Special Joys

Fathers’ Day is a special day, no question there. It is not the same as Mothers’ day, though. Mothers want to know they are appreciated and loved. Dads want the day to go their way, pretty much. There was no major rush to get to church exactly on time today; sports will reign on the TV, and sometimes a very special memory can be created. Today as we were about to leave church we were informed that it was beginning to flood and we could hear the rain and thunder. Immediately, the father’s all rush to play their roles of hero to the fair dame and her bonnie brood. For Trevor, however, his idea of playing the hero is showing our children joy in seemingly irritable circumstances. As we had collected all our chit’lins, we joined the throng of mothers and children under the ledge waiting for their knights in shining SUV’s. Trevor and I looked at each other, and he asked me what I wanted to happen. I simply said, “let’s run!” I allowed Trevor (who was holding Alton-our 14 month old) to get a head start since he had the “clicker,” then our almost 4 year old and I ran for it. It was a good 50 yards in pouring rain, and puddles. At the first step off the ledge you couldn’t help but laugh out loud with a goofy grin plastered on your face. As we jogged past all the SUV’s I noticed Dad’s smiling at us. I look at Corban’s face and see pure joy. I feel a pure joy in my own heart resonating throughout my whole body. This is a moment I will not soon forget, and probably won’t be able to adequately describe. As I jumped in the front seat I looked back at my boys and saw big smiles. Who cares if your Sunday clothes are soaking wet? Did you see how big his smile was? Did you hear his precious laugh mingled with my own? I had an opportunity to get annoyed and be in a bad mood, but instead I chose joy in God’s handiwork. Had my husband desired to rescue us like all the other Dad’s, I would have loved to let him, but HIS joy was in my letting go and being a little crazy. After looking at my boys, Trevor jumped in with a matching grin and all I wanted to do was grab them all and make another run for it!

Be a little crazy sometimes, moms…it does a body good.

Wow

I’m in shock that it has actually been over 2 months since I last wrote here! I just read my last post, and then I noticed the date. Sheesh. This is what happens when you don’t have the internet at your house. Maybe we should remedy that. Hmm…

I have been working quite a few hours this month at the old YMCA. I absolutely love the job, and I feel I am quite proficient in it after only 5 months. My boss has made mention of looking into a raise for me, and she even bought me lunch on Friday! Buy me lunch, and I’m yours, sadly. During the month of July, our of 17 employees, 3 are going to be off the work schedule. 2 of which consume massive amounts of the morning and evening shifts, as well as weekends. My manager looks at me and says, “ready for some OT?” I had just had a cry-session with my husband about how I was working too many hours. I’ve been on about 12 hours a week, and it has doubled since summer began. I’m afraid I’ll be working 30-35 in July. If I get that raise, it will feel better, but I miss being at home with my boys. And, I’m missing the summer with my husband. He’s a teacher, so that is why my hours have been able to increase for the summer, but it’s still hard on me. People have scoffed at those who work front desk for complaining about how hard it is, but let me tell you…it ain’t easy. We get the brunt of people’s frustration whether it be about policies, or prices we get to be the first person they complain to. You know how you are when you are initially frustrated about something? The first person you talk to gets all your ugliness, then when the “supervisor” comes over you’ve had time to think properly and you are cordial to them. I get that all the time, or they yell at me, then my manager gets an earfull, and then the director hears it. Those people get marked off in your memory to avoid as much as possible. Here’s a story you may not believe. A lady actually told me she would quit if she had to have her picture taken in our system. We informed her that it was a matter of security, for her own benefit, but she was very cross. The next day I caught her to take her picture AFTER water aerobics, and she told me that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Wouldn’t you like to have her life? Can having my picture taken at the Y please be the worst thing that ever happens to me?

Do I sound british? I just finished watching The Queen and all my thoughts are in a British accent right now. Well, cheerio. Hope I don’t tally too long before our next encounter.