The Atlas Story

Every couple years my mother has a rummage sale, it's usually a 2 day thing, with several of my family members contributing. She has no problem finding items to put on her sales, mostly because she is a pack rat and saves everything. She calls them keepsakes, I call them junk. I am the exact opposite of my mother, I am very much a minimalist. I abhor clutter anywhere in my house, if it doesn't have an immediate place in the house, or it's not holiday decorations, it's toast.

Clearly, all of my mothers sentimental genes got passed onto my siblings.

This year I decided that I'm going to make the trip back to SD and put some items on the rummage. Since we moved into our new house in November, most of our items are already still packed in boxes. Because I was just trashing my mothers flaws, I feel it's fair to point out one of my biggest flaws; I like change, maybe a little too much if you're my husband. Every time I get the house decorated just the way I like it, I either want to move into a different house, or redecorate. So, my constant need for fresh and fashionable design made it easy to find quality items to sell on the rummage.

Back to the Atlas....

So, I was sitting in the office sorting through piles of novels to sell and I came across a couple of atlases, gifts our insurance agent had given us a while back. I remember thinking at the time what a strange gift it was. In the era of GPS, and blackberries, does anyone even use atlases anymore? I guess going through all of my old books that day made me feel a little reminiscent, because I picked up the atlas and starting turning through the pages, thinking back to a game my brother and I used to play when we were little.

We used to take an atlas and sort though it state by state, each picking out cities and landmarks from that state that we hoped to visit someday. We would also pick out different cities where we wanted to live someday. I would always come back to the same town in Oregon state; Astoria. Perhaps, it's because my favorite movie at the time Kindergarten Cop took place there and I thought it seemed like a beautiful place to live. Who knows where my thoughts come from, I swear they just pop into my head with no rhyme or reason to them. The point is, when I was 11 years old, I truly believed that I would visit all these places.

So, today I'm going through my atlas and jotting down all the places I want to visit with my family. Some, I've already been, some I have not. I owe it to that little girl to live out her dreams. I'm also holding onto that wish list of places I would like to someday live. If I have learned anything in my 31 years, it's that you never know where life will take you and maybe someday I might end up in Astoria, or San Francisco, or Aspen.

For now, I'm holding onto this atlas. Hopefully someday my own children might enjoy the game my brother and I used to play all those years ago. With nothing more that a dream in their hearts and all the ambition in the world to make those dreams come true.

Someone has to be wrong....

The other day Ben and I were doing what we do best, sharing stories. After he gets home from work, we spend several minutes reconnecting with each other by talking about our day. I usually tell him some silly stories about Henry and he tells me stories about work. Now, most times, I forget the stories seconds after he tells them, sometimes, I don't even listen at all.

It's a wonder why he loves me so much.

For some reason, the story that he told me that day stuck in my mind. This leads me to another thing Ben does a lot; re-tell stories. Probably because he can tell by my eye rolls, and uh-huh's that I'm not really listening. Anyway.....we are driving home from Walmart and Ben proceeds to share the same story he had told me a couple days earlier; only this time he changed the name of one of the characters in the story, therefore altering the outcome of the story forever.

I know what you are thinking, "who cares? You seldom listen to his stories anyway."

Well, I suppose you're right, but for some reason, I just couldn't let it slide, I had to correct him. So, I cut him off mid sentence and told him that when he told that story the first time he said it was a different person. Only, I kinda yelled it at him. He yelled right back, something about how I only half listen to his stories.

"But, it's your story." I said "So why would I change the name?"
"You only hear what you want to hear." he belted right back.

This went on for several minutes until we got home. Poor Henry was in the backseat with his hands covering his ears. Finally, after at least an hour of avoiding eachother, I made peace and told him that it didn't matter how he choose to tell the story, I knew that I was right and that was all that mattered.

He simply shook his head at me and went outside to cut the grass.

Like I said earlier, it's a wonder why he loves me so much......

The Beginning

I suppose I should start at the beginning; well not the whole beginning, who has that much time? So, I guess I will start with the basics. I am a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, in any given order. My husband Ben and I am have a 2 year old little guy named Henry. He is the center of our life and the stealer of my sanity. Ben is the person who gives me meaning, makes me laugh everyday and constantly pushes me outside of my comfort level. These are all reasons why I would not trade one second of my life with him.
I left my job about a year ago for reasons that I'm sure will be discussed in further posts. In short, I get to stay home with Henry while trying to find a job, not a bad trade off. In this time I have learned 2 things: 1) The job market is depressing and unforgiving; and 2) after 31 years of life, I may not know myself at all. After nearly a year of hitting the pavement, I have come to realize that I need to make some changes in my career path.

Options: Go back to school. Start my own bakery. Win the lottery. Enroll Henry in modeling classes.

For now, I'm surviving everyday surrounded by the constant love of a 2 year old who thinks I hung the moon. I'm hoping to find some other moms or women who are in the same situation as me, who I can relate to, and connect with. All the while becoming a better wife, and mother. And maybe find a little bit of the shine I seemed to have lost in the last year.