I got my first job when I was 14. I didn't really like it but I was earning money, something my parents didn't hand out to us kids. I loved the freedom of earning and spending my own money. But, more than that, I enjoyed the sense of satisfaction it gave me of doing a job well and someone actaully rewarding me for doing that job well.
I was lucky enough to have jobs that I enjoyed. While they didn't always pay well, I was resourceful enough and energetic enough to work a second job to earn extra money. Back then, I didn't have a husband or children yet so I had some free time and I saw no reason not to fill that free time by working. My dad did a good job of instilling a strong work ethic in me as well as the need for a good credit rating so working and succeeding was very important. Having been the first person in my family to graduate from college, a lot was expected of me.
I got my first break right out of college. The company that I had interned for hired me full time with benefits, an expense account and loads of responsibility. I loved it. Working was not always fun but it was important to me. Fast forward a few years and I'm married to a great guy, have two amazing kids and a good job at a respected newspaper. Then, my husband gets promoted. This is usually a good thing for families. My husband reached the top of his profession, he was finally the Publisher. Sadly, this meant that I would no longer be able to work at the same newspaper as we had done for years. He was the boss; nepotism rules knocked me into unemployment. We were now a one income family. While his income was substantially increased, it did not off-set my missing income. No worries. I had babies and they needed me and we made sacrifices to make it work.
That lasted all of one year. Not working left me feeling depressed. I had worked very hard to pay my way through college and a demanding internship to make my family (and myself) proud. I needed to work for my own mental well being. That's not to say that motherhood was not important to me. It was and I stayed home until my youngest was just over a year old. Working half time seemed like a great compromise. I could be all things to all people and still retain some of my own identity. It worked. Then my husband was promoted again and we moved again and I was unemployed again. My kids were in school full time and I had loads of free time on my hands.
I was lucky enough to have jobs that I enjoyed. While they didn't always pay well, I was resourceful enough and energetic enough to work a second job to earn extra money. Back then, I didn't have a husband or children yet so I had some free time and I saw no reason not to fill that free time by working. My dad did a good job of instilling a strong work ethic in me as well as the need for a good credit rating so working and succeeding was very important. Having been the first person in my family to graduate from college, a lot was expected of me.
I got my first break right out of college. The company that I had interned for hired me full time with benefits, an expense account and loads of responsibility. I loved it. Working was not always fun but it was important to me. Fast forward a few years and I'm married to a great guy, have two amazing kids and a good job at a respected newspaper. Then, my husband gets promoted. This is usually a good thing for families. My husband reached the top of his profession, he was finally the Publisher. Sadly, this meant that I would no longer be able to work at the same newspaper as we had done for years. He was the boss; nepotism rules knocked me into unemployment. We were now a one income family. While his income was substantially increased, it did not off-set my missing income. No worries. I had babies and they needed me and we made sacrifices to make it work.
That lasted all of one year. Not working left me feeling depressed. I had worked very hard to pay my way through college and a demanding internship to make my family (and myself) proud. I needed to work for my own mental well being. That's not to say that motherhood was not important to me. It was and I stayed home until my youngest was just over a year old. Working half time seemed like a great compromise. I could be all things to all people and still retain some of my own identity. It worked. Then my husband was promoted again and we moved again and I was unemployed again. My kids were in school full time and I had loads of free time on my hands.
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