I Am Not A Coward

by

I said to myself this morning as I once again was having a conversation about justifying my needs, my rates, my time and the compensation of said worth.

Oh for fuck, sake, I thought, just do it.

Just have the uncomfortable conversation so I can stop listening to the melee in my head.

And I did.

And I got the raise.

At least from mom number one.

She was so sweet.

So endearing.

And insisted that I actually start today with the wage increase.

Instead of waiting until December 1st like I had offered.

We also agreed to salary my position with her and how I really love her and her boy.

Do I.

I love both my boys.

Adore.

I usually fall for the kids, hazard of the job you could say, or I could say it is one of the perks of the job.

I don’t have a lot of bosses that I fall head over heels for, constantly snap photographs of and sing funny songs to.

I suspect that not a lot of my bosses would have been amused by that kind of behavior.

It was such a relief.

My head was quiet all day.

I mean fucking silent.

It just had nothing to chew on.

Thank God.

It did wind up a little bit on the way home, I knew I was going to have to bite the bullet and send an e-mail to the other mom who is out-of-town.

Not my preference, but it had to be done.

I just did that.

I have practiced it all week.

I cut and paste my revised twice e-mail that I had sent off to get approval elsewhere, added in a hope your time out-of-town is going well, love to the baby, and please let me know when you can.

I suspect her answer will be the same.

Then I can stop asking for rate changes as I will be current with market rate.

“I need  a goddamn team of people to support me,” I told my dear friend over soup at Sunflower Sunday night, “it takes a village is no fucking joke.”

I have talked with more than one friend who has advocated again and again and again that I raise my rates.

It only took a few months and some really uncomfortable work to get here, but get here I did.

And now I can stop.

Sigh.

Relief.

For the next day, then I need to tell my solo day family that my rates are going up too.  I am offering them the same explanation, keeping it simple, to the point, and hopefully without tears.

I doubt, actually that I will tear up, I am not as emotionally connected to their child, though I think she is an utter peach, plus I have only just gotten to know the family.

The mom I spoke with today has known me for over six years.

She was in the office at the Burning Man HQ when I started nannying there.

First temporarily, once a week for a board meeting, then for the retreat, then for the holiday party then for Juni and Reno, who good lord are both six.

Six.

I met her when she was six weeks.

Now she is six years.

Amazing.

How much I have grown in that time.

I remember her papa once looking at me and saying, “girl, you got to ask for what you need,” when I finally broke down and asked the family for a cost of living increase that I had needed for months but couldn’t bring myself to do.

I see a pattern.

Anyhow.

I am grateful to all the friends who have been in my corner saying all those positive things, I actually do believe them, but old habits, self-effacing ones especially, die-hard.

I am still nervous to hear back from the other mom, but I took the action, let go of the results and did the best I can do.

That’s really all I can do.

That and sit and write.

And do some stretches.

I received my e-mail from the Physical Therapy department at Kaiser, lot’s of stretching, lots of water, continue the ibuprofen, rest, hot and cold, and get a yoga roller.

Ok then.

It was also suggested that I need to get ergonomic with my desk.

Who told that it hurts to type?

Oh.

I did.

Sheesh.

The blog is the last thing I want to give up.

The mom showed me her set up in her private office.

As it turns out, she has a similar issue, which is why there are tennis balls scattered around the house–she uses them to work out muscle soreness.

I had never heard of this before, and it was recommended to me by the PT doc too, use a tennis ball and roll it over the sore spot.

I dug into it today at work while the baby was napping.

Lots of stretches, lots of rolling the ball around my shoulder, more stretching.

And yes, Virginia, I will get myself an ergonomic set up for my computer.

Along with some rain gear.

Wow.

That was a long, cold, wet ride home tonight.

It wasn’t bad to begin, the November rains began today, and despite holding me hostage in the house, fell soft, gentle, with a noise of hushing reassurance, and the entire world smelt fresh and dewy.

However, after an hour detour this evening at 7th and Irving, I came out into the night to find it down pouring.

Ah, damn.

I was soaked by the time I had gone five blocks.

Slow as slow could be.

All bike lights on, collapsible rear fender pulled out of my bag strapped onto the frame, and hood up on my sweatshirt.

I made it back, stripped down immediately, threw my clothes in the laundry and climbed into a hot, hot, hot shower.

Oooh.

The goodness that is a hot shower, especially after that kind of ride.

And a night-time shower, I don’t know why exactly, but it feels some how decadent.

I suppose because I am not in a rush to get out the door like I am in the morning, I can savor it.

Boy did I ever.

Tomorrow.

Rain gear.

I can afford it.

I got the raise!

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One Response to “I Am Not A Coward”

  1. Cicely Martines Says:

    You amaze me, every day.

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