My daughter will be a year old on Tuesday and so the question of whether or not we're having more kids has started creeping into conversations.
When I was pregnant with Cali, my husband insisted that this was it. He's getting old. We don't have any free time. We have no disposable income. The list went on. But at that time, I was enjoying being pregnant...being grateful to experience what only a few humans on Earth are able to do. I wholeheartedly believe that giving birth to another person...who is the perfect mix of you and your partner...is the single most amazing thing in the world. And I just wasn't ready to say that I was okay with never feeling that again.
A year later, 65 pounds of baby fat gone (wishing to get rid of 10 more) and I'm more torn than ever. But does that make me selfish? I know several women who wish they could have kids as easily and Corey and I did. I know even more who have gone through test after test and drugs and shots and all kinds of unnatural things just for a chance at being a parent. And here I am just worried that if I have another kid it'll take even longer to lose the weight. And I'll definitely have to cut back on shopping then. Forget about extra free time. Extra sleep. Maybe even a date night. But again, am I just selfish for worrying about me and my wants instead of taking one for the team? For taking the opportunity because other's can't?
Especially considering that now my husband thinks he might want another one...if only he would have been on this team a year ago...
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Is it better to be different or average?
I've been thinking a lot lately about how where we come from and how our parents and the people that surround us influence who we become as adults. And how certain events in our lives help shape decisions we make. What I began to realize is how uninteresting my past is.
Nothing overly traumatic has happened to me. Sure, I was sexually harrassed in high school and now realize that I should have handled the whole thing differently. I just wasn't very strong then. And yeah, I was always too intimidated by my father to really talk to him and get to know him as a person and not just my father. Don't forget the DUI. Now that event is still very vivid and I do feel that the way I view my family and my former friends is a reflection of that situation. Even when I say how lonely it can be to be a mother, nothing is as lonely as being alone without a car, without a friend, and three jobs. I take full responsibility for my actions but where was everybody? Seriously, it's like everyone that should have cared turned their backs. Where they just too busy, or just too ashamed? I'm sure I'll never know and I'm sure I'll never really forget. (But I do feel the need to amend this statement by adding that in both the sexual harrassment situation and the DUI, one person stepped up to defend me and to be there at two of my darkest moments. And I'll never forget that either.)
While it might seem like a few very defining points in my life, compared to pretty much everyone else in my life, I feel average. I feel petty. And a little ashamed for ever feeling like I was dealt a less than stellar hand. And while knowing that I've really had it pretty easy should make me feel better and more fortunate, somehow I feel more like a poser than ever before. Is being average boring or something to be proud of?
Nothing overly traumatic has happened to me. Sure, I was sexually harrassed in high school and now realize that I should have handled the whole thing differently. I just wasn't very strong then. And yeah, I was always too intimidated by my father to really talk to him and get to know him as a person and not just my father. Don't forget the DUI. Now that event is still very vivid and I do feel that the way I view my family and my former friends is a reflection of that situation. Even when I say how lonely it can be to be a mother, nothing is as lonely as being alone without a car, without a friend, and three jobs. I take full responsibility for my actions but where was everybody? Seriously, it's like everyone that should have cared turned their backs. Where they just too busy, or just too ashamed? I'm sure I'll never know and I'm sure I'll never really forget. (But I do feel the need to amend this statement by adding that in both the sexual harrassment situation and the DUI, one person stepped up to defend me and to be there at two of my darkest moments. And I'll never forget that either.)
While it might seem like a few very defining points in my life, compared to pretty much everyone else in my life, I feel average. I feel petty. And a little ashamed for ever feeling like I was dealt a less than stellar hand. And while knowing that I've really had it pretty easy should make me feel better and more fortunate, somehow I feel more like a poser than ever before. Is being average boring or something to be proud of?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Making Time
I have daydreams sometimes about life without babies. When I could pick up and go at a moments notice. No planning. No extra bags. No snacks. Bliss. However, what I've recently realized is that while my schedule does center around the daycare's business hours, it's really not a great excuse for not taking a call from a distant friend or grabbing coffee with a friend. Because the excuse, "I just don't have time," is really a frame of mind, not a scheduling issue.
I may be a little slow but it really didn't dawn on me how much I was using the phrase. I don't have time get together with X. I can't possibly squeeze in a conversation with Y. I barely have time to get my laundry done, etc. The truth is, I'm busy. But I'm not too busy to stay connected. I choose to make time to run. I choose (or rather am forced) to make time to keep my kitchen tidy. I choose to make time to flat iron my hair every day. So why is it that we all use time as an excuse to shut out our friends and family? Why is it so easy to say we're too busy for the people who matter the most?
I keep hearing this excuse from the people in my life, regardless if they have children or not or whether they live a hundred miles away for twenty. It's like we're all so focused on the day to day that we forget about the big picture.
I've been using this a lot lately to explain where I'm at in my life: when I'm on my deathbed, what do I want feel about the way I lived; about the decisions I made and the priorities I set. And I can tell you that ever since I've been asking myself that question, I've enjoyed life a lot more. And I think I may even be a better friend, mother and wife because of it.
We're never too busy. We just choose to be. Life is about choice...did you choose your chores over your friends today?
I may be a little slow but it really didn't dawn on me how much I was using the phrase. I don't have time get together with X. I can't possibly squeeze in a conversation with Y. I barely have time to get my laundry done, etc. The truth is, I'm busy. But I'm not too busy to stay connected. I choose to make time to run. I choose (or rather am forced) to make time to keep my kitchen tidy. I choose to make time to flat iron my hair every day. So why is it that we all use time as an excuse to shut out our friends and family? Why is it so easy to say we're too busy for the people who matter the most?
I keep hearing this excuse from the people in my life, regardless if they have children or not or whether they live a hundred miles away for twenty. It's like we're all so focused on the day to day that we forget about the big picture.
I've been using this a lot lately to explain where I'm at in my life: when I'm on my deathbed, what do I want feel about the way I lived; about the decisions I made and the priorities I set. And I can tell you that ever since I've been asking myself that question, I've enjoyed life a lot more. And I think I may even be a better friend, mother and wife because of it.
We're never too busy. We just choose to be. Life is about choice...did you choose your chores over your friends today?
Career vs. Job
I have a small confession to make. I have often told people that I have a career and my husband has a job. And it took awhile for me to realize how much this offended him. And I'm finally beginning to realize that I'm wrong.
To me, I have a career because I have a college degree...a degree in advertising, which is the industry I work in. I've been working in advertising since the day I graduated and I've never really thought seriously about abandoning the industry (and 'wasting' my degree). I'm passionate about what I do. I enjoy spending free time researching what other agencies are doing; learning about what companies are looking for a new agency and why they selected a particular group. One of my favorite hobbies is sitting around talking about advertising and what I'm working on (the good, bad and ugly). So, to me, this is a career.
My husband doesn't have a college degree. In fact, when he first went to college, he studied something completely different than the industry he's working in. He doesn't really like going to work. He has terrible benefits. He's doing manual labor at 35, and complaining about how much his body hurts all the time. And he seems to not really care about where he's working as long as he's making the most he can doing what he's doing. So, to me, this is a job.
But what I have failed to acknowledge is that he's been in this job over a decade (maybe more like 12 years). He knows a lot. He's always learning. He's respected by everyone he's ever worked with. And just because he doesn't like to talk about it all the time, it doesn't mean he's not interested.
So my lesson here is that there will always be people around who don't absolutely love what they do. And I shouldn't judge. I should just feel fortunate that we both have jobs/careers.
To me, I have a career because I have a college degree...a degree in advertising, which is the industry I work in. I've been working in advertising since the day I graduated and I've never really thought seriously about abandoning the industry (and 'wasting' my degree). I'm passionate about what I do. I enjoy spending free time researching what other agencies are doing; learning about what companies are looking for a new agency and why they selected a particular group. One of my favorite hobbies is sitting around talking about advertising and what I'm working on (the good, bad and ugly). So, to me, this is a career.
My husband doesn't have a college degree. In fact, when he first went to college, he studied something completely different than the industry he's working in. He doesn't really like going to work. He has terrible benefits. He's doing manual labor at 35, and complaining about how much his body hurts all the time. And he seems to not really care about where he's working as long as he's making the most he can doing what he's doing. So, to me, this is a job.
But what I have failed to acknowledge is that he's been in this job over a decade (maybe more like 12 years). He knows a lot. He's always learning. He's respected by everyone he's ever worked with. And just because he doesn't like to talk about it all the time, it doesn't mean he's not interested.
So my lesson here is that there will always be people around who don't absolutely love what they do. And I shouldn't judge. I should just feel fortunate that we both have jobs/careers.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A New View on the Past
I've often wanted to go back to college for a week. Not to take classes but to bask in a world with very few responsibilities and even less cares. As I remember it, that was the last time I felt in complete control (or enjoyed the feeling of being out of control).
But I received a little wake up call this weekend. I was rummaging around my storage room and ran across three completed journals, beginning from my high school days through my first job offer after college. I hesitated before opening any of them. I remember very vividly how I lived back then. And while I appreciate my momentary craziness, I wasn't sure I was ready to revisit it. Especially from the voice of the crazy lady.
A day later and I had read or at least skimmed all three books. Wow. I didn't know anything. I didn't understand certain feelings. And thank God I didn't do half the stuff I said I wanted to. Like any typical girl, 90 percent of it was about guys. An obvious waste of time. And the other 10 percent was about where I was going and what I was going to accomplish and no one would stop me, blah, blah, blah.
While I'm glad I'm not that person anymore, I still feel as though I may have failed that crazy lady. I gave in to being comfortable. To not taking any great risks. I gave up on being that spontaneous, fun and confident young woman. And I'm not sure I'm any better off. (although maybe my family is)
But I received a little wake up call this weekend. I was rummaging around my storage room and ran across three completed journals, beginning from my high school days through my first job offer after college. I hesitated before opening any of them. I remember very vividly how I lived back then. And while I appreciate my momentary craziness, I wasn't sure I was ready to revisit it. Especially from the voice of the crazy lady.
A day later and I had read or at least skimmed all three books. Wow. I didn't know anything. I didn't understand certain feelings. And thank God I didn't do half the stuff I said I wanted to. Like any typical girl, 90 percent of it was about guys. An obvious waste of time. And the other 10 percent was about where I was going and what I was going to accomplish and no one would stop me, blah, blah, blah.
While I'm glad I'm not that person anymore, I still feel as though I may have failed that crazy lady. I gave in to being comfortable. To not taking any great risks. I gave up on being that spontaneous, fun and confident young woman. And I'm not sure I'm any better off. (although maybe my family is)
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