Yea, I'm Braggin'. What of it?

I am a truly lucky woman. I am blessed in so many ways. I have B, whose charms I've written of extensively. And I also have B's daddy. E is everything I could ever have dreamed of in a husband and then some. He is, in so many ways, my perfect complement. He is supportive of me in all ways and all things. And that isn't always an easy feat. He is the person I can count on to talk me down when I'm spinning. He is the person I can count on any time of the day or night. And as a stress-induced insomniac, that's really key. He is sweet and kind an intelligent. He has more integrity than anyone else I know. In case I haven't said it often enough, thank you, E. You rock my world.

Fifteen Years

I actually wrote this post a couple weeks ago and never posted it. Oops!

At the risk of outing myself as old (as if any of you reading this don't know precisely how old I am), fifteen years ago this month, I graduated from high school. And the funny thing about living in my hometown right now is that it really highlights the fact that I may strike a passing resemblance to that girl who graduated FHS in June, 1994, but by and large, she's gone.


At the time I graduated high school, I was a chubby, shy, sheltered girl whose previous two and a half years had been defined by thyroid disease. I was terrified of college, as much as I was excited for it. I was terrified of boys even more. (Yes, yes. Have a good laugh. L afraid of boys?! PREPOSTEROUS. BWAHAHAHAAAA. I'm a married lady now, thankyouverymuch.) I was generally terrified of life.


I remember that time so vividly, though. I remember driving around, listening to music and dreaming of what my life was going to be like, now that I'd finally done my time. I remember the simultaneous thrill and fear at the prospect of heading off to Amherst, and a school full of thousands of strangers.


My college orientation was also 15 years ago this month. UMass staggers orientation throughout the summer, and ours was early in the season. Right from the get-go, I knew college was going to be a whole different world. I remember forcing myself to talk to people, because I figured we were pretty much all in the same boat, in terms of not knowing many people, and I figured it was better to make myself talk to people than to sit in a corner not talking to anyone. I was right.

It's fun to look back on those two events now, knowing how dramatically my life changed that summer. The transition from high school to college was, for me, a phenomenal one. Going to such a big school was precisely the right choice for me. I needed that experience and all that I learned about life there.

Rough & TUMBLE

B did a face plant yesterday at daycare. Literally, he fell on his face on the hard top of the playground. He's got a brutal raspberry all the way down his nose, plus an egg on his forehead, and he had a bloody nose when it happened, too. But my little ruffian is really pretty unfazed by the whole thing. Occasionally, he'll hit the skin of his nose with his hand or something and remember it's sore and look at me kind of like, "Oh, ow." But on the whole, he clearly doesn't mind the falling down.

And of course, I know this is just the first (and probably mildest) of many, many injuries he's likely to endure. By B's age, my youngest brother had already had stitches once. And Be reminds me of him, as a toddler - same sturdy build, same blonde hair, same contagious smile, and same need for speed. It didn't really freak me out the way I thought it would, seeing his little face all scraped up. Maybe it's because I have three brothers and spent two years teaching a bunch of hellion boys, so I guess I kind of knew what I was getting into. But really, so far, it's more a feeling of awe that I have, that he's growing up so fast. (Talk to me after his next injury - I'm sure my facade of coolness and calm will have vanished.)

But seriously, little boys get cuts and scrapes. This is not to say that little girls don't - they certainly do. But looking back on myself and my four siblings, it does seem the boys got to a different level, with their cuts and scrapes. So, what this face plant indicates, I think, is that my baby has officially become a little boy.

Little Man

So, as I've already said here, work has been stressful lately. Not in any unusual way, really, just busy and harried and stressy. One of the things (among the many) that I'm working on is to be better about leaving work at work. I tend to be a sensitive and highly stressed person (also something I'm working on in a more general sense) and as a result, I often end up stressing at night and over weekends about stuff that's going on at work. It's a ridiculous thing to do, and I know it. But I've been in one stressful role after another, often with bosses who couldn't let go, and as a result, I've developed this bad habit.

But one thing that has made and continues to make it easier to forget work when I'm not here is B. What better way is there to forget your troubles than to come home to a smiling little menace who lunges at you joyfully and demands your full attention for the entire time he's in your presence? It is such a wonderful thing to just let go of whatever petty stress I feel, in favor of watching B tear around the house, running and climbing with exuberance and joy. When he lunges at me for an aggressively affectionate hug or kiss, my troubles melt away.

When I wake up in the morning and psyche myself up for the day by thinking about the things in my life that make me feel happy and grateful, my boys always top the list. Picturing B's smiling little face and hilarious run-walk make it possible to get out of bed on those days when, otherwise, I might want to just stay there.

Fighting

Today just wasn't a great day. I mean, it actually wasn't a terrible day, in and of itself, but for whatever reason, the stress of it just sent me into a complete funk that I've been having a really hard time shaking. I hate that!

Again, I know everything is going to be fine. I know everything is going to settle down and come together. I know it. But the waiting...it gets hard sometimes. Patience has never been a great strong suit of mine. And for instance, when it comes to work, I deserve better than I'm getting. I do. And I know it's headed my way. I have faith in that. But that doesn't mean I never have a bad day. I have to just not let it get to me.

TT the Bear's

I love Pandora. It's really such a genius invention. If you've never used it, go to pandora.com pronto and get started. Today, my stations seem to be in cahoots to all play songs by artists I used to go to see frequently when I was a young, single girl living in the city and going to rock shows several nights a week. (On the off chance that anyone reading this is like, "HUH?!" about the title of this post, TT the Bear's is one of my favorite live music venues in Cambridge.) It's really genuinely strange. We've had Dresden Dolls, followed by Sheila Divine, followed by Hey, Mercedes, followed by Get Up Kids. And I mean, it's not that these bands are like SUPER obscure, but let's face it, they're not necessarily the most commonly played artists around, and for them to come on, even on Pandora, in that precise order, is...unusual. I'm suddenly really nostaligic for 2003. I really want to hit up TT's or The Middle East for a rock show that is as likely to be an enormous, loud disappointment as a genuinely good show (It's a 50/50 shot, a lot of times). Ahhh, good times.