I’m thinking about having a mid-life crisis. But how do we know when we’re actually mid-life? Is it 40, 50? Guess it depends on how long we’re planning to live. Either way, I have the crisis part down pat! The other day my friend said “Maybe you need a life coach.” Her thinking was that I don’t seem to be budgeting and I said, “Sure, I can write up a budget, I just can’t seem to follow it”. What exactly does a job coach do, anyway? Follow you around and make you be responsible? Well, in that case, I probably do need one, but I don’t want one. I continue to lack discipline in just about every area of my life and I continue to have little or no desire to change. My goal is to have no goals….okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. There are things I want to achieve/acquire, I just don’t want to do the necessary work to achieve them. (This seems to be a recurring theme in my writing, so forgive me if you’re as sick of this subject as I am!) It seems to take catastrophic circumstances to light a proverbial fire under my ass, so since most of the time things are fairly calm, I am usually content to stagnate. Okay, maybe not content, since I am, by definition, pretty much a malcontent. Never truly happy, never satisfied, and slightly chemically imbalanced. So maybe that’s why I tend to embrace the eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we die philosophy, only I keep not dying which tends to be inconvenient for those of us who have no nest egg or long term plans.
As it stands, I’m going to have to die young or work til I die. And since work seems to not be my strong-point, I guess dying is looking good. Of course I hope you’re reading this with a grain of salt. I’m not suicidal–I want to see my girls grow up, but there are days that I am just so overwhelmed by life I cannot seem to grasp the brevity of it all.
I am still trying to figure out what to be when I grow up, or rather, when my girls grow up and I can no longer ride the coat-tails of motherhood. The same friend who suggested a life coach asked me what I like to do. I told her write and sing, neither of which pay the bills. But maybe that’s what I should be doing. Maybe I should really work at those things instead of sitting around bemoaning the fact that my employment opportunities aren’t clear-cut. If I worked full time at writing and singing and made them my occupation, maybe I would become a success at one or the other of them. Or at least I would be productive instead of wallowing in my own self-fulfilling prophecy of failure. And maybe that’s the whole point anyway, to just work at something, whether or not it ever pays off financially–the pay off is the actual process…
I would have made a great rich person. I love buying gifts for people and decorating my house. It’s the monotonous stuff I’m not so good at…cooking, cleaning, trying to pay bills when there’s not enough money to go around. I’m not saying money would solve all my problems, but, well, it would sure make life less complicated on some level. And of course I don’t mean money I actually have to work for. Oh no! I should have been born into wealth, but maybe not found out until later…like an obscure aunt who left me millions in her will. That way I could have gleaned all the lessons that comes from being poor and ordinary (and boy have I got that wired) so that when I found out I was rich, I would inherently know how to be a philanthropist. I’d give to my church, pay off my parents house, that kind of thing, but I’d also hire a house keeper and a cook and drive a Subaru Forester.
See how down to earth I am? I don’t need a Mercedes SUV. I’d drive a Subaru and my ‘other’ car would be a V.W. Vanagon so I could take it camping. And then if I still had money to spare I’d buy my dream car–a 1960’s, 23-window Volkswagen Bus Samba…canary yellow with white trim. I have a small scale model of it on my desk…now all I need is a fairy godmother or some pixie dust.
So yeah, I like that I’ve struggled (sort of). I mean it builds character and all that, but I think 40 years is long enough. I believe it is high time my ship came in…and speaking of ships, I wouldn’t mind a house at the beach, maybe another in the mountains. My log cabin dream home. Or I could even be really frugal and just get a place that has both mountains and ocean. See how practical I am? See how budget conscious I’d be if only I didn’t have to live by a budget…I mean, I’d still shop at Target. I just wouldn’t have to mentally calculate everything I was putting in my cart. Or return stuff a week later when I realized that we were out of grocery money, so that frivilous purchase of new socks and underwear would have to wait…
So I pulled a bunch of muscles in my lower back yesterday. I’d like to say I was doing something athletic…training for a 5K? or even moving my piano, when it happened…but I was stepping out of the shower and toweling off and simply moved the wrong way. That’s it. What does that say about me? My body? My poor abused body that I’ve been less than wonderful to these past 39 years. Oh sure, the first 20 or 25 were great. I could run, miles at a time. I could cart-wheel and dance and sleep in the cab of a pick-up truck while traveling or on someone’s floor. But alas, that ship has sailed, a long while back in fact.
It probably didn’t help that having a baby and turning 30 coincided with only a few months in between. Or that at 34 I did it again, complete with the stomach-muscle-cutting surgery that the first one entailed. Not so great for the mid-section. Of course there are plenty of C-section survivors out there who look great, making a liar out of me. But still, I have never been the same since that second surgery. And I didn’t bounce back as quickly the second time either. And yet there are women out there with 4 children, 10, even 15, who probably look and feel better than me. So what gives? I’ll tell you what, life ain’t fair.
If I had a nickel for every time my Dad said that to me as a child I’d probably be rich enough to hire a personal chef and fitness trainer…but the fact remains, you gotta play the cards you’re dealt, and in my case, I ain’t so great at the game, or the gambling or maybe just the striking it rich part. I tend to put all my money on the same number and keep coming up short.
So I was thinking about how I’m a writer. I love to write. More than that I love to sing. And combining the two, I love to sing what I write. But there are millions of people who write, millions more who sing and such a small percentage who actually make money at their craft. I used to wish that I had a practical gift. You know, that I could be a doctor or a physicist or something clear cut with a decent yearly wage. But truthfully, I wouldn’t trade my artistic qualities for a scientific brain. I just love the arts and I can’t imagine seeing life through any other lens. Still, the term starving artist rings true. I know so many crazy talented people who can’t quit their day-jobs because their art doesn’t pay the bills. It’s a crying shame…but that’s life, and life ain’t fair…..
…But life IS beautiful and lying on my back the past couple days, pondering life, while applying heat to the problem, I realized that although I have a LOT of room for improvement, I’m basically happy to be who I am. Weak muscled, over weight, out of shape and wordy….
Is it just my kids, or do all kids hate brushing their teeth? It is a daily battle around here, one I have grown quite weary of. I don’t really understand it, because brushing my teeth is the first thing I do when I get out of bed in the morning. I hate having dirty teeth, not to mention the breath that accompanies them. But my girls would be content to go weeks without brushing. That said, when they do finally get around to it, (which I make them do daily) they are very particular about which kind of toothpaste they will use. And of course, they do not like the same kind. I have tried, without success, to switch things up, but I always end up going back to the original flavors.
My oldest is all about bubble gum flavor, but not just any so-called bubble gum flavor. Whereas my youngest must have grape. Allow me to point out that there is only ONE brand that makes grape toothpaste. There is a plethora of bubble gum and berry out there in the world of toothpaste, but grape is a whole other story. Not only is there only one brand of grape, but no one, and I mean NO ONE carries it except Toys R Us. Of all the random places to buy tooth paste, this is where I have to go in order to fulfill the wishes of my youngest brusher. I keep waiting for the day when they discontinue it. Then I may have to go on line and buy a case just to get through her adolescence. Or, if I get really lucky, they will get it at the dollar store and I can stock up then. As it is this stuff is $3 a tube. Highway robbery! But, it’s a small price to pay for clean teeth, I suppose.
The real joke of it all is I’m the fool who introduced her to grape toothpaste. Initially she dabbled in other flavors, but a year or so ago I came across Nemo toothpaste, and since she likes Nemo and grape I thought I’d give it a try. Not realizing that I was ruining her from using all other toothpaste. And if she doesn’t outgrow this grape fetish, well, I guess in another 13 years it will be her problem….
By the way, I know a picture is worth a thousand words and all that, but I’m a writer, not a photographer. Anyway, I’m trying to make my blog more visually interesting, but I uploaded that toothpaste picture 5 times and even though I saved it right side up, it would not upload correctly and I’m too tired to try anymore. If I figure out what I’m doing wrong I will fix it later.
Okay, so this everyday writing thing is harder than I thought…in my defense, last night kind of sucked, for reasons I won’t go into. Well, actually most of the evening was nice, we went to my daughter’s Science Fair and then my friend came over and hung out for awhile, but later on, the proverbial shit hit the fan. Anyway! as a result, I went to bed without blogging…and while I lay there I was plotting my escape. Unfortunately (or maybe for reasons beyond my control) I never seem to have the means to escape when I most want to! I guess I should start a ‘get the heck out of dodge’ fund for such occasions. Suffice to say, I wanted to put my belongings into a scarf, tie them onto a stick and hobo myself on outta here.
That has always kind of been my way. When the going gets tough, I get going. I suppose it’s not the healthiest approach to life and its problems, but usually a few hours on the road helps me clear my head and puts things into perspective. My 20’s were punctuated by the many jobs I left or lost because of my impulsiveness. I didn’t like to be unhappy…long-suffering wasn’t really in my vocabulary…but then I got married and had kids and apparently if you want to learn patience and long-suffering, those are the things to sign up for.
Still, it would be nice to take a day off now and again to just ‘be.’ Unfortunately, that would probably be at the expense of someone else, and that seems too high a price to pay, at least right now. But it did get me to thinking, and planning a bit in my mind, about ways to work toward goals I’ve long hoped would just fall into place on their own. This flying by the seat of my pants thing seems to have gotten me nowhere fast…and the closer I get to 40, the more I realize it’s now or never! So I’m formulating a 2-year plan…between me, myself and I. If I arrive at my desired destination, I’ll clue you in then. Until then, I at least have something to work toward…
Yesterday’s blog, had I had enough energy to write it last night, would have probably talked about spending the day with a room full of First Graders. After seven years of NOT substitute teaching, my first day back wasn’t too bad. Of course, I do spend one day a week with Kindergarteners, but the difference is I’m not in charge of teaching them anything, just helping their teacher, with the added bonus of one of them being my own child. However, the exhaustion wasn’t so much from a day teaching, as much as from several days of not sleeping well at night, coupled with a back ache and finishing up a Science project with my daughter.
As I lay awake Monday night, restless with thoughts about working the next day, I wondered how women do it ever day. Admittedly, I am spoiled. Although I have worked outside the home since becoming a Mom almost 10 years ago, it has been few and far between. I have also been blessed with many opportunities to write, which has allowed me to work from home. But given the fact that my freelance jobs have all but dried up in the past year and we seem to be getting steadily more in the hole financially (since everything has gone up, except my husband’s salary) I have been feeling more and more pressure to contribute to our household income. Not to mention the fact that this is the first year both of my children have attended school, so there’s also a little guilt at no longer having that excuse to keep me home.
But truthfully, I believe stay at home Mom’s are still very important, even after the kids are in school. Who else will volunteer in their classrooms, pick them up from school, help them with their homework? Sure, I may get a few hours reprieve when they’re in class, but once they get home, I am busy until they fall asleep. And if they don’t fall asleep, neither do I.
I am a firm believer in parents raising their own children–in other words, I am not a fan of daycare or latch key kids. I know everyone’s circumstances are different and I don’t say this as a judgement, merely as a way of stating my own belief system.
So yeah, in theory, I wouldn’t mind working outside the house, as long as it doesn’t take away from my #1 priority, which is raising my kids. Luckily, I am blessed with a husband who agrees with that belief. Unfortunately, he is over worked and under paid. It’s a catch-22…or maybe it’s the thing that forces us to have faith, and then walk in it….
How do we reconcile what we actually want with what we should want? What I mean by that is, when I think of the type of life I want to live, from a strictly materialistic standpoint, it looks a lot different than the life I’m currently leading. And I don’t even mean things, as much as location and lifestyle. I have always wanted to live in the mountains, but not too remote a place. If the ocean is nearby, even better. To be able to ride my bike from here to there with ease in a place where the weather is mild year round and the air is clean enough for breathing, and to shop at a co-op grocer, or attend a weekly farmer’s market. In this ideal existence, it’s as if I’m a different person altogether, which I know is a ridiculous notion, because if I truly desired those things, I could be doing some of them now.
But I have always been an idealist. In many ways it has been my un-doing, while in other ways, my creative spark. In examining my life, I realize I don’t have certain things, because I am lazy, undisciplined–I haven’t planned for them or worked toward them. I have theorized about them, sure, but theories, not put into practice, are just words on paper.
And I think the other conflict I have always had is my love for my family and friends and the community that those entail. In my truly ideal existence, all of them are there with me. But realistically, were I to set off for these ideal destinations, it would be without them. And so in most cases, family and friends have always trumped a better locale and organic vegetables. Which makes sense–because I do believe that people are the most important thing in life, above all else.
But still, I am wandering along, wondering if I’m on the ‘right’ path or my chosen path, and ultimately trying to find contentment in external things, which is always setting oneself up for disappointment.
Lately I’ve just been praying that God would give me wisdom and clarity. That He would make my path straight, like it says He will in Proverbs 3:5, if we trust Him. That trusting thing still eludes me, even after all these years as a follower. My friend Shannon once told me something she’d heard or read and it comes back to me from time to time when I am struggling with a decision or just what direction I’m supposed to be headed in. ‘Trust and do the next thing.’ It’s pretty simple. We cannot chart our futures, and even if we try, there is nothing to say that something won’t happen to derail us from our ‘plan.’
Besides, I have always been a fly-by-the-seat-of my-pants kind of girl. Eating and spending and being merry, until it’s time to pay the piper. In theory, I want to be one of those people who own a home, a nice car, take vacations and have a savings–but I don’t want to work hard to have those things, or more than that, give up my stay at home mom status, because as I said before, the most important thing in our lives are people. How we love them and how much time we invest in them, that’s the only lasting currency, in this life or the next….
I spent the afternoon at a bridal show or a wedding show or whatever those things are called. I went with one of my best friends, who just got engaged on Christmas. My husband also proposed on Christmas, 16 years ago, so we have that in common. But unlike my friend, I never went to any fairs or wedding events. In fact, I only tried on the traditional dresses because my Mom and older sister really wanted to see me in one. I was a tom-boy, still am, really, and so I knew what I wanted. It wasn’t frilly or flashy. It was understated and home made and cost $50 plus supplies. My bridesmaids wore sun dresses, our groomsmen, overalls and tie dyes. I walked down the aisle, which was a dirt path, barefoot and to a cd playing in the background. And one of my closest friends sang and played the guitar during the ceremony. In my mind, it was perfect, and it still is.
The thing about a wedding is it should be your own. And therefore, no two are alike. We didn’t have a lot to spend, but even if we had, I’m not sure I would have done anything differently. Mabye made sure my fiancee’s VW didn’t break down on the way to the ceremony, but other than that, things went pretty well. I was surrounded by the people I love and who love me, and to this day people tell me how much fun they had at our wedding, because it was unique and very personal.
I am excited to be a part of my friend’s day, because she is special to me and because she has finally found someone who sees just how special she is. When she called to tell me she was engaged I screamed, then cried…I didn’t even do that when I got engaged. Suffice to say, I am very happy for her. So as I participate in the planning and preparations, it will fun to see how her wedding day comes together. I know it will be representative of her and that’s just as it should be….
Earlier this evening, about an hour before sunset, I took the girls to a nearby park so they could ride their scooters. I kept hoping the sun would come out, but it never did and so by 4:30 I could stall no longer. Unfortunately when we arrived at the park, it was occupied by several Jr. Highers or maybe younger High Schoolers, who were being very obnoxious. One in particular kept yelling, out of the blue, for no particular reason. Finally, when she did it as my kids were going down the slide right next to where she was standing, I asked her, “Is that really necessary?” To which she replied, “Sorry, I didn’t take my medication today.” I wanted to smack her. I’m sure she fancies herself a clever little thing, but she was rude and disrespectful and I was thinking to myself, where is your mother? How come you’re unattended at the park on a Saturday evening nearing dusk.
I could blame the parents, and to some extent, I do. There’s no way my girls will ever be traipsing about alone at that age. And furthermore, I would hope they acted better than that if the circumstance presented itself. My 9 year old was annoyed by her and said she felt like telling her to shut-up, but I told her the best thing to do in those situations is ignore the person, that getting into an argument didn’t solve anything, just provoked a fight. Obviously I didn’t take my own advice, and the little wit continued with her outbursts, as well as making a few other rude remarks the rest of the time we were there. I guess it was a teachable moment, because we talked about it on the ride home.
One thing I will say about my children, they are generally well-behaved when they’re with other adults. They save their sassy and their naughty for me. Which is fine, because it’s my job to deal with those things. And even though they’re not perfect by any means, at least they know what’s expected of them out in the world.
I was a silly girl (still am) but generally speaking I wasn’t rude to people. Okay, with the exception of a German teacher who spoke to us in Spanish, but that’s a whole other blog. Anyway, the point is, I always had a healthy fear of my mother. I knew if I did something wrong, she’d find out about it. And frankly, I was usually so guilty I told on myself. I believed she had eyes in the back of her head, and I believed if I’d ever been so bold as to go somewhere I wasn’t supposed to, she would just happen to drive by.
My parents were strict with us. Not to a ridiculous level, but enough that they protected us from the things that they knew might possibly ensnare us. As a result, I was in my 20’s before I had to make any real decisions about morality and such, and since my values were already well instilled, it wasn’t difficult for me to make the right choices. I credit my parents for sheltering me as long as they did and honestly, I’m even more protective of my girls. Sequoia just went to her first sleep over with a non-family member last month–she’s almost 10. I was doing that kind of thing around 6. But times were different–maybe things were safer or maybe ignorance is bliss, but whatever the case, my sisters and I came through our childhoods relatively unscathed.
In all honesty, I felt a little sorry for that obnoxious girl. Obviously, she needed some attention, negative or otherwise. And obviously, her parents don’t keep too right a rein on her, which gives me a little insight into what her home life must be like. Anyway, suffice to say we all gained a little life perspective this evening…and I remembered why I hated subbing for High School….
Well, I was lying in bed around 1 a.m. this morning when I realized I’d forgotten to write my daily blog. However did you all survive without my ranting and raving (she asked sarcastically)? I guess I have fallen into the habit of writing at night, but I left the house shortly before 6 for a much-needed girl’s night out, and didn’t get home til after 11–and also totally forgot about it! So, I guess my perfect record is now flawed, but I doubt this will be the only time I forget to blog this year…still, technically, I am writing #8, so it still counts, I just get points off for tardiness.
While laying in bed the other night, I thought of some really clever topic to blog about, but I have since forgotten what it was. If I don’t write things down, they’re gone. I guess I’ve always been this way on some level, but it used to just be song lyrics and poems that I’d forget if I didn’t get them down on paper. For awhile I even carried around a mini tape recorder in case I was driving when genius struck…but now, it’s not just the poetry I forget, it’s everything. My grocery list, the stuff I need to get at Target, my name.
At the library the other day, realizing that all 3 of our cards had fines (yes, it’s true, I resort to using my children’s cards if I rack up too many fines on mine) so the jig was up and I had to pay $14 bux to check out some books. Anyway, the nice lady behind the desk asked me if I knew about their online account access. Yes, I told her, I do, I just forget to do it anyway. And once you’re a day late, they won’t let you renew your books, which is rather lame. I mean, sure, charge me the late fee, but let me renew the dang thing. Otherwise it’s another week before I remember to actually return my books to the branch, and in the meantime, I continue to acrue fines. Actually I think it’s their master plan, to snare us into paying exorbitant fees. But since I love libraries and so many are being closed or in danger of being closed, I don’t mind so much kicking down the occasional money to them. It’s like they’re my charity–plus, if you add up all the books I get to read for free, it’s really a deal!
My point though, was that I told the lady, I used to remember things, and she said, “Don’t tell me, then you had kids.” And I said yes. I’m guessing she hears that a lot in her line of work and I got the impression she doesn’t have children of her own. But I told her I have a theory, that when our children are born, some of our brain cells are transplanted to them, so we are then at a deficit. She sort of agreed and added that kids don’t even use them as well either. That was a fact I hadn’t considered, but ain’t it the truth…like that whole ‘youth is wasted on the young’ quote. The older I get, the better is sounds…