The Next Rikki Lake

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Isn't it funny how times change and dreams evolve and plans rearrange?  I find it very interesting.

Lately I've been wondering what the hell is going on with my life.  I mean, I love my kids, I love the people in my life, I love what I do, I love my fiance and even though my house is rented, I love it too.  But something has just seemed a bit . . . off.

This line of thinking often leads me to ponder what I used to envision my life turning out like.  Which leads me to rummaging through random boxes of crap in my crawl space of teenage nostalgia.  Which led me to the time capsule that I made for myself when I was 15.  Which, if you do the math correctly, was 15 years ago.

Do you know what my plan was at 15?  My plan was to, by age 25, have a college degree, move to New York City and host my own talk show.  My role model was Rikki Lake.  This is the God's honest truth.  I used to watch her show religiously and even named my kitten Rikki.

I thought that at 25 I might be married or getting married.  And perhaps, have my first child.  In fact, I wanted five kids at the time--two girls, then two boys and then another girl.  And I wanted two dogs.  And a house that looked exactly like a photo location for Better Homes and Gardens magazine.

I wanted a walk-in closet big enough to sleep in if the mood struck, with a little vintage couch to lounge in and gawk at all my designer labeled beauties.  I would drive a red Mercedes and have weekly spa appointments to get my nails/hair/toes did.

And then, I got pregnant.  At 18.  Towards the end of my senior year in high school.  With a guy who was so far from my perfect dream knight in shining armor it was laughable.

Before long, that "while I'm in high school" job at Subway turned into a manager position and eight years of smelling like bread and getting to work at 6 in the morning.  And then moved on to electronic retail for five more years.  I.E. The bane of my Thanksgiving holiday yearly.

Every car I had was used and abused and constantly blowing up or having problems.  I bounced around from rented shithole to rented shithole.  I finally left my oldest son's father and two years later ended up with what come to be known as my next big mistake.  And, ended up pregnant right away in that relationship.  We stayed together for the boys, but both equally miserable.  And surprised when my daughter came around.

But, I had started college, so I finished that with my degree.  And, quickly learning that a degree in art was useless without raw and true talent, went to another college to get my paralegal certificate.  All while breaking up with mistake #2, raising three kids and maintaining a full time job.

I've been doing the paralegal thing for three years now.  It is my career.  It isn't the flashy job I dreamed of, that's for sure.  It isn't in NYC--far from it--nor can I ever really move to NYC with young kids and def not without the consent of their father.  I don't drive a Mercedes, but my car is reliable (albeit missing a passenger side mirror).  I still rent, but I've been in the same neighborhood and house for nearly three years now.  My closet is barely large enough to step in, let alone lounge with a mimosa.  And the only designer labels I own came off the rack at ARC.  My hair is atrocious and my nail polish stays chipped for well over a week before I have the time or energy to repaint them.

I'm no where near where I thought I would be at this juncture in my life.  That is for sure.  If I had moved to NYC at 18, like planned, my life would be completely different.  And I might have gotten some of those things my confused and determined teenage soul had longed for. 

But if I had done that, I would have missed out on much, much more than some superficial belongings and a job that was probably too demanding to raise five kids in.  I would have missed toothless grins (by way of not having teeth yet as well as loosing them).  I would have missed the first time each of my kids read a book all the way through on their own for the first time.  I would have missed that Golden Gate Bridge moment where Patrick asked me to marry him.  I would have missed Conner's excitement of breaking his 42 second record in cup stacking, Kaden's adorable new found embarrassment over being hugged in public by his mother or Brielle's Tumblebus chant every Thursday morning as she anticipates her gymnastic class.   And that, friends, is worth way more than hosting any ole talk show.  Though, I def wouldn't mind being on Anderson Cooper's show some day, just to.  So, if anyone has any hook-ups with An Coop (as I like to call him), holla atcha girl!

Rust Colored Tee-Elle for Kohl's; Leather Jacket-Wal-Mart; Polka Dot Shear Midi-Vintage; Platform Oxfords-Target; Beaded Bracelets-Kohl's; Aviators-Kaden's ;-); Belt-Kohl's