Living Life

Last night I went off by myself to spend time with myself. I really did not intend it that way. I wanted to do something for myself, for once. And since Nic had to go to Marta's apartment for some school thing, it seemed like an OK thing to do. So I dropped her off at Windermere and drove aimlessly and ended up at StoneRidge where I found myself checking into a facial package. I was remorseful after it happened even to spend some on myself. I walked the length of the mall twice or more killing time, waiting for the magical hour to retrieve my daughter. JC Penney was having a big sale. I browsed and circled round many times around the shoes because I really should get myself a decent pair for the office and clothes because my wardrobe is old but in the end I walked away from it all.

I called and asked if I could come early, just sit and wait or read a magazine. I could hear the negotiations and discussions over the cell. And in the end, the girls refused. They did not want me anywhere in the apartment. I did not mind. I thought they probably would feel very awkward with me there watching. So although I arrived before 11 pm, I sat in the car in the cold. Until, I was told to come up. Marta's mom was awake so the girls ccould bear to have me there.

In quiet moments, I have pondered how others view me and why my relationships with those closest to me are the way they are. The obsession with making sure we have enough set aside for a rainy day and fears of not being able to send the kids to college because I failed to save have made me a bitter, overly miserly person, someone difficult to live with, whose larder is usually devoid of life's little favors. Marta's family lives in a so-called low income housing complex (much nicer if you ask me than a 4-room HDB flat) yet the small apartment was crammed full of things - CDs. musical equipment. nic-nacs and there were plenty of things to tempt a teenager's palate. And it was warm with plenty of laughter because the kids were allowed to make a mess while dreaming up their piece for the upcoming talent show. Yeah it was messy and the mom was with some pain, stepping on things but she happily served up bagels with goat cheese, V8's, tea, tid-bits, snacks and jokes. She has nightmares about not being able to meet quotas but would not trade in the flexiblity to decide how she spends her time as a self employed agent, relishing her freedom to spend time as she wills with her family. Contrast this with me - I have anxieties about being laid off and being forced into early retirement but would not risk a steady income. I obsessively set for myself savings targets and have not even been spending on lunch, mostly living on yogurt from Costco, hot chocolate from the office pantry and fig bakes from Target. At the supermarts, my instinctive responses to my kids' "shall we buy ..." are inevitably a no unless it is a necessity. And my insistence on neatness and cleanliness and constant harping on turning off the lights, the heating, the water and consistently asking about school grades have made me a nag. If I were a teenager, I think I would find myself hard to like. No wonder why my own find it hard to converse with me. I have become my own worst enemy.