August vs. September

As the end of August approaches and September looms in the near future, each year I have this recurring struggle with everything August represents as opposed to everything September represents.  August is full of long, hot summer days.  The kids don't have a care in the world.  They wake up all groggy-eyed, stumble into the living room to watch TV, play on the Ipad, or putter on the computer for a while. No concept or concern as to the time.  If time enters their mind at all, it's because they're hungry.  Their days are spent running around the neighborhood with whatever neighborhood kids they can muster up, most of them shoeless with feet the same color as the dirt that covers them.  Their faces of a similar color from dirty hands rubbing their faces throughout the day.  The sun hangs high in the sky for hours and hours and then drops into a colorful backsplash against the horizon.  Then the August nights begin... s'mores around the fire pit, intense sessions of hide-n-seek, again all with no care as to what time it is, that is, until it's time to head in and get ready for bed.  Then it's all bath time and bedtime routine.  Bath time lasting a little longer in the summer because of the several layers of dirt and melted marshmallows smeared across their faces.  Ah yes, August is a good month.  Takes me back to those long, lazy days of summer as a child when time and dirt were of no concern.

Now enters Labor Day Weekend.  The last weekend of the summer.  The end of all that's lazy, loose scheduled, and carefree.  Something happens after this weekend.  Visions of big, yellow suns, swimming pools, and s'mores, are replaced with dancing pencils and rulers in my head.  It's like a switch is flipped and summer comes to a screeching halt.  Groggy-eyed, relaxed mornings are replaced with strict time schedules, hustled breakfasts, assembly lines of teeth brushing and clothes dressing, packing lunches, organizing backpacks, finding missing shoes - all of this before 9 AM.  My mind immediately leaps to fall and Halloween (yes I know Halloween is in October).  I happen to be unnaturally obsessed with Halloween - witches, bats, spiders, anything spooky, but that's for another blog. 

I think why this whole shift from August to September intrigues me so much is because I feel like they are two distinct personalities, and when September hits, my personality changes along with the turn of the calendar.  I'm all about back-to-school, fall, Halloween, turning leaves, fall clothes, tall boots, scarves, you name it!  It gets me all fluttered and excited.  But for this to all happen within a week so suddenly, it makes me feel a little sorry for August to get dumped so quickly as if it never mattered in the first place.  After that month-long relationship of fun summer activities, how can I so quickly forget about our long lazy days together and everything August represented?  I feel a little cold about my ability to shift gears so enthusiastically.  But nevertheless, I do it every single year.

So for now, until September arrives, I'll make sure to enjoy this last week of long summer days and fun summer nights.  Who knows, I might even actually eat a s'more!

When I Grow Up...

Well here I am. 37 years old, 4 kids, a husband, a dog, and I just lost my job. Ever wake up in the morning and think to yourself that your real life you just opened your eyes to cannot possibly be yours? That's the way I felt, and still do, since getting laid off a month ago. I've been through trying economic times with my previous employer over the past 8 years, watched countless co-workers, some very close and dear to my heart, get laid off. But not me. I just kept on truckin along comfortable in my job with the miss-placed arrogant notion that I would not and could not get laid off. I was too valuable. Too much of a team-player. Too liked by too many and too good at what I did. Apparently not everyone shared this notion alongside me. So here I am, 37 years old, 4 kids, a husband, a dog, and unemployed.

It's been too long since I wrote my blog. I love to write but I never made time for one of the things I love. So now that I have some time on my hands I can sit and ponder this. And while I ponder it, I can write, or type, my ponderings. I find myself in a position I haven't been in for quite some time. I'm asking myself, why am I not doing what I love? I mean, my previous position I did find enjoyable occasionally. I got to work from home, worked with some amazing people, gave birth to two babies while working there, made some everlasting friendships, made really good money, and increased my skill set that I now must depend upon to find myself a new job. But did I love my job? The answer is no. Sure I've told people I love my job throughout the years when asked if I liked my job. Who wants to hear someone go on and on about how much they hate their job? I don't. I wouldn't ask someone if they liked their job if I thought I would be subjected to 20 minutes of them complaining about just how much they don't like their job. But the fact remains, if I was being completely honest when asked, I would have been that person.

I've always been jealous of those who love their job. And not just because they make good money or it was their childhood dream job, but because they truly from the deepest part in their soul, love their job. You can tell the difference when someone truly loves their job. There is passion and conviction in their voice and their eyes light up with excitement when talking about what they do. Sure Confucius said, “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life,” but is Confucius right? If you love what you do for a living, is it no longer considered work? You just receive a paycheck for doing something that fulfills you internally and makes you happy? It’s that easy? I may have to give this one to Confucius. I believe this to be true from the deepest part in my soul. I truly just want to do what I love. I may still consider it work, but at least I would be happy doing it and I could finally answer people honestly when they ask me if I love what I do.

So here I am, 37 years old, 4 kids, a husband, a dog, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. So for now, I'm starting up my blog again. I'm claiming one piece of happiness back into my life.