Remembering why we moved here

I’m going to keep this short since Sarah and I are leaving for the hospital tomorrow at 5:45 a.m. to induce the birth of our second child.

I love Boston; I love the city and everything it is about. We don’t get to visit the city that much since we live almost an hour away, and our passion for Boston doesn’t really shine through on this blog because of that fact. Yet, more than any other reason, the city is why we moved to New England.

Today, I drove into Boston for the second time in a week, this time for a job interview. I got to walk through a part of the city I hadn’t seen yet, so it was all very cool. If the job comes to fruition, being in the heart of Boston will be a major perk. It gives me hope that Sarah and I can relocate closer to the urban center, as was our original plan when we left Florida.

The best 13 and 1/2 months of my life

One week from today, on April 30, Sarah and I will go into St. Vincent’s Hospital in Worcester and come out with our second child, Desmond Harold Kane. Unless the little guy decides to come out of his mother’s womb early, this is the last week Sarah, Maggie and I will spend as a family of three. While I have no doubts that Desmond’s birth will be a joyous occasion in the history of our family, allow me to take the time to reflect on how our first child has impacted my life.

The first 13 and a half months of Maggie’s life has been, by far, the best 13 and a half months of my life. There was the slow disillusionment with my reporting job in Naples, the instability of moving to Boston without a steady job, the loss of my role with the Boston Globe, the many ups and downs of our extended family, and one needlessly long December road trip. But watching that child come into this world; learn to move, talk and walk; and develop into the joy of my life has made me feel like the luckiest man alive.

Looking back on my pre-child, pre-married life, I wonder what it all was for. I never was searching to settle down, to find a wife and raise a family. My entire life consisted of going to work, partying, drinking and spending as little time as possible investing myself emotionally in anything. Like any modern guy, I resisted commitment and the idea of children before I was 30, although I couldn’t tell you why, except maybe it’s some sort of cultural fear that is ingrained in all of us from when we are young.

Then, along came Sarah, and it was just so easy and effortless to say yes to committment, then to children and marriage. There was no fear, just a love that radiated between both of us and burns bright to this day. It was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.

Then, along came Maggie, who I loved wholly and deeply from the second I saw her. Throughout 27 years of my life, there’s nothing that came close to comparing how completely having a child changed my life. No one can be prepared for the awesome responsibility of raising a child. But, again, it was so easy and effortless. There was no more partying or drinking or burying myself in my career, and it was a change I would gladly accept 1,000 times over. Holding Maggie in my arms or playing with her around the house is far better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Forget drinking, random sex and professional accomplishment, I was put on this Earth to raise that child, and I can’t believe it took me 27 years to make it happen.

As great as the rewards were during the first few months, the stresses were very high as well. Maggie has colic, so she screamed bloody murder four hours a day. Sarah and I had only known each other for about a year, so we were still very much adjusting to each other and our new lives. Having never raised a child or even babysat before, I was finding my way through the dark when it came to diaper changes, feedings, sleep times and everything else. When she would cry and I didn’t know what to do, it was the most frustrating thing in the world.

What made it worse was that all I wanted was to be home with my new family, all the time. Yet, I had to work. Before marriage and baby, I had no problem working late and going the extra mile. But suddenly, my mind was always at home, and lasting at the office until 5 p.m. was torture. It caused a crisis in my career and at home, and it remains tough for me to find the synergy between the two.

As many rough spots as there were, there were countless more bright spots. Maggie’s first smile; her first trip to Disney World; family walks and family trips. The first time I changed a diaper without getting poop on my hands. The first time I realized I could care for my child just as good as my wife. The first time Maggie said Da-da.

When we moved to Massachusetts as Maggie turned six months old, the Great Boston Experiment unwittingly made the next eight months were better than the 28 years that preceeded them, even though I worried about paying bills more than I should have. Sarah, Maggie and I were at home together all the time, and we were making it work. Enough money was coming in, and I was there for every event in my young daughter’s life. Doctor’s visits, the first time she crawled, the first time she walked, everything and anything.

It’s strange to watch your child grow, because it happens so gradually and so quickly at the same time. While I remember momentous occassions in her life (first steps, smiles, words, etc.) I can’t point to one single day or week where she seemed significantly more developed than the time before it. Yet, I’m astounded at how much she has grown. Looking back at pictures from her birth, baptism, first airplane trip, she still seems very much like the same baby but much, much bigger.

Right after Maggie was born, I remember the time when Sarah was exhausted from doing all the heavy lifting with our child and hadn’t slept really since she left the hospital. I told my wife to go to sleep while I watched the baby. I cradled that child in my arms for hours as I watched Into the Wild. Afterward, we fell asleep on the couch together; Sarah got plenty of sleep, and I felt more like a child care provider than I had ever had.

I remember the time right after we moved to Massachusetts, and I showed Maggie how she could pull herself up on furniture. She had crawled over to the coffee table, and I lifted her so she could hold onto the edge while steadying her legs. It was a brave new world after that day.

I remember our first swim together; her first Christmas; games of Blast-off; hours of crying; nights without sleep; and marveling at her laugh. The first and only time we went to the movies as a family; the day she cut her tongue; our first baseball game.

Large or small, the last 13 and a half months have been filled with the story of my daughter’s life, my relationship with my wife, and all in a way that is forever intertwined. It’s impossible to separate one of us from the other because we are so bonded together by love, happiness, sadness, memories and future.

Without me knowing or putting forth any intentional effort, we’ve created the perfect situation for Desmond Harold Kane to be born into.

A Great Boston Experience

Times have been tough, lately. Of course, they’ve been tough on everyone, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks for us. A big fight with my family over Maggie’s birthday; the loss of my role at the Boston Globe; an uncertain financial future; my going back to work for menial pay; bills piling up and little money to pay them. Before our tax return came in on Wednesday, I was near certain we weren’t going to make this month. On top of it all, Sarah, Maggie and I hadn’t been into the city since January when we dropped my cousin off at the bus station. A big reason we moved to New England was for the Boston experience, and we had only been once since early January. The one time we did go was two weeks ago when Sarah and I decided the stress of our situation was starting to be too much on our family, and we needed a day to just relax altogether. We took Maggie to the zoo and ate at Fire & Ice.

That trip to the zoo was a great experience in itself, but this past Thursday, we had the most amazing time in the city; one of the best since moving here. Sarah’s mom Debbie flew up from Florida a week ago Friday for her spring break to spend some time with us before Desmond is born. It has been great to have her around as well, as it gives Sarah someone different to talk to and interact with, and Debbie is fun to have around the house, especially to play with Maggie. On top of it all, Debbie seems to be a mission to buy out every grocery store in the area, stocking us up on food so we don’t have to worry about it after the baby is born.

Everything has been great with her here, but the kicker of the trip so far was that Debbie scored Red Sox tickets for the last game of their home opening series against Tampa Bay, in a repeat of last year’s American League Championship Series. She and Sarah’s grandmother run the press box for the Red Sox spring training and have all sorts of connections with the organization. So, this Thursday, not only did Debbie get us tickets for free, but we met up with her friend Dennis, who runs the luxury suites at Fenway. Apparently, one of the suites was not in use on Thursday, and he let us stay in there the entire game.

Picture this for my and Sarah’s first Fenway experience and Maggie’s first baseball experience. Great seats in the upper deck along the third base line. A luxury box with leather seats and  a flatscreen TV in case Maggie needed to get away from all the crowd noise. All the beer and soda we could drink. Free Fenway Franks. Free pizza. Free pretzels and popcorn. Free access to the dessert cart that most luxury box folks must pay top dollar for. To top it off, the Red Sox even had a ninth inning rally after they played sluggishly all game. They ended up losing by one run, but we couldn’t have asked for a better baseball experience.

Tax Day=Christmas Come Early

Sarah and I no longer have to worry about coming up with rent money this month; probably next month, too.

On Wednesday, we finally got around to filing our taxes; and despite not having paid an income taxes since I became a freelance writer in September, we received a $5,000 return from the federal government and a $100 return from the Massachusetts government. I’m not too sure how that happened (since I was expecting we would actually be cutting the government a check) but I think it had something to do with the child credits for Maggie and the write-offs for running a business out of the house.

Either way, since December, Sarah, Maggie and I basically have been getting by on the bare minimum, sometimes having only $20 for an entire week worth of groceries. We’ve been dodging some medical bills that were due from Maggie’s birth already. Since the Boston Globe stopped publishing its Northwest edition at the end of March, it’s been extremely tough and the small tips from my waitering job at the Picadilly Pub have been our only source of income and probably wouldn’t have been enough for next month’s rent. So, going from having next to nothing to now having enough money that will cover about two and a half months worth of expenses was quite the shock to Sarah and I.

As the shock wears off, the realization comes of what to do with the money. Our first reaction was not to do anything brash, and I’m still living at the Picadilly Pub trying to come up with enough tip money for our family. Our second child is coming in three weeks, so it’s important we don’t do anything that can’t be undone. However, having money opens up so many more possibilities. We could use it as seed money to start a new business (restaurant, child care, home brewery, something). I could quit Picadilly and really try for the next two months to make the freelancing thing work (although the last seven months had limited success); I could take the time to write that book I should have finished long ago. It could guarantee that Sarah doesn’t have to go back to work right away after Desmond is born. We could pay down the credit cards. We could invest it in retirement, the stock market or the kids’ college fund. The only limit to the possibilities is in the amount of money we have.

One thing we did decide was to take Maggie and Desmond to Disney World. Back in November and December, Sarah and I made a commitment to take a vacation to Orlando for Christmas 2009, since Maggie will be 21 months and Desmond will be 7 months, which means they still fly and get into the park for free but are old enough to take something away from it. As we began to plan the trip, our money and our credit ran out, so the only way we were going to make it was if we had a large influx of money, such as from the tax return. With the money, we’ve reaffirmed that commitment and will head down to Orlando over the holidays. It may not be the most sensible thing to do with our newly found money, but since when is the most sensible thing also the best thing?

Of course, in the good news/bad news category, one of the Globe editors called shortly after we filed our tax return to say that the newspaper could no longer afford to accept articles from me. Given the problems of the industry in general and the Globe specifically, I was hardly surprised; but for all intents and purposes, The Dream of me living and working from home is basically dead. However, there’s still plenty of good news to go around. I’m getting a paycheck from Picadilly on Friday; the Patriot Ledger is closer to offering me a job in the summer and is sending a check for some freelance work I did; and Boston Parents’ Paper also will be cutting me a check for freelance work by the end of the month. Also, Sarah’s mom has been in town since Friday and seems to be on a mission to empty out all the grocery stores for us, stocking us up with all imaginable food and sundries. We won’t have to buy groceries or diapers for at least a month.

Of course, the best news is our family is growing by one more on April 30 (or sooner). Desmond Harold Kane will be here soon enough, and we couldn’t be happier.

Back to the point, though; it’s strange going from having no money to suddenly having plenty. Not that I’m complaining (because I’M NOT!) but life is very simple when you’re broke. You pay your bills (at least those you can afford) drive the car only when necessary and buy spaghetti and bread at the grocery store. Now, with money, you have all the possibilities to consider. Although that might had a tinge of stress, it’s a stress certainly worth having.

$35

Phooey on this whole working for a living thing.

As a freelance reporter, I spent the majority of my workweek in my pajamas or comfortable jeans; sat in a leather chair or played with my daughter; and was free to make my own schedule. Now that I’ve had to supplement my income by becoming a waiter, I have to wear a specific uniform with specific shoes; stand all day long; and must conform to rigid, pointless rules that only a corporate-owned restaurant chain could generate.

In a subpar week writing freelance for the Boston Globe, I would only have one story run in the paper and get $325. On an average week, it was usually $525. That was with me “working” from home four to nine hours a day, typically four or five days a week. On Sunday evening, I had my first solo waiter shift since I started working at Picadilly Pub. For four and a half hours, I took orders, ran food, chatted with customers, helped my co-workers, cleaned my section and a section of the kitchen, and folded napkins. Do you want to know how much I walked away with?

A whopping $35.

That was just my tips, so if you factored in my $2.63 per hour wage, that’s $46. I worked a host shift earlier in the day, which netted me about the same amount. So, if I work seven shifts per week (essentially every day with no breaks) and average $40 per shift, each week I’m pulling in $280. That is, of course, before taxes.

How do people make a living off of this? That amount working every day won’t even cover a month’s rent. More importantly, how do people stand this? All the other workers at Picadilly Pub talk about this as just one of their many jobs. Nearly all the workers, from what I can tell, have a second and maybe a third job, meaning they are working 10 or more shifts per week. To be frank with you, I don’t mind the work; it’s rather easy and I could work 60 hours a week no problem if they let me.

Still, I can’t tell you the frustration from where I worked from home, had all the comforts of my house and family and made $25 just for writing one paragraph; to working a full restaurant shift and walking out the door with $35. I don’t know where to go from here; but I have to go somewhere.