My husband is better. Thank God. After about six weeks of serious anxiety about a work issue (Remember this? Multiply that level of stress by say, 25.), he realized that his anxiety was… misplaced. (And I said “I told you so” a number of times, with much love.) After months and months of working his tail off, he had dinner with his boss’ boss who told him that at his company, he is “golden.” And after ten and a half years with the same company, he is finding out for himself that he is actually quite a hot commodity in the job market. He is finding that he can be choosy. (And I am reminding him.)
He is a good man. The kind of man for whom I relish packing breakfast and lunch, every day, without fail, like June Cleaver (minus the string of pearls and immovable hair).
Our kids are fantastic. They both spent about five minutes in the car yesterday discussing their strong and unshakable belief in Santa. They woke this morning exclaiming “One more day till Hanukkah!” They pleased to no end two random octogenarian women as we shopped a couple days ago, for gifts for Daddy. Two women came up to me saying, essentially the same thing, “Your children are just delightful.”
As for me? I just filled out an online application to work in our school district in some capacity, at the strong urging of the school principal of the kids’ school. I guess he finds me a little bit delightful, too, even as we remain uncertain as to where we’ll be in six months.
Everything is going along rather swimmingly.
Hoping I can keep up.