Last night, I was thinking out loud to hott husband on the phone (he’s in Atlanta on business) about what my “E” post should be. Since the theme of Accepting Self(ish)-Improvement Challenges has poked its little head out, I now have parameters. He first said “Exercise“, to which I explained, unsuccessfully, how yesterday’s “Diet” post was really more about Exercise. I reminded him of my theme, and he – without hesitation – blurted out “Expectations“.
I know this is the one thing that sometimes tries to divide us. I’m sure it’s really at the root of most people’s problems. But we’ve definitely identified it as a big difference between the two of us, and my way of managing expectations as being the spark that starts most of our very VERY few conflicts.
Example: I walk very fast. I do everything very fast. I can go to the store with a list of 20 items, get in get out and get home in thirty minutes. I walk in the door, and hott husband says, “Oh my gosh…you did that in like two minutes!” Husband doesn’t do anything hastily. He – as people should – enjoys everything. He loves to look at items in the grocery store, even if he has no intention of buying them. He’ll see jelly with a funny name and make up a song about it, dancing in the aisle for a good solid five minutes. He also doesn’t spend any brain cells trying to strategically plan his grocery run…He might meander from one side of the store and back and back again four times, and it doesn’t stress him out. All being said, it takes him for.ev.er. to make a grocery run. He walks in the door, I’ve been running through the three most rational scenarios that could have caused his delay (accident, phone call from family member, fire in front of the exit), so not only has my expectation of time not been met, but when he walks in the door I’m expecting his “Oh my gosh you won’t believe what happened” story to explain his delay. Instead, he be-bops in the door singing his new jelly song, and the instant he sees “the look“ on my face, he knows what’s about to happen. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It shouldn’t even be a deal. Why do I make it a deal?
He acknowledged on the phone last night that I haven’t done that in a long time. But there are still little cases-in-point from time to time. Not that our relationship is comPLETEly perfect, but it’s pretty dern close. And I can control one of the tiny little things that blemish it on a monthly-ish basis.
I look at him – Mr. Positive – and wonder how it is that he doesn’t even seem to ever have any expectations that those around him need to try to meet. And I realize that’s just it. He’s positive. I am much more of a Negative Nelly when put up next to HIM, and I’ve never had to see myself that way.
I need to let him rub off on me. Not only do I need to Let it Go, I need to not have IT to begin with. This one’s going to be tough. (I think I’ve said that about Acceptance, Boys, Confidence, and Diet. Guess it’s part of the theme too).
In about four minutes I’m resigning from my job. New chapter. I don’t even know WHAT to expect, so I’m going to look at that as a good thing. This might birth tomorrow’s topic. 🙂
The challenge said “A to Z”, doesn’t sound so hard to me.
Twenty-six days of blogging – I blog twenty-six times a day in my head. But maybe – maybe – that’s the challenge…ONLY twenty-six things to blog about.
I read the challenge, contemplated, and accepted.
Cocky. Sometimes I pretend I’m confident.
Acceptance means commitment. Acceptance means challenge. Acceptance means a schedule. Acceptance means I could fail.
I accepted a new job last week (haven’t told my boss yet). But I’ve committed. I’ve been challenged. I now have a schedule. And I could fail.
So just as I accepted this A-Z poetry/blog challenge, I accepted a job that will make me have to plan every day again, deal with something new every day again, and put a huge part of myself out there for judgment, scrutiny, and personal and professional evaluation every day again.
But that’s what I’ve missed. So here I am – Challenge Accepted.
Two weeks to go. Two weeks left in the 30s club. Two weeks to lose more than those pesky five pounds that I can lose for every important weekend (Halloween, concert, etc.) but that find their way back after a couple of days of Indian food, wings, pizza, and no (seriously, no) exercise. Two weeks to be where I want to be when I have to say that I’m 40.
Way back in my late 20s and early 30s, I ran the Austin half-marathon every year. Every year my M.O. was completely different. But one year, I created a playlist on a borrowed iPod. I made sure I had two hours and 35 minutes of music on it – because I knew I better not take longer than that. I alphabetized the playlist, and I estimated what song I should be hearing at each mile marker. Knowing my alphabet would be a skill that would help me figure out if I was ahead or behind my targeted finish time. I probably should have spent this valuable time actually training, but this was so much more fun. The coolest thing ever – that I could not have predicted – was that I ended up rounding the corner of the capital building with the finish line in sight as The Eagles encouraged me to take it to the limit one more time. Tears welling up in my eyes, arms and fists pounding as if I knew how to play the drums…Sing that intro in your head – yes, it was that beautiful.
I’ve scheduled my life out in little increments. I’ve set goals based on high school reunions, weddings, vacations, milestone birthdays – goals that included weight (usually based on pre-determined outfits), career changes, degrees earned…where I wanted to be at what point, and how to know if I was ahead of or behind the deadline (or the curve, now I see).
Now, with this little adventure I started with this blog, I’m looking around at my life as it is, and something just occurred to me. I was really down on myself last night because I haven’t been as hell-bent of a go-getter toward this self-employment thing as I am when I’m blogging more – which is usually when I’m unsettled about something – which is usually when change occurs. I thought to myself (and out loud to my hot husband), “I’ve had all this time to do more toward my goal, and now that I’m all happy with my job and stuff, I haven’t done anything.” (pout)
How pathetic am I? Complaining that my life is so great that I haven’t done anything to change it, and woe is me…I’m going to turn 40 with my life so great that I don’t want to change it…Waaahh!
I’m certainly not trying to brag (though I do have the best husband, kids, a house that I love to be in, a job that right now is my dream job, and wonderful family and friends, by the way), but I think I’ve been so caught up wanting to do something heroic and remarkable, that I’d lost sight of what the picture looks like right. now. It’s like finishing my half-marathon with Take it to the Limit, but thinking about how much cooler the Wonder Woman Theme Song would be. YOU’RE AHEAD OF THE SCHEDULE, WOMAN! Quichyer bitchin!
(Wonder Woman is 64.)
I’m not sure exactly how many steps forward I’ve made this week (a lot), and I’m even less sure how to quantify the steps backward I’ve made, but I’m hoping through all of the efforts and disasters that I’m at LEAST one step ahead of where I started.
Much like in football, it’s difficult to measure and celebrate your successes when other things – in completely different areas – have gone so, so wrong. Let’s start with the positives:
I’M PUBLISHING MY BOOK!!!! Hallelujah, Praise Jesus, I’m doing something with this story after 10 years. I don’t know why I have these blocks up in front of some of the things that mean the most to me, but it’s been like the birth of a baby after a long, long pregnancy (I guess). I “purchased” a publishing team with a great reputation, particularly with the subject matter that I’m touching.
I FINISHED THE CAMPER BATHROOM! Not nearly as gratifying as the book, but it sure makes going to the bathroom fun. For me. It’s probably a little girly for the three males in my house, but I think camping is pretty masculine itself, and I get dirty and smelly like boys, so at least my bathroom will be pretty 🙂 And I’m pretty much the only one who doesn’t pee on trees anyway.
MY PIANO LESSON SERVICES ARE ON CRAIGSLIST! Again, not really worthy of ALL CAPS, but I’m sticking with a theme here. I realize that if I pick up four or five more students with this I will be a little busier than I like, but I can’t quit my job until I have everything ready to go in other areas so I can just slip the job out from underneath and it’ll be like, “whoa, girl, you’ve got so much going on, you really had to quit that job thing.”
It’s much more difficult to acknowledge the negative things that have happened (duh). (1) I think I’ve lost two of the piano students that I had just started the summer. Their schedule was funky, and mine’s been too funky to be that flexible…They haven’t said they’ve quit, but I know the signs. (2) I’ve gained a solid three-four pounds. You may laugh, but if you’re laughing you’re probably not 5’2. And I know exactly why – I haven’t woken up early enough to do much exercise, and I’ve been eating more carbs than a carbivore…I blame the Astros and allergies. (3) There is dust on most of the surfaces in my house, there is [folded] laundry on everything with legs in my living room, and the dishes in the sink might be from more than just last night.
Those things may not sound bad to some people, I realize that. But these are three things that I obsess about. Yes, I obsess. Compared to my hot husband, I obsess about everything. But compared to most, I think I am among the “normal”. I obsess about people I feel like I’ve let down – one of the biggest drag-you-down feelings I can think of. I obsess about my weight – I’ve been overweight before, and I don’t care what doctors say about the number on the scale…one pound quickly turns to two which quickly turns to thirteen, and thirteen is to a short person what fifty is to the rest of you. I obsess about my house because, well, I like it clean and picked up and I don’t like it dirty and messy. They say that the organization of your house/office is an outward display of the state of your mind (chaos vs. structure). But while I know my mind is waaaaay more scattered and disorganized than most, I find peace and sanity in a clean, organized house. [Cue Jack Motley’s folksong “Who the Hell are ‘They’?]
After further review, I’ve realized that my body feels too tired and carbed out to show how freakin’ happy I am about the book, the camper bathroom, the piano ad, and my hot husband. But just so you know, I’m stoked. The call on the field has been confirmed.
I’m realizing how weird – and wonderful – it is to write to an imaginary audience. I imagine that there are thousands of you out there, waiting with bated breath on my next post…dying to hear the next chapter of my melodrama…discussing it with your friends…
In reality, I’m pretty sure my only visitors have been my lifelong best friend (Hi, Kendra 🙂 and my mother (Hi, Mom 🙂 And yet, I write as if there are throngs of middle-aged mothers looking for direction for the next step in the quest for liberation from “the man”, or the ones who simply know they’ll just live vicariously through me on my journey to the dream job. My hot husband thinks I’ll be on a talk show one day and I’ll get to share these initial posts with all the bandwagoners, due to the Oprah effect of course, and these preliminary posts will matter.
So for all of you future inspired spouse-employer-covered-benefit moms…here’s the development of the drama since we last parted:
Yesterday I missed being a teacher on the first day of school. I watched teachers get hugs from last years’ students, and today I passed through hallways of sweet, deodorized, obedient children who all love their teachers still. The first week of school is the worst and the best for everyone. Then I sat in an office with my boss for six hours, chomping away at a to-do list – but I didn’t quit my job yesterday. (I feel like I deserve a treat any day that I don’t quit my job now. Today it was homemade cheesecake.)
Today was a whole lot more of what I love – team meetings, conversing with teachers, looking for needs to supply, teachers to support, and students to serve. But then I came home and took my pent-up frustration and loss of control out on my daughter and my hot husband. And now I feel like a terrible person.
SOLUTION: Start working on my “what I have to do to quit my job” list. My hot husband is at band rehearsal, I don’t have any piano students or painting orders this week, so I shall write. I’m getting out my yellow legal pad and my favorite pen, and I’m going to sketch out the ideas for a children’s book that have been swirling around in my head for almost 10 years now. My beloved grandmother’s 90th birthday is in exactly one month, and since she’s a part of the story, what better gift to give her.
Adios, my people. I must go and write now. You may feel abandoned at the moment, but when you purchase my book for your children and nieces and nephews, you’ll be glad I left the blog world to bury myself deep in the craft of changing lives. Until tomorrow… (or whenever I make it back on here).
July 1, 2015, I married the man of my dreams…He’s gorgeous, talented, thoughtful, smart, hilarious, and he loves me like crazy and knows how to show it (yay me!) But I didn’t need a marriage certificate or ceremony to prove it – I’ve known those things since a few minutes after I met him.
That blessed day set into motion a laundry list of paperwork that led to a name change and savings on health insurance. On July 30th, I had identification, bank cards, a paycheck, and a name-plate on my office door that told everyone I was legally Angie Ruth (yay me!), but the role was one I had played for awhile, so it wasn’t a huge adjustment.
The day that everything changed kinda came and went unnoticed. It was a Saturday, we were in San Antonio for the Ska Festival, and what happened that day didn’t even make it onto my radar until yesterday, August 22nd.
I had a terrible week at work, and for the first time in the past handful of years, I – right at this moment – am not looking forward to the weeks ahead. I have made my way from teaching first grade to college and finally made a vertical career move to Junior High Language Arts Curriculum Specialist (yay me!). But this week I contemplated a first grade teaching position, full-time subbing, and sacking at Kroger. I had figured up how much I could make earning less of a salary and compensating with more piano students, more advertising for my personalized paintings, and maybe an Etsy store for my little homemade artsy things.
Then it hit me – My whole adult life, I have wanted to own my own business…In theory, it would be a store-front with rescued resale shop finds, repurposed furniture, and piano lessons going on in the back. What has stopped me?…Fear, and the need for insurance coverage…but mostly the need for insurance coverage. As a single mom for eight of my 19 years of parenthood, and a virtually-single parent for the nine years of my first marriage, I had prioritized my life around a steady income and a job with benefits. I had always worked multiple side jobs because I knew better than to squander the gifts God decided to give me (yay me!)
On August 1st, however, my employer-provided insurance was no longer needed as I was officially covered by my wonderful husband’s policy. Simultaneously, over the course of the last few unpleasant weeks at my job, my interest in upping my game with my side jobs has suddenly surged. Yesterday, I figured out why…
Now that I don’t need benefits, the world is my oyster! I could – feasibly – one day do all of the things I love and make the money I make now, and I could control my own work life.
Now that I don’t need benefits, I am going to do my job within the means of my sanity, I’m going to live my life and take care of my family and invest in my talents and interests with reckless abandon, and if my job no longer fits AND is no longer financially needed…buh-bye! Now that I don’t need benefits, what seemed scary now seems like what I am supposed to be doing.
If you are reading this, you’re at the beginning of a journey that I have no idea where it’s headed…We might do just like I did when I moved to Dallas as an 18 year old and drive around lost for what seems like forever just to end up where we started. But even then, it was the journey – not the destination – where the learning took place.
We’re going to try a few new things in the coming weeks – redecorating a camper, trying Skype piano lessons for the first time, starting a children’s book, and juggling a 7th grader in school band and sports, a 4th grader who is gifted in areas that I want to nurture more, and a 19 year old who is attempting online classes to work around a full-time job. My husband is coaching two sports and working on his MBA, and I like to cook and clean and paint my toenails, especially when I should be doing other things. Thank goodness I have a hot husband.