Ordinary: a state of being, just on the brink of greatness

June 6, 2013

I have a tagline.  It's long.  Most people that don't know me think it is funny – I get comments from people in different facets of my life when they see this on Pinterest or in my email signature.  And the people that do know me, they know it is true.  

My tagline is a list of all the many "hats" that I wear in life.  If you are a woman and mom, you wear these or similar ones, too.  These “hats” have become my definition in life.  What I do, who I am.  I have discovered that who I am, is not who I thought I was going to be.  I read these “hats” and I wonder, exactly, when did I become boring?  

I used to live an exciting life – I lived in the Big Apple then.  I had big aspirations then.  I used to care only about me and maybe a little about my, then, beau (now husband).  I used to be responsible for a multi-million dollar print advertising campaign.  OK, in part, I was responsible.  I used to work late, go straight to dinner and then bars or nightclubs with friends, and then go home to bed and do it all over again the next day.  Seven days a week.  I used to sleep until noon on the weekends.  I used to go to the Hamptons or Jersey or Connecticut.  Just pick up and go.  No planning!  I used to gallivant all over the city without a care in the world.  I used to take taxis and a car service.  I used to go to the theater.  I used to walk museums, as if time on Earth stopped.  I used to shop – like an addict on crack, I tell you.  I used to spend hours finding just the right outfit only to discover later I had it already hanging in my closet.  I used to get manicures and pedicures, each and every week!  I used to believe I would be famous some day.  I didn’t know what for but to me the world was just a sliver of light in a sunrise.  I used to think my path would wind through Paris and Morocco.  I used to think I would live the life of luxury and without want.  I used to think I was just on the brink of greatness.  I used to…

And now?  Well something’s definitely changed.  Maybe it’s age, maybe motherhood, maybe reality, maybe a little of each.  But noon?  Ha, 7am is sleeping in on weekends now.  The taxi service?  Yeah I’m performing that everyday from 3-9pm for two kids, who don’t tip, I might add.  And the shopping?  Well those are pork chops, people, not Jimmy Choo’s!  I’ve traded the summer holiday in European with road trips to Holiday Inns in Midwest cities – woot!  One would think I’d be bitter or resentful.  I have given up so much of my old, exciting, glamorous would-be life.  I came back to Iowa, the sticks as I have heard them referred.  I started a family.  No more city life.  No more selfish wants.  Traded in the huge expense account in NY for a Midwest family budget.  Vacations?  South Dakota instead of the South Pacific.  

Yes, something’s definitely changed.  I believe I have.  The brink of greatness?  Really?  This life is a sliver of light in a sunrise?  Yes I have most definitely changed.  Because I answer yes to all of these.  My life became ordinary.  I’m not doing anything grand at all.  I’m just plain old ordinary.  And I love it!  I have found that my life, even though ordinary, is still all about me – about what I want and who I am.  Somehow, the “Keeping up with the Jones” philosophy trickled away from me.  I just don’t care about the Jones’ or what they keep. I am happy for them, I wish them well.  But I just don't care to compete.  Now I am not stupid.  I know I am blessed. I know I have more than many people in the world.  And I am very grateful for how my life has been and the direction it is going.  I am VERY lucky.  But the "things" are not the stuff that I care about.  If I lost my house, my car, all the electronic gadgets, my "worldly" possessions, I know I would be just fine.  These things are not what I care about at all.  When I was young, my grandma once told me "A house can't be a home without the people in it."  That woman is brilliant and turns out she is ordinary, too.

What I care about is the ordinary, everyday stuff.  I know that the ordinary everyday events are the memory makers.  It's what I remember as a child.  I remember the smell of lilies and lilacs in the spring.  I remember putting on Christmas pageants with my cousins.  I remember camping every weekend from Memorial Day to Labor Day.  I remember hot-off-the-fire 'Smores.  I remember swimming at Echo Valley.  I remember playing cards in a Winnebago broken-down on the side of the road on the way to Kansas City.  I remember Old Settler Days and tractor pulls and the Iowa State Fair, year after year after year.  I remember my mom tucking me in at night and saying I love you.  I remember my dad teaching me how to defend myself against bullies or boys, whatever the case.

Ordinary, everyday stuff.  It’s what my kids will remember when they are 40.  They’ll remember having sleepovers and staying up until 3am giggling.  They’ll remember the feeling when they make an amazing double-play to win a game.  They’ll remember that their mom tucked them in at night and said I love you.  They’ll remember that their dad taught them to ride a bike and played catch with them.  They’ll remember swimming in Holiday Inn pools.  And they will smile at the memories and the smallness of it all.

I have been ordinary all along.  I find complete joy in hearing my daughter’s giggles.  I get this euphoric feeling when my son gets a base hit after striking out 20 times in a row.  I am idyllically giddy at home sharing a beer with my husband.  I truly LOVE finding time each day (maybe only minutes) to write about absolutely nothing.  I’m blissfully content at the end of each day from just simply experiencing the ordinary events of life, having the about-nothing conversations, just being.  This contentedness stems from the fact that I know all of these seemingly ordinary events & conversations can mean everything in the world to the people I love most and, most of all, to me.

My tagline – there’s nothing famous about it, it is not grand, it is about nothing.  It is completely ordinary and, quite possibly, just on the brink of greatness.

a.k.a. Mel, Wife, Mom, Marketing Guru, About-Nothing Blogger, Heat Concierge, 31 Queen, Ballfield Frequenter, Basketball Spectator, Ordinary Expert, Avid Reader, Wine Lover, Salsa Architect, and yes, Memory Maker