Nice Fit

School is in full swing! Hallelujah! The backpacks have been supplied with
folders and pencils. The lunch boxes have been filled with healthy
snacks my kids will no doubt trade for Oreos or some other nonsense.
I drop the boys off and give them hugs and kisses after having walked
a whole 100 meters from our house to their classrooms.

As I make my way back home, I experience a renewed sense of hope and
pride knowing my sons are attending a top notch educational program
and will be out of the house for the next 6 hours. Recording
auditions in my sound booth without interruption is once again a
realistic goal. It's a good feeling. I smile. All is right with the
world. Then, "ZOOM!" I am nearly run over by a Maserati. So much
for that feeling.

Although we've been here in our new neighborhood for nearly six
months, it still feels foreign and, well, odd. The last time I felt
this out of place was when I was a kid growing up in Weed, CA. (Yes,
Weed. It's a real place. Population, oh, maybe 5 or so.) Now, here in
my new surroundings, I am again thrust into a marshland of discomfort
and feeling out of place.

It is a neighborhood laden with luxury cars and little girls with
unibrows. At school my husband and I are the youngest parents by at
least 10 years. The mothers are adorned in expensive clothing that
cost a small fortune and could pay to feed a third world country for a
year. Their jewelry is from Tiffany's and their high heels are Jimmy
Choos. And the cars!!! Again, I am grateful that we walk and my
dirty Toyota Corolla won't have to feel awkward parked next to the
Bentleys and Aston Martins. (It's not my car's feelings I'm worried
about, but I'm sure you've gathered that much). My kids will have to
miss out on "Bring Your Butler to School Day", as well as the weekend
"Father-Son Yacht Races". Can't you hear my heart breaking? It's
actually me gagging. My 2nd grader has already been invited to a
birthday party where all the kids are going to be picked up by a limo
and taken to an exclusive party destination. Sheesh! Anyway, it's
definitely an adjustment.

Then I remember one of the things I learned growing up feeling like I
never quite fit in or belonged. It is that I am only as out of place
as I allow myself to feel. I always have something to offer. Whether
it's volunteering in the classroom or helping with the fund raisers,
or maybe even performing some character voices for the students on
career day, I choose to thrive in my new environment. I will not sit
on the sidelines like I did as a fearful child and watch as others
engage and grow. Furthermore, feelings of self-consciousness will not
only hinder me as an individual, but also my children. If they sense
that I am feeling out of place, then they too will believe they must
be as well. While I may feel that I have absolutely nothing in common
with my new neighbors other than our zip code, our children will be
the ones who make life long connections with one another. It will be
them who bridge the gap between the seemingly vast sea of differences
among their parents.

Besides, why should I give anyone else the power to make me feel
inadequate? It's all in my head anyway. It usually is. No matter
how out of place a person may feel among the very wealthy, one can
always take heart and know that none of these material things matter.
In the end the person who dies with the most toys is still worm food.
Though, my next car may be a Mercedes. I'm just saying.

Thanks to my children, I have met many wonderful parents who I am sure
to call friends for quite some time. Maybe one of them will let me
borrow her Jimmy Choos—last season's anyway. I am grateful to be
here. So, among the fleet of luxury cars, expensive clothing, 7 year
olds riding in limos to birthday parties, and bling, I can hold my
head high and know that I belong. Maybe I'll even drive my Toyota to
the next birthday party behind the limo…at least 3 cars back.