I am not a very ambitious person. I lack the drive required to achieve wild success. I will readily admit to doing the bare minimum.

I am lucky I didn’t attend a very competitive high school because I never would have put forth the effort required to stand out among driven peers. I stood out by doing what was required and being very outgoing.

I figured out early on that if you could convince teachers you were bright and they liked you, they somehow thought your writing was much better than it really was. So my A’s in Reading, Writing, Speech, Journalism, and Current Events off-set my deplorable math grades and I wound up at a really great college.

I know this personality trait has to drive my mom bananas. She is the epitome of driven. She is fueled by success and will work doggedly to achieve her goals, which she visualizes and writes down.

I remember my parents taking me to one of those Peter Lowe seminars which are basically a day long commercial for business tapes. One of the sales guys/speakers asked the crowd to write down ten goals they wanted to achieve in the next year. I remember struggling to come up with TEN things I really felt were important I achieve as a college junior. My mom needed two notebooks. (The highlight of that day was seeing Barbara Bush speak, and I don’t think that was my parents’ motivation for purchasing my ticket.)

My point is my mom is very driven.

My lack of need for achievement and/or accolades makes me the perfect candidate for the role of stay at home mom. Managing a household and raising bright, articulate children is more than enough of a challenge for me. My employee evaluation will come when Alex and Meredith are functioning adults who contribute to society in some small way. I will have failed if they are in the slammer or treat wait staff rudely.

Believe it or not, I’m so thankful for my lack of ambition, which I don’t confuse with laziness, but believe me I can be lazy. I am completely free to enjoy the moment. To paraphrase Dr. Seuss, “A moment is a moment no matter how small.”

My days are devoid of numbers and sales goals, and are instead filled with time for chats about how it is possible for a couple to wind up with the wrong baby implanted into a mother’s uterus. (Thank you Today Show for running that story during the breakfast hour.) I can sit on the kitchen floor and play checkers. I can dream up ways to make studying for spelling a little less brutal. I can say “Yes, let’s make cookies Right Now!”, and actually have the ingredients on hand. All of this without a single case of the doldrums. I honestly feel completely and totally fulfilled.

Because I walked out of the surgical suite completely conscious my mom was free to entertain the kids without having to play nurse mate to me. I really get a kick out of watching my mom interact with her grandchildren. To say it’s night and day between my childhood is an understatement. I don’t begrudge that at all. I’m very glad that I was encouraged to be self sufficient. It’s just fascinating to watch my mom drop e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g to take Meredith to Dunkin’ Donuts per her request, and rush back to have lunch with Alex at school. Only to pick Meredith back up because they ran out of time to get manicures and adequately shop for books. To stay until after dinner before making the five hour trip south because she “can’t break Alex’s heart.” I cannot believe she wears a shirt that spells out "GramPam" in rhinestones.

It’s truly the only time I’ve ever seen my mother not pay attention to listings, sales numbers, agent retention, investment properties, and what else she can do to catapult herself closer to achieving her goals. Not that I don’t admire that, it’s just that it wears me out thinking about it.

When I allowed myself---very briefly—to consider what could happen to me if the lump in my breast was malignant, I didn’t feel the anxiety that one might expect. I felt complete peace. Of course I’m not ready to leave this life behind. I want more than anything to see my children grow up and blossom into whatever makes them happy. I want to give in and travel with Brandon to Egypt, even though I think it’s filled with terrorists. I have too many friends I love like family to pack it in before 35.

But, I didn’t feel the least bit panicky. I felt fulfilled. I felt like I’ve given my children the best foundation I could. I’ve spent my days loving them and shaping them. I succeeded at making a home for our family. I love being a wife… most days at least, the days Brandon actually hits the bathroom trashcan with his tissues. If I wasn’t able to do a single thing more, I was okay with that. I can’t tell you what a gift that realization was.

I have found fulfillment and it is nowhere near Capitol Hill where I once expected it to be.