The Hardest Part Is the Transition

This week, I’ve really hated my life. Yes, I said it. I got to a point, where I really sat down and wondered what in the world I’m doing here. What is my purpose? Is there something I’m missing? How can my life seem to have so little meaning at this point in time?

What brought this on? Well, my children returning to school, of course. For the past four years, I’ve always had a sense of purpose: someone to mold, teach, or at least have with me at all times. I got used to having two children going to school while prepping my daughter for kindergarten and having her as my errand sidekick. Although I complained about it from time-to-time, nothing prepared me for the emptiness I feel now.

Ideally, once one’s children go off to school, the plan is typically to have sought employment during the months prior to school resuming, so soon after, one can transition back into the workforce, right? Well, what about when life throws you one curve ball after another? Three children in two different schools, and the youngest only goes to school from 8 am – 10:45 am, and there really is no budget for the additional cost for all day school?

What if every attempt made toward a decent paying job results in a similar e-mail with the spiel of having found someone better-suited for the job? Or, when you do make it to an interview and you are asked to choose the position over time with your family, “as this job is going to require a great deal of your time both in the office and at home”? Then you look at the salary being offered ($28,000) and search the room, certain that the interview is being recorded as part of some reality show prank.

I mean, really…how does a woman who obtains skills in the form of degrees or certificates prior to making the decision to care for her children full-time have any chance of success afterward? The “gap in employment” nulls and voids all the unpaid work that’s actually been done for the family over the years that would be difficult to insert in a professional resume, even when some skills are applicable, to an extent.

It’s us against the world. Having proven to the world that we’re great mothers by balancing the tasks of keeping our households in order, taking care of the budget, taking on the night shift so our spouses can rest well for work the following day, setting appointments, attending all extra-curricular activities, ensuring that the maintenance man comes in and fixes that leaky faucet, ensuring dinner is served by 5:30/6 pm, etc., we still aren’t taken seriously. Yet again, we have to prove to the world that once accepted us and the skills and resources we brought to the table years prior, that we’re still that amazing genius who owned the room during a corporate meeting, capable facilitator, great negotiator, or highly effective communicator.

Application after application, I submit. With each one, I proceed with less confidence. I doubt myself, my skills. Maybe I’m laden with dust that I can’t see. Maybe what I once knew no longer applies. Maybe there are others who are younger, more skilled, and simply just much better than me.

As of yesterday, I found that kind of thinking gets us nowhere fast. All we can do is push. They push one way, we push back even harder. We aren’t worthless to society; we’re just what it needs. We’ve cradled, nurtured, and helped prepare the next generation for the future. We are valuable. We add value wherever we go. As difficult as the transition may be, we can’t lose faith or give up the fight. We have to show them who we are and what we’re worth. We deserve more than the coins that drop off the human resources’ table. Hold yourself in high regard, because baby, you’re worth it!

I Want My Babies Back!

This week has been another super busy one. The children went back to school, and I was so excited for them to return, until the hustle and bustle of the week began. Oh, how I longed to have a driver who would drop them off at their different schools and pick them up at their three varying pick-up times and wait in the blazing sun in three-digit weather with all the other irritable parents. Oh how I wish I had someone who would wash the laundry, sweep and mop the floors, and clean the restrooms in their absence, so I could take a much-needed nap or run errands without having a little person in tow to ask me, “Where are we going?” five times in 30 seconds and “Can you buy me…?” upon our arrival.  

Do I really though? Or does my busyness really help fulfill my deep need to be needed? After all, I see newborns and ask to hold them and love how the tiny beings need their mommies so much: to feed, bathe, clothe, and cuddle them in their arms. Oh how I miss the sweet smell of a newborn, the coos of a baby, the various first year milestones…sigh…

I watch first-time moms struggle with the transition from the bliss of a life of just them and their husbands to the confusion and difficulties of figuring out why that little being is crying. I see mommies frazzled, sleep-deprived, and almost walking in a daze, and I smile, remembering when I too walked around, mean-mugging, because nobody told me that pregnancy wasn’t just a glow and hearty eating. I remember the days and nights I consumed and digested “…Baby-wise…” as if the weeks leading up to motherhood would make or break me if I didn’t get the schedule thing down.

I remember enjoying my first, second, and third time around as a new mom. My babies slept peacefully through the night by 5 weeks, 8 weeks, and 3 months consecutively. I didn’t have too many complaints about sleepless nights or difficulty transitioning our babies from our room to their own at six months. I loved being needed…shoot…wanted! I knew what boundaries were and chose to maintain them, in order to ensure that our children were used to our structure and adapted well due to our consistency.

Funny thing is with that consistency, the scheduling and knowing what comes next, as they’re growing up, as I try to remind them, I get, “I know, Mom.” I seldom get “Mommy/Mama, can you help me with…?” They seem to have it all down. They know the routine and are able to pretty much stick to it and maneuver through activities fairly well without me.

So there I am…the lonely Monarch butterfly from the distance watching my caterpillars become Chrysalis and slowly emerge as Monarchs themselves. I feel like my heart is slowly leaving me. A part of me is slowly disappearing and morphing into a separate being that functions on its own. I see little people, each with characteristics just like mine that are obvious to anyone who knows me well. They aren’t all good, but even then, I can’t but shake my head and smile at how amazing genetics are and how the amazing Creator formed each of these little beings who serve as reminders of our relationship with Him. They are extensions of us, as we are to be extensions of Him.

As a mom, I’ve heard people say it so many times, from the time my oldest was born to even now, “Enjoy every moment you have with them; they grow up so fast.” I’ll be honest, I didn’t think the time would go by THAT fast! I watch each of them as they do their individual homework, dress themselves, put their laundry away and wonder how the years are scurrying along and I don’t get to hit rewind on any of our special moments.

Cherish them. Give them hugs. Be silly with them. Love them. The days of their youth escape too quickly, and before we know it, they’ll be off to high school, college, and then bringing by someone else’s baby and wanting to start a life of their own with him/her.

I guess the way I see it now is that although some days I want my babies back in newborn form, life goes on. As much as I hated the idea growing up, just as I am to my mom, they will ALWAYS be my babies, and I’m okay with that.

I Kinda Like My Dust

So, folks, I got to thinking again this week. When I think too much, if any of you have noticed, I tend to swing from one extreme to the other:  cynical or wacky.

Well, I, like most people, care how I look. I want to be beautiful. I don’t want to be too skinny or gain too much weight. If my forehead or face is greasy, I care enough to blot it and not look like I splashed the grease off of fried chicken on it and then rubbed it in like some kind of facial routine. If I have a ‘bat in the cave,’ I care enough to want a friend or the person staring right at me to give me a sign. If I have food stuck in my teeth and give out a hearty laugh, rather than staring at me and squinting to figure out what I ate, I’d like you to let me know. If the extra garlic I put in my pasta sauce is wafting from my mouth and I decline a stick of gum or a mint, pull me aside and let me know, not quite like this, but you know.

Let’s say my four-week-old Bohemian hairstyle is falling apart in the back and I look a hot mess. Let’s say that despite it, I continue to strut my stuff like I look good. Of course, being that I have no eyes behind my head, I don’t realize that weeds are taking over back there. Well, let me strut (unless it’s really that bad), then pull me over and tell me know how the back of my head looks like a nest with eggs waiting to hatch.

I am a lot of things, but I don’t mind being alerted about my flaws. I have great friends from college who take the time, often, to put me in my place by pointing out those things that help keep me humble. We often go back and forth at each other, but it helps us laugh at ourselves, so that when someone says something to me just hating, it really doesn’t faze me.

Over the last week, a friend and I have been discussing about how our bodies are just a shell. We don’t leave with them. They house the being that makes up who we are, but at the end of the day, all of it fades and wastes away. That’s pretty sad and kind of depressing that the faces we spend hundreds of dollars purchasing beauty products for are only temporary. The bodies we get implants for are not here forever.

Hmmm…the thing is… I didn’t use to wear make-up, but my husband says that small, colored solid stick I use on my lips make my lips even more beautiful than they already are. We both like my eyes and love the look of the powder I apply to my eyelids to accentuate them. I’m not into rosy tint cheekbone stuff, but I’m not mad at the ladies who fancy it. Bi-weekly trips to get a manicure or pedicure? I would if I could.

In all seriousness though, what happens to our bodies when we’re gone? It all decomposes and returns to dust, right? In the meantime, is it okay to take care of it and adorn it? Is it okay for me to like getting pedicures and occasional manicures? Is it cool that I like my sundresses in the Summer and a good pair of black boots in the winter? I supposed it’s all good unless you become a slave to it, right? In the meantime, I have a confession... I kinda like my dust. That doesn’t mean I won’t respect the body the Lord has given me. I will simply enjoy it while I can and do my best not to make it a stumbling block for anyone. After all, what the good Lord gave, I don’t have to let just sag and drag, right? Can someone please hand me some petroleum jelly? I hear it keeps the skin tight. 

What Do You Believe?

There are so many things I’m still learning in this life that fades as quickly as the morning sun each day. Each day, I grow wiser, thinking, “At some point, we have to get to a place where we know enough to just be, right?” Each and every day though, I find that the answer is a resounding, “NO!” Here are a mish-mosh of thoughts, not necessarily strung together (as my brain seldom works that way)…

How do some people exist not believing in a higher power? How do they able to live without acknowledging that something beyond themselves keeps this crazy world going? Who really thinks that we are the result of a huge BANG!? Who really thinks that given another 1,000 years we may morph into some higher or more intelligent being, as homo sapiens can’t be the evolutionary process, can it? Idiots walking around creating their own truths despite the obvious signs that there’s more to this life than we can ever fathom? If this is it, all we have to live for - ourselves, pleasure, and things, then this whole experiment, or whatever it is, is a sham.

I choose to believe we each have a purpose. Yes, you water delivery men, housekeepers, freeway trash pickers, you all have a purpose. What you think you’re doing just to get by serves a much greater purpose. The attitude with which you provide your service or do your work speaks volumes about who you are and where you’re capable of going in this life. Where you are today is not indicative of where you will be tomorrow, unless that’s where you want to remain.

Of recent, I’ve realized just how much I limit myself. In talking to others, I say one thing about my current situation and how dire things often seem to get, but there are those who seem to swoop in right in the nick of time to remind me of where I am capable of going. If I just believe in the gifts and talents I’ve been given and how I can amount to much more than I so simply strive toward, I’d be alright. However, we allow our present circumstances direct our actions and speak for us.

For beings who just got here randomly, as a result of vapors or whatever else, we sure have some great insight, intuition, and wisdom. However, we believe in coincidences and run with all kinds of strange theories. We put one and three together and get five every time. We tend to miss the big picture before us. Life is more than just things and what we can obtain. Our relationships, hope, and faith play a big factor in the people we are capable of becoming. Nothing comes from nothing. We all have a mission on this earth and need to seek it out.

Coincidences? I don’t believe in them. I believe everything occurs for a reason; nothing happens by chance. Before you take the time to throw yourself a pity party to which others decline attendance, think about your life and those in it. How can YOU make a difference in someone else’s life? When we take the focus off ourselves, we tend to see life a little differently, and we often find that our issues are rather non-existent in comparison to what others around you are going through.

There was no funny-looking ape who eventually became me. There was no cataclysmic birth of the universe. If we search deeper, the heart of creation is relationship. Once we neglect to realize that, our focus becomes skewed. We take our focus off our fellow man and place it on the mundane and things we were supposed to have dominion over. At the heart of it all, there’s more to this life than we can ever imagine. So our hatred for others and fight for the irrelevant has to end. Our purpose is to love, serve, and give our all. No big bang or evolutionary process could teach us that or encourage to get up and dust ourselves off after a fall. I need you. You need me. We need Him.