Money does not make you classy

Its no secret that I grew up in a very impoverished home. My mother did not not allow us to act poor however. I had manners. I dressed neatly. I crossed my legs at the ankle. I was even taught dinning etiquette.

As a young girl, those small things made me feel a little less poor. It was as if I was a refugee in my own life. Like I was a princess who had to flee her country when the bad guys took over and I had to keep hiding my identity.

In my 20's, post college, I was able to socialize with the crowd that had been brought up in a privileged home because I had those skills.

My children are growing up in a middle-class home. I will not raise children who lack class just because of the social class they were born into. My daughter will cross her legs at the ankle, my son will open doors for women, and they will know which fork is a salad fork and to bring a gift to the hostess.

I make fancy sandwiches.

I posted a link on Facebook yesterday to Funky Lunch where they provide instructions on how to make a Tow Mater sandwich. I have a 3 year old son who prefers Mater to McQueen. So, I knew this sandwich would be a huge hit. And I love to brag share my findings on face book.

A friend commented that I have too much time on my hands to be making such things. There was an initial twinge of guilt. Yeah, maybe I should do more laundry. She is right. I then took a step back. No. I don;t have to feel guilty about making fancy lunches for my kids. I am a stay at home mom. Its my job to make these memories. Its why I am at home with them. She make the choice to work and I made the choice to take this path. She edits copy, over sees the publication of special topic inserts for our local paper, and dresses like a woman. I make fancy sandwiches, I melt crayons on rocks, I cut paper and glue it to abandoned shoe boxes and wear t shirts and yoga pants most days. This is my job.

I love my job. So why do I feel guilty?

And so it begins...

Monday. I begin my 5k training today. I found a great podcast on iTunes (by 5k101) that I hope and pray will help me. I also plan to get some new running shoes at some point in the next 2 weeks. Gonna try the Vibram Five Fingers since my runner/cyclist brother swears by them.

What will running be fore me? I hope that it will give me time to let my mind wander, let my stress out, and get back a bit more of my pre-wife body.

UPDATE: Yeah... running did not start as soon as I had planned it to. I hurt my foot. No idea how. Maybe it was psychosomatic. But I started my training last night. Up the hill I went. And down the hill I came. It was a good time. I think I'll do it again tomorrow. OH! I did not buy the Vibrams. I bought (or rather my MIL did) some Ryka running shoes. Super light and felt great.

Would you want to be my friend?

If you know me at all you know I love my kids pediatrician. Love love love her. If they made a t shirt with her face on it, I would wear it. Maybe not out in public since that would be creepy... but you get the point.

Not everyone likes her. She can be rather frank. She does not dole out antibiotics like candy. She does not coddle parents (at least she never has us). But she is great with my kids. She is their Dr after all. And they need to love her.

I have often thought "I'd like to be friends with her". She just seems like the kind of person I would really get along with. But I would much rather have her as my kids pediatrician than my friend. I think there needs to be boundaries.

Until recently that is. Thanks to our mutual interest in a fledgling Children's Museum we have had a number of non-child - non- medical conversations. She even asked me about my church.

*gasp*

This has made me nervous. Is there a chance we will become friends? What about the kids? Should they see a different doctor? Do I need to keep a wall up? Can I have the best of both worlds? Can she and I chat over coffee one Sunday before church and on Tuesday rush my son to her office for a mysteriously swollen boy part?

I am sure she can separate the worlds. I think I can too.