It was a family truism that when I finally had kids, "Grandma" was going to pay me back for every sin I committed as a youngun, even the ones I couldn't remember, with 10% interest.

"Just wait until you have kids of your own," she would mutter after I'd upset her, the dire threat implicit enough.  Sometimes she'd follow up with, "and if they're not creative enough, I'll tell them how you messed with me to start them off!"

She was going to get away with it, too, because she knew I wanted a career as much as she wanted grandkids. Since it wasn't likely that I'd have a house-husband (though really, that'd be awesome), her babysitting availability was the best way to practically guarantee I'd be willing to take on that responsibility.

All joking aside, it was secretly a huge comfort to me knowing that my mom was fully committed to my future family and was excited about helping to care for them so that my spouse and I could work.

That was her dream plan for retirement: raising small children. Never let it be said that we understand how to relax in my family.

I had to, with much sadness, let go of that shared expectation and daydream some years ago when her health began its downward spiral.  And I'll always be a little sad that the person who bore the standard for me won't be there in mind or body, though always in spirit, for my children if I have them.

It wouldn't be safe or right for me to leave  prospective children with my ailing mother in charge of them.  Certainly she'd want to visit with them, but that would always have to be supervised.  And so I haven't really had the heart to think about that in a long while, until now.

In our culture, the idea that grandparents are available for long-term babysitting and practically take on the raising of the grandchildren is almost taken for granted.  It's doesn't always happen in cases where grandparents were less nurturing or too busy or the math doesn't work out.  One set of grandparents to multiple sets of children and grandchildren requires a fair amount of logistics if everyone wants Grandma and Grandpa in residence.

But in general, there's often a sense of expectation that first generation parents can rely on their parents for free childcare when the time comes to bring up the next generation.  Some of that expectation is fostered by the prospective grandparents, some of it spins out of the understanding that "that's how we do it."


I've recently started hearing a mismatch of expectations in families and started thinking about what the cultural and societal norms are now.  If anything, my expectation was that more frequently, with the greater separation of families due to schools and jobs and kids moving further away, families would rely on technology to nuture relationships between generations.  I also supposed that ethnic grandparents would be disappointed by parents who didn't necessarily want their Traditional Parents rearing the grandkids.

Instead, I'm seeing a combination of adherence to the traditional grandparents-as-babysitters paradigm, as well as a parallel track where the new grandparents don't necessarily want the caretaking or the raising of their grandkids.  And the desire and trend toward more visitation-rights-only is more in line with what I'd expect from the American norm.

My maternal grandfather, for example, isn't in the least bit interested in raising any of his seventeen grandchildren.  He prefers to bide in peace and visit.  His wife is all about the raising of them so she moves about, house to house, spending as much time as possible with the various nuclear families.  One of my aunties helped raise her grandchildren for a period of time but because her idea of discipline (strict) wasn't aligned with her kids' (let them run rampant), she declined to continue babysitting the hooligans (my description, not hers) after they became too much for her to handle.  As far as I know, the relevant family members found ways to manage their childcare without the grandparents in question.

My personal opinion is that if you have parents and family members who are willing to give of their time and energy to do your parenting, that's an enormous gift.  But that's a gift and that's their choice. At the end of the day, your children were your choice to have, and your responsibility.

Of late, I've been hearing statements that strike me as less than gracious even though I come from a culture that actually does "expect" grandparents to substitute for new parents.  I'm hearing things that, perhaps especially as they begin to directly affect me and my health issues, are, I feel, less than considerate and it bothers me.

Stating "Well, the nanny learned how to do it!", "it" being some part of the more specialized health care your child requires doesn't sit right with me. In what ways does it make sense to suggest that a family member get equated with a trained-in-special-health-care, vetted, interviewed, and paid employee?

I can absolutely understand that parents want grandparents to be involved with the grandchildren, even highly involved.  You certainly want that bond to form and for any other important people to be part of your kids' lives. But if the grandparents aren't comfortable with fulfilling all the needs, particularly any specific or special needs, of the kids, does it not cross a line to insist that they take on those responsibilities?   What about other family members?  Are they also asking for a babysitting assignment when they want to spend time with your kids, regardless of their feelings or capabilities in the matter?

And for the health and proper care of your child: when should you simply know better than to ask if that is the case?

Again, I come from a cultural place where it's normal to just assume that Grandma and/or Grandpa can and will help out.  Or will help out any way that they're capable. So I would normally understand that, but at the same time, I come from a personal place where you take care of your own to the best of your ability first, so being taken for granted as free labor, particularly when my energy is so dear, strikes a few nerves.  It's hard for me not to feel like I'm judging when I'm asking these questions but it seems rather inconsiderate. And even if it weren't me being taken for granted, I think my head would still be tilted forty five degrees to one side, wondering.

While I do, on occasion, happily help certain friends with their kids, I'm either asked or offering a set amount of assistance within my abilities and energy levels.  They aren't taking for granted that I'll be available, and they're making sure that they're not putting me out or expending all my energy, or putting me in a difficult position by planning all their activities first and asking me last so that I feel guilty for ruining their plans if I have to say no.

I'm not a fan of this trend but I wonder if I'm the only one who sees this sort of thing.

::: Is there a prevalent assumption that family are fair game as childcare providers or is that coming from a dissonance when one of two parties doesn't want to participate in the traditional exchange?  


::: Am I overcomplicating the question?  Is it just that there's an assumption that it's your familial duty to babysit if you are childless, no matter who you are, unless you're a professed baby-hater like one of my girlfriends?  (She's my example because while chatting with her, she pointed out that no one in their right mind would ask her to 'sit, she's made it plain she hates babies. She tolerates children.) 

"You don't seem to be the kind of girl/lady who [fill in the blank with any of my hobbies, interests, or responsibilities]."

Talking to @thefitlounge on Twitter about first impressions, I was amused by the idea that anyone could be offended by a wrong first impression.  They were pretty standard in my experience whether I meant to give them or not.

In college, I was described as a "Forever-21 seeming kind of girl" as someone's confessed first impression.  As a skinny-@$$ed kid who wore tank tops and jeans on a West Coast college campus teeming with a million other lookalikes, that was not out of line as far as superficial descriptions went. I did buy tank tops at Forever 21. They were cheap, and I had other priorities. (Bills.) That's not what he meant, of course. He meant: some variety of a spoiled Asian girl with more time and money than brains, at college because her parents made her go not because she had any goals or ambitions beyond pledging a sorority or following the trend of the month, and seeking the most fashion I could find to catch the eye of the hottest guy on campus.  We were surrounded by the like, after all.

Since then, I've been pegged as all kinds of other similarly superficial, very stereotypical, "female types."  I've been pigeonholed professionally by bad bosses as the "bait" for vendors, clients and colleagues (ick, ugh, and laughable), I've been initially dismissed as "only a girl" by people who thought I couldn't possibly deal with the pressure of X, Y, or Z because of my size or my sex, I've been blinked at by people who didn't expect that I'd bleed geek or finance if you cut me.


The people who mattered got past the notion, or the outside face if it was an intentional wall I kept up not to let them in at all, that I was not just a 2-D female.  They found that I was a person with a brain and the gumption was of my determination, not dictated by size, sex, weight or anything else.  They discovered that while I could be just a simple country girl, I'm a little more complex than that.

I've lived a bit of life.  I've flown in a home-built two-seater plane with a oil tycoon to hear the story of how it was built and why it flew better than his other planes; I learned how to ride horses and practiced martial arts; I learned basic car repairs and diagnostics with mechanically savvy friends so that mechanics couldn't just pull a fast one because gee whillikers, lil lady, this here part that doesn't exist needs replacing.  (Though, shady mechanics will try that with anyone, male or female.)

I've adventured to Comic-Con in many phases: as a volunteer, as an attendee, alone, later with friends, and still later, brought friends who had never been.  And for the love of money planning, should anyone in real life accidentally ask me a finance-related question, they'll trigger a flood of information accumulated over the years.

Then there's all of my background and history that only lives here on my blog - none of my family or financial life is really casual conversation so on meeting me, you might assume that I had a normal family with a normal childhood and had financial support to go to college and maybe held a job or two afterward.

Working with me, you'd be really confused because I still look like some really young age but I hold an incredible amount of responsibility and I've got a very strict code of professionalism so I must be old, but ... am I?  And I'll never tell how old I am either.  Because where's the fun in that?  ;)


In all of this, I'd come to realize that while it was valuable that I didn't actually care what certain people (the average person on the street) thought of me, the fact that in general, people tend to judge based on appearances meant that any efforts put into directing those thoughts could make a difference where it's important.

I do care whether people think of me as a "young professional" or don't really think about my age at all because my physical attributes are just groomed enough to walk a middle ground of dressing for success at the level I want to be at but not being casual (like our C-suite) or overly gussied up.

That's where Shelley's suggestion of creating a "uniform" of sorts makes sense to me. I can't afford a fully kitted out wardrobe with a huge variety of options and I don't need it either. But a small, carefully crafted professional set of clothing to last a week is just about right.

I rely on the first impression that my professional dress will convey: that I'm someone to take seriously because I'm well-groomed and take my job and career seriously, to offset the first impression that I know my usual lackadaisical self would have given.  And then my work speaks for me.

In everyday life, I'm a casual person so I dress accordingly so as not to give the impression that I'm anything different.  In that "version" of me, I'm not motivated to dress much more nicely on average since I like to be able to play with dogs, read, work on the computer, do household chores, cook, clean, run errands, or any number of random things.  And I'm often reserving the good stuff for work. :)  I might be cleaning up my act a little bit overall and eliminating some of the far-too-casual from my wardrobe as I creep toward my 30s but on the whole, comfort is the watchword for the weekends.

:: Have you been commonly stereotyped in the past or present?  Was it a stereotype that bothered you or worked for you?  
:: Are you a different version of yourself in different places? 

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There were so many great and interesting comments left on my post about whether or not to have children that I had trouble responding to enough of them in the comments.  I appreciated everyone's thoughts on their personal situations and decision-making.

I also had second, third and several other thoughts about whether or not to discuss one particular theme of the comments further, partly because there was a reason I left out some important, relevant information out: I didn't necessarily want that to be the center of the post and I tend to leave that subject under wraps.

But it was an underlying theme of the comments because I left it out and it is relevant to the conversation because it's a huge part of my life even if I do try to pretend that it's not.  Like it or no, the physical limitation aspect of my life is a factor in every decision I make, every minute of every day.  And it's not like I haven't mentioned it once or twice before, so I'm not sure why I still instinctively try to sweep it under the rug like it's not a big deal.

So, comments first:

@thecelt, you made me laugh out loud.  PRECISELY. There IS no "kinda-kid" out there.  So I want to know   for sure.  If I'm doing this, I'm committing!

@Sense: From the Mixed up Files was an absolute favorite.  Definitely fed the runaway fantasies. ;)

@MovingEast: I actually think through those cliches without feeling like they're cliches... they are true. I see new parents experiencing the wonder of new kids in their lives and I love it.  And I see the decisions they have to make and learn from that too.  It's not that I don't think they're worth it once you choose it, in the abstract.

@nicoleandmaggie:  He will have to be more than half the parent, I think, and that's what I worry about. It's got to be something we're both willing to sacrifice for because I suspect (see below) it's going to be excruciating in the beginning for me and then a huge commitment with most of the burden shifting to him.  Emotionally, I may have a lot of trouble with that.  For me. (Selfishly.  Whatever. Again, see below.)

@oilandgarlic:  No judgement on anyone else but I definitely want to know now because I don't want to start in my mid-30's. For me, I feel like that would be waiting too long because of how my health has progressed.

On the point where PiC and I have to talk this out: we do, when it comes to making the final decision.

I do only speak for myself on this blog and frequently leave his thoughts out of it because he doesn't have any desire to be present here. (I've asked.) But that's not to say he doesn't know my concerns and worries, and he understands them.  The evolution of my feelings on the subject hasn't been a secret to him.  

He's not terribly concerned about our different feelings on the matter, we'll figure it out together, he's always known that we've been coming at this from different personal experiences.


I live with something that's long mimicked rheumatoid arthritis (or lupus) and fibromyalgia.  It's neither of the first two so far as tests are concerned, but most of the symptoms match up.  It started out affecting just a few areas, umpteen years ago, but now it's everywhere, and any combination of joints and muscles are usually at some level of pain akin to holding an open flame against that muscle or joint every single day.

I spent over fifteen years trying to get a diagnosis and the conclusion is only that I have chronic pain, which isn't a diagnosis.  It's only a conclusion and defines my experience: pain that doesn't stop, that has lasted over six months, and doesn't necessarily have a definitive origin.  Stress, being tired, lack of sleep all exacerbate the pain and pain causes all three in a feedback loop.  Awesome.  That was still better than the many years of idiot doctors telling me that it wasn't possible for me to be feeling the kind of pain that I was feeling.

When it flares, I can be out of commission for hours, days, or weeks at a time. At the beginning of any flare, I won't know what the damage will be or how long it'll last.  Stress of the emotional or physical sort can start a flare. Energy is severely limited.  There are days typing on a keyboard, lifting a pen, or using a knife and a fork requires too much effort. I have to be incredibly selective about how much activity I commit to because if I push myself too hard these days?  Too much of anything can cause fatigue and pain that effectively destroys my ability to functions for days thereafter.

If you haven't read it, the Spoon Theory describes the way someone living with this sort of thing has to rework life strategies.  And the Bloggess summed up how you feel during/after a flare pretty well.

So you might better understand my reluctance to head right into motherhood on the basis of physical limitations.  It's more than just an age thing, it's more than just a "normal" reluctance.  I'm starting from the knowledge that not only do I not have my once-vaunted capacity to power through any and all challenges anymore, I have to be very careful that I don't step into, essentially, a lifelong landmine.  Bringing life into this world is a serious business and the last thing I want to do is make a hash of it because I don't have it in me to carry through.


One way to make this work is to be financially stable enough to afford child care.  A lot of it. I don't feel right about not raising my own children, but I'm not foolish enough to think that I could do a lot of the physical stuff on my own anymore. If we were earning enough that one of us could stay home with the kids, and also had some help with the kids to make up for my part, that could be one way to handle the situation.

Alternatively, I don't have to bear our children.  Instead, we could do what I've always wanted to do: adopt.  That comes with its own risks, challenges and expenses but that's an option I've always loved and saves at least the physical burden of pregnancy.

I've been concerned about that because, though childless, I help others with their kids a lot, and it wipes me out. Every. Single. Time.  That tells me that I'm not prepared for the physical challenges of pregnancy.  And as recounted by many many friends in stark honesty?  The fatigue, the internal upheaval, the damage to the body?  I am not prepared for that.

Ultimately, we have a lot to discuss and decide.  

Driving into work on Tuesday morning, I rang up ING Direct to see if we/PiC could take advantage of their Mortgage Blowout.

Their teaser rate was a 5-year fixed for 2.55% (2.606% APR).

They were also offering:

* Rate Renewal feature - If you qualify, you can relock your rate and extend your fixed rate period for another 5 years at the Easy Orange rate offered at that time - all for one payment which is equal to 2 of your bi-weekly payments (maximum payment of $5,000).
* No points or hidden fees
* Free bi-weekly payments - Pay down your mortgage faster with an extra payment each year.

We did a brief rundown on the building itself, the loan, and the most recently assessed value of the property.  It turns out that our/his loan to value ratio is still at 75% and ING is requiring a 65% LTV ratio so the highest loan they would offer at the moment is still $70k less than what we'd need to fully refi the loan.

For a crazy, crazy moment I seriously considered throwing some cash at the loan to make it happen but that only lasted a split second.  My old anti-debt Pay-It-DOWN instincts rearing up. You know how that goes.

We'll pass for now but I'll be keeping an eye on the whole mortgage situation now that we're getting closer to merging finances and therefore getting closer to putting me in charge.

*ahem*

But c'mon. We all know that I'm going to be the CFO of this family even if I am learning to share.

Technically, the term is "petite" but either I take that a bit further than everybody else in some areas or stores are even vanity sizing their Petites selections. (If the latter: Please, please stop it.)

As an ambitious professional, I've long accepted that my inner slob, the comfort-driven woman who prefers to lounge in a We Aim to Misbehave t-shirt and jeans or sweatpants, is never allowed to meet the people I work with if I want to be taken seriously. Sleepy-drunk self would be less infantilizing than me Au Natural. I was just mistaken for 17 years of age last weekend.  Amid all the "oh you should be flattered"s, it's a bit exasperating because it means I do have to keep trying.

I've improved enough, despite hiccups along the way, that current colleagues don't make ageist comments as former ones did thanks to a combination of make-up assistance from someone way younger than me than I like to admit ;) and inspiration from our lovely petite style bloggers.

The biggest key in this struggle of finding clothes that make sense, after conquering the basics of what should go on top, what should go on bottom and what scatters in between, is fit.

It's not enough that you parse the bits about color, layers, seasons if you have them, the culture, and so on. The most paramount decision of all is whether your wardrobe actually fits your body.


Finding a good fit is nigh on impossible in today's sizing environment, and that means spending/budgeting extra for the expertise that makes an off the rack piece actually work. Being a frugal dresser already requires tenacity and creativity - adding the cost of a tailor amplifies the challenge to dress professionally in a reasonable budget by a factor of ten.

The tough thing is that my two sides (Budget vs. Career) are constantly bickering over what's reasonable. They're like Spy v Spy, locked in never-ending battle. Starting the search for petite clothing that is already in higher demand and lower supply, then adding this Fit Issue, well, the stakes rise even higher.

While combining sales and coupons is the time-honored frugalite's weapon, the absolute best way to be frugal when it comes to style and fashion is to be stylishly creative: reusing what's in the closet with a critical eye in thirty bajillion ways so that people think it's new.

I'm total crap at that.

And then there's an accompanying caveat that each purchase must have impact - it must be versatile so I can wear it to work or to after-work functions, it must be classic so that cost per wear becomes negligible, it must be the Holy Grail of Wardrobe Additions. *the pressure*  It's no wonder I hate shopping so much.

Since moving up to the Bay Area, I hadn't ventured forth to a tailor. Since the COL is so much higher here, I was hesitant to discover the cost of alterations. After my, frankly, cheap cost of labor in Southern CA, I just knew that sticker shock was in my future. Even actively avoiding it, I had a sense of the cost and a shudder ran up my spine. (A dry cleaner could charge $20-25 for hemming trousers?? Seriously?? I paid nearly that much for a full suit alteration back home! No, Toto, definitely not in Kansas anymore.)

With a pending business trip and a big sale plus a 20% off coupon on a really nice jacket from Ann Taylor, I braved my tailoring demons, and in the doing, found myself with even more questions.

The 00P jacket cost $178 originally. With a sale and a combined 20% coupon, I paid $60 plus tax. Upon arrival, however, the shoulders were a little too wide, the sleeves were a couple inches too long, the back was too wide and the sides needed to be tucked in. Jacket quality was high and this would fill the hole in my closet for a fitted blazer. But I was happy to return it if the tailor felt it needed too much work, or it wasn't possible, to make it fit me.

After my fitting, in a monumental display of stupidity, I left the jacket with the tailor after having all the requisite pinning done, without getting a quote for the work.

I always get a quote for work beforehand so I can decide whether or not I'm going to even commit to alterations or if the clothes are going straight back.  I have no idea why I walked away without one this time. I was even planning to take a different suit with me on this trip, so I wasn't dependent on that jacket should things not work out.

In any case, when I came back to see the results of this first visit with this tailor, they were spectacular. Like, black eye spectacular. The jacket was really something to behold - it fit so perfectly it looks like a bespoke jacket, but it'll leave a mark on my pocketbook for a while. The jacket's tailoring cost more than the jacket: $94.

Total Cost: $156

It was nearly full price for a basically perfect fit.  Was it worth it?  Would I have paid that much for a jacket that fit exquisitely?  I suspect that I still would have tried to wait it out.

Should the question be: "is it acceptable to pay more for tailoring than the cost of the item?" or should it be: "is the total cost of the item that is acceptable?"

For my money, I think the latter is the true question and that has to be part of my whole clothing budget.

::: What's your experience when it comes to buying off the rack?  Can you?