All I ever wanted to be was the boss when I grew up.
I was the oldest grandchild, and my family was kind enough to provide me with four scared willing subjects with whom I could create my every fantasy. If I wanted to make it happen, my younger sister and cousins were all but powerless to stop me.
We organized treasure hunts, neighborhood Nerf wars and Street Fighter tournaments, and somehow, I always ended up on the winning team.
We played “newspaper,” and I was the editor. We played “school” and I was the teacher. We even arranged a wedding between my sister and an eggplant.
“I love eggplant,” she said.
“Well then why don’t you marry it?” I taunted. And so it began.
It is no wonder the other children began to privately refer to me as “The Evil One,” something they’ve only recently admitted.
As an adult, I’ve actually been the editor and the teacher. Hell, I’ve even had a couple of weddings. Most of my childhood dreams came true.
I spent the first 28 years of my life dreaming about being the imposing figure behind the desk or in front of the crowd of eager learners desperate for a modicum of my expertise. I took everything I did quite seriously, and bemoaned the affliction of coworkers who laughed and played while deadlines loomed.
And then I got pregnant two weeks after returning from my honeymoon. I lay awake at night in terror for a solid week, wondering how I was going to fit this surprise into my life.
“I’m not ready to be someone’s mother,” I thought. “This is not my plan.”
When I miscarried a few days later, I sat on the floor in my bedroom sobbing, groans of agony echoing down the short hallway. As my husband tried valiantly to soothe me while struggling to maintain his own composure, I dealt with the guilt of the earlier thoughts.
Two years down the road, I found myself staring at the double pink lines on the pee stick and experiencing a different kind of fear – the fear that this wouldn’t work out. I was half convinced I wouldn’t make the cut for motherhood because I had a shitty biological résumé, or that my cousins had given crappy recommendations when they were interviewed by the stork.
I was unimaginably joyful when it did work out. When the doctor handed me my slippery, squawking, redheaded son, I got my dream job – the one I never thought to dream about.
It fills my day with laughter and tears and poop. There are no paychecks, my boss whines a lot, and I spent my days in front of a kitchen counter instead of behind a desk.
I still grumble when I get up for work in the mornings. Occasionally I petition my partner for a sick day, or resort to blatant begging for some vacation time. I frequently wish I had more time for my hobbies.
But I go to bed happy every single night. No exceptions.
I am what I never wanted to be when I grew up.
Judges Comments:
"I would have liked to have seen more depth in this as it does give some background to your past but it does not really go into the future at all. "
Chris, from Dad of Divas
"This was a good retrospective on what you wanted to be and what you have been. But you don't really say what is left for you still to be, I assuming you plan on continuing to be the boss of....everything you can? I would have liked to have seen you expand a little on that future-looking piece a little more. "
Random Girl, from Random Girl Blogs
"I think, that as kids, you and I would have butted heads a lot....lol. I was always the boss too. I always arranged barbie fashion shows, and I was always the judge, so I always won...lol. I liked the post, and I could relate to it. I can't really say it missed the mark, exactly, but I'm not quite sure it hit the nail on the head either."
Heather, from My Husband Ate All My Ice Cream