That Woman

I have become That Woman.  That Woman who drove Young Mama me insane.  Young Mama me met That Woman several times throughout the child rearing years and it was never pretty.  Typically, it went something like this.  Young Mama me would be in the grocery store.  I would be wearing the stained sweaty clothes from the day before or perhaps clean clothes that came off of the top of giant Mt. Laundry.  We all knew that these clothes never really had a chance to make it into closets and drawers before being soiled again anyway.  Young Mama me would be donning a pony tail that was starting to turn into an unintentional dreadlock.  Young Mama me would be trying to keep the four kids organized in the grocery store by screaming at the top of her lungs, “Get in a line!!!  Like ducks in a row!!”  (All four kids still do a great impression of Young Mama me attempting to do this feat.)  Back in those days the kids, of course, were very similar to marbles on the shiny, hard floor of the grocery store, bouncing, rolling, bumping into displays, spreading out in every which direction.  Nothing at all like ducks in a row.

So, then Young Mama me would finally navigate the grocery cart overflowing with diapers, paper towels, family sized Cheerio boxes and a bunch of other things that the kids managed to sneak into the cart, to the checkout lane.  Young Mama me usually eventually managed to get to the checkout lane with all four of her marbles in tow.  Then, it never failed. That Woman was right behind Young Mama me, smiling serenely and winsomely at the crazy marbles, like they were Harry Winston diamonds that had just fallen from Heaven above.  Now That Woman looked very different from Young Mama me.  She was middle aged, wearing clean pressed clothes and donning a nice leather purse instead of a stained, smelly 3 ton diaper bag.  Her hair and make-up were neatly done and her cart was near empty.  She may have a container of sushi, a slab of cheese with a name Young Mama me could not pronounce, or perhaps a bottle of French wine, a baguette and a sleeve of fresh flowers. And she was at the store, peacefully, all by herself.   And just in that moment when Young Mama me was desperately looking into the ether space for the fast forward button that would get me to That Woman’s stage in life, That Woman would look at Young Mama me, all doe-eyed, and say something like, “Oh honey, just enjoy these times, these kids.  It all just goes so fast.  Before you know it, they’ll be grown and gone.”  In that moment, Young Mama me would desperately want to hit That Woman.  While holding a death grip on my cart handle, I would be thinking, “WTF?!?  What on Earth could possibly make you think that I need a Guilt Trip on top of all of this fun, you evil witch?!?”

Now that I am That Woman, I have a much better understanding of what she was trying to convey.  It was not a guilt trip at all.  That Woman is just not very good at communicating because she has a lump in her throat.  That Woman can’t go back to herself as a Young Mama and say, “Honey, cut yourself a break.  You are doing the best you can and what you think is so important, really isn’t.  Those babies are going to be fine and as much as that little boy of yours, having a tantrum is driving you crazy, you are going to miss stroking his sweaty little red curls.  Because one day, very, very soon, those curls will be on top of a 6’2″ man and you won’t be able to reach them.  And he won’t be around anyway because he’ll be several hundred miles away in his new job, probably in a meeting room or eating lunch with colleagues.  Yes, that little sweaty marble will have colleagues.”  So,  all that she is trying to do is to pay it forward because she can’t go back.

I really think if Young Mama and That Woman could see each other’s lives through each other’s eyes, they would really appreciate each other.  It would be such a good reminder to not live too much in the past, but also not to try to rush into the future too quickly.  Both ladies would realize that they have it pretty good in their current stage of life and then they would feel grateful for that and for each other.  Then, as they were leaving the grocery store, they both would feel lighter, connected and excited to see what the rest of the day would bring.

What Next??

So yesterday I allowed myself a pathetic pity party.  I thought it felt good at the time, but it got old fast.  I think part of the mopefest was because I’m avoiding the hardest part of the Second Half of my Adulting.  For me (and I suspect for a majority of women in my position), this is the trying to figure out the big ol’ What I Want to Do Next.

I recently saw a picture of a rally in which a woman held a poster that read, “Teach our Daughters to be Somebodies, Not Somebody’s”.  I don’t think any of us made our minds up from the get go, to lose our “somebody” quality.  I take pride in being J’s wife, and my kids’ mom.  But over time, those identities did seem to swallow up most of the whole.  Those identities did seem to make the first half of my adulting simple.  Simple, mind you, not easy.  When your family is young, your purpose is very clear.  Keep the kids alive, keep them fed, keep them focused.  We are a “traditional” family, so my husband is the primary breadwinner and I am the primary “cat herder.”  Now as the cats are starting to leave the herd, there are a lot more options for me.  This is exciting, but also bewildering.

I was a marketing major in college, a textbook sales person before my kids were born and I had a few part-time jobs over the years that were also mostly sales oriented.  So, I suppose a sales job is a possibility.  I had a small accessories business on ebay several years back.  Perhaps I could start my own business again.  My volunteer positions over the years have all centered around my kids’ schools and sports.  Maybe I could branch out in the volunteer realm.  I honestly feel no strong inclination or passion about any of these ideas just yet.

I’m very envious of people who feel a strong lifelong passion for their occupation and/or their hobbies.  I’ve always felt like more of a dabbler.  I tend to lose interest quickly.  I read recently that to find a passion, you should follow your interests.  Learn more about them and see where this leads you.  There are so many gurus these days that advise to follow your heart or to follow your bliss.  But if you have spent a lot of your life filling your heart with your family and following your family members’ bliss, it’s puzzling at first to find your own pathway back to your own bliss.   So, I will take baby steps in getting to know me again.  What are my interests?  What are my favorite things to do just for me? What books/music/activities/foods really speak to me and how can incorporate these things into my second half?

Just like when my kids were born, I long for a detailed instruction book to guide  me on exactly what to do, step by step, with guaranteed results.  You’d think by my Second Half, I would have figured out that those instruction manuals really don’t exist, at least not in a traditional sense.  I guess that I am going to have to trust that my internal life manager who has gotten me this far, will lead the way, if I just remove the impatience and fear that is clouding the path.

Adulting – Second Half

Today is the first day of my second half of “adulting.”  Some people would say, “Whoa Nelly!  Don’t jump the gun!”  You see, my eldest child, my 22 year old son started his new adult life today, but I still have three kids in the cooker.  That said, I’ve always been one to look ahead and I think I saw the writing on the wall when my eldest got his driver’s license.  The fact that this new phase of my life was right around the corner became even more evident when he went off to college, which involved study abroad and internships in which he lived far, far away and came through the experiences alive and well and an even better, more interesting young man than he was before the adventures.  So obviously, I see where this is going with the rest of my brood, soon to be following suit.

I had my eldest son when I was 25.  I have spent most of my adult years being a mom.  “Mom” has been my primary title, identity and structure of my life until yesterday when I “let” one little birdie fly the nest.  At that moment, I felt that structure crack a teeny little bit.  Seeing my son off to his new adult life was surreal and sort of anti-climatic.  You drop your child off at his new apartment, you wish him luck on his first day of his exciting new job, you make sure he has groceries and you sit on your hands and wallet, knowing that he can well afford his own groceries now and your major work with him is done.  Your part of the masterpiece has mostly concluded and your role has changed from nurturer, teacher, mentor, protector, provider to mostly now, just an excited observer.   The scale has slowly shifted from predominantly shared adventures to now sharing with each other our mostly individual adventures.

As any parent having gone through this transition knows, the mixed bag of emotions being felt is tumultuous and almost undefinable.  I have heard that we can fit all of our emotions into four simple categories:  mad, glad, sad and scared.  Well, I’m here to tell you that it is possible to feel all of those emotional categories all at once and deeply!

I have started this blog for me, but if it is helpful to others that would be grand.  I have always felt that when people truly share what is really on their hearts, the world is a little less lonely.  I don’t know where my second half of adulting leads me but I am certainly in the contemplation stage.  And this new stage of my adventure is probably very similar to my son’s new experience – exciting, scary, exhilarating, freeing, introspective and necessary for us both to further develop into what we are meant to be in this mystery called Life.