Tuesday, June 16, 2015

These days.


The other day Husband and I were sitting on the couch watching this or that when he turned to me with Serious Face and said, "I've never been more excited for summer vacation. Not even my own summer breaks when I was a kid. I am so excited." And I realized I feel the very same way. The transition to high school was bumpy for all of us. (Side note: I was never one of those people who wanted to relive my high school experience. But having a teenager kind of forces you to revisit those formidable years. Awwwwkward.) 

Boy was there a learning curve these past nine months. Right until the very, very end (today! donezo!) we were navigating the surprisingly complex social dynamic of 15-year-old boys and fielding complaints of hand cramps from using a non-mechanical #2 pencil to complete an English final. (Hand cramp? I'll give you a hand cramp! When I was your age we didn't even have computers! We hand wrote all our essays on a piece of slate! We also walked five miles uphill to school everyday in blizzard conditions!) (I'm clearly becoming a crotchety old schoolmarm.) (Also, none of that is true.) (Though by today's standards, those black and green screened IBM desktops with floppy disks were positively primitive. Which means I'm more appreciative of Google than those spoiled Generation Z-ers.)

This year, though only roughly to the halfway point, has a very different feel than years past. We are in uncharted territory after nearly a decade of what, in hindsight, I realize was personal and familial stagnation. (We all three had it in one form or another.) Change and forward movement are both good, for sure, but also dizzying at times. I've set a personal record for most airline miles used in a single year, let alone half a year. I've attended a funeral in Montana, experienced Costa Rica for the first time, attended a girls getaway in Vermont, and sat at a hospital bedside in San Diego. And depending on the whole job thing, I may be heading up to Flathead Lake for the 4th. (I'm a little torn on the last one—working versus seeing the boys—the old motherhood dilemma of trying to be two places at once.) 

Breaking news! I got THE job! The formal offer came just moments ago. Which meant scrapping half my post spent lamenting (for the umpteenth time) the frustration of reentering the workforce after being a mom/wife and the time spent interviewing + waiting + interviewing + waiting some more. The point is, I'm employed! In literally the perfect patient care job. Where I get to wear scrubs every day (i.e. the world's most comfortable uniform). So many wonderful metaphors could aptly sum up this rather arduous experience: all good things come to he who waits; a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step; a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush (I don't know what that means). 


Oh, the boys! Did I mention they are leaving on Thursday for five whole weeks? I wouldn't kid about something like that. I haven't spent this much time alone since my late teens/early twenties. And though I'll miss them with all my heart, a break from my domestic obligations is also quite welcome. My start date is still up in the air, but it sounds like they can get me into the necessary new hire classes early next month. Which means a couple weeks to enjoy summer before I start acting like a gainfully employed grownup again. I give it two weeks tops before I can't stand myself and the summer primetime lineup. (Though I'm hoping Pretty Little Liars finally starts answering some of my questions + filling in plot holes.)

I'd like to think these next five weeks will serve as preparation for the isolation of next summer's voyage, though, really, apples and oranges. Enjoying the quiet comfort of my own home, complete with flushable toilets, will do little to prepare me for the trials and tribulations of the trail. There is a zero point zero chance I will stumble upon a rattlesnake or grizzly in the Portland suburbs. But, you know, the things we tell ourselves.

Speaking of next summer, I've been asked where my plans stand now that I have scored a great job. I've been asking myself the same question. In fact, I've spent a great deal of time considering my options since I got the call last week that I was still in the running. There is only one thing I know for sure: I'm hiking the PCT. The timeline is less certain, but I am going forward with my research and planning. When the time comes to choose, I'll let my gut be my guide. But know that it will be a question of when, not if.


In the meantime, I'm enjoying farmers market season, outdoor seating, and my first foray into the "Dump Cake." (Does anyone else find that name a little, um, unappealing? Though it was unexpectedly delicious.) 

There's something about strolling around on a Sunday morning, a jar of fresh honey in one hand, coffee drink in the other, taking in all the colors and sounds of the season.

There's a lot to be grateful for right now:

We made it through the school year (mostly) unscathed. 

We (still) love where we live.

I have a brand new job that will put me squarely on the path to PA school. (!!!) (Pinch me.)

The boys and I are happy + healthy. 

Here's to reinvention. And welcoming new seasons with open arms (literally and figuratively).

Living fearlessly, I'm learning, is a choice.



No comments:

Post a Comment

Comments make my heart go pitter-patter. Make sure you are not a no-reply blogger!