Where Anything is Possible.

Working at a library is a job of many hats, all of which must be worn with humble awareness of the trust someone has placed in you for that role: advisor, life coach, technical guru, confidant, research assistant, cheerleader, sounding board, co-brainstormer, seeker, and most often, finder.

I am more than myself there.

It is among those books, and at those computers that my path intersects with people in the most intimate ways.

Dreamers looking for books to nourish a fledgling dream:
It's my privilege to hand over a book and say, "Go change the world."

Accused looking for knowledge of law and rights and representation:
It's my privilege to hand over a book and say, "I hope you find what you need."

The Frantic needing to print out a resume for the interview they have in 15 minutes:
It's my privilege to grab it hot off the presses and say, "You've got this.  You're gonna be great!"

Planning weddings, managing elder care, transitioning adolescents, overcoming shyness, looking for love, sorting out their hearts, their minds, their very lives.

They come through the door and it is my privilege to say,
 Anything is quite possible here.

You have found your library.

His First L

Ka-pow!  A new milestone just drops itself into an ordinary Sunday night and I scramble for the camera, Landon starts a happy dance and daddy is properly proud and congratulatory.

I was printing something off the computer.  Bill was reading.  Landon was coloring.

And then he says,

"I made an L for me!"

When I look over, sure enough, he has written an L, clear as anything.

Whoa...wait a second!  Who taught him to write?!

Well, naturally, being parents who never want to give our child a performance complex, we made a big huge deal of this accomplishment and Landon got so wound up.  He started dancing around the room exclaiming "I'm so skited.  I'm so skited," until he kind of forgot what he was excited about and just started saying random stuff about princesses and pencils and who knows what.  Phone calls ensued.  Family was told.  "You are ill?"  No....I made an ELL!


We finally returned to the regularly scheduled evening.  Landon preceded to write the rest of the alphabet (just kidding!!)  He actually couldn't really replicate his first triumph, and instead settled for the practice of writing the straightest lines he could, kinda hoping for a party for each one.  He was like a little cave-baby who found fire by accident...and then couldn't get it relit.

Sensational while it lasted.

My favorite part was as he worked on his new attempts at straight lines he said so earnestly, "I writing, mom."

And so you are, son.

Welcome to this family.

He's Just my Kind of Nutty

Everyone tells me what a sweetie he is.

And this is true.

Sweet enough to thaw right through the grump that crusts over my heart after a particularly long day and stressful commute home.

But he's also ornery.  Workin' a contrary streak that causes me to say, "oh sweet-Jesus-please-give-me-patience-with-this-child," in one long exhale of helpless resignation.

He hears things his own way.  He sees it all through his own filter.  Sometimes I get glimpses through his lens, too, and am entirely charmed by life from the perspective of a two-year-old.  

Tonight, when he comes to lie down in front of me upside down, I say (repeat for the 88th time, more like it) that I can't put a diaper on your head.  The diaper goes on your bottom.  Please turn around, Landon.

"Just put my diaper on my head, mom."

"If you insist"

And then we're both cracking up, and he's off and running to show daddy this hilarious new look that I don't think he ever dreamed I'd actually do.  

When I watch his glee, and what untarnished happiness he gets from this silly moment, and how easily pleased he is, and how he wants to take his pleasure and share it immediately with the one who isn't in the room, I can't help but love him.

He's the best kind of nutty.

How January Shapes Up

Maybe when you're surrounded by children's literature, where flights of fancy never even require a ticket, it's easy to forget that arriving at destinations in life's journey is usually a much harder trek.  "We've arrived!" is such a promising proclamation.  It conjures images of good times about to begin, all the hard work of preparing and packing and traveling behind.

January starts with starry-eyed optimism for a new year, a fresh start.  I get infatuated all over again with the promise of potential.  I do.  Every year.  Mostly a realist, most of the time, January is my Valentine's Day of goal-setting.  I mean, we all know that little gifts can't fix a deeply flawed relationship,  and just the same, I know that setting goals does not transform my deeply flawed self.

But sometimes well-chosen chocolate can help smooth some of the rough parts while we take the time to do the work.

Maybe well-chosen goals can help me stay focused on the desired outcomes long enough to remind me to keep doing the work.

My favorite quote for January has been:

"The humble resolution you actually keep is more helpful than the ambitious one you abandon."
~ Gretchen Rubin

 So I'm keepin' it humble.  In hopes that I can keep them at all.

If I'm not fit and skinny with check marks next to every item on a substantial to-do list in six months, I may not be failing.

Maybe I'll still be remembering to take my vitamins, write in our family journal, live in more moments, and say no to random acts of donuts.

I still believe I can accomplish some great goals in 2012...even if I am warming up to it kinda slowly.

Little Moments

mesmerized

intent

Elati lights: we had to visit twice

exuberance

anticipation

focused

finished work

daddy's helper

this is childhood

and motherhood

the joy comes round and round

"We do not remember days, we remember moments."  ~Cesare Pavese

Little moments: some on film, some in my heart, some in my less-than-reliable memory (hope they find their way to the back room labeled "long-term"!) It was a season of many, and I treasure them all.