The Zen of a Do Over

No one told me I could start over. It never even occurred to me that I could ask the judges to begin again. I was really upset with myself for messing up. I had been nominated by teachers and students to compete against my sixth-grade peers from all over the state; then it happened, I forgot a line. Me, the only girl to memorize 10-pages of a report in the fourth-grade and now in sixth, my memory eludes me? I sit defeated in the gray metal chair spray painted with the school name in neon orange and glance over to my parents who are beaming with pride. How could they be smiling? Didn’t they know I blew it? My career in public speaking is dashed, forever!

It was Heidi’s turn now, and her speech on Abraham Lincoln was only so-so and I knew that my speech could still beat hers based on a technical difficulty-I used harder words. Then it happened to her. She missed a sentence. I knew her speech by heart. Heidi paused and then she calmly looked at the judges, smiled and asked, “May I start again?”

My mouth was on the floor. You can’t do that! Nobody ever told me, you could do that! My head was exploding with questions that demanded answers. The judges smiled sweetly and obliged Heidi by restarting the clock. Heidi won and was viewed on channel 27 for all to see on Roosevelt Elementary television. The stringy-haired girl who asked for a do-over was dashing my future star-studded career as a world-renowned speaker and performer.

When is it ever acceptable to ask for a do-over?

Perhaps instant replays have skewed a referee’s instincts or our society, in general, expects mistakes and is willing to look the other way provided some effort is being made. Many reality TV shows from America’s Got Talent to Dancing with the Stars give performers a second chance, a way to be voted back in if America likes you enough. It’s always a popularity contest even in the real world.

While constantly striving for perfection, I have learned, finally, to give myself room for error. The dishes in the sink didn’t make their way into the dishwasher. It’s okay. Tallied into my day with the things I did accomplish: a 5:30 a.m. workout, toting my sleeping toddlers to the grocery store — success; a 1,500 word article needed last minute from an editor and friend — check; forgetting to take the ground beef from the freezer for tonight’s dinner-May I have a do-over, please? How about pizza instead?

Women everywhere have demanded too much of themselves as we try and live up to the “having-it-all” syndrome our mothers suffered from, and then flail ourselves into therapy for not being good enough. Learning to accept my limitations based on time, logistics and children or “TLC”, as I like to call it has saved my sanity.

Life becomes a little more bearable when you give yourself a margin of error:

• “T” stands for Time. There are only so many hours in the day I am functional, and I try to maximize those hours for high productivity.
• “L” equals Logistics, which includes the errands, the meetings or anything that takes me away from “C”, which needs to be scheduled to keep sanity and efficiency high.
• “C” is Children and they are the X-factor who cause schedules to not go according to plan.

This unknown dynamic cannot be controlled only assisted by allowing time or logistics to come into play. Knowing and accepting the fact that my schedule will not happen as it should, allows me to breathe in between red lights, as I drop my little one off at grandma’s house to make a 2 p.m. deadline. It’s okay to need and accept the help.

Heidi, the hair challenged sixth-grader, taught me that. As I look back to my wonder years, I am amazed I didn’t suffer from a sixth-grade nervous breakdown. Today, I am comforted by the simplest of things; the sound of my laughing babies, our dog barking in disagreement at the ever increasing interest the girls are receiving, and the whistle of a distant train reminding me that people are always on the move. I still get excited when it’s time to shop for school supplies and love the new colors of school binders and gel pens the kids have access to nowadays.

Imagine all the possible speeches and stories I could have written with an orange gel glitter pen!

The seasons are beginning to change, and I am reminded once again that Mother Nature has allowed us many do-overs. Mama Earth has a way of self-correcting and never allows those mistakes to affect her in the same way. From natural disasters, wars, oil spills and environmental pollution, Mother Nature has survived and continues to thrive enabling generations of families to do the same. Perhaps one day, we will learn her secret.

Until then, I will continue to breathe calmly when the sixteen-year-old kid behind the ice cream counter asks, “Do you really want two scoops.” Yes, I really do. And, I will continue to work-out at the gym with the ‘Fat is your Fault’ program and know as I enjoy the two scoop waffle cone, tomorrow is another day for a do-over.

Rebecca Asher is a writer, author and former stand-up comedian. Asher holds a master’s degree in New Media Journalism from Full Sail University and a BFA in Theatre from Chapman University, as well as being a graduate from The American Musical and Dramatic Academy (AMDA) in New York City.

Asher’s books include, Little Mouse and Images of America: Keller, Texas (Arcadia Publishing), which can be found on Amazon.com and at Barnes & Noble nationwide. Her One- Woman show, Death by Chocolate has played in New York and Los Angeles, a coming of age story about dating, dieting and death. Rebecca has acted, directed, produced and written for TV, film, radio and print.

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