Winning the Lottery

From January 20th-25th I worked at the Dallas World Trade Center during the Winter Trade Show, "Market", as it's referred to in the biz. This event, the one my family typically works, happens twice a year and my family has been involved since I was a wee tot (maybe 8 years old). It's always been a fun thing to be a part of. My dad originally represented a lamp manufacturer and so he ran the Dallas showroom when the trade show came into town. Trade shows are a big deal, with all the buyers from all the stores in the country coming to restock their shelves. It's always interesting to me to see who comes in the showroom and what they buy. I've seen every brand of person throughout the years, from mom-and-pop shops to some big name stores that you probably shop at every Christmas and Back to School season. I've seen men buyers and lady buyers, old and young, fashionable and way out of style. I've seen people make great purchasing choices and I've seen some folks spend $1000 on lamps, art and furniture that they will never sell for a profit. And every year I work, I learn more about the value of money. Not only do I see first-hand how merchandise is marked up from the manufacturer to the buyer to the store and then to the consumer, but I have ample time to think about what it might be like to be a buyer and spend other people's money. This year, I thought about the lottery, which is a similar beast. For a mere $1 or $2, you can win millions and then what?

When I brought up this conversation to another Market associate, we began talking about what dreams we might finally begin to realize if we won millions. We both talked about giving 10% back to the church, saving another great portion, but then our plans differed. The main reason for the difference probably has more to do with age than desire. I am at the beginnings of having a family and growing up, whereas the lady I was speaking with has grandchildren now and is thinking more about retirement than buying a starter home; we're just in two different places. But regardless of why our plans differed, the difference made me think about how we all plan our lives. My plan for the money was to save it. Maybe pay off our car, take a chunk to pay cash for a house and then save the rest in some conservative savings account or Roth IRA. Her plans including saving, but were more well thought out. She would, upon winning the lottery, quit her current job so that she could pursue setting up an organization she has always dreamed of starting. Sounds like a good plan and an honest way to use her newly incurred fortune, but my question to her was, "why wait"? "Why not start the process now through smaller means, and then see where it leads?" Her answer was more than likely a typical answer for most of us, "I don't have the extra time right now to do what I love". And that's what got me to thinking. Are you pursuing your passion?

When it comes to the end, and we are faced with the last days of our lives, are you going to be able to look back and say, "Man, I'm glad I lived the life I lived" or will you wish you had chased that one dream that you had always dreamed? Now, to see where I'm coming from, you have to know that I am a Christian and my perspective comes from following after Christ first and foremost, but I think Americans (and maybe others, but I can only speak from what I know) tend to postpone the things that make us tick because we are afraid of the outcome. And I don't even mean that we are afraid to fail, I think we might be afraid to succeed. And I think there's a little of both. I think we have a fear that if we jump ship and follow a dream, we'll run out of money and be homeless. But the opposite could also be true. Maybe we're afraid that if we actually pursue the dream with our whole heart, we could succeed and the possibility of that new life can be immobilizing. So maybe we can find a middle ground. It's true that many of us have to work a job we don't love so that we can pay the bills, but if we can leave with it, do we need it now? If not, could we find a different job that paid less but fed our souls? I think so, but I'm a little risk-taker. If not, then why not at least make time for doing something you love every week? For example, if you have a heart to act, then join an acting class, and if that means that you don't work overtime, then cut back somewhere else so that you don't NEED to work overtime. Because no matter how hard we fight it and how many face lifts, tummy tucks, boob jobs or hair colorings we get, no matter how many pills, vitamins, supplements or life-preserving measures we take, we (who are of the age to read this) are all going to leave this earth within the next 50-70 years (if not sooner)....so what are we doing spending our time doing things we hate, or the things that stress us out? I spend a lot of time talking to people (mainly women) about life and what stress they have, and 99% of what causes stress is money. It's no surprise to me, really, when our culture says "Love Money" and our God says, "you can't love money and God. No one can serve two masters". I side with God. If we choose to chase money instead of passion, what do we have in the end? A nice house? A stadium named after us? Isn't it a greater accomplishment to have a legacy of love and relationship? If the nice house and self-named stadium result from pursuing a passion, then I'M ALL FOR IT! But if they come at the cost of daily stress and agonizing labor, then why do it?

So my challenge to you is this. Take a moment to think about what YOU would do if you won millions of dollars (or billions if you're already a millionaire), and then figure out a way to start doing that NOW. Maybe you could volunteer for that non-profit that's similar to the one you would like to start, or maybe you can sign up for guitar lessons if you'd ultimately love to travel in a trailer and be a rock star. It doesn't have to be something that consumes every free minute that you have, but DO SOMETHING. Don't just put that dream on a shelf and think that you would pursue it, "if only I had....", start NOW!

We've come a long way, baby

Almost 6 months ago now, I gave birth to a bright-eyed baby boy. Now, before you click away from this post thinking I might get all sappy on you and talk about how precious my son is, give me a chance. I woke up yesterday thinking about the progress that's been made in the past 6 months: for Collin as a kiddo, for Jon and I as a couple, for the three of us as a family, and for me as a Christian, mom, woman and graduate student. Much of the progress that's been made is to be expected (Collin's got a couple teeth, Jon and I have grown closer and had a couple of fights and I have learned the true meaning of exhaustion). But one of the more interesting things I have learned, is that for the past six months...really the past 16 months (including pregnancy), I've felt like I was on a stage in my own body. Not until yesterday morning (ironically the day after I published a public blog about my life) did I realize that I'd been performing my life instead of living it. 

In my experience, the first-born child is the most attended to. I am a second-born, and while I was certainly spoiled as the "baby of the family" and the only girl, I was less "fussed over" because my parents had already been there and done that with my brother. When I watched my brother have his two kids, I noticed how cautiously cared for the first-born was in his first year and how differently cared for the second was in his first year. Don't get me wrong, the second child is dearly loved and was absolutely not neglected or UNcared for, he was just dealt with in a lighter manner. I think this is a logical progression for families. As new parents, there is an overwhelming sense of fear and amazement that comes with bringing that first kiddo home. They are so tiny, so helpless and so apparently fragile. Yet they are so tough! You learn this along the way as they bump their heads, slip on the hard floor and let out merely a whimper when you cut their finger instead of their fingernail. But this post isn't about what it's like to be a new parent. This post is about what it's like to live your life in the third person, as I feel I've been doing, since November 2009. 

That's the month we found out I was pregnant. Everything changed. All of a sudden, I became reasonably concerned with what I ate, what I drank, which side I slept on, what I inhaled, which DisneyWorld rides I rode, and how much iron was in my diet. After the first few months, I began going to the OB/GYN every month for checkups.  They checked my pee and my weight and all sorts of other flattering details of my womanhood, and I just reminded myself that's it's all for the greater good. But, unknowingly, I was developing an "out-of-body" type existence where I began to think about me not as a person, but as a temporary host for this growing being inside of me, and nothing more. All of a sudden, I started ignoring my needs and I become ultra-disciplined about the needs of the growing baby (which is generally a good thing). As the weeks go by and I began feeling kicks in my belly and seeing the movement through my shirt, the "outsider" perspective only got more intense. What a surreal experience that a PERSON was in my tummy (visions of the alien from "Spaceballs" were constant visitors in my active imagination). Finally, as the remaining weeks turned into days and then hours, I began forgetting who I was 10 months before and start realizing I was about to be utterly and eternally changed. That's when I really started my stage performance. Not having a clue what I was supposed to do, I gave birth, brought the infant home, and BOOM, there we were.

For the next 6 months (July to January), I found myself becoming hyper-alert and hyper-attentive to this small creature now in the outside world. I was enrolled in 14 hours of graduate level Seminary courses and when classes started in August, I couldn't see past my 3-week-old to read a book. I dropped all my credit courses and vowed to start up again in the Spring of 2011. This ended up being a good decision and I was able to devote the time I needed to learn how to be a mom. But as I began courses this past week, I've finally realized that since Collin has been born, I have ceased being me. Sure, Jon and I have done a good job of getting out and about, staying involved with our church Life Group and letting others watch the kiddo so we can go out on a date or have a full 24 hours to ourselves, but what I mean is that I have been spending 24 hours of every day as if I were babysitting, and I haven't been living. Now, if every new mom realizes this difference before their child is 6 months old, then call me a slow learner. But I would place my bet on the fact that many new parents, knowingly or not, act the same way for years before finding a good balance. 

Here's what I mean, when I used to babysit, I would devote all my attention to those kiddos. I fed them, played with them, talked with them, did everything they wanted me to do and it was only after they went to sleep that I found time to watch the movie the parents had left for me. Now, as a parent, I've noticed that I've still been in that role. I realized that I am spending every waking minute trying to accommodate my son and trying to find out what I need to do next. Thoughts in my head go something like this, "What book should I read to him now?, Should I finish my shower or go rescue him from his crying fit?, I don't have time to eat because he'll be awake soon., How am I going to write a 10-page paper or study my Bible when Collin is awake?, Do I really just leave him playing by himself on the floor?, I am such a neglectful mom!" But then yesterday I realized that I am not babysitting and I am not visiting. Collin is my son today, tomorrow and for the rest of both our lives. Granted, I don't want to waste the precious moments we can have playing and learning new skills, but I can't lose myself because of him either. You see, when Collin's grandparents keep him or come to visit, they can do nothing but pay attention to him. He is all they are concerned with. And rightfully so. That's the role of the grandparent in today's modern family (unless they are the caregivers). They are supposed to ooooooh and ahhhhhh and get nothing done until Jr goes home. But the role is different for the parents, and for a long time now, I've struggled with thinking that I should act the same way as my mom, or Jon's folks, or the countless visitors we've had who have loved my little one to pieces. I've made myself feel guilty when I watch TV while Collin is kicking his toys in his play gym. And I've beat myself up when I don't talk to him constantly as I feed him...because that's what good moms do, right? But I have to stop acting! I am learning that being myself is ultimately going to be better than pretending to be some mom I've created in my mind (which is probably not the mom I would really want to be anyway). 

I love my son, and I know he loves me, and many times throughout the day I give him my undivided attention, but I can't do it all the time. I am not babysitting; I am a permanent fixture. While I realize that I may have a limited time with him (we never know when the Good Lord will take us home) and I know that time flies and he'll have kids of his own before I know it, I simply cannot lose myself, the person God has been molding and shaping for 30 years to be, because I am so wrapped up in my child. There will be "hyper" days when I am loaded with energy and want to tickle him and dance and sing with him, but there will also be "down" days, when I am tired and would rather hold him while I watch TV or type on my computer. And every day, hyper or somber, I should commit to letting him spend time on his own while I take care of something that is adult-ish, like taking a longer shower, getting my Seminary or Bible Study homework done, or talking on the phone to long-lost friends. You may label me as selfish, or you may feel I've shared a common truth about parenting, or maybe, in some small way, I've helped deliver you from stereotypes of good mothering. However you take what I've shared, I hope that when it's all said and done, when Collin is grown and out of the house, I am able to say that I did the best I could, while maintaining my identity in Christ, my uniqueness as the individual God's gifted me to be, and that Collin and I are two different, loving and well-balanced people.

heading out the gate

Well, I finally feel like it's time for me to stop acting like I'm going to start a blog and actually start one. In my brief 30 years on this mound of dirt, I've started 3 different blogs, all of which have consisted of no more than 10 posts. This time will be different...really.

Why? Everyone seems to be blogging and unlike the Twitter craze, this is something I can get into. What better way to spread the news of my life over the unmanageable airwaves of the internet?

Regardless of who might be interested in said blog, I know my husband will read it, and that's a good audience to start with (since many posts will likely include stories about him). Plus, there might be some other family and friends who will subscribe because I ask them to and they're nice. If you're one of those folks, I thank you in advance for helping me get this ball rolling. The truth of the matter is, the more people I see checking out my blog, the more likely I am to continue posting and keeping it updated. Irony.

SO...I might as well get started. This weekend has turned out a bit differently than we planned. Thursday night I heard Collin wheezing and began to wonder if his simply stuffy nose had turned into something worth worrying about. We gave it the evening to see what happened, and midway through Friday morning my "spidey-sense" kicked in and I decided I should call the doctor. Good thing I did! Turns out Collin has the beginnings of RSV (respiratory syncytial virus) and if not caught and treated early, can lead to pneumonia, bronchitis and other nasty respiratory problems. No thanks! So the doc sent us home with some liquid steroids and a stern warning about keeping him away from other babies. So far we seem to be doing ok. He still wheezes when he breathes, but it's not keeping him from eating and he's still pretty happy, so we know he's not in a lot of discomfort.

My plan now is to hunker down in the safe (ever-so-germ-free) walls of our apartment until this blows over, which will hopefully be Monday morning. Prayers are appreciated!