From Lost to Found

I knew I was a mom, when mother nature informed me with a late cycle. I was late. I was never late. A million thoughts went through my head. We weren't trying, but we obviously weren't doing so great at preventing.

A few days later, while walking in the drug store, I casually walked down the aisle, where the pregnancy tests would be. I shouted behind me, I need a pregnancy test. M said nothing. We drove home, the sun was shining, I looked out the window. I knew it would be positive.

At home we unloaded our purchases and then I went to take the test. It was positive. I shouted from the bathroom to M, who was rooms away: I'm pregnant. In hindsight, I could have at least entered the room he was in. Maybe even taken the test and then handed him one of those "you are going to be a dad cards". I think Hallmark makes them.

You become a mother the minute you know you are expecting. I talked to G (even before I knew he'd be G) all the time in my head. I followed What to Expect When You are Expecting like it was my job. I asked a ton of questions at doctor's appointments. I refused medicine when sick, caffeine when thirsty. I refused the epidural, until a c-section left me no choice but anesthesia.

From the minute I held G (which wasn't immediate due to the c-section--I was actually the 5th person to hold him counting my doctor, a nurse, M, and M's best friend), I wanted nothing but the best for him. His birth turned a lost 25 year old girl into a grown 25 year old woman, who would find her purpose and path in life because her son needed her to. G gave me purpose, he gave me willpower, he gave me hope and desire to figure it all out.

I want G to have all the opportunities and all the advantages I had, I want him to have better. Let's be honest, this is a hard adventure to undertake. I will not give up, not even now. I won't be a lost 33 year old. I lost my job, not my pride (as the song says), not my willpower, not my hope, not my desire. Not my motherhood. I get out of bed everyday because G needs me. I get out of bed everyday because the suit in me likes making waffles just as much as drawing up policies.

I can't even begin to write about the sacrifices my mom made for both my brother and I. I can't even begin to say how she has shaped me as not only a woman, but as a mother. I can only hope that some day when Gabriel starts dating, marries, and has kids that he will look back and think the same regarding me. It doesn't matter what else I accomplish in my life, as long as I do right by him.

If you can survive here

I was speaking with a headhunter today regarding a possible position in a very interesting atmosphere. I use the word interesting for lack of a better word and also to save confidentiality as the replacement is confidential. She said: "what I like about your resume" and I interrupted and said "is that I have worked at many law firms and like the saying goes--if you can survive a law firm, you can work anywhere." She laughed and said exactly, and you have worked at more than one firm. You are obviously strong." No, the job is not at a firm.

We had spoken for about 20 minutes prior to this revelation and I had a good feel for what she was thinking (call it the recruiting intuition). She was direct, to the point, and very business like. Plus, she called me at 9pm. I liked her.

However, the conversation and what she said got me thinking. If you can survive working in a firm (and several in my case), you can work anywhere. You are obviously very strong.

While I do feel I could probably work in any environment in which I found myself, I don't necessarily want to. Just like, I can (some days better than others) deal with the bad hand life sometimes deals me, but I don't really want to. While I know that life is not always easy, and that it has its challenges, I can't help but wonder does it ever end? Is there such a thing as normal? With everything that has happened in my last 2 years, I am beginning to doubt such a thing as normal exists. Perhaps, this is my normal?

If this is my normal, what lesson am I supposed to learn? What more am I supposed to give? Accomplish? Realize? To be honest, the lesson of life is taking its tole on me. The circles under my eyes are becoming ingrained into my otherwise very nice skin. My already thin patience is becoming anorexic.

I am trying very hard to meet success with humility, to encounter misfortune without bitterness or defeat. But it is very hard. Some days I feel like all my strength is gone and all I want to do is go back to bed. I've been at war with the "higher being" for some time now. I am not sure such a being exists. I have been questioning this in a very agnostic way. It's hypocritical in some ways--my son attends a religious school and attends church most Sundays. I still have icons in my house and every now and then I find myself praying.

I am a very stubborn person. I am not ready to cave. Lately, I have been wondering, if perhaps, life is waiting for me to cave before it turns around.

Define Defining

Everyone has a story. Magazines will run contests: tell us about what you have overcome. Radio stations will have contests: tell us who your hero is and will send him/her on a spa vacation.

The truth is every one of us has been there, done that, or knows someone who has. We have all had our moments of depression, hair pulling anxiety, never ending tears, feelings of hopelessness. So maybe we all haven't had a cocaine addiction, or had to live on the streets, or been in an abusive relationship, but we all have something. We all have that thing or things that have defined our lives, defined who we have become, or who we are trying to be, or maybe just who we were.

I don't know one person who has never lost a loved one, who has never had a broken heart, who hasn't struggled financially at one time or another. I can't think of a single person who seems to have a cake walk life. Everyone has something. That one thing you take for granted could be the exact same thing someone else is losing sleep over.

The other day, I was thinking about what I would write if asked about my defining moment, my victory over an obstacle, my moment of hair pulling anxiety and never ending tears. While in deep thought regarding this, it occurred to me that I could not write about just one thing. My story would be multiple events, a rolling history of me, if you will. Some may call this simply: life.

Isn't that what life is after all? Isn't it a series of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, sunshine and rain, yin and yang, Optimus vs. Megatron? A journey.

Gobble, Gobble; No, No; Well Maybe

In an effort to be healthier, G and I decided to try some turkey bacon. You see, if you ask the child what mommy loves more than bacon, he will respond "pretty much just me". He's kinda right.

We purchased two different brands of turkey bacon and quickly went to work. We pan cooked it, we broiled it, and we baked it. This was new territory for both of us, so we followed the cooking instructions.

The fact that I could bake it did not sit well with me, you are not supossed to bake bacon...although I will say it was the easiest way. I did not like the pan cooking method. The lack of shrivel made me feel like I wasn't cooking it correctly. It didn't shrivel up with a ton of grease oozing out showing its crispy fattiness, and extra yumminess. There was not a greasy sizzle saying "pay attention to me", it was more a heat sizzle that said "whatever, I'm bored".

The dog didn't even come into the kitchen when we were cooking.

I fixed a small plate for each of us making sure to put some of each cooking type on each plate. G is a very finicky eater at times, so I was slightly worried about the money I just wasted on this healthier choice. I brought him his plate and tried my share in a different room, so I wouldn't influence his taste buds.

I did not care for this gobble gobble bacon. I felt like I was eating thinly sliced cooked ham, not turkey, and definitely not bacon. My taste buds said "whatever, I'm bored". I did what any 5 year old would do, I gave mine to the dog.

G, on the other wing, asked for a second plate. I guess I will continue to purchase this gobble bacon as G will eat it, and I want him to eat healthy. However, I will not be eating it again. I like my bacon with all the fat and all the grease. I like the sizzle.

Stuff, Stuff, and the postcard

I am one of those annoyingly organized people who not only Spring cleans, but also Summer cleans, Fall cleans, and Winter cleans. My holiday decorations are stored in plastic totes with a color scheme matching the holiday (pastel pinks and purple hold Easter, red and green hold Christmas, etc. etc.). No one gets more excited than me when I get a postcard in the mail asking for donations to be put out--hello, an excuse to purge my house! Woohoo! *happy dance*. Those of you who have been camping with me no the happy dance in all it's glory (and sometimes after several beers...).

One of these postcards came last week and I put it on the fridge, so I'd remember the day. Yes, I sickingly had things already purged in anticipation of the next postcard. But then I got to thinking...

How is it that every time one of these postcards come, I have things to donate? How did I accumulate so many items that I don't need or use? Of course, clothes fade, children outgrow them along with shoes, parts become missing for toys, or just lose the interest of the child. But what about the rest? Do we really need 33 coffee mugs when we only use the same 5 over and over? How do I have body lotions from Bath and Body works that are not even made anymore? Where the heck did all these tupperware and rubbermaid containers come from? Well, some may actually be my mom's and just never made it back over there....enough with the excuses!

I recycle, my garage and shed are filled with empty yankee candle and pickle jars that now hold screws, nuts, bolts, and other items, I re-use foil and sandwich bags for heaven's sake! But yet, I have 33 coffee mugs. My husband doesn't even say anything anymore when Winter comes and blankets mysteriously disappear from our house. He knows I have given them to some man sleeping on a downtown bench, or the guy who sleeps in his car in the metroparks. But yet, I still have a closet full of nothing but blankets? Let's not talk about my shoes...

Maybe it's time to simplify. Does anyone need coffee mugs?

White Flag of Surrender

In my head, I had all these ideas as to where my life would be at this point in time (damn type A, planner, list maker in me). Life has thrown more curve balls at me in the last 2 years than Koufax threw in his career. I was never a very good hitter, my timing is normally off. It appears my timing is now off in life too.

When I went back to work after being home a year, it wasn't the ideal location or the ideal pay, but I was happy to be working again. The job duties/responsibilities were ideal for the career path I wanted. Perhaps, my husband didn't need to pick up so many shifts and we could take our son to Kalahari (he's been asking to go for 2 years). Of course, I promptly came up with a new financial plan to include my salary once again and started daydreaming about finally finishing some of the cosmetic changes I've been waiting to do in the house.

When I was once again laid off (my first full time paycheck was my severance check), I was hopeful that I wouldn't be home another year again, the market had really changed, I had earned a new certification. My first week home, I fielded at least 3 calls a day regarding my resume. Of course, some where headhunters without actual jobs, but you can never have too many people helping you in your job search. I was very positive. (OK so I missed the little rugrats too).

Sometimes it's hard to be positive. I've only been home 3 weeks, but I feel like it's been at least 3 months. My car needs some pricey repairs, the mail man still brings me bills, and I still need to pay them, the phone calls regarding my resume have died down. I am still looking at ugly wallpaper in two rooms. Unemployment will be a very, very small amount per week (my monthly payout won't even cover my son's school tuition), and I have yet to actually receive any of it.

I can deal with all kinds of stress: car accidents, broken arms, bloody noses, my mother, my dog thinking squirrels are trying to take over our yard, but I am not good with financial stress. I do not like it when things are not at a zero balance. You hear people who grew up in the Great Depression talk about what they still do to this day because of their experience. I paid off major debt once in my life, it was a life learning experience of frugal living and smart choices. I vowed to never have that issue again. To be faced with the possibility of doing that again, when the cause was out of my hands, makes me wonder if drinking at 9am is acceptable.

People always say: work hard-- it will pay off; if you want something go after it; all things happen for a reason. What people never say is that sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work -- shit happens; that going after something doesn't always mean you will get it; and that often reasons and off timing don't turn out alright in the end for a long time.

I am no longer sure how much positive thinking I have left in me. I wonder if I can return my MBA, I don't seem to be using it and it wasn't cheap.

Don't Forget to Live

I never gave my parents any real trouble until I was in my 20s. Then I really made up for being such a perfect child. I am sure my parents had daily heart attacks for at least 3 years as I had an early midlife crisis (hey, I always do everything ahead of schedule).

For the first time in my life, I was lost. I was almost done with a degree in an area I no longer wanted to follow. I found my classes boring, the assignments were not challenging, my brain was not being exercised. I stopped attending classes. I existed, but I wasn't living. I pushed friends away, I slept all the time. I became a shell of the person I really was. I had never had such confusion before, I had always had a plan, a schedule, an idea. Now I knew nothing.

As the saying goes, you have to hit rock bottom before you can climb to the top. I hit rock bottom, in a non Charlie Sheen way. Perhaps, the Charlie way would have been more fun, but I have never seen the point in substance abuse, needles are not my favorite thing, and I like my skin and nose exactly as they are (I have a little bump in my nose, my mom has it too. It's really not even that noticeable. A lady once argued with me that I must have broken it once. No, sorry to disappoint you, nose guru).

The climb back up, took a little longer than the fall, due to a slight diversion called a horrible break up that left me shell shocked. However, the diversion ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. I learned that year who I was again, who I wanted to be, how strong I was, who my real friends were. Just like Jay Z, I was back, but I was back stronger and more full of life than I ever had been.

I learned not to stress over the things you can't control, I learned to deal with issues one step at a time, I learned I can't control everything, I learned I didn't want to, I learned not knowing the answer is ok.

I learned that sometimes you can be so busy planning life, that you forget to live life.

I resolve to stop planning all my tomorrows and just enjoy my todays. Tomorrow will always be there, tomorrow.