One year ago today was my first day out of the workforce. I teared up on my last day; depressed that I wouldn’t be working at the bank anymore. That I wouldn’t get that promotion, my own office someday, the salary I dreamed of… but also ecstatic about the big plans that I had for my newly found free time. I would have time to keep my house clean! To cook actual meals! Have Romi’s snack ready when she gets home from school! Help out in her classroom! Do Random Acts of Kindness every day! Have polished nails! Play my keyboard and work on my DJ skills. Start that blog? Maybe even write a book that Hollywood makes a movie out of, starring me as myself (big dreams, remember?). But I would start by giving myself a break and taking my first day off, well, off. I had plenty of time to get to all that stuff later.
As you might have guessed, most of that doesn’t happen. There are some things I failed to consider, like the fact that I was pregnant, and I am not a productive pregnant person. Throughout both pregnancies, I was nauseous the entiiiiire time. 24/7, for nine months. I threw up at work more times than I want to admit. Getting off the couch or concentrating on anything only made it worse, so I tended not to.
Another problem was that being pregnant makes everything harder physically. I would imagine this is true for everyone. It was already hard for me to stand up and walk and balance. An extra 30 pounds hanging off my middle wasn’t helping. So I decided my big plans would wait until my pregnancy was over.
Well, the thing about pregnancy is that when it’s over, you have a newborn.
My house is still a mess, and it still seems like I don’t have time to clean it. I blame most of that on that fact that having a second child exponentially increases the amount of laundry, and that I’m lucky if I make it five minutes picking up toys or standing at the sink before I have to sit down. Also, the baby nurses a lot, and seems to only be happy in my arms. Fortunately, I’m a very good delegator, and I no longer have to wait for the weekend to have time to get the house cleaned up.
That whole cooking thing doesn’t really happen either. First of all, I’ve never really liked cooking. I mean, it takes an hour or two to make, twenty minutes for everyone to eat, and another hour to clean up. Total waste of time if you ask me. If I enjoyed it (or could get my husband or kid in on the fun), that would be one thing, but I don’t. Cooking is also very painful for me. It really hurts my back, legs, and hips to be on my feet that long. I’ve tried using a stool, but that doesn’t really work because you have to be back and forth from the stove to the counter to the sink. If only my wheelchair had a hydraulic lift (any inventors out there?). Also, I’m kind of hypoglycemic, and when I’m hungry, I’m hungry now. It punches me in the stomach with no warning, and I’m cranky and impatient and desperate. I do NOT want to spend 5 minutes, much less an hour, making an actual meal.
Also, it seems that every day there is a doctor appointment or a haircut appointment, or grocery shopping, or errands, or visiting a family member, or a birthday party, or something or other. Despite my efforts to plan meal times around these events, it just doesn’t happen. I should point out the fact that if I wasn’t married to a Hispanic guy who’s big on real meals, I would probably live on cereal and PB&J. Sal works nights, and I’m not going to cook a big meal for myself and an 8 year old who’s not gonna eat it anyway, so if I were going to make a meal, I would make it during the day when Sal could help me and eat it with me. Well, all of the afore mentioned events happen during the day, late-morning, because I can’t get around in the morning and he has to be back home early afternoon to get ready and go to work. I’m barely off the couch and around in time to get ready to go, much less cook something and eat it. Since he works late, he sleeps late, so the same is true for him. We have coffee and a little something for breakfast like muffins or bagels. By the time we’re done with whatever errand we had, we’re starving, so we hit a restaurant. Admittedly, we eat out way too often, which bugs me because I don’t like wasting money, but I can only do the best I can. Sal does not share my convictions about money.
As for the rest of those goals: Romi’s snack I usually start preparing when she gets home. And by prepare, I mean get out some crackers and make some chocolate milk. Maybe wash some grapes. Sometimes she has to get it herself. There are not as many opportunities, as it turns out, to help out in class in second grade as there are in Kindergarten or first grade. They’re older and there aren’t as many party days. Luckily for me she has a great teacher who doesn’t mind if I, and even the rest of the family, come to ‘help’ any day we like. I’ve only made it into the classroom a handful of times, but I love that I am able to do it.
Random Acts of Kindness have so far only consisted of the occasional batch of brownies for a friend or family member, just because. Playing the keyboard and working on my DJ skills? Well, between diaper changing, nursing, baths, and him crying every time I put him down, I haven’t worked on that a whole lot either. As we speak, the spots of nail polish left on my nails will continue to dwindle until I have the discipline to use the acetone. The book writing was something I worked on the days that I couldn’t walk at all, but that doesn’t happen as often now that I’m not working. When I stop writing for a few days, I lose the train of thought I had when I left off, so it’s hard to get back in to.
The blog, as you see, is one goal that I’m actually carrying out pretty well. But I have to admit that the only reason I finally started was that as dawn rose on the new year, I realized that it had almost been a year, and I had nothing to show for it. Not a clean house, not a 3-meal-a-day menu, not a fresh manicure, and not a blog. I hadn’t started the blog out of fear. Fear that nobody would like it, fear of criticism from family members, fear that it would be yet another thing that I started but didn’t finish, fear that I would unknowingly break some internet law and end up in jail…
I realized it was now or never. Either I had to take the risk and get it going, one step at a time; or my worst nightmare was going to come true: I would spend my whole life doing nothing. Not making an impact on anyone or anything. Sitting in front of T.V. and magazines, living vicariously through my children, no excitement or adventure of my own. That is not where I want to be. I want an amazing life. I want to do amazing things. And I would never get there if I didn’t push my fears aside and take the first step.