To Be Mediocre

I have a quote mounted on a large board that hangs in my kitchen that reads, “Anything worth doing is worth doing well.” I look at that quote every day and strive to make every effort to give my utmost best in anything I do. I wouldn’t consider myself an overachiever my any means but I don’t like to fail. Actually, I HATE to fail. I have a competitive spirit and an incessant desire to be dependable. All of these equate to being a little bit anal. I don’t want to be controlling so I work on that. I don’t want to be bossy, so I work on that. I want to have the right balance of performance but still know how to let things that aren’t so important slide.

Lately, there has been a lot of sliding…and I HATE it.

If there is anything I know about myself after 7 pregnancies, it is that my will, my control, my desires, all go right down the toilet as soon as that egg nestles itself in my yoo-hoo. I count my blessings that I have never been “morning sick” but I do a great deal of drooling all over myself while wearing holes in the carpet with my slippers. There is nothing that can compare to pregnancy exhaustion. It is a different kind of tired that rivals climbing Mt Everest while suffering from pneumonia.

And lately, I am sick and tired of being tired.

My new motto has become “just do the bare minimum” and I am a little lot frustrated by how little I get done.

Here is a little checklist to find out if you are tired, mediocre or maybe just pregnant:

· You find yourself with a to-do list a mile long, an aspiration to accomplish it all by noon but by about 9:16am you are out of that “aspiring” energy and then there’s an abhorrent realization by 10pm that you only scratched off #1.

· You frequently tell your children “just a minute” with:

a) The plan to not help them at all

b) The hopes that they will leave you alone and not ask again or

c) Full intentions of getting there in “a minute” but you forget three seconds later.

· Your eyes burn with the heat of a thousand suns the moment you wake up in the morning even after a full night’s sleep and your body feels as though it is time to go to bed, not get up.

· Have a renewed desire to run 50 miles a day the second you get your energy back (or you have the baby) because being sedentary is about to drop your mind at the nut farm.

· The thought of ascending the stairs is enough to make you sleep on the cold tile at the bottom leaving you wimping like a little girl, just to avoid them.

· Your kindergartener arrives at the bus stop with argyle socks, purple crocs, bed head, plaque covered teeth and shorts just after it snowed that morning with a bag of cookies for snack and you give yourself a pat on the back that she made it even that far.

· All homework is done, field trip forms filled out and library books found in the minutes before the bus is to arrive for pick up.

· The thought of making dinner might as well be asking you to mow your lawn with scissors.

· When your daughter starts asking you what experiment she can showcase for the science fair, you fear your head might explode so you reply “go ask your father.”

· You find yourself delegating any chore that requires effort to your children: clearing the table after your cereal dinner, vacuuming the stairs, paying the bills, brushing your teeth for you, etc.

· You catch yourself in the garage, staring at the bikes, wondering why you went out there in the first place. You then start chanting your name, hoping to kick start your brain again.

Now, mind you, most of these might be due to the fact that I have 4 children and that comes at a heavy price but I hate not being able to run myself ragged with accomplishment. I miss success and triumph but it’s the bare minimum for now. I am also aware that the season I am in is short and is not forever.

And all this mediocrity has made me ever so grateful for my normal health. I am grateful to be able to run, move, accomplish, cook and achieve things. I am grateful for my youth and I cherish the fact that I can do so much when I eat right, exercise and steer clear of the man seed.

But let me just say, if I wasn’t ever this exhausted, I wouldn’t know the joy.