Monday, March 14, 2011

Cloud to Sun

Friday morning I had a sad (mournful hound image here). I shook it off with a quick trip downtown to the toy store. My husband turned 45. He told me that at school he's learned to "properly scrape off gasket material" and that he lifted a 50 pound compressor without throwing his back out. In sum he said "I keep finding more things I can do that I didn't think I could." And that warms the cockles of my heart. I'd like some of that too. Mastery moments are so satisfying.

At any rate I was at the toy store to buy him a kite. With the March birthday I *always* think he needs a kite. Walking in the sunshine and zipping around downtown gave me a lift. I didn't feel sad when I came back to work.

The day before I had revised my resume and turned it in as part of my bid to get my job reclassified so I can get a raise. There are no regular raises in this time of the incredible shrinking state budget. So my office manager has helped me revise the description and call it a more advanced job. Which is true, I am doing more than I did five years ago. But it's a small job even with all my shiny experience. Looking at the small progress I've made in five years gave me a clutch at my heart. There are people in the world who can look at their resumes dispassionately. There must be. But whenever I work on my resume it makes me want to leave the state and create a new identity. Nod was sympathetic and reminded me that I held the family together during the recent unpleasantness. I also remind myself that I started this job when Lexi was one and Katy was three and I was still getting up in the night almost every night. But nonetheless I was under a cloud and felt lowly low until the toy store outing.

Katy reached a milestone in her development last week. It was being too cool for the 3rd grade music program. She and her friends made fun of the words and arm motions and snickered mightily. She told me ahead of time that she didn't like the songs or moves. I said something mushmouthed about respecting her teacher and that she wouldn't like every piece. But now I know what to say: I do not intend to sit through a performance where you don't sing out or even appear to know all the words. I will not watch you roll your eyes and barely follow along. Infuriating. I told her I was disappointed but left it at that. I'll reserve my speech for the next opportunity.

Last week was something almost every night. We did it all. We went for a walk on Saturday, celebrated the birthday and got a date night out too! We had dinner at a cafe and went to hear Indian music performed in a yoga studio. I looked around at the funky crowd and said, wow, you wouldn't know we were in Kansas.

This morning there is snow falling fast. It should all melt later. March has got it all.

I'm crocheting a poncho for Katy. If it comes out I'll do another one for Lexi too. The neckline was the only tricky part and I had to undo lots of work until I got it mostly correct. Now I'm on the easy part and will see if I can finish it with the odds and ends of yarn I've got. It's the first thing I've crocheted for ages, good fun. The cat is teaching me to put the yarn up when I'm done.

3 comments:

The Nag said...

Geez you write well, Nimble.

Bee said...

I always enjoy reading all of the little vignettes that make up each of your blog posts. I feel that each one deserves its own comment, and yet I pick and choose so randomly.

A kite seems like a very good present for a 45 year old. Isn't it wonderful that Nod is feeling the excitement of adding new skills to his repertoire?

As for your own low morale: I agree with him that a stable job (with health insurance!) is nothing to sneeze at. You, in your own way, are a sort of Boswell or Johnson of Kansas. :)
AND a good mother; never forgetting that.

Nimble said...

Aw shucks, Nag, thanks. I enjoy your own curation very much. And your occasional writing. You have an exotic Canadian aura for me.

@ Bee, what I like to read most in blogs are the glimpses of daily life. The peek behind the curtain of our social selves. Plus the minutiae that is left out of one's epic life story.
Thanks for the good thoughts. I am home with a sick kid today which reminds me of my family tent pole abilities. Not every job allows for that.