I love change. Not the stuff that jingles in your pocket on a lucky day, but real change. Upheaval. Interruption. Transformation. You get the point. Tonight I was feeling a little restless, so I changed the name of my blog. It's been a long time coming (a week perhaps?), and tonight I finally buckled down and did some good old fashioned brainstorming. I know you're wondering why I'm making such a big deal over such a simple matter, but for the four of you who read this blog I want to stay true to the reason I'm writing it in the first place.
I came up with the name "The Accidental Somebody" after much reflection and rumination. After about seven years of being a housewife, I have found myself in a whole new dimension. I am a working mother, albeit only part time.
You see, being a homemaker/housewife has its pros and cons. I love being a mom...LOVE it!! There's nothing better than messing with those little impressionable minds, moulding them into the great monsters of the future. Kids are a blast, and I will never regret the time I've been able to spend with them.
While I feel that I am a good mom, I certainly doubt my qualifications as an apt housekeeper. Unfortunately that part comes with the housewife gig. The other component of said gig is that of a cook. As I have been crowned the "Macaroni Master" by my loyal servants, a chef I am not. Nor do I aspire to be.
So put it all together - Supermom, inept housekeeper, and disastrous cook. What that creates is a woman who is torn between who she loves, what she can't stand and who she tries to present to the outside world.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am newly employed as a security screener for a major airport. At first I was terrified of getting a job. I haven't been in the workforce in years, and the prospect of punching a timeclock again gave me the heebie jeebies. But because of financial difficulties, I needed to get a job. That made it even worse. Regardless, I jumped into the rat race feet first and decided that if I was going to sacrifice my precious time with my kids, I might as well make it worth my while.
I have been blindsided by the feelings that my job has given to me. I am excited to meet new people and build new friendships. I feel important in the fact that I am employed by the Department of Homeland Security, performing a necessary and serious duty. Using my brain for something other than cleaning toilets feels refreshing and challenging at the same time.
Upon returning home from work and after abandoning my uniform for the night, I am Mom again. I wake up in the morning to my kids' little warm hugs and foul morning breath. I bathe in the sight of their darling faces and eagerly listen to the night they shared with Dad while I was bringing home my slice of the bacon.
At the ripe ol' age of 32, I realize that I can cherry-pick the parts that define who I am. I don't have to measure up to a certain standard in order to be successful in this life. I have accidentally stumbled upon a self who is more than a mish-mash of assumed successes and failures over a span of a few decades. I am somebody, and this somebody feels wonderful.