Parenting Perspectives: Keeping an open heart in the midst of rejection

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My Parenting Perspectives column from May 14, as printed in The Forum …

My husband, Craig, is ready to leave for work, but can’t quite shake the 24-pound weight clinging to his ankles. Once again, I peel little Owen off his “Da Da,” to screams and shrieks and slaps.

“What’d I ever do to you?” I ask my toddler rhetorically, after unsuccessfully trying to soothe his cries.

It’s a near daily scene in our entryway, and the rejection of my precious son stings fresh each time.

Sure, we have wonderful moments throughout each day, when my little boy reaches for my hand, crawls in my lap or lets me cuddle him. But they’re hard to remember when Owen pushes me away, pulls my hair, or swats at me like he does inanimate objects he believes tripped or bumped into him.

Our daughter, Eve, favored her daddy early on, too, but never outright rejected “Ma Ma” the way my son does.

I’m sure just a phase. “This too shall pass,” I repeat to myself as I’m sure have other moms stuck in frustrating stages.

Still, it stings. And it’s gotten me thinking about rejection. How at some point or other, all kids reject their parents somehow, knowingly or unknowingly.

I remember once when I was a teenager, my mom listening to polka music on the radio. She grabbed my arm and tried to teach me the polka, step-hopping around the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and shook her off.

How I wish my memory of that were different, that instead I’d welcomed her embrace and danced across the linoleum with her.

Mom doesn’t remember that particular incident, but recalls walking down the street with me until I quickly got 10 paces ahead of her, like I didn’t want to be seen with her. “OK,” she thought, and let me stay ahead of her.

It’s necessary, I guess, for children – toddlers and teens alike – to push away their parents as they grow into independent people.

But how do we deal with that rejection as parents?

I have a favorite quote about parenting, something I saw on a sheet of scrapbooking vellum as I put together Eve’s first album. “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

I loved it, because I thought it referred to the sheer amount of love a parent feels for a child.

Now, as a second-time parent who hasn’t even started her son’s scrapbook, I find different meaning in it.

It’s saying a parent’s heart is no longer his or her own. No longer can I shield mine from heartbreak. I’ve already given it away.

Those pudgy little hands can – and will – rip it in two. Those tiny feet can – and will – stomp on it.

I’ll need to endure it while not hardening my heart. To keep it tender and loving, for when my child’s hand once again reaches for mine.

Sherri Richards is a reporter for The Forum and mom to 5-year-old Eve and 21-month-old Owen

Money-Savin’ Mama: Don’t let your tech wants become expensive ‘needs’

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I’ve always been behind the technological curve.

My family didn’t own a VCR until 1991. I listened to cassette tapes into the mid ’90s. I didn’t have cable TV or a DVD player till college, or my own computer until 2004.

I still don’t have an iPod or iPad or GPS or smartphone.

People talk about how they “couldn’t live without” these newer devices, like they’re food or water. Somehow, I survive.

I also save, not paying for mp3s, apps and data plans.

That said, I understand the allure of technology and how once you have it, you can’t imagine not.

When my husband and I switched to satellite TV, we eschewed the digital video recorder add-on. We’d survived nearly three decades without DVR. Why pay $5 a month for it?

But midway through our contract, we began to rethink the decision. We’d spent a weekend with friends who had DVR and it was really useful, zooming through a Twins game and catching up on missed sitcoms.

So when it was time to sign a new satellite contract in 2011, we added DVR.

I’ll never go back.

I also can’t imagine life without my Kindle Fire, a 2011 Christmas present. My husband, Craig, feels the same about his iPod Touch, which he won at a conference the same year. He never would have bought one for himself, and even considered returning it for store credit. Now, it’s a constant companion.

However, we’ve both avoided what I view as a big financial risk with these items, the temptation to overspend on songs and books and apps. It’s so easy with one-touch purchasing and the faulty rationalization that it’s “only a dollar or two.” Those dollars add up in a hurry.

Instead, I download free Amazon apps and borrow digital books from the Fargo Public Library. Craig uploaded his CD collection and streams free podcasts.

We’re likely in the minority, though. Statistics cited at Statista.com show spending on mobile apps increased from $4 billion in 2009 to $16 billion in 2012, and is expected to increase to $35 billion in three years. Apple generated $4.3 billion in revenue from iTunes music downloads in 2012 (and $13.5 billion in total iTunes revenue), according to AppleInsider.

People tend not to consider lingering costs of their purchases. They save up for a 60-inch flat screen TV, and then feel compelled to get the expensive HD cable package and Netflix subscription. They get Xboxes and iPads and now pay new monthly fees. They buy a fancy new car and don’t factor in the increased insurance costs.

And then they’re over-budget but see no way to trim expenses because they “can’t live without” these new gadgets and gizmos.

They’ve turned their wants into “needs.”

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with owning flat screen TVs and Xboxes and iPads. It’s simply a matter of making sure you have enough money in your monthly budget to add these things to your life.

And that’s exactly where Craig and I are now as we debate making the move to smartphones.

Our cell phone contract is up for renewal this spring. Smartphones have been out long enough that the novelty has worn off and they’re starting to become more essential in the workplace. But would we pay less for a better product and plan if we waited two more years?

For a while, I’ve been tracking what I call “smartphone moments” – those times when I would have used it. As I can update Facebook and Twitter with a text message and my Kindle lets me web surf and email anywhere there’s wireless Internet, I average about one moment a day, usually when I wonder about some inane bit of trivia while riding in the car.

Certainly, I can live without that.

Sherri Richards is a thrifty mom of two and reporter for The Forum. She blogs at http://topmom.areavoices.com

Lost money, returned

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It came! A while back, I wrote about my quest to reclaim $100 of unclaimed property. I filled out the form, sent in the required proof of ID and residence, and about four weeks later, I’ve got my money!

Me and my check! (Editor’s note – This photo has been retouched to remove potentially sensitive financial information. My enthusiasm, however, is genuine)

I figure it was money I forgot to pick up back when I donated plasma in college (perhaps bonus cash for referring friends?). At some point, it was turned over to the state and posted on the Department of Trust Lands’ Unclaimed Property website.

It’s a good idea to search the site (as well as a national database, like missingmoney.com) every six months or so.

A tip I received after writing the column: Be vague in your search. Don’t include your zip code (especially if you’ve lived multiple places). Put in only your last name, or even just part of your last name.

About the same time I was digging into unclaimed property, I received a newsletter from Cass County Electric Cooperative. Inside was a pages-long list of former co-op members who were owed “Capital Credits,” extra monies allocated to each member. And it’s up to those members to claim the money. The same holds true with other cooperatives.

It’s your money. Go get it.

Parenting Perspectives: Days fly by despite how you keep track of them

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In high school, I bought a lavender spiral-bound day planner, convinced it would keep me neat and organized. I filled the early pages with color-coded homework assignments and extracurriculars.

Within weeks, the planner was abandoned at the bottom of my messy locker, the rest of its pages crisp and clean.

Throughout college and into the working world, I tried different ways to keep track of my schedule, but always slipped back to scribbling notes on scraps of paper.

Finally a husband, two kids, two pets, a house and a job have forced me to use a calendar.

Now I have four.

There’s the 12-month wall calendar I use for long-term planning. Daily reminders beep at me from my phone. Work appointments go on a Google calendar I always forget to open.

And on my fridge is my lifeline, the only planning tool I’ve ever stuck with – a magnetic Mead circle-the-date planner, unsurprisingly part of the company’s “For Mom” line.

It has four sets of lines, presumably one per family member, though I use them to plan out four days at a time. There’s space on the side to write lists or notes. It’s even trimmed in red, my favorite color.

I flew through the sheets, and was crushed when I couldn’t find another one at the store.

Desperate, I bought a magnetic dry-erase grid calendar from the back-to-school clearance aisle. Within days I knew it wouldn’t work. I scoured the web for my treasured “for Mom” planner, and bought two off Amazon.

I gave the dry erase calendar and markers to 5-year-old Eve. Unlike her mom, she seems to have adapted well to calendar use at an early age.

At the beginning of each month, I help her fill in all 30 or 31 numbers in the appropriate boxes. Then we draw pictures of key events on the right dates.

Each day, she draws an X through the day we finished.

So as I sat to type this column at the end of March, I stared at a whole month of her wobbly Xs and wondered where that month had gone.

Preschool days and lazy weekends, all crossed off.

Swimming lessons, St. Patrick’s Day, dentist and doctor appointments obscured by her criss-crossed lines.

And most poignant to me, Eve’s fifth birthday, X’d out. Not just another month, but another year of her life in the books.

I started to think about all the moments not recorded on a dry-erase calendar, not planned in advance on my circle-the-date sheets.

Painting each other’s toenails green on the Saturday before St. Patty’s Day.

Reading “Little House on the Prairie” stories while snuggled in her bed.

Dancing in the living room to the George Strait Christmas CD we listened to every day last month.

I wonder how quickly these mundane yet wonderful moments will slip from my memory, like so many of the last 1,820-plus days.

Now the calendar is freshly drawn in marker. It’s April, and time marches on.

Sherri Richards is a reporter for The Forum and mom to 5-year-old Eve and 20-month-old Owen.

Some purr-fect cupcakes

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When my kids’ birthdays roll around, I can come up with some creative party theme ideas. However, I lack the technical skills to create the epic party perfection so proudly displayed on Pinterest. A three-tiered, fondant-covered fairy woodland cake? Not gonna happen.

But I can create some pretty cute cupcakes, using my vast knowledge of boxed cake mix, frosting in a can and store-bought candy.

For Eve’s second birthday, I decorated cupcakes like Sesame Street characters. I used marshmallows and chocolate chips for their round eyes, halved Oreo cookies for the mouths, gumballs for noses and licorice for hair and eyebrows.

Can you name that Sesame Street resident? (Clockwise from upper left) Ernie, Oscar, Elmo and Cookie Monster

Now for her fifth birthday party on Saturday, I’m at it again. Eve chose Hello Kitty invitations and I ran with the theme for the goodie bags and tableware. I very nearly bought a HK cake pan, but decided instead on the far-less-expensive red and pink cupcake liners. Then I realized Hello Kitty’s face would fit pretty nicely on them.

Today, Eve and I stirred up two boxes of strawberry cake mix. After our cupcakes were cool, I frosted them with vanilla frosting and set about decorating. I knew I wanted to use yellow M&Ms for her nose (‘M’ side down, Eve insisted), but realized as I sorted through the large bag that the brown would work well for eyes and the red could add to her bow (as for the blue, orange and green, I had no choice but to eat them …). I bought some pull-and-peel red licorice for her hair bow, thinking I could loop/twist/tie the ropes into bows, but soon abandoned that plan and just placed half-inch pieces on either side of the red M&M. Some black writing gel made for easy whiskers.

Well, Hello Kitty

Eve also decorated her own cupcake, too.

We switched to chocolate chips after the brown M&Ms ran out

Four dozen later, we’re ready to party. Say goodbye, kitties!

Meow

Money Savin’ Mama: Seeking money? State may have some of yours

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One of the first Money-Savin’ Mama columns I wrote was about finding “free” money: Matching grants for college savings, incentive cash for opening a bank account, half-price gift cards for businesses you patronize anyway.

But there’s another type of free money that might be waiting for you out there. And it’s already yours.

It’s unclaimed property. Uncashed checks, forgotten bank accounts or credit balances turned over to the state.

Each state and four Canadian provinces hold unclaimed property, as well as federal agencies like the IRS and other organizations, including some insurance companies. Combined, it’s estimated to total $58 billion, according to a recent CNN Money story.

I’ve known about North Dakota’s unclaimed property website for years. But it was only earlier this month, as I prepared to write about the topic, that I find my own name there.

And I was excited, because if your name’s on the website, the amount owed to you is at least $50.

I called Linda Fisher, administrator of unclaimed property under the North Dakota Department of Trust Lands, to talk about the state’s unclaimed kitty, which totals $32 million. That money belongs to about 72,000 North Dakotans, she says, a number accumulated since the program started in 1975.

So what’s my share? Fisher peeked at my record and found out it’s $100. Based on the name of the entity that turned the money in to the state, and the Grand Forks address attached to it, I’m pretty sure it was some forgotten money earned donating plasma back in college.

I immediately set about reclaiming my Benjamin.

I printed the claim form from the state’s website, and signed it in front of a notary at my bank. I mailed that to Bismarck this week, along with a copy of my driver’s license, documentation of my Social Security number, proof that I lived at that address and, because my name had changed, a copy of my marriage license. It will take six to eight weeks for the state to process the claim, Fisher says.

Other people may have an easier time filing a claim than I did. I haven’t lived at that address since 2001, so had to dig through my filing cabinet, eventually finding it printed on an academic record from the university. Plus, my legal name change required an additional document.

If the company that turned in your funds provides the state with your Social Security number, the process is even easier, Fisher says. And, she says her department works with people. They once accepted a decades-old Christmas card envelope as proof of address.

Even so, a lot of dough just sits there. (Actually, it’s held in the Common Schools Trust, which supports the funding of K-12 schools in North Dakota, Fisher says.)

Fisher has hand-delivered forms to people, never to have them returned. Her office has set up shop at the State Fair, helping fair-goers fill out the forms and notarizing them. All the people had to do was send in a copy of their ID, but still nothing.

“You can lead a horse to water,” Fisher says.

The whole idea of reclaiming this money reminded me of the parable of the lost sheep, which my church’s Sunday school tackled this month, too. To be a good steward of your money, you’ve got to keep track of each dollar, and go after those that get lost.

ONLINE

Looking for lost money? Search for your name on these websites:

• North Dakota’s Unclaimed Property site: www.land.nd.gov/UnclaimedProperty

• National databases of state-held money: www.missingmoney.com or www.unclaimed.org

• IRS’s Where’s My Refund tool: www.irs.gov/refunds

• Pension benefits: http://search.pbgc.gov

• U.S. savings bonds: www.treasuryhunt.gov

Marking a half-decade

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Somebody is now 5 in my house. How the heck did that happen?

Birthday Girl

In the weeks after Eve was born, my husband and I took out a 5-year certificate of deposit at a local bank. I remember so clearly looking at Eve snoozing in her car seat while we filled out the paperwork, and remarking that when this CD came due, Eve would be about ready to start kindergarten. It seemed a lifetime away.

I got a letter in the mail last week reminding me the CD was maturing.

And, watching her now, so has my daughter, I realized.

The night before Eve’s birthday, I lay in bed and flashed back through the last five years. I pictured her as a brand-new baby in my arms, a dancing toddler in a purple sundress, a big sister about to start preschool. I wished I could remember more of the last 1,800-some days, wondering what mundane wonderfulness I’ve already let escape my memory.

It’s an odd combination of emotions we parents feel simultaneously, nostalgia for our children’s past, excitement for their future. I so often need to remind myself to stay in the present.

To stop and take a breath, and help my daughter blow out five candles on her birthday cake.

Money-Savin’ Mama: Ready to swipe again after all-cash diet

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For Christmas, my 4-year-old daughter picked out a new wallet for my gift. It’s exactly the kind of wallet a 4-year-old girl would choose: bright pink and covered in swirly hearts. A silver heart pendant hangs from the front clasp.

Even though I’ve only been using the wallet since late December, I realized soon into a month-long plastic fast how my spending habits had conditioned the way I use it.
Each time I went to make a purchase, I automatically unsnapped and flipped open the wallet to the now-empty credit card slots. It took a few weeks before I’d trained myself to unzip the wallet’s cash compartment first.
I joked I was having swipe withdrawals.
Last month, I wrote about how credit cards, when used responsibly, are useful financial tools. But they do have downfalls. Mainly, people tend to spend more when using credit versus cash.
I wanted to see if I could operate without my cards, a social experiment as well as test of financial willpower.
Now at the end of my self-imposed challenge, I’m ready to unsnap and swipe again.
That said, there were benefits to my plastic furlough.
First, I found I could operate fairly well on cash. Clerk s didn’t bat an eye as I counted out my bills. I saved 3 cents a gallon on gas by paying cash. I was also far more aware of my purchases, and forced to make some either/or choices. This, I think, is the true benefit of cutting out the cards.
I did cheat once on Giving Hearts Day, an online fundraising effort. I gave my husband one of my twenties and had him make donations with his credit card on my behalf.
While my month-long challenge wasn’t meant to be an exercise of self-deprivation, my low-balled weekly allowance of $140 made it feel like one. I bought groceries and gas, paid babysitters and dined out twice with that money, and that’s about it. I didn’t bother going to department or big-box stores. Good thing I was stocked up on diapers.
Still, I only spent about $482 for the four weeks, staying under budget three of the four. In Week Two, I went off-list at the grocery store and needed to write a check, too embarrassed and stubborn to put any items back. I deducted my overage of $28 from the next week’s budget.
Without a card, I had to pass on several online daily deals that could have saved me 50 percent at those vendors. Of course, not buying them in the first place saved me 100 percent.
During the four weeks, the only activity on my credit card was one automatic payment to our Internet provider, a rewards credit and two payments, paying off the January bill and smaller February statement.
It is liberating to know I don’t owe Visa any money. And this past month I did spend less because I couldn’t spend more.
But cash also cost me. To pay bills, I needed to mail a check instead of paying them online, adding the cost of a stamp and check blank. I also sacrificed the 2 percent cash back rewards my card offers.
For purchases in which the dollar amount wouldn’t change based on my choices, it doesn’t make sense to use cash, only because I do pay off my balance in full each month.
Even on that discounted tank of gas, my rewards credit card would earn 7 cents per $3.50 gallon.
I also learned how important it is to write every expense down when working with cash. An envelope system would have helped me a lot.
So would have tucking all my receipts into my pretty pink wallet.

Sherri Richards is a thrifty mom of two and reporter for The Forum. Read weekly updates from her plastic fast at http://topmom.areavoices.com

 

Plastic Fast, Week 4: Ready to swipe

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My four-week plastic fast has come to an end, though I still haven’t actually used my credit card yet.

I’m a bit relieved to be through it, while still processing what I learned from my swipe hiatus.

In week 4, I spent about $115, including $38 plus change on gas, a smaller-than-average grocery store bill of $20.08, $20 to charity, $4 on Girl Scout cookies (Huzzah Thin Mints!), and $15.58 on lunch with a friend.

For the month, I spent about $482 of my alloted $560 cash for groceries, gas, household supplies and entertainment. This doesn’t include checks I wrote for daycare, a clinic bill and dentist appointment.

I’ll wrap up my month-long experiment in Friday’s Money-Savin’ Mama column. Look for it in the SheSays section of The Forum.

Parenting Perspectives: Baby Destructo strikes again

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Today’s Parenting Perspectives column, from the SheSays section of The Forum …

I joked on Facebook that my husband and I had decided to capitalize on our toddler son’s destructive capabilities. We’d market him as a weapon of mass destruction.

Enemy forces would never see him coming.

My status update was soon commented on by a chorus of moms offering up their little male offspring for an army. They’d be unstoppable in their cuteness and tornado-like abilities.

My friend Tammy said she was glad to know she wasn’t the only one with a “Baby Destructo.”

I’d been warned that baby boys aren’t like baby girls. I noticed early on how much more physical and adventurous Owen was compared to big sister Eve. Last spring, as Owen learned to crawl and stand, I braced myself for the bonks and bruises of boyhood.

But I wasn’t prepared for how quickly he could level a room, tear apart a book, upend a cup of coffee, crush a glass Christmas ornament in his bare hands or climb up on a kitchen counter and start gnawing my Scentsy wax.

Craig, my husband, calls him Hurricane Owen. I call him TornadOwen.

Every day feels a bit like cat herding, trying to contain the destruction. Trips out of the house are exhausting. Craig and I have vowed not to go on any family vacations until Owen the WMD has been dismantled.

But within this daily battle is a blessing – a healthy little boy whose strong arms and legs and growing curiosity let him cause so much trouble.

And so we adjust, baby-proofing in ways that weren’t necessary when Eve was his age.

Very quickly after putting up our Christmas tree did the ornaments move up, up, up until the bottom third was bare. I hadn’t been able to reach the top of the tree, giving it a heavy-around-the-middle appearance.

I’ve also grown far less attached to things, knowing that at any moment any one of my possessions could be shattered, tattered or torn.

It’s harder for Eve, though, when Owen’s chaos reigns upon her things. Moments after we gave her a souvenir snow globe from Las Vegas, Owen smashed it to pieces on a restaurant table. With no future trip to Vegas planned, we scoured the mall for a bigger, better glass orb.

We’re careful to keep her precious things out of reach. When that doesn’t work, our rote explanation isn’t of much comfort. “He’s just a baby. He doesn’t know any better,” we tell her.

I think we all wonder when he will know better.

When dishes and computers and snow globes and Scentsy wax will be safe.

When we can retire the Band of Baby Destructos.

Sherri Richards is an employee of The Forum and mom to 4-year-old Eve and 18-month-old Owen.