Maybe it’s because I’m newly 40, but more likely it’s because classic R.E.M. seems to be on the radio every time I am driving alone in my car, but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how amazingly different life can turn out from what you think it will be when you are 18.
According to my original plan, I would have been a famous novelist by 30 (a revision from 21 that happened when I started college and became distracted by frat parties and co-ed dorms). I would at this point be traveling the world, have houses all over the place and be churning out another prize-winning novel every year. Oh, and my books of course would have all been made into Oscar-winning films so I would be married to a movie star. An extremely hot, forever young movie star.
Sense anything major missing there? Yup, as hard as it is to believe, at 18 I never even really thought about kids. It was all about me. Even the husband role was basically just eye candy. As I told Dan last night as we watched American Idol and I lamented the fact that I just can’t quite sing no matter how bad I want it, damn it, I was meant to be famous.
So what happened?
To tell you the truth, I don’t know and I didn’t really even notice it happening. I had the typically tumultuous twenties, made all the rookie mistakes, and then met a great guy and realized that what I really wanted was children. As many of them as I could convince him to let me have, which appears to be three (unless somehow he has some kind of mental breakdown or a bout of amnesia where I can mold him as I wish—ah, every wife’s dream).
Believe me, I don’t regret one second of the last ten years. And there are no more precious people to me than my three babies.
But again, still, one has to wonder, after all that education, all those prizes, all those dreams, what happened? Why am I making school lunches when I should have been giving speeches?
Two weeks ago Dan and I had the amazing privilege of bringing the kids to SFO and watching Air Force One land. We even got to meet the President. It was a huge day, especially for two people as devoted to The West Wing as us. In typical suburban family fashion, we got horrifically lost and were running around like mad people trying to find where we were supposed to be. We saw two extremely well dressed, good looking people and asked them if they were there to see Obama.
They were. As part of the administration.
Once we were in the right place, I couldn’t help but keep staring at this man and woman. They were likely the same age as us. They had on gorgeous clothes, power ties and jewelry. Their hair was clean and even combed. They were the people Dan and I thought we were going to be. And we were those other people—those tacky families I would roll my eyes at when I was 18. We were dressed as if we were going to Disneyland in the rain, with big overcoats, baseball hats, kids with sweet rosy cheeks but big runny noses. We cheered at the people on the other side of the gate.
Somewhere along the line we’d forgotten that we were supposed to be over there with them.
That very same weekend, Dan and I had another amazing privilege. We went to the city with friends and stayed overnight. In a hotel. Alone. This, my friends, has not happened since I was pregnant with my second child. So, it was a long time coming. And it was karaoke. So it was my dream night.
We sang until the bar closed. I talked with random strangers. I laughed more than I have laughed in ages. And in all, Dan and I just had the best time together we’ve had probably in years. I felt on a high for days after that night, plotting and scheming of how I could get back to that karaoke bar as soon as possible. I didn’t even care that my pocketbook had gotten stolen there. I just wanted to sing.
But then, the days went by. Life got busy with the big things again. Danny had to move tables at school and was devastated to have to sit a foot away from his best friend. Jay took a marker to the house, proving once and for all that washable markers are a lie. Annie tried to hold it too long and peed all over herself and the bathroom floor at ballet.
And Danny made little heart cards and placed them all over the house for me. Annie held my hand and asked me to tell her just one more story as we walked home from school. Jay told me he loved me as he gave me his big, sloppy kisses.
Dan and I sat in the living room, working away as we watched American Idol and saw those same young people we once were live out their dreams.
And I realized that it was all OK. I don’t need to be famous. I’m happy. Life is far from perfect. I’ll probably never have all those houses, and maybe not even write that novel. But I have a husband I love and I have three amazing humans to nurture and love for all of my years. If I’d followed my original dreams, they wouldn’t exist. And I would trade all the riches and fame in the world for just one day with my babies.
But that’s not to say I won’t be trying to work in some more karaoke nights. And that’s definitely not to say I won’t be hoping that one of my kids might just someday be the next American Idol.
Hey, a girl has got to dream.
HOW fun is that. you met the president that is awesome.
Sorry your little guy had to move his desk i hated that when I was in school .
Funny I'm almost 2 yrs older than you, and swore my life would be different as well. I wanted to be a stewardess on an airlines so i can fly all over the world and visit everywhere!!
Dreams are never ment to be given up on. Keep up the great work and write about what interests you.
Feel free to stop on by http://www.thenightowlmama.com
Posted by: Tricia | 03/03/2011 at 10:01 PM
This is such a great and true sentiment! I think that everyone, whether they think about kids or not, starts out thinking about fame and fortune and me, me, me! Okay, a lot of us still think me, me, me, but it's a bit more subtle. I always resisted this change into "mommy" because I thought being "mommy" meant I couldn't also be ME. No, I'm not famous or published or having some kind of crazy life like I thought when I was younger. But I have more blessings (and disasters that I can laugh about) than I thought, and often they come in the smallest packages, like an un-asked-for kiss from my boys.
Also--we have those same green rain boots! :)
Posted by: Kirsten | 03/03/2011 at 10:02 PM
Love love love this one, e!! I was actually having my own wistful moment last week. Where are my sloppy (your words) and loveable danny, annie, and jay?? Or the talent to pen these blogs? I would trade places with you any day. Hugs.
Posted by: av | 03/03/2011 at 11:43 PM
Umm, this post is my life. I was meant to be a famous singer or actress or writer (famous for either writing the next great american novel or riveting screenplay -- I'm not picky). Instead I'm a fairly unremarkable wife and mother. Other than being the best mom I can be to my son, I have no discernable remarkable talent. With my hair in a ponytail and a baby on my hip, you wouldn't look twice at me if you passed me in the store.
Even though marriage and kids were AWAYS in my life plan, this is not how it was supposed to look. 16 year-old me would be seriously disappointed with this life.
And yet, I'm happy. For the most part, I am absolutely over the moon with my life. Being a mother to my son and constantly working at being the best wife and friend possible is my life's work. And it's small and unremarkable, but I wouldn't trade it for all the fame and recognition in the world.
Posted by: Jess @ Bringing Up Baby | 03/04/2011 at 07:09 AM
.... and I was meant to be a Broadway singer!! That was my dream :)
Posted by: Felicia | 03/04/2011 at 04:11 PM
Nice story, thanks for sharing! This happens to me to be nostalgic and to remember the various events of the past. I think this happens more, once we get older.
Posted by: Eye care | 04/01/2011 at 01:44 AM