What goes around comes around

Most people move their family to where their career is; we moved to be near family and let our careers happen after that. When someone says that Husband and I "have it easy" because we live near my parents, I want to scream.

Nothing about raising kids is easy. If it is, you're doing it wrong.

And nobody can have it all. That's another fine myth thrown at you by Hollywood and Hallmark. Something has to give. Family or career. They can't both be first.

Some people choose career and hope for the best. We chose family. That shows in our children's confidence and kindness. They know they have an entire team on their side. And on their back if they screw up.

It matters.

But for a long time, even now to a certain extent, having our careers take a backseat to family had its consequences. You should see our savings account.

Oh, that's right. We don't have one.

We are still in the process of recovering from a silly decision to sell our Wesley Chapel house, move to Colorado, buy another house, then sell that one to return home less than a year later. But our kids are cool. So that's something.

In the thick of it, adding in medical scares and a sluggish economy, we didn't cry or schedule pity parties. We manned up and got through it, never forgetting for a moment that two little boys were counting on us.

A few family members were painfully unsupportive, planning extravagant family gatherings across the country and demanding our participation. We were dealing with 1,800-mile commutes, short sales, and broken water heaters. We couldn't afford their good times.

For refusing to incur more debt, we were blacklisted for several years in a row.

Husband being so far from his children and me raising them on my own was hard enough. The lectures and judgments from loved ones were almost more than we could bear. We've forgiven, but won't ever forget.

Fast forward to now and those same family members are going through similar experiences.

Should we threaten to shut them out of our lives if they can't make our sons' bar mitzvahs in Israel? Should we respond to medical scares with little concern and determined condemnation?

We are supposed to treat others as we wish to be treated, but sometimes it's tempting to treat them with their own medicine instead.

In the end, I won't say a thing. And I won't hold my breath waiting for an apology or any realization now that they finally understand.

But you know what else I won't do? Show an ounce of sympathy. I feel and understand their pain, but I'm not a bit sorry. We'll see how easy that is to accept.