Skip to main content

I Am Not One of Upstate's 20 Under 40 And It's Not Because I'm Over 40...Yet.

Whenever I introduce myself to someone, locally, the first thing they ask me is, "Do you know Andrew?" Of course, I want to say something sarcastic because that's the kind of girl I am, but instead, I smile and reply, "Why yes, he's my husband." Usually they continue by telling me how great he is and how much he's helped their organization, that they think he's a great landlord, blah, blah blah. Oh, and half of the time, someone throws in that he looks like Ben Affleck. I want to tell them that, while that's all fine and dandy, I wish Ben would put his shoes away, fold his pants instead of throwing them on the couch, and take less time in the bathroom each day.

With all seriousness, though, I'm really proud of all that he does for the community and always have been. When I met Andy, 14 years ago, I was very selfish. I cared about me, me, and me. There may have been a few select others who I cared about, but mostly, yeah, just me. Andy was always interested in helping out. It annoyed the hell out of me. He'd convince me to volunteer on the weekend or stay a little late to help clean up after a function. After a time, I, too, realized that there's more to the world than just me. I learned, from Andy, that helping people is important and the right thing to do. Even back then, I was never as civic-minded as Andy, but I started to get on the band wagon. I even joined a few boards and volunteered for an after school program. Then we had kids.

I got lost for many years after having kids. I couldn't think about helping anybody but the two, needy little beings whom I'd birthed. A luxury, I felt, to envelope myself in their world. To have eyes for them and them alone. Forget Andy, my family, and friends. Work was a back burner task. And I, well, I was there but not there. I was critical to the well-being of my kids, but I was only me for those purposes. Who I used to be, who I wanted to be, who I was at the moment didn't matter. I was mom. The outside world could have been burning down but all that mattered was what was going on in my small world, my home, and with my children.

Andy stayed connected to the outside world, for whatever reason: because he is the man, the father, the breadwinner, not the nurturer, the mother, the center of the children's universe. He cared if the world was burning down. He cared about how others were doing even though he had two bundles of joy at home. Work still mattered to him as much as it did before they were born. He was still Andy. Not the same Andy as before kids, but he still existed. He was still Andy sans kids, in some form.

For all of these years I've mutually resented and loved this fact about Andy. As I said, I'm truly proud of him the difference he makes in our community. Recently, he was acknowledged as one of our area's "20 under 40" and recognized for his community work. We went an event celebrating the honorees and, in my typical tongue-in-cheek fashion, I wrote in sharpie on my name tag: Andy's wife. I am not me. I do not exist. I only exist in relation to others.

A few people, sensitive to my needs, commented to me that Andy could only do what he does because I am at home, taking care of the children. (That is when I'm not working and yes, winning bread.) This is true. Andy chooses to be participate in civic activities that are often not too kid friendly. For example, he is on our Board of Education and attends monthly evening meetings. Those meetings do not offer childcare. He serves on a number of other boards or on committees. He's tried to bring the girls with him. It didn't go well, even at the zoo, where you'd think kids acting like monkeys would be acceptable. It can be hard helping many people at one time. Sometimes, we have to make a choice.

Poor me. Poor, poor me. Sigh. OK, listen, I want to let you in on a secret. I've started to find myself. Me before kids is reappearing. I fought for her all last year. I wasn't home all of the time with the kids. But, I wasn't out at the food pantry either. Last year was the year for me. I said to myself, hey, hey you! You're there! You still exist. Go find yourself. So, I did. I ran and ran and ran and loved it. And, I worked, and worked, and worked and found renewed passion in my 9-5 an got a promotion as a result of my time and dedication. There are places where Melissa exists without Caroline, or Charlotte, or Andy. Nobody at a race asks me if I know Andy. I do exist independently of those who matter most to me. I realized, again, that I, too, matter most to me. I realized it was time to be selfish again.

I'll never be nominated as one of our area's 20 under 40. Mostly, because I'm getting old and 40 is in the near future. Those women and men deserve our recognition and many of them are juggling all that I do and still, somehow, manage to take time for others. Some, maybe,have a made it a priority to help others, perhaps at a cost. I hope someday, maybe when the kids are older, maybe when I'm not still finding my professional footing, maybe when I get to work without having left my lunch on the counter or having my undies on inside out, I will get my act together and do something for someone who isn't one of the true loves of my life. Maybe I'll feel like I'm back, I'm me, my underwear are on the right way finally and I'm ready to help others. This is what I can do: I try, every day,to do something else for someone, even if it's as simple as sending a text to let a friend know I'm thinking of her or holding the door open for someone.

And, for now, when someone asks me if I know Andy, I'll say yes, I know him. He's my husband. Then, I'll give them my business card, remind them that my name is Melissa, and ask if they would offer one of my students an internship.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

TomKat or AndMel?

Over the weekend I had "my hour". Sixty whole minutes at the gym including 30 on the new treadmill and the latest In Style magazine to read while I sweat it out to my itunes. I happily flipped and thumped along, checking out the latest hand bags and arm cuffs until I got to an article about Katie Holmes. I had to flip back and forth several times to admire one of my favorite Hollywood pieces of eye candy. How can she and I have children almost the same age and she can look like that and have run a marathon this year? No matter what we all tell ourselves about celebs, we still envy them or just can't help but stare at their image in a magazine and read all about how they've found themselves via religion, rehab or marriage to Tom Cruise. My favorite part of the article was Katie recalling Suri's birth story. She says something about how supportive Tom was by placing candles and picture frames around the room. That's helpful? If Andy was lighting candles during ...

Spoiler Alert!

It's no big shock that I opened my mouth and got myself in trouble earlier this week. This time it was my virtual mouth, and we all know that can be the worst. Saying something stupid, online, is like spreading a highly contagious virus. Speaking of which, with all of my recent coughing and sneezing, I've been really good at spreading a germy virus around. I teach students to be social media savvy, and gosh darn it, I did so as recent as yesterday. I provide them with some rules to protect them from looking like a virtual ass, but low and behold, I fall victim to assiness every once in a while. How am I supposed to know every single rule in life, and particularly online? I'm just a simple human being, with a big mouth, who wants to over share! So, here's what went down, if you didn't get pissy pants over my FB faux pas. I watched the mid-season finale of The Walking Dead on Sunday night. Andy was in the can and I just needed to talk about the episode. I needed t...

LAX

Some people may think that Andy and I are "lax" parents. Our house isn't a free range farm by any means, although just throwing food on the ground, and letting the kids wander around and pick it up when they are hungry, sounds pretty enticing. It's true that we aren't the strictest parents and that, regularly, there is mutiny on the bounty and we are held hostage by little pirate people. The drill sergeant in our house is 3 feet tall and belts outs commands like, "Get me a drink!", "Turn on Netflix!", or "You will not wash my hair!" while wearing only a pullup, squinting her eyes, and pointing an accusatory finger in our direction. Our kids are often in charge. I'm not going to lie to you. The dog may also be in charge from time to time. That's just the way it goes. As more and more of our peers have a third child, we are, unfortunately, asked if we, too, plan to expand. Are these people insane in the membrane? Have they been...