Sunday, September 02, 2007

Goings on

Nate is staring slack-jawed at Four Squares on TV and eating goldfish snacks. Perfect time for a guilty little blog. Time has been a precious commodity these days. For the last few weeks I've been doing lots and lots of overtime at my job, which meant 15 hour days and some weekend work. On the home front this resulted in a Momma who hardly saw her kid for days at a time, and a Dada who was going out of his mind stuck with a nutty 18 month old for waaay too long at a time. Then at the end of last week I got a call asking me if I would accept a deployment into another position and then to an acting position two pay grades above my own level. Not only is the work exciting, the pay better, the direction appropriate with where I see my career path going, but it is with people I really like working with. What is the problem you ask?

Me. I'm the problem. It's not like I haven't had this before. In both my MA and PhD I was freaked. I figured that at any moment someone would bust into the classroom and haul me out saying there had been some terrible mistake, and of course they hadn't meant to accept me, and how could I be so silly. Now y'all I know I am some degree of good, but I'm so terrified of fucking up that it makes everything a giant-assed deal. I'm working on it, really I am. But every new thing brings on a little attack of this. Hopefully I will be too busy in my new job to pay too much attention to it. I would sacrifice my right tit (hell take both of them)for just a little bit more arrogance right now.

To switch gears, Mr. Nate is flourishing. He has of late discovered temper tantrums that make me want to scream, but as our friend Lori says, it's nice to know that he has a little fight in him. He is mostly a very happy child, but dammit he is headstrong. He's connecting words into little bits like "dadda gone," and "what's that?" He is obsessed with bottles, whether they be pop bottles, shower gel bottles, beer bottles, whatever. He also wants to walk everywhere and gets thoroughly pissed when you put him in his stroller. Problem is, he hasn't quite grasped the concept of cars and road = smushed baby.

It's off to Nape time for nate.

bye