The Art of Contemplation...

Lately I’ve been sitting on my couch (bed, chair, toilet, whatever…) contemplating my life. Between of course, the kids fighting or whining at me or the dogs wanting to go out or come in. No, I’ve not given the whole “What should I do with my life?” thing a lot of continuous thought because I’m just plain busy. I’m a forty-something year old wife and mother but I like to call myself an Executive Charwoman, which is real life English is a professional servant. Some people would say I don’t need to contemplate my life. I have a life that’s just fine. I have a bang-up great guy for a husband and three kids who, when they aren’t driving me crazy are equally ‘da bomb’. I live in American suburbia; drive my Volvo and lunch with my friends on a regular basis…after I’ve finished my daily workout at the health club, that is. Yes, I have the life. What’s there to contemplate? Ha! I bet all of you Executive Chairwomen reading this are nodding your head, thinking the same thing that I’m thinking. There’s got to be more to life than this.

It’s not that I’m unhappy. Well, maybe for a few days out of the month (the same days I often tell my husband I want a divorce). But the fact of the matter is, I’m happy. Happiness isn’t my issue. Content on the other hand…content poses a bit of a problem. The angel of contentment has been floating around my life like a lightening bug. I try and try to catch her and when I think I’ve got her trapped in my hands, I open them up and she’s not there. She’s simply out of reach. Personally, I think she’s mocking me. Flying around in clear view sticking her tongue out and laughing. “You can’t have me! You can’t have me!” I mean, come on! How rude is that?

So today I’m sitting at Starbucks (something else most Executive Charwomen do) listening to a very attractive woman give me her network marketing spiel, telling me how much she loves her company, how all of her team members are just tres fabulous and that if I’d just give the company a chance I’d find my passion and be rich at the same time! Sign me up! I want to have passion (outside of the bedroom or the bathroom that is)! I want to be rich! Show me the passion and the money and I’ll show you one content Executive Charwoman! But am I really going to find my passion in a nice shiny but light bronzer? I’m thinking no. Needless to say, I didn’t sign up. That’s another $29 I’ve saved my husband today, thank you very much. Never say I can’t save money when I want to.

I’ve been so desperate to figure out my life I even bought a self-help book to help. The Success Principles: How to Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be. In the first chapter it tells you to define your life’s purpose. Once you’ve done that you can move on to chapters two, three and finally to the end of the book where you’ve done each and every thing the book’s detailed and in only 64 chapters you’ve reached all of your goals and are living the life you’ve always dreamed! I’ve had the book for over a year now and I still haven’t made it past chapter one. Everyone’s gotta have a life’s purpose. The problem is figuring out what the hell mine is.

I’m still on the path to discovering myself. I thought I’d done that when I had a great career, traveled often, worked out daily and weighed a whopping 107 lbs soaking wet. Life was good. I was past the bar stage, wasn’t really interested in dating and honestly felt I would never get married. With that thought in mind I decided it was time to stop paying someone else for my housing and start paying a larger establishment; Chase Bank. With the purchase of my quaint little townhouse in a small community full of old people (I hate hearing the loud banging of my neighbors stereo so old people worked well…I just had to listen to endless repeats of Matlock if I stayed home during the day), I felt it was time to trade in the old pink, mauve and gray floral furniture so popular in the early 80’s for something more ‘single woman pretending she’s not a spinster’-like. And this is where my life began its warp speed change.

Wouldn’t it be my luck…while walking into the furniture store an incredibly attractive man with the tightest little buns I’ve ever seen walked by me. (Really now, how many good looking men with nice butts are there in the world? Was it fate one just happened to walk right by me at that exact moment? I think so.) We both just about broke our necks looking at each other. The next thing I knew it was four months later, we were engaged and I was living with him and his two very young daughters. Oh, and I was pregnant. We still have that damn townhouse and I still feel sad when I think that I only lived in it for four months!

Fast forward eight years later and fifteen pounds heavier and now I’m out of the professional world and rarely travel to anything but cheerleading competitions in places like Chattanooga, TN and Macon, GA. I still workout every day but the life I have now and the life I had then are vastly different. Things happen on a daily basis that make me look up to the sky and scream, “Are you kidding me? I did not sign up for this!”

And still, I contemplate my life, searching for its purpose. While doing ten loads of laundry and giving the dogs their allergy pills in pieces of cheese.