Priorities

Just a few months ago, I underwent one of the most stressful experiences of my life:  defining my priorities. This isn't the day-to-day priorities. It isn't the laundry first, dishes later priorities. It was my life's priorities and how my choices were going to reflect, or impact, those priorities.

I'll be honest, for a long time my priorities went undefined. I could balance my life pretty well that this "checklist, honest to goodness, note card, life changing" definition of priorities hadn't been necessary. I knew family was important, I knew self fulfillment was important, I knew my job was important. But I didn't know how they ranked next to one another - and what that meant for my future. 

Those of you who know me know that I've been building a resume since the tender grade of 8. I went to a fair at Pine Middle School to look at classes coming down the pipeline for my first high school experience -and that's when I came across JROTC (Junior Reserve Officer Training Corp). And while a great motivator for ultimately selecting this program was that I hated PE, an even greater one was my resume. 

Four and a half years later I was presenting to an active duty General, me second in command for JROTC at my high school. I got asked the question, "Why did you do JROTC?" and my response was "Because it looks better on a resume than PE." Now, I received a lot of fulfillment from this program - public speaking, leadership, and confidence to name a few. But I have always been thinking of the future for myself professionally. 

And then life happened, and shit, was I in trouble. 

For those of you who don't know, Tay (my daughter) was a ... surprise. And thankfully, my life happened to work out again - primarily because I had this amazing support system through my family, my work, and my coworkers. So I avoided the "priorities" discussion because I maintained. 

Then I had the opportunity of a life time. I got called to interview at a large company in the bay area after they had seen me present. And Lindsey, the go-getter, the resume builder, couldn't turn down the experience to at least try for the position. 

I'll let you in on a secret - I kept secretly hoping that they wouldn't pick me. Seriously. I didn't want to face the discussion of priorities that would face me if I got the job. How cowardly is that? 

Because if you have been maintaining for a while, let me tell you, this discussion was the hardest six weeks of discussions. I sought out advice, I wrote, I asked my family, I thought. For once it seemed my priorities would come out in the open, that I couldn't maintain, because they would directly conflict one another. 

So here I am - professional, hard worker, go getter, A-game...mommy, wife, family member. And yes, these items can directly contradict each other. 

I thought I was balancing it well - because I was a professional. I spoke at conferences, I presented to clients. I made an impact. And I did it from home. I got to be there for Taylor - for my husband, for my family. I could take time off to help a sick friend. But this new job required a move, one that would take me outside of my sphere of influence and comfort. 

So I had to decide - would moving, including almost a 2 hour daily commute, a long work week, and family only on vacation and holidays, be enough to fulfill the priority of family? 

And would not choosing this new position leave me so unfulfilled that I would be depressed? I have known for a long time about myself that I am happy working, that I am fulfilled, that I am more at peace when I am accessing my professional side. So, by not choosing this position, was I leaving a portion of myself untapped? 

And then I was offered the job. Life. Decisions. 

I decided on family. 

No, it wasn't this easy discussion where I came to this after a good night's sleep and morning cup of coffee. It was six grueling weeks of defining what actually gave me happiness. 

And do you know what it was? 

It was the little things. 

Seriously. Not to be cliche - because I know that is the name of my blog. But it was the little things.  Every minute, every picture I see, every random time that I see Taylor with her Grandmas, grandpas, cousins, and father, I know I made the right decision. Every time I need an extra hand (which is a lot), any time I need support, I need care and love, I know I made the right decision. 

But I'm still a working mom - because I am still, at heart, a go getter, resume maker, professional kind of girl. And I want Taylor to know that she can access every portion of herself to find her sense of fulfillment. During those six weeks of discussions, I found that the main reason I received professional fulfillment was the ability to have an impact. I wanted to know that I was valued, that I was changing the work, that what I did mattered to those around me. 

At the end of my life, I won't want to be remembered for that last minute branding change. I don't know that I even need to be remembered. I just want to fill my life with as much of love as I possibly can so I can value the ride. 

Lost in Translation

Whoa blog, whoa. I know it's been almost a week. Calm down. I'm just getting back into things.

Last week was a doozy. This week, I'm giving you a break. Which means that I've got my Pop Fitness mix playing on Pandora on instead of good ol' Damien Rice which brings the tears flowing through. And when I say Pop Fitness, what I really mean is Flashback Friday a day early.

If I was worried about you judging me, I wouldn't be doing this.

Sometimes life throws you stories- and maybe it's because I'm a writer, or maybe because I can appreciate the makings of a good story, that I cherish the moment with an eagerness that makes me giddy. I'm living in the moment, but I'm also fully intending on writing about it to capitalize the moment into "foreverdom".

We had just arrived at the train station in Rome, ready to depart to Munich for Oktoberfest. At this point in my life, I'd taken 8 years of "token" German. And boy, was I ready to make Munich listen. Kind of.

I had just looked up the word for Passport (Reisekarte), which was fated to luck, because, well, you'll see.

We boarded the train - the first serious train I had ever been on. We headed to our "first class" cabin which might fit a baby llama - but most certainly not two 6'0+ human beings. Our liaison(?) came through to give us some instructions. He looked just like the German version of Santa Clause.

He knew we weren't German. It was probably the inefficient way our travel bags were packed. Regardless, he gave us heavily accented English instructions for our safety. I gave him two metaphorical thumbs up for effort, but based on the glazed look my husband had, neither of us caught on.

Then I made a mistake. "Wie Bitte?" - For those of you needing translation, it's like a nice way of saying "WTF, Tell me in German". So he did.

And I was not prepared.

At the end of the five minutes of drool inspiring catastrophe, Chris turned to me and asked "What did he say?"

"I think we're getting our passports back".

Nevertheless, my first experience with a native German speaker did not deter my resolve. Then we arrived at our hotel. And this, ladies and gentlemen, this is where our story starts.

So. I unpack our belongings to get my mind in order. I'm hanging items, stowing items, fluffing them. Amidst my preparations, I stub my godforsaken toe on this metal door stopper (who does that?) that was shaped like a miniature bread slice with a vengeance.

While hopping around grabbing my flesh wound that has started to bleed a copious amount, I turned to my husband asking him to call down to house keeping. Because if you've ever had a foot wound, you understand.

"I need a Band-Aid. Will you call housekeeping?" (The capitalization is important people. Band-Aid is a Brand name, not a product name).

Chris dials, "Hello. We need a Band-Aid.....a bandage?....a Band Aid?....my wife is bleeding....she stubbed her toe?....oh okay. Great. Thanks"

Minutes go by and a knock comes on the door. I stumble to greet the housemaid and she hands me four boxes. I open the boxes, and instead of my blessed Band Aids, I find four boxes of Tampons. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, Tampons.

Apparently, the phrase the grasped upon was not the one that I had hoped for. I "ran" to grab my dictionary as my face did my Irish heritage proud. I found the translation, ran to the phone and asked again:

"Haben Sie Pflaster?"

"OHHH! Pflaster!!!" (laughing in the background).

At least my German worked this time.