desperate to be chosen, "consumed", caught, or loved that it takes minimal to no effort for a man to "capture" us. We can't desire companionship so much that we feel unwanted or not good enough when there's no potential mate in sight.

You have to know the type of man you want, the type that you feel good with, the type that you can handle and live with. Your type. And that man has to want YOU. If a man doesn't fit what you're looking for (considering that you've got realistic demands), don't force it simply because you want a man. 

A wedding is for a day; marriage is for EVER.

Marriage is a difficult journey. It's best to start it with someone you respect and care for, someone who loves you for you. Cliché but true.

Used, abused, not amused [part one]

Do you have people in your life who are simply there to use and abuse you? I mean, those people who bring you nothing but headaches, only here to suck the energy left in you. They have mastered the art of receiving but have totally missed the lessons on giving.

If you haven't met anyone like that yet, worry not, they're coming for you. Keep your eyes open because those predators are as shrewd as mosquitoes. The little beasts rest on you, suck your blood and leave you with a poisonous gift that itches like a yeast infection. They have to be subtle when coming for your blood because they know (oh they know) that if you catch them in the act, it's the death penalty, straight up. Of course, I'm still talking about the mosquitoes. Please, do not kill anyone who uses and abuses of your kindness.

Actually, don't kill anyone, period.

Anyway, I believe that the relationships in our lives have different purposes and not all relationships are meant to last forever. I think that once some of us realize that, we won't hang on to relationships as if our lives depended on it. Some people are here merely to pass us by; they're here for a day, a month, or a year. They just aren't here to stay forever. You won't grow old with a lot of them. Only a few will make you wish you could be together forever and ever. Those temporary "friends" (or whatever you might call them) come to teach us lessons, to build our characters, to open our eyes to something, then POUF! they're gone. I don't mean that they die; just that they're no longer going to be important elements in our lives. 


While the realization that not all friendships carry on a FOREVER mark might sadden some of you, it might bring others a sense of relief. Now you can look at those mosquito friends [who only love you for your human blood and leave you with awful itching, swelling souvenirs] and not feel so much anger and frustration towards them. Why? Because y'all don't have to stay friends! Instead, you ask yourself, "What are they here to teach me? What am I supposed to take from this relationship? Why has this energy-draining, anger-awakening, kindness-abusing person been put on my path?" 


You're allowed to secretly hope that your relationship with the blood-sucking friend is more on the temporary side of God's plan. You're allowed to pray fervently about that. There are just people we don't want to be friends with forever. 


Ahem.


You see, in the past I might have grabbed on to the sleeves of a few people. For different reasons, I was unwilling to let them go, reluctant to endorse failure (because giving up equaled failing), determined to fight for the crumbs, and adamant about leaving my old ways of sternness and impatience behind. The problem is, when you do all those things and fall in the hands of the wrong people, you will be used and abused but, believe me, you will not be amused! Needless to say, my old ways caught up with me and it was with sternness that I dealt with the mosquitoes of my life.


Fool me once, shame on you. USED
Fool me twice, shame on me. ABUSED
Fool me three times nah that ain't happening. NOT AMUSED

Missing out on greatness?

I accomplished something great the other night: I worked out. (^_^) It has been two months since I've moved my body properly or have attempted to pump my heart and increase my blood flow. I had mixed emotions when my sister (Big Sis*) asked me to join her for an hour of walking and jogging. At first, I didn't want to because I didn't feel like doing any type of work. That's what happens when you go a while without working out; it's harder to get back into it. I ended up power walking for four miles. It felt really good on my thighs and the weather was perfect outside. The following days, it was my butt that was hurting. It's the good type of pain.

I can't wait to get back into running so that my body can be alive again. I used to be able to climb stairs as if I was walking on flat land; however, the other day, I found myself breathing hard when I reached the top of the stairs. Seeing the slowness with which I was going up, you would've thought I was some old lady with knee problems.

That's still not the reason why I wish to move more. Truth is, I've been told that you have much better sex when you're healthy. Well, at least the likelihood of you having good sex is higher than that of a lazy person.
My mother confirmed it. 

Better

Greater

Sweeter

Coming from a woman who's been with the same man for 30 years, I have to say: I believe her. Now, as it is with most things in life, the major problem isn't believing but doing the work.

Hum, how bad do I want the best, greatest, sweetest? 
(¬_¬)




*Names have been changed to protect identity and avoid retaliation. Any resemblance to you, anyone you know or think you know is purely coincidental. Or not.