You are not your stuff

That whole 'Fight Club' speech Tyler gives.... well, the other Tyler.... about your stuff starting to own you and how you are more than what you accumulate was running through my head today. Right there next to Betty Friedan's argument about the sexual sell. Which leaves me, once again, reeling with the implications of.....

Well, it's all still coming together. I've decided that I'm approaching one of those 'changing gears' portion of life. Three out of my four are going to be starting school in a few short days. And I'm realizing that, really, I am becoming less necessary in their continued purely physical survival. I mean, given the absolute need, they are totally capable of making their own peanut butter and jam sandwiches. And of dressing themselves. They even look both ways before crossing the street without so much as a reminder from me. Which I remind them of anyways, because, apparently, habits die hard.

So, my brain is coming to grips with this. That I am really becoming less needed in the day to day busy work of their days. They comb their own hair. They wash their own parts. They can ride their bikes and jump off things and roll in the dirt and make their own beds and pour their own milk. And this is good. This is the natural order of things. And haven't I been just chomping at the bit to get two seconds where they aren't needing me for every little thing, every little moment and accomplishment needing my two cents--- which, honestly, I don't mind..... until I'm into the tenth hour of 'yes, hon, that is aweome!'--- then, it becomes something of a 'Iswearyouaskmeonemoretimeandiamgoingtoscream'. There's something to be said about constantly affirming everyone else's life except your own. Because after a while, when everyone really important in your life is counting on you for everything, you start to lose sight on what that even means: to have your own life. Your own thoughts. Your own, dare I say it, agenda. Plan.... whatever.

I once had a plan. I'm sure we all do, and I still tend to think they are great places to start. For me, it was to get through school as quickly as possible, with a degree that would yield an actual income, mostly because I knew I wanted a family with, you know, kids, and I was damned if I was going to do that without some kind of actual proof that I could be doing something else other than... well, you know, kids.


At that time of my life, I don't know that I thought of having kids as a choice, I just thought of it as the next step. College, marriage, kids. There wasn't a discussion of 'humm, I wonder if now, that we're in the process of educating ourselves to be productive members of society, if maybe we really should have kids at all'. It was always a matter of when, not if. Which I don't regret. At all. My boys are incredible and have expanded my world in a million and one ways. In a lot of ways, they've made me whole. And I include ALL my boys in that statement. But, how cool would it have been if I could have said, I not only think I should do this, but I want to do this. And again, maybe it was better that way. Maybe, given the time, I would have chickened out. Cause having little people...is hard. And awesome. And closes your reality to a very narrow existence of having to live with yourself and your shortcomings and the little people's shortcomings in a world that becomes virtually yours and theirs alone.

I love Mike to the ends of the world, and even he can't fully understand the implications of that sacrifice. To put yourself aside to raise someone helpless and completely dependent. And not destroy yourself or them in the meantime. Maybe it's just a necessary step to finally growing up. You have to take that leap, of caring for someone more than you could ever dare to care for yourself. And maybe... maybe, if you're very careful and do it right, maybe, then, after all that.... you can learn to take care of yourself. The full circle and all that.

 I have plenty that I want to do with my life. First on the list is not cleaning the bathrooms, having another baby, or going back to school. Nothing that serious. I just want to be able to be recognized at my place of employment, instead of the whole 'who are you? and how long have you been working here?' followed by the less standard 'you have how many kids?!' (not so common anymore... the novelty is wearing off.....) ANYway, just little things. Like people outside of the five people I kiss goodnight every evening (four of which I had to create to get, by the way) to know me outside of 'that girl who says she works here'... you know, as a person. With interests. I want to work more with the birds out at Raptor Rehab. I want to finish writing my book. I want to learn Spanish. And then I want to speak Spanish. I want to run a 10k. I want to finish another sweater. And most of all, I want to sleep. I want to meditate and do yoga and see London and not have to explain or justify any of it.

I just want to be more than someone's mother. Or mommy. Whatever. I guess I get to figure out what that means.