More Transition Stuff
Well, as it turns out, my wife has officially handed in her notice at the urgent care office.
The other two Radiologic Technologists can't re-arrange their schedules to cover the 12 hour shift Michelle was working on Friday prior to my scoring the five-day-a-week gig. The Doctor is not in a position where he feels he can hire a fourth tech to cover that one day, so my wife is bowing out.
Otherwise, we'd have to find some sort of child care option that would look after Mariel between 8AM - 5:30PM that one day a week. The idea of her working all day so we could afford to pay stranger(s) to look after Mariel didn't seem like "good value for the money."
(Maybe I'll suggest she do that "bag o' biscuits" thing on her last day..?)
Michelle will continue to teach her two-nights-a-week course at the Community College, though. The next session is slated to start up again on January 28th.
Next weekend will be the last couple of regularly-scheduled "Father-Daughter Days!"
Mariel seems to have picked on the vibes associated with the coming changes and has been anxious lately. Yesterday she started to ask for her "binky" and then corrected herself.
"Big girls don't need a binky," she stated with her lower lip jutting forward.
"Sometimes it 's hard to be a big girl, isn't it, Honey?" I responded.
"Uh huh," she sighed.
It put me in mind of a brief scenario I remember from when I was just a few month older than she is now.
One day, in what I'm guessing was the Spring of 1962, four-year-old Craig was home with his Mother and infant brother, Scott.
Sister Kim was off at school and the baby must have been taking a nap.
Mom was standing in the living room, probably in transition between household chores.
I walked up to her and said, "Mommy, can you pick me up?" I remember "needing a hug" at that moment.
"Craig," she responded. "You're getting too big to pick up, any more."
"Yeah, I guess so," I admitted. "But just this last time?"
What Mother could resist?
She picked me up and we hugged for what seemed like a good, long time. I imagine when it reached the point where her notoriously bad back couldn't take it any longer, she set me down.
"Thanks," I said.
I think we both knew it was the end of an era.
Soon, and sooner than any of us want it to be, we'll be re-enacting a similar scene with Mariel.
Transitions...
The other two Radiologic Technologists can't re-arrange their schedules to cover the 12 hour shift Michelle was working on Friday prior to my scoring the five-day-a-week gig. The Doctor is not in a position where he feels he can hire a fourth tech to cover that one day, so my wife is bowing out.
Otherwise, we'd have to find some sort of child care option that would look after Mariel between 8AM - 5:30PM that one day a week. The idea of her working all day so we could afford to pay stranger(s) to look after Mariel didn't seem like "good value for the money."
(Maybe I'll suggest she do that "bag o' biscuits" thing on her last day..?)
Michelle will continue to teach her two-nights-a-week course at the Community College, though. The next session is slated to start up again on January 28th.
Next weekend will be the last couple of regularly-scheduled "Father-Daughter Days!"
Mariel seems to have picked on the vibes associated with the coming changes and has been anxious lately. Yesterday she started to ask for her "binky" and then corrected herself.
"Big girls don't need a binky," she stated with her lower lip jutting forward.
"Sometimes it 's hard to be a big girl, isn't it, Honey?" I responded.
"Uh huh," she sighed.
It put me in mind of a brief scenario I remember from when I was just a few month older than she is now.
One day, in what I'm guessing was the Spring of 1962, four-year-old Craig was home with his Mother and infant brother, Scott.
Sister Kim was off at school and the baby must have been taking a nap.
Mom was standing in the living room, probably in transition between household chores.
I walked up to her and said, "Mommy, can you pick me up?" I remember "needing a hug" at that moment.
"Craig," she responded. "You're getting too big to pick up, any more."
"Yeah, I guess so," I admitted. "But just this last time?"
What Mother could resist?
She picked me up and we hugged for what seemed like a good, long time. I imagine when it reached the point where her notoriously bad back couldn't take it any longer, she set me down.
"Thanks," I said.
I think we both knew it was the end of an era.
Soon, and sooner than any of us want it to be, we'll be re-enacting a similar scene with Mariel.
Transitions...
posted by Craig D at 6:34 AM
10 Comments:
The only constant in life is change, non?
It's a shame things couldn't have worked out for the Mrs. Perhaps she can pitch-in now and again if they find themselves short staffed M-TH?
The story of your last "pick up" made my heart ache.
Here's to new beginnings!
My brutal growing up day in childhood happened when I was five. My mother told me I was too old to play without a shirt on anymore. Being a little tomboy girl, it just didn't seem fair. :(
Mariel sounds like she's handling it with some grace, like a young lady should, I guess.
that's sweet, more Mariel in the blog, i demand it
That is probably sweetest thing I read tody. Of course it is the first thing that I read but I am a good judge of these things. You are a great DAD!
That touched me.
Oh man, that pick me up story made me get teary. My own son, now a strapping muscle-bound almost-15 young man, was once that chubby sweetfaced little 4 year old - he would still hold my hand as late as 5th and 6th grade. I sure wish I could pick up any of my kids "just one last time". Great story, and you sound like a great dad.
Ah man... sweet.
What a bittersweet post...
man o man, egg.... never heard that 'last hug' story b4. i'm guessing that's what made you throw me in my bassinet down the stairs. o well, i forgive you
It'shard, isn't it? And those endings just keep rolling in. But new stuff comes along as well, which is just as magical in a different way.
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