One Chicken Nugget At A Time

To me, success is measured by life experiences, stories to tell, emotions evoked:
good, bad or otherwise.
However, many of my peers, have a much more tangible way of viewing life; career and money.
I am a bit of a nostalgic, and prefer to imagine, reminisce and revel in daydreams.
I can barely keep count of how many Chicken Nuggets each child eats, much less, how much money is in our account at any given time.
Yet, somehow my thoughts, ideas and ambitions seem to be constantly woven around my role as a mother.
The topic of MY conversation always comes back to my kids.

For instance, I ran into an old acquaintance the other day.
(Gee, that makes me sound really old, "acquaintance".  Old or British.  Perhaps I am that old.  Yet, it makes sense that I refer to us as acquaintances since we are not "friend-friends", but we kind of know each other).
Anyway...

So I ran into this person I know, who doesn't have children of her own but works with them on a regular basis.
We were both shopping for groceries and cluttering the aisles with our shopping carts.
We start the natural/obligatory "so what have you been up to?" version of 'talk story'.
We chit.
We chat.
We catch up basically.
She tells me about her work.
I talk about what grade my children are in now.
She tells me about the different positions her friends at work have attained.
I retell of running into a mutual friend of ours at the soccer field while our kids were at practice.
She comments, 'Oh how big they must all be getting!"
I agree automatically without any real thought.
Yada, yada, yada.
The conversation continues with a barrage of work-related questions from her, and kid-talking from me.

I explain that my eldest child is working at her first "real job" this summer.
I express how proud I am about her earning a decent wage and receiving all of life's lessons as an employed American citizen, and my fear of looking at the cost of college that will burden us in two years.
And then I do the unthinkable.
I inject myself our topic of conversation.
I put myself out there by suggesting that I am thinking of going back to school, basically to "finish what I've started" and kid with a giggle expressing how "I'd like to get out of there, before my children show up." (Hee hee, and thinking to myself that it really IS all about the kids. Isn't it?)
While walking away since we are gradually moving into the good-bye stage of 'talk story', she responds,
    "Yeah, well you kinda want to make more money than your children do, don't you?!"
I walk away with a smile and simply say,
    "Ha ha, yeah.  Ok, see you later. Good talking to ya'!" 

But her final comment stuck with me.
It just lingered in the back of my mind among other random thoughts of how we really are acquaintances, and not real friends, since we have nothing in common really.  She talks - work.  I talk - kids.
I thought to myself as I grabbed items off this grocery shelf and that,
"Do I WANT to make more money than my kids?"
"Does it really matter how much either of us earn?"
"Why is money a gauge at all?"
"Have I not contributed all of my riches directly into the mouths of these children by way of Capri Suns and various brands of Chicken Nuggets over the years?"
And then it came to me.
A good five minutes had already passed since I had the conversation with said "acquaintance" (yes, I succumb to the thought of being old enough to have acquaintances).
I realize, while reaching for a jug of milk, that I would be ECSTATIC if any, and every one of my children grew up, went to college, got a degree and earned MORE money than me!!!
What an honor, really!

First of all, because I've yet to cross that particular finish line myself.
Receiving my college degree is still a goal of mine being pursued.
I like my major, am a work-in-progress.
And secondly, because perhaps one day, when I am much older than my mid-life self, I will be blessed by my adult child.
She with her degree and first paycheck under her belt, would have the ability to, and the option and fortitude to return me with a favor.
We could meet for lunch one day, and she would pay by the merits of her first paycheck.
And I would gladly accept and sip on my Capri Sun with the same fervor she once did when the tables were turned.
And we'd split a batch of Chicken Nuggets since she is living on a budget.
And that is how I measure success.
One Chicken Nugget at a time.
It really does always come back to the kids, and thank God for that!