Money

I try not to talk much about money; for that matter, I try hard not to think about it. Partly that's because money is such an impolite topic, crass even, and partly it's because no one is ever happy with the amount of money they have, especially when someone who is (choose one or more of: dumber, uglier, a bigger jerk, more selfish, amoral, dickish, insensitive, uneducated, weak) makes a lot more. If I think too hard about the salaries of teachers compared with the salaries of mid-level managers at Coca-Cola, I will turn into one of those rage-filled monsters from a horror movie, or worse, I'll go into politics. No good can come from those mental meanderings.

But with Greg in Spain, my main life-support backup system has been wiped out, and sometimes that leaves me floundering for how to keep our lives moving forward while he is gone. I'm not saying I depend on him for money (that will not happen); I'm saying I depend on him to pick up Nicky if I'm running behind, help me take the cars to get serviced while we are at work, pick up an ingredient for dinner at the store, or find an extra flash drive for Nicky to take to nerd camp. He figures out what's wrong with the remote (hint: I'm using it wrong or it needs batteries; those are the only two options), and he finds the band whose latest track Nicky wants on his iPad. He disposes of insects. He hangs out with Nicky in the pool and takes the cat to the vet and feeds the fish. He says things like, "Hey, this unopened bill has been sitting here since the Clinton administration...do you think we owe late fees by now?"

And that doesn't even get into the whole sappy-emotional-support stuff, which you certainly can't buy. Maybe you can rent it, but that's a whole other story.

So while he's gone, I find myself solving problems with money more than I normally would. I'll just buy Nicky a new flash drive rather than sift through the desks. I'll get ten extra things at the grocery store so I won't need any more trips this week. I'll buy a new pair of cheap reading glasses instead of trekking my ass back home to get the real glasses I forgot. I will buy a new, long-handled algae scraper for the aquarium, rather than sticking my hand in that damn fishy-stank water. Ten bucks here, twenty there, and life is far, far easier. I'm not spending fortunes because I don't have fortunes to spend, but those extra tens or twenties have solved a couple of life-management problems.

Oddly, that means I'm not asking people for help. All in all that's okay, because I don't want bother people, but sometimes people actually WANT to help each other. They want to hang out and sit by the pool with kids or wait with me for the car to get fixed and have some coffee. They want to laugh at my issues with the remote and maybe witness that moment when I go totally batshit and fling it into the rain barrel. By throwing money at problems, I avoid asking for help, but I also avoid being helped. And I'm being utterly dishonest and pretending I can still manage our lives as-is. No one likes a super-woman, especially a phony one.

In the end, I'm finding myself totally awed by the people I know who are raising a kid alone on a small salary, figuring out all their problems without being able to cushion any of it with those little buy-out moments. I don't know if I could find the strength and perseverance to do it. I take my hat off to them, and I know even that much respect isn't enough. I wish I knew a way to conjure up some cushion-moments for people who so completely deserve them. I wish I could create a system in which money never had to be discussed.

Meanwhile, I wish Greg would get home. These fish tanks are nasty.