Jazz Hands and Spirit Fingers for Mediocrity!
When I was first married, you would be pleasantly surprised (or horrifically concerned) to open my silverware drawer and see it’s contents. Inside you would find forks and spoons of the same pattern lined up flawlessly; perfectly stacked as if they were a lineup of Soldiers outside Buckingham Palace. Knives sat effortlessly in their designated space, not a fingerprint or a water spot to be found. You would be met with a bright white light bursting forth from inside the cabinetry with angels singing a rousing rendition of the “Hallelujah Chorus” at full volume. I would offer you a thousand dollars and yet you would be unable to find a crumb in there. It was, to me, a work of art, and actually gave me a feeling of slightly unhealthy joy to see that pristine drawer.
Today, after many years of hosting parties and potlucks, my silverware drawer looks more like Ellis Island. Several random patterns, once worn proudly unified by their same-patterned posse as if it were a family crest now have become an orphaned meat fork, an immigrant slotted spoon…. A graveyard of mismatched kitchen utensils accidentally abandoned by their owners. Instead of the Hallelujah Chorus, you now open said drawer only to be welcomed by a cloud of black smoke and a forlorn dirge of “Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor” played by a set of solemn sounding bagpipes and bellows.
In the same way, my first diaper bag weighed about 98 lbs. I had everything a tiny human (and mother of said tiny human) could possibly need. This diaper bag could have provided 2 weeks’ supplies for hurricane victims. I had (at all times, mind you) at least 2 different sized diapers, diaper rash cream, baby wipes, infant Tylenol, baby thermometer (you can guess which orifice that thermometer had to be inserted) nipple cream (for mom), breast pads, infant toys, snacks, blankets, a changing pad, santiziters for hands/pacifiers/toys, changes of clothes for both mother and baby, extra socks in case a foot went rogue whilst changing a poopy diaper and ended up with fecal matter on it. I even carried a couple of bottles and a few formula samples, even though I was breastfeeding- (like what, was my milk supply going to suddenly and randomly dry up during an afternoon at the mall?!?!)
Today, I’m lucky if I’m out and have a diaper stashed in my car somewhere. (Specifically unused.) I’ve had to subject my poor 1 year old son to a Disney princess pull-up 2 sizes too big for him AND a swim diaper due to my lack of planning and preparation in an emergency. Wipes? Forget about it!!! Just MacGyver-it and grab some Starbucks napkins from the glove compartment and throw some water or Diet Coke on there: Presto! Insta-wipe. All good.
If you had told me back in 1998 as a glowing new bride that my silverware drawer would someday be in it’s current condition, I would have never believed you for a second. If you had told me that I would be wiping my baby’s A$$ with a Starbucks napkin saturated with any wet material I found lurking in my vehicle, I probably would have turned my own self in to a social worker.
The surprising thing is….. I don’t really care anymore. I don’t know where the switch was flipped somewhere along the way but I can’t seem to unswitch it. Maybe as I’m aging, my priorities have changed. Maybe it’s that all these kids have taught me that having an extremely anal retentive silverware drawer is not going to be important to me on my deathbed. Maybe it’s both.
Speaking of these kids, they teach me infinitely more than I can ever teach them. They remind me to keep it simple, to enjoy my life, and to not sweat the small stuff. Recently my 2 year old daughter broke her leg. It was less than a week after she was casted from her toes to her mid-thigh that she started crawling around, then pulled to standing, and soon after was walking around on this huge cast like it was no big thang. When the cast came off after 4 weeks, she was initially scared to walk on the leg, afraid to trust that it had been healed. But it wasn’t 2 days before she was testing it out, slowly bearing weight on it, and 4 days after that she was running around on it like nothing ever happened.
Watching my daughter made me realize what a whiner I can be. It was almost simple in her little brain: “I have an owie. I need to learn how to move around with this handicapping cast on. Oh-wait, what? Now the cast is off. Mom tells me the owie is all better so I guess I can limp around on it…. That went ok, let me try walking on it. Well OK then! Back to my normal 2 year old regimen of running, jumping and mayhem.” She adjusted to her circumstances and went on with her life.
Me? OH man. I would have to work SO hard to have that attitude. Actually, I DID have to work so hard to have that attitude. I broke the same bone back in 2009, and I wanted the world to feel sorry for me. Surgery, rods and screws, laid up for 6 weeks, making myself crazy reading “MyBrokenLeg.com” message boards…..doped up on pain killers, watching reruns of MTV “Cribs” for days on end….everything became about poor me and my horrible situation. I was seriously this pathetic lump, rocking back and forth in bed, unshowered, in the fetal position while casted, lamenting “WWWHHHHYYYYY did this happen to MMMEEEEEEEE?” My poor husband and mom and my kids patiently helped me as best they could, but I couldn’t seem to clear the hurdle of the mental funk I was in. Even I got sick of me.
And then years later, my “surprise” baby, this sweet 2 year old, showed me how important it is to accept my circumstances and get to a place of acceptance. Then she showed me how to adjust to my current circumstance. To go with the flow. To not sit around in a pile of self-pity and overanalyze the situation. To remember that (at least in my experience so far) ultimately no pain is ever wasted, and anything I go through can end up helping another fellow sojourner on this planet who might be going though something similar. A very wise man I know says this about life’s circumstances: “Things are exactly how they are supposed to be right now. If things were supposed to be different, they would be.” I’ve found a lot of truth to that for me. There is always something I can learn, something to be gained, if I let myself.
So many things in my life have not gone “according to plan”. (I think the list would be shorter of the things that actually HAVE gone according to plan….) Pregnancies, parenting styles, schooling, switching up where we live, more babies, traditions, church stuff, and a thousand other little random things. There have been times I’ve sat around, thoroughly chagrined over the lack of certainty in life. But it’s unpredictable! Hello! I’m almost 39 and I’m just now having this revelation? What can I say, I’m a slow learner.
I don’t know anything about plumbers, mechanics or surgeons, but I imagine those are a few of many occupations where sometimes you just don’t really know exactly what’s going on until you get inside. Then perhaps, based on what a plumber, mechanic or a doctor finds inside, the original plan won’t work or has to be changed. Parenthood and frankly, just adulthood has been a lot like that for me.
The journey of my life at this point has led me to what I’m currently calling the “pipecleaner” phase. I am realizing the importance of flexibility….to be able to change and adjust with a good attitude as unplanned things occur. Yet at the same time I have to have enough strength to hold steady and somewhat firm until the next change occurs.
Yoga is another example of the same principle. In any given practice there are a number of poses to hold briefly before a new one comes along. They are all challenging in their own way, some feeling extremely awkward- but rewarding when I realize that after some time that I’m gaining more and more flexibility. It’s important for me to stay in the moment and, as the wise saying goes, to rtemember that this is a journey and not a destination.
Embracing mediocrity has been so peaceful for me. Such a treasure. I used to think the word “mediocrity” was inherently bad. But now I’m starting to see it as good. What a gift to be mediocre! To be flexible enough to realize that no one gives a flying F* what my silverware drawer looks like, and neither should I. To release myself from things that will make zero difference in the grand scheme of my life at large. And someday if I suddenly feel the need to redo that drawer and set it all back up perfectly, by all means, it will be waiting there with it’s disheveled contents strewn about. But for now, it looks crappy, and I can assure you I’m not losing a REM cycle over it.
With Love and Mediocrity,
A-Team Mom XOXO