In Defense of Average

Yesterday I wrote about appreciating the little things. To which one of my best friends confessed that she had just spent a small fortune on tickets to see Tom Hiddleston in Much Ado About Nothing next January in New York. Make no mistake, I appreciate the small stuff. BUT HELL YES to treating yourself to those play tickets, that fancy purse, or the impractical piece of jewelry.

I am typically not a hardliner. I love camping in our van because it isn't overly primitive or overly posh. It has a heater and an air conditioner. And most importantly, a toilet. I want to avoid walking to a pit toilet at 3am. I like my thrift clothes but I also like the cute 1950s-inspired skirts I got at Rockin' Bettie's in Las Vegas. I want to be green, but for more than half a century I have contributed my fair share to the landfill situation. I love a good public transportation system but I equally love my comfy Palisade with its third-row seating. I was happy enough with public school for one kid and homeschooling the other. I even did a combo of formula and breastfeeding back when you were supposed to be team boob or bottle.

I know all of this seems very non-committal. But in an overly opinionated world, we can forget there are lots of right ways to do life.

Currently I am on my couch, where I will likely be for at least another hour. Meanwhile, I can clearly see joggers out on a trail behind my house. It is 7:30am. My YAs are upstairs and won't rise for another four hours. You have your late risers, your early risers, your neat freaks, your in-betweens, and your slobs. I largely fall into the last camp. I have never been a good housekeeper. My kids had the joy of climbing the mighty clothes mountain and scrummaging for clean socks five minutes after our drop-dead leave time. I throw no stones. I don't take a lot of hard stances because, at least in my experience, life is messy. Dealing with it may mean a spotless house or a cluttered one.

Which brings me to something I read: apparently we are now in the Beta Mom phase and have left the Alpha Mom phase. Darn, I missed my chance to — what does Google say — be an Achiever, Leader, and Trendsetter. Those are the positives. Overbearing and pushy are the negatives. Am I the only one who thinks these grand proclamations are silly? Aren't most of us both, or neither, depending on the day? Don't most of us fall in the middle?

AH HA. There it is. Being in the middle is average, and being average seems boring. In a world of influencers and social media, over the top sells. Average is the kiss of death.

I have been on the planet for a while, and I have spent most of that time in the middle being average. I would like to make the case that average is actually the sweet spot. I know, I know — I just said there are lots of right ways to do life. But average gets overlooked. Someone needs to defend it, and who better than me, just a run-of-the-mill human.

When you are average, you celebrate the little things. Getting your kids to school on time every day for a week. Do it two weeks in a row and it's cause to go out for ice cream. So when you work hard, support your family in that middle management job, and can finally splurge on tickets to Shakespeare in New York — that is a HUGE deal. If your life is always high-adrenaline, always going to THE places and being seen by THE people, downtime can feel like the space between the big stuff. Almost like a waiting room before the main event.

But when you are average, the waiting room is the main event. It's where you listen to your child's playlist on the way to school. Where you watch in amazement as 17 and 18 year olds let the kid inside come out during their last Girl Scout meeting at Build-a-Bear. The pride in holding down that middle management job for over twenty years while raising two kids and planning the occasional exotic adventure. The pride in finding the unicorn meal that everyone in the family will actually eat. Taking an hour for yourself after giving to everyone else all day.

The victories of the average are anything but. I love our occasional dalliances into over-the-top moments. But I equally love sitting on the couch with the family, eating a rotisserie chicken from Sam's, watching Taskmaster while we chatter commentary.

My friend's Tom Hiddleston tickets are going to be extraordinary. And next January, when she texts from New York, I'll be right here. Probably on this couch. Probably with a rotisserie chicken. Genuinely delighted for both of us.