Kasen Girl

After I put my kids to bed last night, I sauntered downstairs to see if there was anything on TV worth watching for 30 minutes before I headed to bed myself (I was really looking for a True Blood rerun). After a few minutes I heard crying, not unusual coming from my 1 year old, Eden but this was coming from Kasen who is either out before her head hits the pillow or is singing herself to sleep via Old McDonald and his farm. I immediately thought, Oh no, she threw up. I slugged upstairs awaiting a vomit-covered Kasen but was surprised (and relieved) to see her just sitting there in the dark, crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You left my room and I didn’t say I love you first.” Holy shit. My heart sank.

Kasen is calculating, type A and probably borderline OCD. She likes her shit in order and fully commits to a routine. We may have to work on her adaptability skills down the road. Anyway, every night when I put her to bed, we say I love you and good night before I leave her room; those five words, in that order, every night. I didn't know it was mandated or even thought it was a requirement that needed to be met before she could slip off to slumber. But so it is…and an awesome requirement to have.

So, I consoled, said I love you and made sure she said it in return before I closed her door.

And it hit me that at the age of 3, she has already become this emotionally-charged girl who realizes her feelings and knows that certain immaterial things make her sad, mad, happy, etc. Her tears weren’t caused by a bumped head or bruised knee but by a sentiment. Eden just walks through life, smiling and kissing things as she bounces off of one wall only to hit the other. What I wouldn’t give.

I can only imagine the things that Kasen will encounter in her life, that first heartbreak she suffers from some bastard teenage boy that my husband will threaten to off, the death of her first pet, her first failed (or hopefully just mediocrely graded) exam, her first fender bender….all resulting in tears and fear and thoughts of the world ending but knowing it probably won’t – to think it all started with me not waiting a few seconds for her to say I love you in return. I will never leave her bedroom early again.

Dead Dreams

When I was younger, I never worried about what I was going to be when I grew up. No matter the job title, I always envisioned myself being challenged, happy and financially secure. Yet, here I sit, a couple of decades later, bored, depressed, unchallenged and still yearning for financial comfort. I feel unproductive at the end of the day and unimportant. I strive to over-achieve and later wonder why when being efficient has become counter-productive. I’m trying to figure out where I went wrong; at what point did my dream bust into a million pieces and settle as this reality...and the moment comes to me:

 I was a sophomore in college and had just barely passed Calculus. I asked my “advisor” how much more of these types of classes I needed to get into med-school. He said, “Four more semesters.” I heard, “You’re doomed.” That was the point I gave up. I know it is. I gave up my dream and realized I wasn’t smart enough to be what I wanted to be. It was the first time in my life I thought and believed I wasn’t good enough. Since then, I have been settling when it comes to work and struggling to find what it is I am passionate about.

I continued to work at the canoe livery that had employed me since the age of 15 for another two summers after college. I wandered around, moved here and there. I was an outside sales rep for about a hot minute, then an Accounting Clerk, then … get this … the receptionist at a dating agency called Great Expectations. There’s a good chance that was my rock bottom. I think being a dating agency receptionist would be anyone’s rock bottom. It was horrific and thankfully short-lived. I never even bothered to tell them I quit. I just stopped showing up. That’s how bad it was. I had to video-tape (yes, like VHS video-tape) some poor, middle-aged divorced man’s bio and watching him struggle to sell himself was embarrassing and sad, for both of us.

I ended up temping for a third-party logistics company and it took me six months to land a permanent position there as a Customer Service Representative. It was a good job, nice people for the most part and stable in the beginning. I was hired at its peak as the building busted at the seams with happy and smiling employees. I then slowly watched it disintegrate into nothing as they closed the office doors five years later. I was one of the last ones standing at 333 W. Grandview Parkway. It wasn’t as if it was my dream job or I thought I’d retire there. But I made myself valuable, knowledgeable and an expert.

I took 10 months off to raise my kids. During that time, I realized I am not a stay-at-home mom either. About 70% of the time was amazing. Sleeping in, no schedule, no boss, no deadlines, no bureaucratic bullshit to speak of. But the other 30% weighed heavy. I needed to be challenged, I needed to have an adult conversation, I needed time away from my kids I’m ashamed to say, I needed to feel productive and smart and valuable. I needed to say, “Thank God it’s Friday!”, and then have a weekend to look forward to after that. And that 30% led me here.

Here I sit, 11 years after the dissolving of my dream, no further than I was before. I feel silly, lazy and too old to start over.

Don’t get me wrong, I have accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. I found a husband, a good one at that. We have two amazingly gorgeous and awesome daughters. We have a house that we’ve made our own and a pretty amazing life together. They fill my cup. And they deserve more from me. How can I tell my kids to exhaust their potential when I didn’t do it myself?

It’s difficult to sit here every day, knowing I’m capable of so much more, knowing I could give more to my family, knowing I could produce more, engage more, be more. Yet in these times it seems getting a job, any job, is a great accomplishment. Hearing “You’re hired!” is worth a lot, no matter who says it. There’s no more shooting for the stars, just settle for anything.

I could blame that damn advisor. He could’ve offered me something, some encouragement, some alternatives, some sort of safety net for my dream that was otherwise shattered. But he just let it hit the ground, I guess to see what I would do with the pieces. I’m ashamed to say they’re still lying on his office floor and that is 100% my fault.

Now I’m waiting for something to ignite me and it’s yet to come. Maybe because I am consistently dependent upon some outside factor when I know, deep down, I have to light my own fire.

I'll Never Do It With A 20-something Year Old Again

I have this husband. We met in a bar just about 7 years ago. He was standing next to a jukebox wearing a Michigan Baseball t-shirt with a Coors Light in his hand. I was wearing a blue Abercrombie hoodie and a khaki skirt. I had no idea in those moments that I would spend the rest of my life this person.

My dating history was a trainwreck prior to meeting Kyle and at every turn I looked for the flaw that would lead to our break-up. But it never came as everything he was, flaws and all, was perfect for me. As different as Kyle and I are, together, we are of one accord. We share likes, dislikes and political/religious views. His strengths are my weaknesses and vice versa. We have a sick joke of claiming we are brother and sister when we say the same random thing at the same time. We’re not related by the way.

He proposed to me in the middle of a high school gymnasium before he coached his Girls’ Varsity Basketball team that night. It was a surprise above all others since I thought at the age of 24, he wouldn’t be ready to propose for another 3 years, despite us already talking about marrying each other. And while the wedding and honeymoon were pretty fantastic, nothing could compare to the perfection that came less than a year later, our daughter Kasen. Becoming a mother opened a part of me that I didn’t even know was there. I love so much more deeply and honestly than I did before. Raising her with Kyle has been wonderful, special and fun. I’d share her with no other. And then all of that doubled 2 years later when we had Eden, a Kyle replica, inside and out, despite my brown eyes.

Kyle and I find the funny, sexy and beauty in each other. He appreciates my quirky, nerdy self and I admire his smooth-talking and athleticism. I adore his inability to effectively lie and his willingness to do the dishes. This isn’t to say that we don’t go without our arguments. And sometimes spats with him hurt me more than with others because he and I are usually perfectly in tune. When we aren’t, it’s like the universe is off.

Today, this husband of mine turns 30. And while I’ve only known him for 23.3333333% of his life, we’ve done a lot in that 23.3333333%. Thank you, Kyle for making me your girlfriend, your fiancée, your wife. Thank you for renting a condo with me, buying a house with me, making a home with me. Thank you for making me the mother of the two most beautiful and amazing children in this world, more to come! Thank you for making me a part of your first 30 years and I look forward to all of our future years together. Happy Birthday and I love you - to the moon and back.