"Do a Few Things Well"

Everyone has that pivotal moment on their timeline, the one when someone says something either directly to them or they read some wise words from a book, hear something cool from Johnny Depp in a good movie, something that happens to resonate just so inside of them, at just the absolute perfect point in their life that the resulting shockwave sets off an avalanche of transformation.  Or they choose to do nothing, and it haunts them.

Johnny Depp sure does haunt me...cause he's so deep...right.

I had one of those.  I remember every single little detail about that day, down to the clothes I was wearing and the color of his tie.

I was a single mom going back to school, my A was 10 months old, and I was failing two courses, barely skimming the line of a D in another, but pulling a B in my communication course...the only one I attended regularly.  I like to attribute that to the professor, an interesting, charismatic, compelling kind of dude....

This is Richard Gere.  This is not my professor.

Ok, yeah.  And he wasn't bad to look at.  But I digress, the class was going well, I was only late on one deadline which I  managed to talk my way out of failing.  After all, I was raising my daughter on my own, working nearly full time as a nanny and attending courses full time.  And...come on... it was technically in on time, simply in the wrong format.  Those were the talking points of the only email I ever sent him.  Without much response, the grade posted a few days later as an A.  It was over and I didn't ruminate much on it (oh, Samantha of 2006 with your magical fix-it-and-forget-it powers, I long to reclaim that magic...)  It was a week later, in lecture, that it happened.

October.  I was wearing a black shirt with lace around the collar and the hems.

My desk was on the far left of the classroom.  One seat back from the front.  So I could see his dark, Earthy brown eyes watching me as he spoke.  The only thing I don't remember are the words from the textbook.

"Do a few things at a time, well.  Or do many, many things all at once...poorly."

There was a pause.  Then...

"Like trying to raise a child all on your own while pursuing a degree and having to financially support yourself and said child.  Every single aspect of that life is going to suffer to some degree.  Sure, you may be able to say hey, look at my wonderful GPA!  I still have my job!  But how is your relationship with your kid?  You think that's going great too?  How much BETTER could it be?  How much is the stress to get it ALL done pervading every single moment of that kind of life?"

His tie was silver.  His pressed shirt was lavender.  It was kind of cold in there.

How could he possibly understand?  How could he know what it was like, trying to make it through "that kind of life"?  He obviously wanted for nothing.  Had he ever been a scared, struggling 20 year old with a baby and no prospects?

I gave up on the job.  I didn't quit.  I just removed every ounce of focus from it and split it between my daughter and finals week.  It was too late for that semester, of course, to resurface from the depths I had drowned myself in.  And I still don't remember much from A's last few months of her first year on this Earth besides lots and lots of driving.  I tried to pull it together for her at the end there, though, resulting in a dismissal from work and a bit of a financial struggle.  Never again, I swore.  It helped, finding C and moving in together, getting married,  getting a job taking care of my aunt and making decent money at it.  Other moms aren't so lucky, I knew as much.  I was dealt an incredibly fortunate and generous hand.   I wish that were "the end".  I wish that was my "happily ever after".  But I knew it couldn't be.  Something was sparked to life inside of me once I was stable on my feet, once life was no longer about "survival at all costs" I had a chance to tend to my needs as an individual....some moms call it being selfish.  I can't help it, I knew I had to keep moving forward; after stagnancy set in I grew restless and angry at my complacency with the unremarkable life I was living.

I find myself here today, in school and working an overnight 30-some-odd hour week in addition to raising three little girls, as a result of the decisions I made back when an unease with the ordinary took over me.  Without blinking, without a second thought back to that tall, rail thin man who wore tie clips and a thick silver ring on his left, well-manicured hand, who delivered a stern warning seven years ago.  I struggle.  Once in a while I absolutely lose it in the car, blast the music and hope no one can see me falling apart through the frosty layer I didn't scrape away from the side windows.  I'm back to doing those many, many things...the best I can possibly manage, this time with a husband by my side to lighten the load, despite the emotional burden of thick, murky guilt overwhelming me frequently.

Of course, I wish I had more time to do things with these lovely little ladies.  A is in girl scouts, and I know there's a frustration at my lack of involvement.  In fact, when she began I was slated to help lead the troop.  (I think everyone else took a step back, because I am NOT the one you would peg for leading a troop of little girls in all things scout-y).  But you know what?  Back when it was just work and the kids, work and the kids, work and the kids, do some dishes and kiss your husband goodnight, well I was absolutely thrilled to be a leader for the future generation of women.  I was excited to be an alternative role model.  To bring my own brand of awesome to the task.  To promote individuality.  To be a tattooed, pierced girl scout mom.

Well.  Now I sleep on girl scout nights.  And after next week, I'll spend most girl scout nights reading a textbook and writing papers, notes, making flashcards, studying skills and theories.  Which, naturally, doesn't mean I love my little scout any less than other moms.  It doesn't mean I'm flighty, flaky or disorganized.   Prioritizing, these days, means considering what will have the most positive influence on the future.  Yet, the disappointment radiates off of A like heat from a car engine in the midst of an intense July road trip, palpable, heart wrenching.  She doesn't understand.

All in the name of...making a better life for them?  We had a decent life.  A sustainable life.

All in the name of...responding to a cry from deep within that insisted I step off the well-groomed trail to the wild and unpredictable?  To follow my heart even when (especially when) my brain with its logic and reason and a million different but equally weighty answers to why I should, tries to convince me to stay the course?

There weren't any windows in the room.  Maybe that's why I found it so easy to pay attention to him.  Maybe that's why the sound waves of his words are etched on my cerebrum; they had no where else to go besides bouncing around the four walls of that small space, back and forth between the drywall and my eardrums.

I once found those words inspiring, and changed my life to reflect how very seriously I took them.

Once in a while, they haunt me. I do so many things, none nearly as well as I could, by my own choosing.  Other moms use words such as "selfish", or phrases like: you "made the decision to put your kids through this", you are actively "not present" in their lives.  Why? They ask.

My husband can't support me on his income alone; I work to feed my children while I study to feed my soul.


All in the name of...inspiring my girls to never settle for a life that is anything less than a monument to their passion and the greatness of their potential, despite the hardships they may encounter and the words of all those who can't possibly understand the journey they've chosen, nay, IN SPITE OF THOSE THINGS.  

In the name of...chasing a life, not of material plenty, but of spiritual fulfillment by tending to what I believe is my calling and never giving up, which I pray every day will set a positive example to my daughters who are always watching.

Yes.  Yes, that's it.