"Cain't nobody ride your back if you don't bend over."
~ Black Man Not Blogging's Late Grandmother
Over the last couple of weeks, I've been working on a project for work that's been a doozie for a number of reasons. First among them is the fact that, for whatever reason -- age, menopause fog, whatever -- I can't sit for hours on end behind a desk analyzing and digesting legal briefs and cases like I used to. When I was in my twenties, I could read and make sense of this stuff for hours on end until I finished whatever I was working on -- a brief, a bench memo, whatever. I'm at the point now that if I can read a decision or a legal brief for an hour straight, I've done well. It simply takes me longer to do what I could have done faster in my twenties and thirties, and I don't know why. I think the second reason is that, at this stage in my life, I'm more interested in creating and building than analyzing and defending. I'm tired of having to prove myself with every project I handle, knowing there are people who are just waiting for me to slip and fail, waiting for me to not be as good at my work as I know I am. I've got a bad case of analysis paralysis.
Against all this is the backdrop of my superiors at work metaphorically perched on my shoulder, asking me when I'm going to finish, wanting to know how far I've come on the project and why it isn't finished yet. The answer I have isn't acceptable -- I can't do this stuff as quickly as I used to do it -- but it's the only truthful answer I've got.
So the anxiety of not being able to analyze and write as quickly as I used to combined with my superiors badgering me ("Can you finish this up today? Thanks.") drove my already high anxiety level through the roof, so much so that I got really sick not once, but twice, during the holiday season. So much so that I missed a family member's funeral and Christmas. I'm still not at 100%. I've spent most of this weekend on the couch resting and watching Turner Classic Movies.
Even when I dragged my sick behind in on New Year's Eve just to prove to everyone that I was indeed working away on this project, the promise I made, and the expectation I created, was that I would work through New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, if required, to finish this project. Mind you, there's no statutory deadline for this project. No one is going to be harmed if it isn't completed this week or even in this month. Yet, because I've always come through with an excellent work product in less time than it's taking me now, the expectation is that I will continue to work away at whatever cost to myself until it's done and done well.
In other words, I've been bending over, letting my superiors ride my back. And for no good reason.
That is, until I spoke to another co-worker who was also at work on New Year's Eve long after Governor Brown let everyone leave early at 1:00 pm.
I was telling this co-worker how I had been working on this project for what seemed like forever. I worked on it after work, in bed. I worked on it while I was sick in bed. I worked on it during weekends. And because I don't have the attention span I used to have, it was just taking me longer than usual, and I was getting questioned by my supervisor as to what was taking so long and I had no good answer.
Co-worker responded: "It's New Year's Eve. Nobody else is here. What have you done that's so bad that you deserve to be here on New Year's Eve? Everybody else has gone home to their families. You ought to go home to yours."
Talk about an a-ha moment, as Oprah would say.
It dawned on me -- like my BFF has been saying to me since my thirties, "The work is always going to be there. It never ends. We just die. And then someone else comes along and takes up where you left off."
And then I thought of all the events I'd missed trying to meet these deadlines -- two Stanford college reunions, a family funeral, you name it.
And I got angry, because I can't ever get that time back.
But I can make sure I don't lose any more of it.
My co-worker went on to say something to the effect of, "Don't lose perspective. Right now, I have to decide whether to take an ill family member to an event on New Year's Day, so as far as I'm concerned, if something I'm working on doesn't have a statutory deadline, well, these folks will get it when they get they get it. And yes, they're going to be disappointed, but I've got bigger issues in my life right now."
Indeed. So do I. That's when it hit me: "Cain't nobody ride your back if you don't bend over."
With that, I straightened up, -- literally and metaphorically -- left what was left of my project on my desk, grabbed only my purse and my coat (and not my briefcase), and walked into the frosty New Year's Eve air to bring in the new year with my husband, Black Man Not Blogging.
So, don't be like me. Don't let anyone ride your back. Just don't bend over. Yes, you're going to disappoint some people, but better them than yourself.
Happy New Year!
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
What Do You Want? No, Really.
I have a question for you, gentle readers: What do you want?
No, really. What do you want?
I'm asking because, if you don't stop and ask yourselves this question from time to time, you run a huge risk that you won't get it.
Whether it's a buff bod, a published book, more time with your kids, whatever -- if you don't ask yourselves the question, you might not get it, whatever it is.
I had to stop and ask myself that question recently, and ask BMNB the same question for that matter. Despite having come back from a lovely vacation and vowing to focus on my goals and the goals for our little family, I'd fallen back into the same pattern as before, constantly going to meetings after work and making myself available to do whatever people asked of me. And most of this effort on my part, although laudable, had absolutely nothing to do with what I or BMNB wanted. My actions and my intentions were worlds apart.
It really hit me when others who had come to rely on me were making their work bend to their personal priorities, while I had done the opposite. And when I did finally ask BMNB what he wanted, he replied simply, "I want you home." We discussed even further the fact that we hadn't achieved the goals we had for ourselves as a married couple and aspiring parents.
So, to the shock and chagrin of others, I let them know that BMNB and I come first and I was letting go of my involvement in certain things, things for which I could see no definite end in sight. Things that, although laudable, would continue to devour my time and put BMNB and I farther away from our personal goals.
The responses to my quasi-"Declaration of Independence" ranged from disappointment to shock ("You can't do this."). I asked myself the question whether, twenty years from now, my continuing as I was would make me happy in my personal life. The answer was "no." When I asked myself whether taking myself offline, so to speak, to pursue the goals that I and BMNB have for ourselves individually and a couple would make me happy twenty years from now, the answer was a resounding "yes." I disappointed some people, but I made the most important person in my life happy -- BMNB. And myself, too.
But I'd been here before. When I was in my late twenties and early thirties, I was involved in a host of organizations, always going to meetings, always taking leadership positions. I slowly noticed a dramatic drop in participation by my cohorts. Why? They were busy starting their lives -- getting married, having children, buying homes. Although I'm proud of the things I accomplished, they don't take the place of a husband, a home, and children. I didn't think I wanted those things at the time, but if I had known that I was going to be as happy married as I am now, I would have married and started a family a long time ago.
And, to be truthful, I chafed at the idea of someone telling me that I couldn't stop doing something, something that I was doing as a volunteer. People will tell you this when you constantly offer your services and are good at what you're doing with or for them. They can't imagine that you wouldn't continue doing what you're doing because, well, you're good at it. Don't confuse being good at something with being happy doing it. Don't let the accolades for doing something that isn't in line with your goals blind you to achieving your goals.
Plus, I have this thing about being independent and free. The easiest way to get me to resist is to tell me that I have to do something. I know for certain that, if I was black in a previous life, I was an unrecalcitrant field slave who was probably hung for good measure. I don't take orders well.
So, if I can impart any wisdom from my experience, this is it:
1) If you don't stop and ask yourself what you want out of life, you run the risk of not getting it.
2) Although you're not responsible for your partner's happiness, you are responsible for not getting in the way of your partner's happiness. If you don't know what your partner wants, how will you know if you're in the way of him or her getting it?
3) You can't sleep with a wall plaque. Well, you can, but it won't do much for you. Accolades won't cook your dinner, warm your cold feet at night, or give you an excuse to curl up under a blanket and read Goodnight, Moon over and over again. Don't let them keep you from pursuing your personal goals.
One of my favorite cheesy movie lines is from the movie "Mr. Mom," in which Michael Keaton's character says to his wife Teri Garr something she'd said to him earlier: It's easy to forget what's important, so don't.
So don't. I'm trying not to.
No, really. What do you want?
I'm asking because, if you don't stop and ask yourselves this question from time to time, you run a huge risk that you won't get it.
Whether it's a buff bod, a published book, more time with your kids, whatever -- if you don't ask yourselves the question, you might not get it, whatever it is.
I had to stop and ask myself that question recently, and ask BMNB the same question for that matter. Despite having come back from a lovely vacation and vowing to focus on my goals and the goals for our little family, I'd fallen back into the same pattern as before, constantly going to meetings after work and making myself available to do whatever people asked of me. And most of this effort on my part, although laudable, had absolutely nothing to do with what I or BMNB wanted. My actions and my intentions were worlds apart.
It really hit me when others who had come to rely on me were making their work bend to their personal priorities, while I had done the opposite. And when I did finally ask BMNB what he wanted, he replied simply, "I want you home." We discussed even further the fact that we hadn't achieved the goals we had for ourselves as a married couple and aspiring parents.
So, to the shock and chagrin of others, I let them know that BMNB and I come first and I was letting go of my involvement in certain things, things for which I could see no definite end in sight. Things that, although laudable, would continue to devour my time and put BMNB and I farther away from our personal goals.
The responses to my quasi-"Declaration of Independence" ranged from disappointment to shock ("You can't do this."). I asked myself the question whether, twenty years from now, my continuing as I was would make me happy in my personal life. The answer was "no." When I asked myself whether taking myself offline, so to speak, to pursue the goals that I and BMNB have for ourselves individually and a couple would make me happy twenty years from now, the answer was a resounding "yes." I disappointed some people, but I made the most important person in my life happy -- BMNB. And myself, too.
But I'd been here before. When I was in my late twenties and early thirties, I was involved in a host of organizations, always going to meetings, always taking leadership positions. I slowly noticed a dramatic drop in participation by my cohorts. Why? They were busy starting their lives -- getting married, having children, buying homes. Although I'm proud of the things I accomplished, they don't take the place of a husband, a home, and children. I didn't think I wanted those things at the time, but if I had known that I was going to be as happy married as I am now, I would have married and started a family a long time ago.
And, to be truthful, I chafed at the idea of someone telling me that I couldn't stop doing something, something that I was doing as a volunteer. People will tell you this when you constantly offer your services and are good at what you're doing with or for them. They can't imagine that you wouldn't continue doing what you're doing because, well, you're good at it. Don't confuse being good at something with being happy doing it. Don't let the accolades for doing something that isn't in line with your goals blind you to achieving your goals.
Plus, I have this thing about being independent and free. The easiest way to get me to resist is to tell me that I have to do something. I know for certain that, if I was black in a previous life, I was an unrecalcitrant field slave who was probably hung for good measure. I don't take orders well.
So, if I can impart any wisdom from my experience, this is it:
1) If you don't stop and ask yourself what you want out of life, you run the risk of not getting it.
2) Although you're not responsible for your partner's happiness, you are responsible for not getting in the way of your partner's happiness. If you don't know what your partner wants, how will you know if you're in the way of him or her getting it?
3) You can't sleep with a wall plaque. Well, you can, but it won't do much for you. Accolades won't cook your dinner, warm your cold feet at night, or give you an excuse to curl up under a blanket and read Goodnight, Moon over and over again. Don't let them keep you from pursuing your personal goals.
One of my favorite cheesy movie lines is from the movie "Mr. Mom," in which Michael Keaton's character says to his wife Teri Garr something she'd said to him earlier: It's easy to forget what's important, so don't.
So don't. I'm trying not to.
The Unwritten Rules of Life
I wrote these a long time ago while sitting in a boring meeting, and I recently ran across them. Mind you, I've definitely broken a few of these rules myself, like trying to raise grown boyfriends and not saving enough money, but these pearls of wisdom I've learned from my parents, family and friends might help you, too.
THE UNWRITTEN RULES OF LIFE
1. You are responsible for your children's education, not the government. If they drop out of school, they'll probably be living in your house, not the government's.
2. You are not where you live, what you drive, or what you wear.
3. Do not attend funerals of co-workers' relatives unless it is clear your presence is requested. Your co-workers are not your family.
4. Pets are not disposable. If you cannot commit to caring for a pet for its lifetime, consider gardening instead.
5. If you drive a luxury vehicle and live in the ghetto, the barrio, or a trailer park, your priorities are misplaced.
5a. Same if you have rims on your vehicle and live in the ghetto, the barrio, or a trailer park.
6. If you are wealthy and your parents live in poverty, you are most certainly going to hell.
7. Three things women cannot and should not share: 1) A kitchen; 2) underwear; and 3) a man.
8. There is no shame in these four words: I can't afford it.
9. Never be financially dependent on anyone, especially if you are a woman. A man is not a plan.
10. Appearances do matter IF the judgments people make based on your appearance prevent you from achieving your goals, like trying to work in corporate America.
11. The Joneses are frontin', plain and simple. Do not try to keep up with them.
12. Blame and anger, in excess, are wastes of energy. Redirect that energy towards achieving something positive.
13. A dog that will bring a bone will carry a bone. Beware the office gossip.
14. Never give your adversaries the tools of your own demise.
15. Your children don't really care about your work. At best, they feign interest to make you feel better.
16. If you are still seeking the approval and validation of others after the age of 40, seek therapy instead.
17. You cannot raise a grown person.
18. If you are underrated, chances are you are underpaid, too.
19. A line of credit does not equal savings.
20. Nobody owes you anything, especially your parents. If you want something, you better work for it.
21. Ain't nothing free but Jesus.
22. To the persistent go the spoils.
23. Your children will value what you value. Conversely, they will not value what you don't.
24. There are no atheist parents in a pediatric emergency room.
25. If you don't teach your children to distinguish their wants from their needs, they will grow up believing that all their wants are needs.
26. Things you should never buy new: a car; musical instruments; wooden furniture; books; music; DVDs. Things you should never buy used: underwear; mattresses.
27. "Please," "Thank You," "Yes, Ma'am," and "No, Ma'am" aren't just for southern children.
28. Before you have a child, ask yourself, "If I were coming into the world, would I choose myself as a parent?" If the answer is "no," don't have a child.
29. No tombstone has ever read, "Beloved lawyer." Who you were to others in life will be reflected on your tombstone.
30. We all dine at the table of the consequences of our decisions. Choose wisely.
31. If your significant other is a liar, a thief, or a philanderer, just walk away. See Rule # 17.
32. The only people who want to hear about your sex life are perverts. Don't engage them.
33. Money is not the root of all evil -- it is a means to financial peace of mind. Save as if you have no one to help you if things go bad. Chances are, you won't.
34. If you really like something at Target and you can afford it, buy it. Merchandise turns over quickly there.
35. If you have ever hit your parents in anything other than self defense, you are pond scum.
36. Your children neither want nor need your negativity. If you are constantly criticizing your children, maybe you aren't happy with yourself.
37. Do not drag infant children by one arm on the bus or subway. They are not rag dolls. Pick them up.
38. Anger is no excuse for hitting a child. If you're the adult, act like it.
39. A well-rounded education includes knowledge of the arts, foreign languages, and different cultures.
40. If you don't travel, you are less likely to see the humanity in people unlike yourself.
41. The world isn't fair, and when it comes to Scrabble and Monopoly, you probably aren't either.
42. Disabled people aren't office pets. Don't treat them as such.
43. Before your criticize, analyze.
44. If you want your child to marry a good spouse, you should be married to a good spouse and be a good spouse yourself. Children model what they see.
45. Do not teach children that it is acceptable to disrespect teachers. If they disrespect teachers, they'll have problems with authority figures for the rest of their lives. See Rule # 1.
46. You are responsible for your children's nutritional habits.
47. Marriage does not excuse you from self-sufficiency.
48. Your spouse or significant other is not your:
a. Parent
b. Child
c. Bank
d. Credit card company
e. Maid
f. Social secretary
g. Tech support
h. Laundry service
i. Therapist
j. Sex worker
k. Repair person
l. Personal stylist
m. Mechanic
n. Proofreader
o. Teacher
p. Cook
q. GPS for lost household items
49. You may not get what you deserve in this life, but you'll damn sure get what you settle for.
THE UNWRITTEN RULES OF LIFE
1. You are responsible for your children's education, not the government. If they drop out of school, they'll probably be living in your house, not the government's.
2. You are not where you live, what you drive, or what you wear.
3. Do not attend funerals of co-workers' relatives unless it is clear your presence is requested. Your co-workers are not your family.
4. Pets are not disposable. If you cannot commit to caring for a pet for its lifetime, consider gardening instead.
5. If you drive a luxury vehicle and live in the ghetto, the barrio, or a trailer park, your priorities are misplaced.
5a. Same if you have rims on your vehicle and live in the ghetto, the barrio, or a trailer park.
6. If you are wealthy and your parents live in poverty, you are most certainly going to hell.
7. Three things women cannot and should not share: 1) A kitchen; 2) underwear; and 3) a man.
8. There is no shame in these four words: I can't afford it.
9. Never be financially dependent on anyone, especially if you are a woman. A man is not a plan.
10. Appearances do matter IF the judgments people make based on your appearance prevent you from achieving your goals, like trying to work in corporate America.
11. The Joneses are frontin', plain and simple. Do not try to keep up with them.
12. Blame and anger, in excess, are wastes of energy. Redirect that energy towards achieving something positive.
13. A dog that will bring a bone will carry a bone. Beware the office gossip.
14. Never give your adversaries the tools of your own demise.
15. Your children don't really care about your work. At best, they feign interest to make you feel better.
16. If you are still seeking the approval and validation of others after the age of 40, seek therapy instead.
17. You cannot raise a grown person.
18. If you are underrated, chances are you are underpaid, too.
19. A line of credit does not equal savings.
20. Nobody owes you anything, especially your parents. If you want something, you better work for it.
21. Ain't nothing free but Jesus.
22. To the persistent go the spoils.
23. Your children will value what you value. Conversely, they will not value what you don't.
24. There are no atheist parents in a pediatric emergency room.
25. If you don't teach your children to distinguish their wants from their needs, they will grow up believing that all their wants are needs.
26. Things you should never buy new: a car; musical instruments; wooden furniture; books; music; DVDs. Things you should never buy used: underwear; mattresses.
27. "Please," "Thank You," "Yes, Ma'am," and "No, Ma'am" aren't just for southern children.
28. Before you have a child, ask yourself, "If I were coming into the world, would I choose myself as a parent?" If the answer is "no," don't have a child.
29. No tombstone has ever read, "Beloved lawyer." Who you were to others in life will be reflected on your tombstone.
30. We all dine at the table of the consequences of our decisions. Choose wisely.
31. If your significant other is a liar, a thief, or a philanderer, just walk away. See Rule # 17.
32. The only people who want to hear about your sex life are perverts. Don't engage them.
33. Money is not the root of all evil -- it is a means to financial peace of mind. Save as if you have no one to help you if things go bad. Chances are, you won't.
34. If you really like something at Target and you can afford it, buy it. Merchandise turns over quickly there.
35. If you have ever hit your parents in anything other than self defense, you are pond scum.
36. Your children neither want nor need your negativity. If you are constantly criticizing your children, maybe you aren't happy with yourself.
37. Do not drag infant children by one arm on the bus or subway. They are not rag dolls. Pick them up.
38. Anger is no excuse for hitting a child. If you're the adult, act like it.
39. A well-rounded education includes knowledge of the arts, foreign languages, and different cultures.
40. If you don't travel, you are less likely to see the humanity in people unlike yourself.
41. The world isn't fair, and when it comes to Scrabble and Monopoly, you probably aren't either.
42. Disabled people aren't office pets. Don't treat them as such.
43. Before your criticize, analyze.
44. If you want your child to marry a good spouse, you should be married to a good spouse and be a good spouse yourself. Children model what they see.
45. Do not teach children that it is acceptable to disrespect teachers. If they disrespect teachers, they'll have problems with authority figures for the rest of their lives. See Rule # 1.
46. You are responsible for your children's nutritional habits.
47. Marriage does not excuse you from self-sufficiency.
48. Your spouse or significant other is not your:
a. Parent
b. Child
c. Bank
d. Credit card company
e. Maid
f. Social secretary
g. Tech support
h. Laundry service
i. Therapist
j. Sex worker
k. Repair person
l. Personal stylist
m. Mechanic
n. Proofreader
o. Teacher
p. Cook
q. GPS for lost household items
49. You may not get what you deserve in this life, but you'll damn sure get what you settle for.
A Pretty Damn Good Life
Last weekend, I started my Saturday in my garden with my great-nephew M. He stayed over the night before – I was at a campaign meeting and didn’t get home until 11:00 pm, so we didn’t see much of each other – but we started the morning together in my garden, with him clipping the flowers off of my collards and mustard greens (they’re bolting, but hey, they’re still good, fresh food) and me watering the seeds I’ve started for my summer vegetable garden. I pulled a carrot out of the ground, washed it, and we both ate it, remarking at how sweet it was and so unlike the slightly bitter carrots we get in the store.
After going out to breakfast with M and BMNB, we all went to “Clayfest” in Lincoln, which included “Camp Clay,” a free event where kids could get as much wet clay as they wanted to do with it as they pleased. As I was sitting at a table that sunny Saturday listening to M and BMNB playfully argue over what M should do with the clay, (I finally told BMNB, “Get your own clay!”), I thought to myself:
You’ve got a pretty damn good life.
Mind you, I didn’t say perfect life. What makes my life a pretty damn good one at this point is that I’ve let go of a lot of things and no longer allow the perfect to get in the way of the good.
Yes, my house is a mess and I have grain beetles in my pantry (Who knew?). I still haven’t unpacked and organized things to my liking. But my roses are in bloom and fragrant as ever (Heirloom and Fragrant Cloud, to be exact). I can pay my bills, even with this freakin’ furlough. I’m not hungry – in fact, I’m overweight. My husband adores me and I adore him. I live in a nice neighborhood where my neighbors share in lawn care duties and weeding of each other’s properties.
But I’ve let go of a lot.
I’ve let go of the aspiration that I will find my work thrilling and motivating. My job doesn’t excite me. The practice of law doesn’t excite me. I like the people I work with, I like most of the work I do, but I can’t say I went to law school to do what I’m doing or that it propels me out of bed in the morning. I’ve long stopped trying to live up to others’ career aspirations for me, too. I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard, “I thought you’d be on the bench by now,” without anyone ever asking me, “Do you want to be a judge?” The answer is “no.” Quite frankly, I don’t know what I want to do, and I know that my civil rights forebears, like my late soror Dorothy Height, would probably be disappointed in my current lack of direction given all of the educational capital that’s been invested in me. But I’m happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. Although I’m sure this is my last attorney job, I might stay in it for as long as it supports the kind of life I want – the ability to put my family first without a lot of pushback, as in private sector legal practice. My job does allow me a great deal of flexibility, and I work in a very parent-friendly workplace, which gets me to my second point:
I’ve let go of the idea that there’s a perfect time to start a family. There isn’t. You just do it. BMNB and I have probably waited far too long, longer than most, but that’s been the tenor of our lives – we’re late bloomers and over-achievers, always trying to get our ducks in a row before we embark on something huge. But not this time. So we’ve started to plough ahead on the adoption front, and I’m excited and scared all at the same time. And I wonder whether I’ll even care as much about my career when we have kids in the house. My advice to anyone, whether you’re single, married, or just breathing, is that if you want kids, go make some or go get some. There is no perfect moment to start a family.
I’ve let go of the idea that I would be wealthy. Mind you, I wasn’t chasing wealth for the purpose of buying oodles of crap. I wanted to be financially secure in order to be free to do whatever the hell I wanted. And deep down inside, I think I expected that that was what others expected of me. But as I look down the dual paths of retirement planning and child raising/college saving, unless I become the Donald Trump of Placer County in selling real estate, the likelihood that I’m going to be wealthy isn’t very high if I stay in my current position. Mind you, BMNB and I make a comfortable living for two folks with no kids. But the idea that one day I won’t have to watch my pennies, invest and save aggressively, clip coupons, or shop meat sales at Safeway is gone. I’d rather be less well off and surrounded by happy kids. My definition of happiness has definitely changed.
I’ve let go of the idea that I’m going to be a size eight. Now, I just want to be healthy and feel good. I’ve got this one body (I’m starting to sound like a “Boniva” commercial here), and I’ve got to stop waging war against it. It serves me, and I need to serve it, no matter what size it is.
I’ve let go of the idea that I have a lot of time left to do the things I want to do. I don’t. Nobody really does. I was listening to Joan Rivers on “Forum” on my way to work, and she said that she lives well because she believes you only live once. As a Jew, she remarked that they believe in “heaven and hell, all right here on earth.” I’m one of those people who puts fun things off until I can pay cash and I constantly say, “We can’t afford that right now.” Well, to borrow from an old civil rights refrain, “If not now, when?” I’m not saying I’m going to run out and charge a bunch of trips and rack up oodles of debt. I am saying that I’m going to find a middle ground and plan for more fun. As nerdy as it sounds, I’m looking forward to studying places with my kids and then traveling to those places, like Civil War battlegrounds, Washington D.C., California missions, the Underground Railroad, and the like. BMNB and I love to travel, and I want to build more of that into our lives.
I’ve taken a break from achievement and gone off on a path of fun. Right now, I’m running a local political campaign and I’m having a blast! I’m using all of my skills – writing, organization, planning, creativity – to put together a winning strategy for a candidate I believe in, and I’m meeting all kinds of intriguing and passionate people along the way. I don’t know where this might lead down the line, but right now, I’m having more fun at this than at trying to figure out my career path.
We finished our Saturday with a trip to the library (M loves to read – gotta love that in an 8 year-old), two trips to Burger King (don’t ask), and an evening watching kid videos we borrowed from the library for free -- Shrek, Madagascar, one of those Narnia movies – while I crocheted an afghan for his cousin. The next day, consonant with Donkey’s prescription for a good sleepover, I made waffles – buttermilk waffles from scratch, mind you. I’ve spoiled M to the point that he expects waffles from scratch when he stays with us. But the smile on his face when he eats them is more than worth it.
After going out to breakfast with M and BMNB, we all went to “Clayfest” in Lincoln, which included “Camp Clay,” a free event where kids could get as much wet clay as they wanted to do with it as they pleased. As I was sitting at a table that sunny Saturday listening to M and BMNB playfully argue over what M should do with the clay, (I finally told BMNB, “Get your own clay!”), I thought to myself:
You’ve got a pretty damn good life.
Mind you, I didn’t say perfect life. What makes my life a pretty damn good one at this point is that I’ve let go of a lot of things and no longer allow the perfect to get in the way of the good.
Yes, my house is a mess and I have grain beetles in my pantry (Who knew?). I still haven’t unpacked and organized things to my liking. But my roses are in bloom and fragrant as ever (Heirloom and Fragrant Cloud, to be exact). I can pay my bills, even with this freakin’ furlough. I’m not hungry – in fact, I’m overweight. My husband adores me and I adore him. I live in a nice neighborhood where my neighbors share in lawn care duties and weeding of each other’s properties.
But I’ve let go of a lot.
I’ve let go of the aspiration that I will find my work thrilling and motivating. My job doesn’t excite me. The practice of law doesn’t excite me. I like the people I work with, I like most of the work I do, but I can’t say I went to law school to do what I’m doing or that it propels me out of bed in the morning. I’ve long stopped trying to live up to others’ career aspirations for me, too. I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard, “I thought you’d be on the bench by now,” without anyone ever asking me, “Do you want to be a judge?” The answer is “no.” Quite frankly, I don’t know what I want to do, and I know that my civil rights forebears, like my late soror Dorothy Height, would probably be disappointed in my current lack of direction given all of the educational capital that’s been invested in me. But I’m happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. Although I’m sure this is my last attorney job, I might stay in it for as long as it supports the kind of life I want – the ability to put my family first without a lot of pushback, as in private sector legal practice. My job does allow me a great deal of flexibility, and I work in a very parent-friendly workplace, which gets me to my second point:
I’ve let go of the idea that there’s a perfect time to start a family. There isn’t. You just do it. BMNB and I have probably waited far too long, longer than most, but that’s been the tenor of our lives – we’re late bloomers and over-achievers, always trying to get our ducks in a row before we embark on something huge. But not this time. So we’ve started to plough ahead on the adoption front, and I’m excited and scared all at the same time. And I wonder whether I’ll even care as much about my career when we have kids in the house. My advice to anyone, whether you’re single, married, or just breathing, is that if you want kids, go make some or go get some. There is no perfect moment to start a family.
I’ve let go of the idea that I would be wealthy. Mind you, I wasn’t chasing wealth for the purpose of buying oodles of crap. I wanted to be financially secure in order to be free to do whatever the hell I wanted. And deep down inside, I think I expected that that was what others expected of me. But as I look down the dual paths of retirement planning and child raising/college saving, unless I become the Donald Trump of Placer County in selling real estate, the likelihood that I’m going to be wealthy isn’t very high if I stay in my current position. Mind you, BMNB and I make a comfortable living for two folks with no kids. But the idea that one day I won’t have to watch my pennies, invest and save aggressively, clip coupons, or shop meat sales at Safeway is gone. I’d rather be less well off and surrounded by happy kids. My definition of happiness has definitely changed.
I’ve let go of the idea that I’m going to be a size eight. Now, I just want to be healthy and feel good. I’ve got this one body (I’m starting to sound like a “Boniva” commercial here), and I’ve got to stop waging war against it. It serves me, and I need to serve it, no matter what size it is.
I’ve let go of the idea that I have a lot of time left to do the things I want to do. I don’t. Nobody really does. I was listening to Joan Rivers on “Forum” on my way to work, and she said that she lives well because she believes you only live once. As a Jew, she remarked that they believe in “heaven and hell, all right here on earth.” I’m one of those people who puts fun things off until I can pay cash and I constantly say, “We can’t afford that right now.” Well, to borrow from an old civil rights refrain, “If not now, when?” I’m not saying I’m going to run out and charge a bunch of trips and rack up oodles of debt. I am saying that I’m going to find a middle ground and plan for more fun. As nerdy as it sounds, I’m looking forward to studying places with my kids and then traveling to those places, like Civil War battlegrounds, Washington D.C., California missions, the Underground Railroad, and the like. BMNB and I love to travel, and I want to build more of that into our lives.
I’ve taken a break from achievement and gone off on a path of fun. Right now, I’m running a local political campaign and I’m having a blast! I’m using all of my skills – writing, organization, planning, creativity – to put together a winning strategy for a candidate I believe in, and I’m meeting all kinds of intriguing and passionate people along the way. I don’t know where this might lead down the line, but right now, I’m having more fun at this than at trying to figure out my career path.
We finished our Saturday with a trip to the library (M loves to read – gotta love that in an 8 year-old), two trips to Burger King (don’t ask), and an evening watching kid videos we borrowed from the library for free -- Shrek, Madagascar, one of those Narnia movies – while I crocheted an afghan for his cousin. The next day, consonant with Donkey’s prescription for a good sleepover, I made waffles – buttermilk waffles from scratch, mind you. I’ve spoiled M to the point that he expects waffles from scratch when he stays with us. But the smile on his face when he eats them is more than worth it.
Yep, I’ve got a pretty damn good life, and it took an 8 year-old to remind me of that
My Life's Just Fine
It's been a long week, I put in my hardest
Gonna live my life, feels good to get it right
Mary J. Blige, "Just Fine"
This was the first week of a huge educational experiment. My (great)nephew came to stay with me during the week for the purpose of going to PS 7. Since he has a cousin and a family friend who also go there, I drove carpool.
And BMNB has been out of town, chowing down on Southern food in South Carolina, calling me with restaurant dispatches while he's ordering ("I'm at XYZ restaurant ordering seafood gumbo, and one of my colleagues is ordering shrimp and grits . . . ")
So, for two and a half days this week, I was the equivalent of a single mom.
I had absolutely no appreciation of how difficult that is. I am in awe and I bow down to your organizational skills and sheer will, single moms.
First, I realized that if I don't get up on time, nobody gets up on time, except maybe the dog, and that's because she's hungry.
Second, I learned that dinner delayed is pretty much dinner denied. A hungry child is irritable, unfocused, and just unable to function. Not unlike a hungry BMNB, but at least you can tell an adult to go fix his own damn dinner.
Third, I learned that I have to be at least as organized as the child I'm trying to organize. I have no excuse for being late for not being able to find something to wear when I've told him to lay out his clothes the night before. My nephew has an organizer for his homework. My Franklin Covey organizer is a shambles. Maybe I need to be going to PS 7.
Fourth, I learned that you can't give up or they'll give up. And you can't show doubt or they'll have doubt. It's like blood in the water to sharks -- they can smell defeat and doubt in an adult from miles out.
Fifth, I've learned that those last words you say to them when they leave your presence really, really matter. So choose well.
Sixth, I've learned that there's nothing more fun than bopping to Mary J. Blige's "Just Fine" while driving with a 'tween niece in the backseat, hearing her sing out loud, "So I like what I see when I'm looking at me when I'm walking past the mirror," hoping that this self-esteem anthem sticks with her in the years to come, and ignoring protests from my nephew that it's a "stupid chick song."
Or walking your dog with that same nephew and just listening to him talk about his hopes, joys and fears under a starlit sky.
Between cooking dinner, making lunches, checking homework, driving carpool, doing laundry, and coordinating with the village of family members who are all working together to make sure these kids take full advantage of this educational blessing . . .
Yep, "I wouldn't change my life, my life's just fine . . . . "
Gonna live my life, feels good to get it right
Mary J. Blige, "Just Fine"
This was the first week of a huge educational experiment. My (great)nephew came to stay with me during the week for the purpose of going to PS 7. Since he has a cousin and a family friend who also go there, I drove carpool.
And BMNB has been out of town, chowing down on Southern food in South Carolina, calling me with restaurant dispatches while he's ordering ("I'm at XYZ restaurant ordering seafood gumbo, and one of my colleagues is ordering shrimp and grits . . . ")
So, for two and a half days this week, I was the equivalent of a single mom.
I had absolutely no appreciation of how difficult that is. I am in awe and I bow down to your organizational skills and sheer will, single moms.
First, I realized that if I don't get up on time, nobody gets up on time, except maybe the dog, and that's because she's hungry.
Second, I learned that dinner delayed is pretty much dinner denied. A hungry child is irritable, unfocused, and just unable to function. Not unlike a hungry BMNB, but at least you can tell an adult to go fix his own damn dinner.
Third, I learned that I have to be at least as organized as the child I'm trying to organize. I have no excuse for being late for not being able to find something to wear when I've told him to lay out his clothes the night before. My nephew has an organizer for his homework. My Franklin Covey organizer is a shambles. Maybe I need to be going to PS 7.
Fourth, I learned that you can't give up or they'll give up. And you can't show doubt or they'll have doubt. It's like blood in the water to sharks -- they can smell defeat and doubt in an adult from miles out.
Fifth, I've learned that those last words you say to them when they leave your presence really, really matter. So choose well.
Sixth, I've learned that there's nothing more fun than bopping to Mary J. Blige's "Just Fine" while driving with a 'tween niece in the backseat, hearing her sing out loud, "So I like what I see when I'm looking at me when I'm walking past the mirror," hoping that this self-esteem anthem sticks with her in the years to come, and ignoring protests from my nephew that it's a "stupid chick song."
Or walking your dog with that same nephew and just listening to him talk about his hopes, joys and fears under a starlit sky.
Between cooking dinner, making lunches, checking homework, driving carpool, doing laundry, and coordinating with the village of family members who are all working together to make sure these kids take full advantage of this educational blessing . . .
Yep, "I wouldn't change my life, my life's just fine . . . . "
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