There’s a difference between being different things to different people and being all things to all people. Unfortunately by trying to be all things to all people I landed myself smack in the middle of a midlife crisis, looking at myself in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection.
Throughout this journey I have learned a lot about who I am and I would like to take this opportunity to introduce myself…
First and foremost I am a wife and a mother. I am a daughter, a daughter-in-law, a sister, aunt, great-aunt and a friend. My home is more like a community center than anything else, where kids come and go as they please, help themselves to my fridge, and get reprimanded for ringing the doorbell when they should just walk right in. Any child that comes to my house is “my” kid and I will treat them as such. And in return, they include me in their conversations and in their lives.
I love to read. Everything I can get my hands on. Especially books that create controversy. I love to be challenged with new ideas, new concepts. I love to think. I get lost in my thoughts. So much so that I have been known to drive right past my exit while on the highway.
I drive a pickup truck. I love trucks. The bigger the better. If I lived near a quarry that is where I would work. I was a volunteer firefighter for a couple of years, where I had the opportunity to drive a fire truck. That was one of the highlights of my life.
I check my burners every time I leave the house. I cannot balance my checkbook. I always back into my parking spaces and I park far away from buildings, much to the chagrin of my passengers, who then have to walk a little further. I love to watch the same movies over and over again. I no longer go ga-ga over movie stars. To me they are just people, with the possible exception of Bradley Cooper.
I hate laundry. I hate laundry. And did I mention I hate laundry?
I have friends from all walks of life. I can sip tea with the ladies in my Christian book club, eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with my kids and their friends, and then chug back some beers with the fireguys. I like guys who ride motorcycles, wear a uniform, and still know how to treat a lady…because chivalry is not dead in my book. You can hold the door for me anytime.
I love my husband, who actually doesn’t ride a motorcycle or wear a uniform, but he does sport a mean business suit. He remembers every special occasion, he puts up with me and my shenanigans, he’s a great dad, and he let’s me have the remote…sometimes. I also love the cigars he smokes (I’ve been known to take a puff or two) and I love that he occasionally gives up his golf game to accompany me to church.
And I love my kids. My average, run of the mill kids. Who were never valedictorian of their class, who did not get into every college they applied to, who sometimes brought home A’s and sometimes, well not A’s. My kids, who prefer World of Warcraft to community service, prefer take-out to my home cooking, and swear as part of their normal conversation, even when talking to me.
But they also friended me on Facebook for Mother’s Day, share their good news with me, and ask for my advice… like “mom, how many beers can I have before I will get sick?”
No, my family is not perfect, my life is not perfect, and I am not perfect, but together we are perfectly imperfect.