Erick is out of town, so I had some quiet time and decided to finally watch the movie, "Julie and Julia." It was really sweet. I sort of sympathized with Julie's character, who was sort of fumbling around trying to figure out her life. How interesting that she discovered herself in the light of her husband's encouragement and support, and also in the food that she prepared for the two of them to share.
Since being at home full-time, I've sort of gone in cycles with doing what I consider a really great job of keeping house and cooking dinners for the family, and I've also done what I would consider a less than half-assed job sometimes. Trying to figure out how my role fits in with Erick's job has been a challenge. Honestly, we never know from one day to the next whether he will be at home on any given evening until mid-afternoon of said day. So while we are obviously grateful for this job and this opportunity for him, it makes it hard for me to mentally put myself into the mode of housewife, at least in terms of whether or not I am going to cook dinner. What I've discovered is probably not a mystery to anyone but me, but I can't wait until 2:00 p.m. or 3:00 p.m. on one day to find out whether or not I'm going to cook dinner that night.
So here's my plan, again. Get back on the bandwagon of doing a little housework every day. I really love the Fly Lady's website. You can check her out here. And it's also time to get back to my organized meal planning and shopping routine. I realize that my role as Mom and the responsibility to provide healthy meals and the stability of a regular dinner around the table for the kids trumps whether or not my husband is also at home to join us. There may be times when we go the cereal route, because frankly, the kids and I really do like cereal, but I need to have a "real" meal for them on most nights, and we will assume that Erick will be there with us except when he isn't.
And when he is, I want to be a better wife and Mom. I realize that it is my work that sets the tone for our home. If I keep it up and give it lots of care, then we all are relaxed and there is a sense of peace and serenity and our home becomes a sanctuary for us. When I let things slide, when we have take-out or fast food more than occasionally, then we just don't enjoy each other or our time together nearly as much. Maybe I'll never be June Cleaver (or Julia Child -- since I finally saw the movie) but I can be the best Christy that I can be, and that is a worthy goal. I want my husband to be excited to leave his office, come downstairs, and join his family after a day's work. I want the kids to grow up with the security and tradition of family dinner times. I want to be proud of myself because I can look around and see the fruits of my labors. I want to be better. Not perfect. But better. My best.
Here's another thing. Life has been tough these past 10 years, but there have been the most incredible and joyous blessings as well. I am a better version of myself, even when I'm not even trying, simply because of the love of my husband and now our children. They give me courage. They love me. There is one aspect of my "old" life (before I became what I now describe as a medical science project gone awry) that I have never been able to reclaim. I have not been an athlete for 10 years. I miss it. My body misses it. Granted, I was never a great athlete in any sense of the word, but I was strong, I knew my body, and my body trusted me enough to do what I wanted it to do. I could run, swim, bike, hike, climb, swing, balance, lift... you get the drift. Those things were taken from me, and every time I tried to take them back, it felt like they were snatched away again. So I had almost given up ever being able see myself in a way that integrated physical strength and agility ever again.
But that is over. Now, with only two sessions with a personal trainer under my belt, I already feel like I am on the way to being what I already was. The trainer put it this way. "Christy, that athlete is still there. She's still in there. I can hear her when you speak. We just have to help her get back out." That's what I am doing in more than just one part of my life. I am learning to let out the strength that was already there. I am learning to tap into a vein of courage and strength that has been hidden, and maybe even lost to me. It's not only in the realm of spirituality and faith, although I do feel like my faith continues to grow as I try to submit to God and try to remember that He is the one who is ultimately driving the ship. There are some things that are totally out of my control, and as much as I sometimes think that my way would be better, or that I could do a better job, God, in His infinite wisdom, did not put me in charge. So I am learning to look to Him but also to pick myself up, dust myself off, and do what has to be done to live life to its fullest right now. There is no second chance. I have one life. And if I choose to look at each medical speed-bump as a victory that has been overcome, then I clearly have more life to live and more of myself to give, and I had better get busy and quit moping around.
My goal in working out with the trainer is to ultimately be able to complete a triathlon. We are sort of dreaming about the possibility of doing one in October, but if not that soon, then I am focused on giving it a go next spring. I think crossing that finish line will be the ultimate vindication, the ultimate come-back, and the ultimate victory for me in terms of repairing the broken relationship between my body and my spirit. Honestly, the two have sort of had to part ways just to survive some of the time. And I realize that other people have been in literal fights for their lives while I've just hopped, skipped, and jumped through one surgery after another, but for me, this has still been a hard season. It was hard to go from "Most Athletic" to unable to lift a gallon jug of milk or to have to wake my husband during the night, because his then 26 year-old Amazon woman of a wife couldn't sit up or get out of bed to go to the bathroom without his help. He has been my strength, truly, when I had none.
We don't know what our lives will look like ahead of time. We don't know the duration of our days. I took the kids antique shopping yesterday, and as we walked around through rows and rows of things that had once belonged to someone else's life, things that had once had meaning for someone, things that had been common-place or maybe special to another family, I was reminded that there is nothing to do but to jump in and be a part of the ride. Evelyn splashed all around in an outdoor fountain, and I was just so grateful to be here with her, to just be alive to witness my daughter splashing, that the thought of telling her to stop getting wet seemed silly. Get hung up on wet shoes and a subsequent wet inside of my car, or laugh and say a quick prayer of thanksgiving that I am here another day to see my children play. And while I'm here, make the most of it. Whatever that means, I want to do it. No holding back. No fear. No second-guessing. No telling myself it's impossible. No more self-doubt. Just living... really living.
I guess that's all for now. It's time for bed, so that I can rest this body and have another day tomorrow. My husband comes home tomorrow, and I want him to find a lovely home and a lively wife when he walks through that door. I want him to be glad that he works so hard to provide for us and to be very glad to be home with us too.
Love to you all. Now go live.
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