Ben has turned into a spontaneous dancer, and I have to say, I couldn’t be happier. He clearly pays attention to music and doesn’t hesitate to let the spirit move him – really move him. It also appears that some of it is genetic.
We were at Whole Foods tonight for dinner – it’s Ben’s favorite “restaurant” – and dancing. It started when I was changing his diaper, and “Boogie On Reggae Woman” came on over the sound system. “Mommy, this is my song, MY song mommy.” He has only heard it about 500 times in the car, courtesy of mommy’s mobile jukebox, and figured out early on how to dance to it while tethered into the car seat.
There were different musical temptations from dinner, but when this song started, not even sorbet could hold him. I didn’t hear it at first, and was irritated to have him run away. But once I heard the cowbell, I understood. Even a three year old knows he’s got to give it up.
Dinner and dancing in a nearly empty supermarket. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Filed under child, children, dancing, dancing in public, fun, fun in the supermarket, funny, got to give it up, Marvin Gaye, Motherhood, mothers, motown, parent, parenting, soul music, stevie wonder, toddler
Updating my photo
Originally uploaded by jdaly.
I decided to try out a few new (to me) social networking tools, and figured it was a good time to update my photo. My short hair responds well to the rainy saturated climate of the Pacific Northwest, and so on the first good hair day I had, I put on a little spackle and lipstick, et voila. My grey, usually very visible (at the crest of the frontal wave) looks more like a reflection than the sheaf of white that it is. But makeup or not, I think this is isn’t bad for no retouching and almost 41.
It’s that time of year, when a working woman’s thoughts turn to, well, anything but having to do her yearly performance evaluation.
I have no trouble evaluating anything – or anyone – else, with confidence and encouragements. I enjoyed working with my colleagues in helping them see what they were doing well, and where they could improve. Every once in a while, there might be a review I would dread doing, but there would always be the path out, of seeing me and my colleague together helping each other out. (Notably, this was when I was in a supervisory role.)
But when it comes to evaluating my own performance, even if I have done a legitimately good job, I fail time after time. I remember filling out a review form at my first start-up, and seeing my manager write incredulous notes during our discussions (I could read upside down back then). Did I mention that this was a time when my temper was akin to a caldera? And not the kind you can buy at Williams-Sonoma, with lovely scents?
I’ve had much better communication with every manager since, but it doesn’t relieve the sense of anxiety over not doing as well as I wish I had…or the surprises of weaknesses I had yet to realize. Angst does not begin to describe it. At least I can write an interesting blogpost… I think.
My son is a perfect reader of disruptions in the (home emotion) force. So, when I was facing some severe exhaustion after returning from our trip overseas, and was doing a piss-poor job of hiding it, he decided he didn’t want to go to school. He wanted to stay home with mommy. (Except for “picnic day”, when he could bring in goldfish crackers.)
It took simple and significant steps to get him not to meltdown, which started with calmness and patience with Ben. More than any uptalk about the fun activities and friends at school, those gestures and concerted efforts at happy if not overly energetic mood did more to eliminate the anxiety of the morning school trip. Shouldn’t that have been obvious to me? Perhaps if I had managed to get more sleep…
I have a clutch of girlfriends from my childhood whose trials and tribulations are among the few things I remember with any reliable clarity, including sisters who were a year apart. Both brilliant. One was my best friend through high school, but our closeness didn’t last through college, due to some ugly incidents I never quite understood. (She made target practice of me at a public event, silencing our dinner table. The apologies that followed months later were strange and unconvincing, though she still meant a great deal to me.) Her younger sister and I remained good friends, and even shared an apartment in our post-college years.
Now through the magic of LinkedIn, T reconnects with me and sends along wedding photos of her sister’s sunset ceremony. I see my old best friend, and I am startled. She looks so young – you’d never guess this woman was over 30, never mind over 40 – as if she was the happy cousin of my best buddy in high school. We all had great, fun ambitions then, and I had very high ambitions for her.
But now she looks like someone I would know, or an aggregate I think I’d understand. Really smart, pleasant Irish-Catholic woman, but with acceptable, in-range achievements – nothing striking, or out of the ordinary. Nothing too threatening. I know where she would sit in church, what car she would have, where she would shop. But I don’t know how my old friend became this woman.
Filed under ambition, Friends, friendship, generational change, girls, revision, wedding photos, weddings, who we are, who we become, women
We landed saturday afternoon, three crumpled travelers. Sleeptimes are levelling out now. Ben thinks the day begins at 4:30-5. Slowly, we’ll be able to make the morning a bit more rested.
Of unfortunate note: I was not a tech traveler this time. I brought the wrong adapter for the cellphone, and forgot the battery for my camera. Pictures are coming, but from other lenses.
The dk language immersion led me to no new comprehensive abilities, nor did I add to my speech. More reflections after getting my work feet.