I know a blog is supposed to be something you post every day, or once a week, not several times a day, maybe I should go on Twitter. But once you decide to tell your story...it is hard to put it aside for the day.
I guess I have to give a history. Over time I am sure I will expand this...but for now I need to give a brief summary.
I was raised in an upper middle class home. With two parents. My mom stayed home and took care of us, my older brother and younger sister. We were raised in Hawaii. We moved there in 1974...when I was 3 years old. Hawaii is a dream place to grow up in so many ways...and a hard place in others. It is hard to be a minority...especially as a child when you just want to fit in.
Though I haven't lived in Hawaii as an adult...it is still who I am. You aren't raised in a place like that to leave and not take it with you. I go home as often as I can...at least once a year. I want my kids to have a little bit of Hawaii in them too.
I was a good athlete, very smart,but only a decent student. I have always been pulled by the social aspects of life...made them my priority. Went to Arizona State with a girlfriend...made the choice of colleges because of its party reputation. Loved to go out, loved to party, loved to have a good time. Met Sam while at ASU...and got married when I was 23. I was a school teacher, elementary, started teaching when I was 22. I gave up partying...became a good wife. Saved money, bought a house, and had my daughter when I was 28. I quit teaching and stayed home with her. I was the best mom I could be...breast fed her for an entire year. Had my son less than two years after her, and my life was complete. I recycled, kept my house clean, cooked dinners, bargain shopped, and joined mommy groups.
When Ethan was about 18 months...I decided I wanted to bring in a little extra money. Wanted to spend $100 at Target without heart failure. Wanted to work on the college funds. Wanted to take a family vacation. So I got my real estate license. I love homes. Love looking at them, love the thought of investing in real estate, love the thought of a commission!
Turns out I was a good realtor. A very good realtor. I started making great money. Leaving my kids with my sister in law. Working evenings and weekends. On the phone...a lot. As I became more successful, the more it defined me. The bigger ego I got. We moved into a very high end neighborhood. We fixed and flipped and bought much, much bigger in that same neighborhood. I socialized with the wives...though they all didn't work, I tried to fit in. I hired a full time nanny, I threw elaborate parties. We bought investment properties, took fabulous vacations, (which I was on the phone the whole time). I tried to be the mom that volunteered at school, but put the sparkle in the house at the same time. I was pulled...trying to be the best at everything, and not doing well at anything, except real estate, so that is how I defined myself. I had the husband and kids, but most importantly...I had the raging career.
I got a boob job. I got a tummy tuck. I did Botox. I spent thousands on clothes. I bought a BMW..7 series. I breathed a sigh of relief when Sam took the kids camping or to our cabin for the weekend. I got to work without being pulled both ways, I got to work without feeling guilty.
Meanwhile I took my family for granted. I stopped reading to the kids at night. I stopped knowing what was going on in school. I found them needy. My husband annoyed me. He was never happy with me, I was never who he wanted me to be, so I ignored him. He would go days, sometimes weeks without talking to me, and I let it be.
And I let it be.
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