Small Exciting Things

I am up entirely too early thanks to this horrid dry weather we are having.  It is not the miserable blizzardy freeze most of the country is experiencing, but rather a very warm, fire-loving dryness that is wreaking havoc on my lungs.  It doesn’t help that there is a large fire 20 miles away.

But I’m not Negative Nee-Nee today.  I think a lot about the stories I want to tell, but sometimes I think I come across as too negative.  So while I’m up I’m going to inject some happiness into our day.

First up, Smushy!

I think it’s safe to say he enjoyed Christmas.

This was his favorite present. He showed it to me and told me his Daddy gave it to him. True story.

Smushyface is a very smart, very busy little man.  And in the summer he is going to be a big brother!  Good thing his mommy is the organized type.

Speaking of babies, we know what my daughter is having:

A little girl!

Eeeeeeee!  I am over the moon.  I have committed to braiding hair every Sunday.  You see, my kids look like this

*sigh* I wish they still looked like this. Christmas 1998

*pout*  Fast-forward fifteen years to THIS Christmas:

There they are. December 2013

When Jess came along her hair was coarser and curlier than I knew how to manage, but too fine and straight for her paternal grandmother’s experience.  Jess’s childhood had a lot of trial and hair-or.  (See what I did there?)  I’m no expert but I now know the tools and the products, and I’m the only one in the family who knows how to French braid.  Smushy’s mom has already asked for help if she has a girl, too.  I hated doing hair when Jess was little because it took so much longer than I was accustomed to, but it needed to be done.  As an Oma I can’t wait!

What else?

Oh THIS guy!

The “ice cream hat”

This is my friend Steve.  He is an amazing writer with a fun short story blog, Uneasy Rider.  I don’t remember how it got started, but someone called for Steve’s friends to bombard him with crazy hats.  While on break from school I found myself knitting again, so I decided to practice a new slouchy pattern I learned and make Steve a hat that [vaguely] resembles an ice cream cone.  He assures me that he has since stretched it to fit properly and has permanently affixed the giant cherry pom-pom (which I left optional).

Drowsiness has finally caught up with me.  I am expected at brunch later this morning, so I am off to bed for a quick nap.  After I shove Jess aside.  Kids, I swear…

“Get on this step! You are not allowed to be taller than me!”

Knowing Stuff

I don’t know if I’ve talked about this before, but one of the hardest things about being back in school is that I don’t know anything.

The girls and I sometime in the early 2000s

Young people take the vast unknown for granted; it’s just a fact of life.  Growing up means we hone our skills, get some life lessons under our belts, start getting good at things.  We know stuff, and at some point we take for granted that we know stuff.

Headset bows for my birthday

I was at that point.  Without even realizing it I was in the comfortable position of knowing stuff.  I knew my job.  I knew my people.  I had my routine.  If something broke I knew how to fix it.  There are always exceptions, but I knew that!  As a student, I know nothing.  I get it: the very nature of being a student is learning stuff I don’t know.  But I’m older now and it’s unsettling.

On my way to Professional Development, learning new ways to use the stuff I know.

I don’t know stuff anymore.  I don’t like it.

Little cartoon me.

The kids and I were near my old job yesterday, so we stopped in for a visit.  I always miss the people, but I never miss dispatching.  Yesterday, for the first time in over two years, I missed my job.  I recognized the voices on the radio.  I knew what they were talking about.  I understood what was going on.  I understood the dynamics of the changes that had taken place.

The Weekenders on a Sunday afternoon.

I knew stuff again.  I like knowing stuff.

Like how to play pranks on my coworkers.

I miss knowing stuff.

 

Like how to accept revenge with grace.