Ok, here goes; my first blog post ever. It may not be perfect but like I fittingly read on Facebook today, “The start is what stops most people” -Don Shula, so I am throwing my mess on the table and giving it a go.
In my search for, “the perfect first post” I gave up and decided to let inspiration find me; I prefer to “stand in allow” rather than chase things. Well, leave it to my kids to not only inspire me but hit me with a one two in the gut all at the same time. I told them I was going out for a little me time, some self-care if you will, when my oldest mocked me. “We know where you’re going, to Wegmans. That’s the only place you ever go, Mom, Wegmans or Starbucks.” And then he said it, it was a sucker punch if you ask me, “You’re so typical, predictable!”
What, did he just call me boring? Gloves off, I was ready to attack; luckily he had his cute face on. His humor meant no harm but I still felt a little bruised. When did I become so blah? I used to be the life of a party believe you me. I decided to do something about it, a one week Spontaneity Challenge.
So, Monday didn’t go so well. I completely forgot about the challenge. Tuesday or Wednesday either for that matter, I could not for the life of me think of anything to do. Although, Wednesday I did throw an impromptu dance party with the kids but I hardly think that counts since we do them all the time. “Come on, Xavia, step your game up girl!”
Thursday comes, and I am on the verge of putting myself on a challenge time out, but I don’t. I drop my daughter off at preschool and I dig deep. That inner voice, the very own Messiful Mama herself chimes in, “at the very least do something other than routine, try something new!”
I have been thinking about getting into juicing, and what do you know there was a juice place nearby, bingo. Unlike Starbucks, where I have my “already know what I want” order armour, Just Juice 4 Life was new territory and I felt a little naked and unsure, but that’s the point right. Both hands were holding the baby, none left for patting myself on the back so I just smiled and ordered a “Fireball”. I figured I needed to go with the boldest thing on the menu, it made me feel like I had a little swag, some street cred. But then I had her dial it back and mix in some Kale Ale. Let’s not get crazy kids. I still need to feel my mouth for the rest of the day.
Friday, I pulled out the big guns. I submitted a script that I’ve been sitting on to a screenwriters contest. Now, one could argue that it was not spontaneous, but I wouldn’t care. I have been in the “I’m gonna” phase for over a year and today I took myself right to the cliff and took the leap. But where did that leave me with my challenge? Could I consider juice and a contest a success considering that spontaneity for me once included things like wet t-shirt contests and last minute trips out of town for auditions? That’s when it hit me.
I’m not boring, I’m a mom.
It’s okay that my idea of fun is grocery store karaoke and living room dance parties. It’s okay that my kids can count on me and know what to expect from me. It’s okay that my definition of spontaneity has grown to include something other than nudity and skipping town. I may need to switch things up a bit from time to time, add a little zing to the story line, but the week has passed, the wound has healed and I can comfortably say that, for my kids, I am their safe place; I am a stable, predictable, typical mom.