Last in the Rat Race

How is it that the government is willing to commit millions… billions… of dollars to various economic stimulus projects, yet STL is forced to cut back its public transportation to bare bones?

Where is the stimulus in that?

While cooking Sunday evening, Kate amused herself in the breakfast room, watching the 15th showing of Bambi 2. (who knew there was a sequel?!?)

Pretty soon, she wanders into the kitchen on her way upstairs. I glance over and smile as I see she has strapped on her backpack. It makes her happy – and makes her look so grown-up! She then glances back at me and my stomach flips. What in the @#%$ is that on her face? All around her mouth? I instantly take a mental inventory of everything in the breakfast room which might tempt her. Nothing but dry dog food… and I don’t think even she is that nutty!

“What do you have on your mouth,” I ask cautiously.

“Ipstick,” is her reply.

“Show me.”

Sure enough, she has found her way into my purse and into my lipstick. Whew.

I promptly took her to a mirror to show her the results of her adventure – and prove that she’s clearly not ready for lipstick. She agreed… but the attention I gave her by snapping the photos might have weakened my argument. We’ll see.

Friends of ours are a bit allergy-prone. Even an “allergen-free” puppy didn’t work for them. Their eventual solution? A beta fish. Beautiful. Dark red. “Eckstein” is now their newest family member.

As families often do, they travel a bit. When they leave, they ask Kate to “fish sit” Eckstein. Our first adventure, last December, was rather uneventful. The one exception came Christmas Eve night. While MRA and I were getting dressed for Christmas Eve service, Kate was downstairs, feeding Eck’s food to the carpet. What? I just didn’t get it, but she thought the food was best served spread all over the floor. A few curse words on the eve of our Lord’s birthday, a vacuum cleaner, and all was fine again.

This time, our gal got a bit more adventurous. Upon arriving home each night – after work/school – I run upstairs to shed my work clothes and don the ubiquitous jeans. Each night, coming back downstairs, I find Kate in various stages of mischievousness.

Day One – The “tree” in Eck’s bowl had been uprooted and a small dino was sitting on the edge of the bowl contemplating (another) dunk.

Day Two – Someone had climbed up on top of the counter and found the food. Eck was a little overwhelmed by the 20+ pieces of fish food floating in his bowl. A typical meal = 4 pieces.

Day Three – Kate was munching a blueberry muffin when I went upstairs. When I returned, Eck was, too.

That last one was the last straw. After fishing out most of the larger crumbs, I was googling “beta fish water care”, on the phone with PetSmart and yelling at Kate to stay in Time Out until her dad came home.

Eck lived to see another day – thanks to Jenn at PetSmart – but I doubt Kate will be asked to fish sit anytime again soon.

Kate and Eckstein

Just when you get a little excited, thinking Spring has finally arrived, Mother Nature throws down.

I’m convinced it happened because I had the audacity to put out our patio furniture last week. What was I thinking?!?

It seems like each Spring brings a host of emotions to the surface. After being cooped up all winter, we’re anxious to get out, breathe in the fresh clean air (cool, yet with a hint – hope – of warmth), and start anew. Restlessness abounds.

It’s the starting anew part I’m wrestling with these days. I think I’m done. That is, I think I need a career change. I’ve been on this bus for nearly 8 years and I’m getting a little tired of the scenery. The people are fine – some I really like – but the sense of accomplishment is often outweighed by the sense of missing something better in myself. It is a “service industry”. Lawyers serve the clients. I serve the lawyers. I’m not looking for fame or accolades, but I think I’m missing something of me here. In my meteoric (ha! mediocre is more like it) rise to the middle, I’ve come to realize that I’m not great at any one thing. Except perhaps taking it on the chin when things go awry. I can do many things just fine – but that’s all they really need from me here. Not greatness, not superiority. Just good.

Should there be greatness in one’s work? Is this all there is?

Last summer, when gas was $4/gal and the closing of “my section” of Highway 40 loomed, MRA and I decided to send Kate to a new school. We loved, LOVED DCC, but the above, combined with the fact that she was old enough to attend the one we had in mind, it was just too much to ignore.

So, August came around, we bid DCC adieu and began again at Clayton Child Center. Three blocks south of our house, this new school was perfect – in a “real” school building, highly regarded, and in my direct path to the MetroLink just another 1/4 mile away. That’s right. I was going green, becoming a true urbanite in my little innersuburban community. I could now leave the car in the garage for days on end, take the train to work, walk my kid to school AND save a little money. Of course, that last part probably didn’t materialize as I now needed new street-cred tennies and a cool sling back to complete the urbanite look. Whatever. A little vanity never killed…

There was one little worry – word on the street was that the school was up for sale and they might need to move. I asked and was assured that nothing was in the works and that the school had, in fact, been for sale for years. Given the horrid state of the real estate market, MRA and I figured no one in their right minds would buy a 100 year old school building in this economy. We were wrong.

Months into my walking-to-school-train-commuting bliss, the news hit. The center was moving to a new building IN RICHMOND HEIGHTS! I was furious with them. And with myself. We had JUST moved Kate to this school so I could take the train. She had transitioned fine, but still, it wasn’t a snap. Grrr….

So here we are. It’s the last day of walking/training to school and work. Monday we’re on to the new school building no where near a Metro stop. And for me, it’s back to the hell of the highway – no, wait, the highway is still closed. Even better. Side streets, construction zones, gas stations and rush hour. For the past 8 months, I’ve spent rush hour in other states, countries and times, immersed in great books. My fellow commuters sit in similarly perfect isolation. It was MY time. Time when no one needs me. No one knows me. And I could ignore it all and just think MY thoughts.

Did I mention that Metro is in a financial crisis and is cutting back service to save money? Monday will be awful for more people than just me. Some no longer have ANY transportation to work. I should count my blessings and write my state rep for the others.

Kate’s response when I asked her to say “cheese”. I just wanted a pic of her new haircut for heaven’s sake…

While clearly the public schools in the City of St. Louis stink – I mean they are REALLY bad – many schools outside the strict City limits are “ok”. That said, you have three options for a good education in the old STL:
(1) live in WestJesus and drive an hour to work so your kid can learn with the deer; (Baltz!)
(2) live in Clayton/Ladue and pay through the roof (awful pun) just to have a shack to sleep in; or
(3) send your kid to private school.

A good friend of ours mentioned that Kate might benefit from going to a real school earlier – don’t know if it was the intellectual stimulation they offer or the discipline that made him say it, but the seed was planted. (Thanks, Mark.)

Dear god… we’ve become THOSE people. The ones at dinner parties who debate the benefits of J-K and Pre-K and stew over which school their child will be admitted to. We did it though. We took the plunge and “applied” to a private school. One. Most of our friends were sending in apps to 3 or 4, but not us. Either fate sent her to this one, or we would do our part for the UCity Public School System by sending our kid there (and it’s “free!”).

The date came, anticipation mounted. They had visited Kate’s day care and found her to be a pleasant kid (I think they were in the wrong room). We sent in our fee and nice letter. Would we be allowed to pay ungodly sums to have the privilege of sending Kate there as a THREE YEAR OLD? Nails bitten… public school wouldn’t be bad…

She got in.

MRA and I are thinking of framing the letter. Not because we’re proud (although we’re happy KRae will be going to a good school), but because the letter made it seem like she had been accepted to Harvard. Sheesh. What have we gotten ourselves into?!?

So how do I find a job where I can work anywhere (home, office, Starbucks), only be available between 9-3 and have Fridays off?

Hm… must work that one out. Soon.

Kate starts school in August.