Unearthed Essay #2

This one really explains a lot about my living room:

The Balance of Mediocrity

To all those single mothers who work full-time and parent their children full-time and run a home full-time, I tip my hat to you. I don't know how you do it. Every now and then I send an awe-filled moment of silent respect your way. You are incredible.

I'm a working mother. I haven't always been, and I didn't plan on it. In fact, I had intentionally tried to avoid it, but Life tends to look at my plans, giggle, and rewrite. One really long story accentuated with a litany of informational tangents later, I am here. At this stage of life I'm an onsite apartment manager of a 45-unit complex. I advertise, show and lease apartments, resolve tenant concerns, oversee a maintenance staff, collect rent...the list goes on. I work an incalculable number hours; incalculable because they're scattered throughout my day. Answer the door and make an apointment during lunch, sign a lease after dinner, post notices on tenant doors before naptime to help the baby forget that he's fussy, touch bases with the maintenance lead while I'm checking rent after taking Abby to the bus stop in the morning and answer phone calls while changing a diaper, writing the message on the bathroom mirror with a dry-erase marker. It's my way of contributing to the financial stability of our family while still being our children's primary caregiver.

When I started this job, it was my #1 priority. I jumped up and ran whenever the phone rang, interrupted Alex's nap for an impromptu showing and worked any hours convenient for everyone else. I also cooked, cleaned and paid bills while parenting Abby and Alex, who were then 2 1/2 and 9 months.

Then I broke.

In a crying heap in my living room after the kids were asleep, I fell apart. I was going full-steam ahead and ran smack into the Wall of Personal Limitations. Riah, who works full-time outside the home, was patient and sympathetic as I picked myself up from the harsh realization that I couldn't do it all. Graciously, he agreed to accept the responsibility for the kitchen and bathrooms. (Especially gracious because he hates cleaning the kitchen.) That took a load off and I began the process of finding balance.

I've been managing for 3 years, and over those years the balance has shifted. Sometimes my apartments stay vacant for too long because I'm playing with the kids and not answering the phone. Other days the house is clean and my to-do list full of checks, but my children are horribly neglected. I'm glad, to say, however, that I have found balance in mediocrity.

By nature, I am not a person who settles for mediocrity. It goes against my upbringing. I was taught to take pride in my work, do it thoroughly and do it well. The standards I have set for myself are high, and I have typically achieved them--so to settle for mediocrity was a hard pill to swallow.

Nowadays 'doing the laundry' means getting it clean and sorted into each person's basket. 'Cleaning the kitchen' means getting a load in the dishwasher. (Yes, it's Riah's job, but when he's swamped I step up.) I vacuum once a week when I'm lucky, my bills are frequently late, my tenants don't get immediate return phone calls, I don't take the kids to the park every day during the summer and I haven't the foggiest idea what my girlfriends are talking about when they chat about the latest novel they've read. I wonder who has the time to read much more than Click Clack Moo.

But we have a home, we have food to eat and clothes to wear, we are warm and dry, we feel love and are at peace, we have loving friends and family and we have each other.

And that's good enough.