what matters and why

hip huggers

2/13/03
11:00pm

Racks and racks of jeans and other clothes, and endless sea of materials waiting to be examined. As much as I wanted to be the examiner, I made the decision to leave the job to a size 2 teenage girl. I walked out of that store empty handed and a little unhappy. I couldn't help but let myself get discouraged after searching through racks or hip hugging, bell bottom, no ass dark colored jeans. In an attempt to have the clothes that I buy coordinate with my life as a preschool mom, I looked in the women's section and was equally discouraged. This time it was irregular shaped, baggy jeans and silly khaki pants, none of which seemed to match with my body type. What do you do when you're in the middle? Not a hip hugging college student, but not quite ready to settle for large waists and small ankles. Or, should I buy two seperate wardrobes, one for preschool teaching days, and one for college student days? One suitable for a responsible mother of a five year old, and one for an uncertain undergraduate with no self confidence. One side of the closet would have striped sweaters, high neck shirts and jeans that come half way up my stomach. The other would consist of low cut, tight shirts and small jeans with tall strappy sandals. Who am I, really? When exactly am I supposed to figure that out? Everyone else seems to have a place, one group to which they belong. I get along with everyone but don't really belong to anyone. I'm myself, maybe, independent yet still unsure. I see good things coming though. Amazing how being wanted and needed really boosts one's self esteem. A busy life with people who appreciate your company. I like that. I like feeling like I mean something to someone, if only for a short while. As more time passes, I feel myself leaving behind the hip hugging jeans and falling into the world of sweat pants and minivans. A world of soccer practice and school plays and seeing my life this way for countless years, for some reason, makes me happy. Saturdays at garage sales, and spilled juice in the car. Clothes that may not flatter, but fit into the budget. Walks to the park, rollerblading with a stroller. Is it okay, I wonder to satisfied with such simple results? Am I less of a person for not wanting more than scrapbooks and homemade greeting cards? How do you know if you are selling your self short? And what does it matter as long as the beings that you brough into this world are safe and secure and eventually responsible human beings themselves.
Even though it's a struggle and I'm not really sure which way to lean towards, I feel myself growing stronger with every new experience. There is a light at the end of the tunnel as my associate's degree will be completed in May with a 3.5 grade average. Not too shabby for someone who couldn't remember a damn thing from high school courses. It's not that any sort of career I would choose would benefit at all from an associate's degree. I don't even care. But for me, it's a half way point. If I can do this, and I can do it well, I can do more and I can do it even better. And I'm getting there. Slowly. Even if issues like what the hell I am supposed to wear when I start the day working at preschool and finish at the university with twenty year old cute little girls in my class who don't have a skeleton in their closet.
It's okay, now. One night a week, I make the trip up to the univesity, and I'm working at completing three credit hours this semester. A measly three hours that for some reason makes me feel like I can do anything. Now that I've gotten this far why not? And it may be that I will never finish. But I made it this far and that's something. And I don't care who thinks what. From here on out, it's for me and that's it. Just to prove to myself that I can finish what I start even if it takes twenty years.
Two years ago, maybe not. I've rarely looked back this year, had little regrets, only good thoughts for what is to come. And it will be good, I'm sure. This child of mine was created for a purpose and I have no doubts about that. Whether it's to fix me and my husband or it's to change the world, he is one amazing little work of art. What would he be had I chosen differently so long ago? Had I followed what I really wanted. Would he be who he is now? I doubt it. I take no credit. I can only give that to the man who has sacrificed himself to his son, who has given everything in his power to make this child into the person he is today. Who seems to live for me and for him, and puts himself behind all that. A quality that I admire, that I want for myself. I think back now and it's funny how those years in the apartments seem like centuries ago. I remember nights where I would cry for hours, wishing my life had not gone the direction it had. Wishing I could change everything. I hated the demands that a life as a mother brought me. I loved my child, but hated my life. I hated getting up before the sun came up to perform meaningless tasks at a dead end job. I hated that my body had changed after giving birth, that my friends had all gone on to bigger and better things. However, more than that, I loved this little baby with the big blue eyes. The one who could never get enough hugs and who depended on us for everything. Who knew nothing else but a life like that one. Who wasn't bothered by the fact that maybe he came a little too soon. Little did he know what a lesson he was teaching to his parents about responsibility. Little did he know what an important part he would play not only in out lives but countless others, what an example he would set for many to follow. I liked the pool at the apartments and the spring days we spent outside. I like my little car, and the time we spent just driving listening to music, since he was too little to express a preference. And our walks. Him in the stroller, me on my feet, we would walk and walk, he would look at everything passing by, and I would look at him, amazed that he came out of me. And he was so perfect. We would go down to the little park with the dirt trails. There were trees all over the places, and plenty of room for just a walk. As he got older, we would stop and play on the playground. Before that, we would just walk around. He used to come with me to the exercise center, and sit in his little walker while I would work out.
Sometimes I wonder why things are they way they are. Other times I am certain that this is what it was supposed to be. This is all I am. And everything about who I am revolves around him. I cannot imagine a life where he was not involved. And I think this is what I was meant to do. And I think I can do it well. I look forward to every year beyond this one, years of vacations and other experiences we will not forget. At almost twenty four, the time goes by faster and faster. Seems like it was only last year yesterday. And then my five year old reminds that it will take "forever" for Christmas to come again and puts it all in perspective. What would I do without him?