So, it’s been a while!
I did my ASL DVDs, am at the halfway point of my last two classes, and have had my oldest turn one year older. Little Man’s birthday (he who refuses to be called by his name by me, I have to call him my Spider Monkey) is next, and our reading lessons are going well. Sounds as if all is going smoothly, yes?
Yeah, the thing about that…
This time of year always makes me…funny. It’s always held such huge transitionary issues, and later, bad Will Smith songs. School letting out each year, moving off base and out of Idaho in 1990, making the National All-Star team in 1995, losing a friend for the first time in 1996, graduating and getting my first job that same year. I became engaged in July 2002 at the top of the Space Needle, and discovered I was pregnant with Liam in July 2004. Brendan was born in June 2008. I returned to the workforce after five years in summer 2010 and I’ll be finishing my current bout of schooling in July.
Not only that, but I practically have to bathe in sunscreen, and that just makes me feel goopy.
I don’t mean to come off as though I’m complaining. I’m really not. One of my best memories is getting up at heaven-knows-what-time o’clock back in Idaho. I lived on an Air Force base surrounded by at least 10 miles of sagebrush and rattlesnakes. And nothing else. But that place had everything one would need in a town, and I was off to explore it on my too-big red ten speed bike. I’d have to stand on the front porch to ensure I could get on, then I’d be gone. The NCO club was my first stop. The kildeer would nest in the volcanic rock in the parking lot and I would monitor the progress of the mounds of the little speckled eggs. Not to say that Mama Kildeer wasn’t giving the skinny towheaded kid some side-eye, though.
Next stop was the flightline. This was the 80s, and all of the fighter pilot movies were huge. Iron Eagle, Top Gun, you get the idea. I’d find a flat rock and watch fighter jets take off for hours! I was surrounded by these guys, and their awesome planes. They’d end up at our house for impromptu front yard baseball games. The airmen must have been in their early 20s, max and were often too broke to fly to wherever home may have been. We’d have them over for steaks on the charcoal BBQ and they’d join in on the batting practice Dad would be razzing me through. By this time, it was about noon, and all the neighborhood kids would be out. Have you ever seen photos of New York City in the 1940s? That’s what our section of the base resembled. I freaking loved it.
Turnover on the base could be high, families being assigned here and there. We were the rarity, not moving once in ten years. We were so involved with the community, I couldn’t imagine living someplace else. I’d walk to meet Dad partway on his way home, and we’d walk home together. Had to make our time where we could, as he could be stationed who knows where at any given point. He wore several pagers (yeah, I’m that old) that were constantly going off. Mom was getting more and more mad. A change had to be made. She’d grown up military, so knew the gig. However, trying to raise two girls pretty much alone was getting old. She asked Dad to retire, and he did, June 1990. We then moved to Washington State, wet side. I had no idea what those big giant green things growing everywhere were, but my lungs hated them. I eventually learned that these were called “trees”. My lungs still don’t like them.
That was the start of the large summer transitions. This year is going to hold another, next year will be just as big. Unless Marketing continues to kick my rear, I am graduating in July. I will have most of what I need to get the job I’ve been wanting to have. I’m excited, but still pretty scared. I’ll be returning to work part-time since Bren will be starting preschool. The next year, I can go pretty much full-time.
I hate transitions. I imagine that’s why I drive 90s model Fords.
But, there’s no stopping it. I have my suits ready for interviews, networking being done, education to finish up. Just have to work through the nerves. That’ll come, I suppose. In the meantime, I may just have to take myself on an early morning bike ride and find some other type of bird to stalk.