It's just grass

 
I go through phases where I feel like the grass is greener on the other side.
Jealously gets the best of me.
Maybe it's my lazy heart pining for a better work ethic.
Maybe it's my jealous heart wanting what others have.
Lately it's been about wanting success.
 
Success can be measured in many ways.  Job life, home life, married life.  What looks like a perfect life may be a mirage.  A mere image of the truth.  This doesn't ever make me feel any better.
 
With the exception of a seasonal job, I stay home.  It's been close to six years since the hubbs and I made that decision.  Dare I say that if I would have returned to the workforce we may have more to show for it.  Newer cars.  A home with fancier furnishings.  Coach bags.  Disney vacations.  Instead we have a carpet that once was cream.  We have couches with years of wear and tear.  I have faded sweatshirts that are older than Mackenzie, and one good pair of heels for any wedding, funeral, or job interview that may spring up.  The Hubbs has suits with dusty shoulders in the closet.  One good pair of work shoes.  Fancy button up shirts that rarely see the light of day. 
 
And for the most part I'm ok with all of this.
 
But sometimes I wonder how to meaure our success.
 
Sometimes I feel like we have nothing to show of success.
 
I don't get a yearly bonus.  If I have 2 happy children at the end of the year, there is no exotic vacation awarded for my productivity and development of said kids.  I don't get a plaque for years served as mother in charge.  I don't get a "good job" from my bosses.
 
Or do I?
 
How can you measure the success of a mother?  By " I love you"s?  By a kindergartner who passes a spelling test or knows 110 sight words?  Is my success only measured my loads of laundry done?  How does one measure their success when it's wrapped up in the success of others?  Is my success measured by the success of my environment?  The dirty dishes, the laundry piles, and the kiddo still in pajamas must be the pressing signs of falling down on this job.  Or maybe not.
 
What if I just measured success on the daily challenges?
Could I still be successful if I ignored the toy disaster in the living room?
Could I be successful with a grilled cheese and sliced apple dinner?
Could I still be a success if I just smiled and ignored the chores?
Can you measure success based on what you have cultivated?
What if the greatest success in this family is the carpet that once was cream, or the couch thats lumpy and tattered?
Could the greatest successes be the worn clothes, the bags under our eyes, and the children who still insist on climbing into our beds and nestling in our hearts?
Is it possible to measure success in things, people, emotions that can't really be measured?
 
Perhaps success can't be measured in material things.  Maybe success can be meaured in emotions, memories, people.  Success in love.  Success in family.  Success in living.
 
I've said from the beginning, some days I'm just not cut out for this job.  Some days I'm selfish and want what I want and want it all for myself.  Other days I'm quite happy doing the job of mommy.  Today I think I'm selfish.  I don't want to go to the grocery store.  I don't want to plan dinner.  I don't want to put away my laundry, and Mac's laundry, and Caitlin's laundry.  Today I want to write.  I want to read.  I want to be.
 
But this is my job.  I'm Mom.  I may not get a monetary bonus.  I may not be a jet setter, or a trend setter.  I am, however, the humble employee of two little people who actually love me.  I may not have millions to show for it, but I do have two.  Two little girls who think I'm perfect, even though I'm not.  How's that for job security?   
 
Comparison in life is a given.  We are always looking over the fence to see what the neighbors have.  My hubbs is constantly comparing the yards of our neighbors, worried about our grass.  How our grass and yard must look to the neighbors.  Just like I compare what my successes or lack there of looks to the outside world. 
 
Sometimes greener grass isn't better grass.
 
It's just grass.
 



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