Babies and Their Egos
I wanna talk about something today that is a little deep into the human psyche: the ego. In my line of work (an extreme sport that I’m not active in) and in my daily life, I’m constantly surrounded by extreme type A personalities. I’d like to think that I’m the exception to the rule, that I’m a chill type B who just takes life as it comes and doesn’t micromanage or put tons of pressure on the little things. That, my friends, is just not the case. I am no exception.
I am an underachieving type A who shuts down when things aren’t absolutely perfect. It challenges my social life, my work life, and my relationships. My first instinct? Run, always. Some smart cookie once told me that someone who is actually successful doesn’t have a list of accolades that they pull out whenever it’s convenient or impressive. A truly successful person has the ability to make whoever is standing in front of them feel valuable. I liked that, so I stored it away. It’s easy for me to see the value in people. Jackie is an amazing mother and has the ability to make the people around her feel at home. Beth is adorable and has the kind of laugh that makes everyone else laugh. Zori has the best hair in the state and the fattest ass in three counties. My sisters are all saints in their own right. Even my babydaddy has some redeeming qualities that I am willing to admit. But when it comes to myself, I come up blank. I think it’s like that for everyone.
A few weekends ago, my older sister, Rayven, came into town for the baby shower I was throwing her. Her, Rory, and I went shopping for dresses. This was a spiritual experience, and not only because of the shopping (although I do love shopping). We tried on dresses. We tried on THE dresses. Rory in a prom dress, Rayven in a maternity dress, and me in a wedding dress. We tried on dresses that fit our up and coming titles- high schooler, mother, bride. Things that we want to be, but things that we don’t feel completely ready for yet.
“I want to look pregnant.”
“Rayven, you ARE pregnant.”
“I cannot believe I’m gonna be in high school.”
“It’s so hard to find a wedding dress in a fucking triple zero. It’s too big. I’m LITERALLY too small to get married.”
But Rayven looked like a mother. And Rory looked like a high schooler. And I looked like a bride. And we could look at each other, and think that about each other, but for some reason, those titles that were putting on our future selves just seem inconceivable. Like the shoes of our future selves are too big for us to fill. Rayven got the dress and we went home to decorate.
The shower was beautiful. We had it at Jackie and Adam’s house. Jackie helped me put everything together because she’s just so good at stuff like that.
We all know that things are changing. We’re not kids anymore- in fact, we’re all starting to raise kids of our own. We’re getting married and birthing crotch goblins and building lives for ourselves that may take us farther from each other than we would like. We all have some big shoes to fill. But the pressure we put on ourselves to be good daughters, and good mothers, and good wives and good people- that’s gonna be hard to grow out of. We never give ourselves the grace that we give others.
Maybe it’s time we start.
Until next week,
Sally.