One more hurdle....

Today, I finished my last Mardi Gras costume for the Zulu parade. For those non-New Orleanians, it is the rare person in the Big Easy who does not participate in Mardi Gras in some fashion. When I was a stay at home mom, making Mardi Gras costumes was a major part of my sewing season. And as excited as you are for the season to begin, you're just that ecstatic to see it end. I made fourteen costumes this season while working full time for Americorps and going back to school. I almost died. Lesson learned: edit your schedule to prevent insanity!

School starts next Tuesday and of course, I'm nervous. My husband's fiftieth birthday is Saturday, I'm painting my bathroom on Sunday, and volunteering on Monday. Don't feel too sorry for me. If I didn't really enjoy this level of activity, I think I'd stop before the next project took shape.

Day of Service

As an Americorps member, monthly service projects are required, and usually enjoyed. To celebrate Martin Luther King's birthday on Monday, January 18, I will be volunteering at a local elementary school. We'll be painting, landscaping and organizing the library.

With the tight schedules we all enjoy, the idea of volunteering is sometimes met with a wince and a faint promise to pick up the baton on another occasion. It' s like trying anything new and unknown. If you give volunteering a chance, you'll find an enjoyable experience underneath all the work. I'd like to challenge everyone to do more on Rev. King's birthday than go to a sale or sit in front of the television all day. Give a little of yourself to your community and make it better for all.

When did high school get so hard?

My sixteen year old is starting to have more of those days when she wishes she had stayed in bed. As a junior at one of the toughest high schools in the country, in addition to half days at the performing arts high school, she's starting to get in the car at the end of the day looking like a fifty year old man who's been laid off. She's got teachers who give her biology finals with two hundred questions and science projects which need the signature of the President for completion. When did high school get so hard?

I get it. I know it's the preparation ground for college, but teenagers shouldn't be having this kind of stress over papers, tests and grades. There are times when the pressure gets so great and she has been so overworked that I want to call in sick for the kid. It doesn't help that she's a perfectionist when it comes to her grades. Where does she get that from, I wonder? Possibly from the woman who's trying to juggle family, work and school at one time.

Well, it's taken me years to figure out that perfection isn't all it's cracked up to be. In the end you make it look so easy that others continue to pile on the work. At the end of that self perpetuating hamster wheel, you're either forced to keep up the facade, chuck the whole thing, or look for the non hostile middle ground. I've told her to start looking for the middle ground now. Anything's better than trying to pull off the perfect Martha Stewart Christmas for people who are just as happy with styrofoam plates, paper napkins and pigs in a blanket. Oh wait, are we talking about me again?

The Heat Is On

On December 22nd, I walked out of work relieved. I was going to have almost three weeks off and I could get all kinds of things done. Well, here it is, January 10th, and I'm looking at my bathroom, my still unfinished bathroom. I've got an article to write, some sewing to do, and preparations for the beginning of my Spring semester at school. I get depressed just thinking about it.

I'm going to take a couple of deep breaths, then I'll remember my mantra for the year; small bites. I'll work for an hour in the bathroom and for an hour each day until it's ready for painting on Saturday, the last thing I need to do. I'm completing one last costume today. I'll do some reading for class. I'm breathing easier already.

Gotta go now. My six year old has asked for a stretching partner. She's a gymnast and this will help knock out the exercise for today.

Back to the grind!

Today was the first day back to work for me since December 22 and let me tell you, it was not easy. I had gotten used to sleeping past six and wearing my pajamas past lunch. It was a nice long vacation and I was sorry to see it end.

Only one thing made me feel good about going into work today. I'm an Americorps member and I work at a family literacy site. Just before Christmas, two of our moms took the GED test and they both passed. One of them came in today to have her childrens' language skills evaluated, and the look on her face is something that can't be described. I think people who get their GED, especially those who have dealt with the hardship of teenage pregnancy and poverty, appreciate it far more than the average high school graduate. I had to drag my college sophomore kicking and screaming to every Senior activity, convinced that she would have been sorry if she missed these events (and I was right, of course). These two ladies will have a graduation ceremony with GED graduates throughout the city in May and I can assure you, they'll be floating on air the entire time.

What, fitness again?

Okay, I dusted off my "Dirty Dancing" dvd and shared a nostalgic evening with a finely muscled guy who reminded me of the late Patrick Swayze. I worked up a sweat and reminded myself that I'm not really that good a dancer. So, in essence, I kept my promise to start working out.

I thought about getting the Wii, until I spoke to my sister. She got the Wii fit and told me a few things that would ensure my burgeoning relationship with the Patrick wannabe. This game apparently weighs you, and if it doesn't like the pressure you're putting on the scale, it tells you. It also critiques your exercise prowess, and if you're struggling, it tells you that, too. If I wanted that kind of abuse, I'd go to a gym and let the trainer pistol whip me! Has anyone else tried this thing?

47 and Unaccomplished

I am 47 and unaccomplished


I didn’t necessarily look forward to this birthday, but I didn’t exactly run away from it either. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I know I would not want to be 16 again. I had my first real boyfriend, who proclaimed his love for me on our first date and would have been pleased to marry me when I turned eighteen. The idea was totally foreign and the relationship ended quickly. For the rest of my high school career, I had no pressing desire for a steady boyfriend, but to be free of any domestic entanglement. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I know I would not like to be 22 again. I had just graduated from college, with a faint desire to become a television reporter, because it was what everyone suggested. I could write. I was pretty. I could speak well and I was photogenic. I returned home to find I had a niece by my younger brother and his 16 year old girlfriend. The idea was totally foreign to me and I had no desire to be a mother. I had been a part time mother to my brothers and sister while I was growing up because both my parents worked. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I know I would not like to be 29 again. I was married and had a child. I had a husband and a daughter whom I absolutely adored. But I also had a demon chasing me, which left me feeling unable to protect my own child, because I felt too duty bound to others. The work needed to rid myself of that demon took many months and travels to parts of the mind best left unexplored. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I know I would not like to be 35 again. Family DNA caught up with me and every physical ailment which plagued my family began to plague me, no matter how much I exercised and no matter my diet. I had no right to complain because I was not dying, just inconvenienced. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I would not like to be 40 again. I looked around at my life and at the lives of some of my friends. Financially, I was not where I wanted to be. Career-wise, I was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to make my living as a writer, and while I continued to work at it, no favor was forthcoming. I wondered what I was doing wrong. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

Yet….

I would like to be 10 again. It was the first time I remember the pretend play between my sister and myself. It was the time I could remember the doors of imagination opening wide in my heart and mind and it was the time I could conceive of a future where fantasy could be the workplace of my soul. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I would like to be 12 again. It was the first time I learned creativity from my mother. Though of little means, I learned watching her how I could change my surroundings with paint, wallpaper and fabric. The four walls around me needn’t be a constant diet of beige and white. I learned that if I didn’t like where I was, I needed to make a change. I didn’t have to be uncomfortable. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

I would like to be 26 again. It was the time I walked away from the career many would kill for. I decided I didn’t like television news as much as I thought I would. I didn’t like covering murder, suicide and sewerage disruptions in a small town. I didn’t like living away from the love of my life, whom I thought I would never have. I knew I wanted to be at home with the children I thought I would never want. I missed home. I wasn’t cosmopolitan and I no longer cared if I set New York on fire. I am 47 and unaccomplished.

Yet…..

I would be 47 again. I am still married to a man who is so sentimental and wishy washy in a house full of women, that he can not eat if one of them is unhappy. For my birthday, I received flowers, a gift card from Victoria’s Secret and dinner from one of my favorite restaurants. I asked for sledge hammer, but that was okay.

I am a mother of three little women, who are being raised in an age where the world is really their oyster. If they want to run for president, that’s good. If they want to run a multi national company, that’s good. If they want to be the best snack mom at a suburban elementary school, well, that’s damn fine, too. I like everyday of every age after their births when I remade the decision to stay at home with my children because it was what I wanted. It was something I could give to them, something my mother could not afford to give to me.

We’re at a point in our lives where a mother and daughter can be friends. We don’t talk about sex and that suits me just fine, too. I haven’t quite forgiven her for my name, but that may come in time.

And though I am still not where I want to be financially, and have made very little for my writing efforts, I am a writer. Aside from the unintentioned dream of a husband and children, it is the one thing I’ve always wanted. It’s the one thing I have accomplished.

I am 47.