Actually, Finally, Somehow

For the past week and a half, I’ve been living my dream—kind of.

After more than two years of working at my public library, I finally—finally!—have the schedule I always hoped for: daytime shifts that correspond with my daughters’ school hours, along with every sixth weekend (Saturday and Sunday).

This is so much better for me (and my family) than my previous schedule of evening shifts, every third weekend, and assorted daytime shifts mixed in.

I am so, so thankful for this change, friends. I’m 40 years old, and at this season in my life, this really is my dream come true: to work part-time at a public library, supporting education and building community, while continuing my freelance-editing work and “being there” for my girls.

After my manager told me this schedule change had been approved for me, I called Stanton and the girls to share the good news. They were at home (it was around 7 p.m.), and over the phone, I could hear their excited voices.

When I got back home myself a couple of hours later, Stanton, Grace and Anna gave me cards they’d just made out of crayons and colorful construction paper.

“I know it hasn’t always been easy, but you made it to your goal,” Stanton had written. “The library is lucky to have you and we are too.”

Grace: “I can’t tell you how honestly happy I am that you got this. You definetally deserved it!”

Anna: “CONGATULATUIASHONS…I will be fine at School’s In…!”

I’m going to save these cards forever.

The next few days were a whirlwind: I signed Anna up for School’s In, a before-school child-care program. Luckily, the program had a spot for her.

I rescheduled the girls’ upcoming dentist appointments from “first thing in the morning,” my preferred time for any kind of appointment, to a late-afternoon slot when I wouldn’t be at work.

In the midst of these phone calls and calendar updates, a new freelance-editing client reached out to me, requesting a 24-hour turnaround on several documents…and riding a wave of adrenaline, I said yes and gone that done too.

Then, as if on cue, a PTA emergency materialized via a flurry of phone calls and texts. ( 😉 ) I did what I could to lend support with that…

At last…in a moment of quiet…I let my head drop into my hands, and I cried.

My shoulders trembled up and down, and tears dribbled through my open fingers, as I cried—tears of gratitude and happiness, mixed with exhaustion.

I had wanted a daytime work schedule for a long time. Hanging in there, until this moment, had been…not easy.

Some evenings when I was scheduled to work at the library, Stanton was out of town for his own work. Those evenings, I hired a babysitter for the girls…and on those evenings, technically, math-wise, I lost money by going to work. Even though I knew that evening was an investment in the future (my future, my family’s future)…in the moment, as anyone who’s been in a similar situation knows, it’s a weird, why-am-I-doing-this feeling.

One Saturday when I was at work, Anna lost her first tooth. My little child! I wish I could have been there for that. (Happily, though, Stanton had been there, and Grace had too.)

Other times, my manager would text me and ask if I could come in the next morning, or the next hour, because somebody else couldn’t…and time after time after time, I texted back “Yes!” and dashed into work to demonstrate that I was dependable, and dedicated.

“I respect your hustle, Mel,” Stanton once said.

As I wiped the tears from my face and fingers, I felt a sense of…I did it. I actually/finally/somehow did it.

(We did it.)

I actually/finally/somehow did it.

So yes, since my new schedule started a week and a half ago, I’ve been living my dream—kind of.

Kind of because any change, even a much-wanted one, is often a little hard in the beginning.

Anna and I are still getting into our new routine of getting her to School’s In, with everything she needs for the day, more than an hour earlier than we had been heading out in the morning.

At the library, because I now regularly work Monday through Friday, I’m learning so much more. Part of what I’m responsible for these days is helping manage the “Library of Things,” materials that range from Chromebooks and GoPro cameras to Ozobots and emergency radios.

Um…I’m not an instinctively STEM person, at all, friends. I’ve been concerned about doing a good job with the Library of Things. But I’ve been doing it, and it’s been going a lot better than I’d expected. A lot of that has to do with my co-workers, all of whom have been really kind and supportive.

In another few weeks or so, I hope to feel more confident in my new role.

On a recent Saturday when I was working, some of my neighbors stopped by the library. One of my neighbors is 7 years old (yes, this particular neighbor is decades younger than I am!). We chatted for a bit, and later, I checked out her books.

A few days later, I saw my 7-year-old neighbor on our street. “It was fun seeing you at the library,” I said.

“You too,” she said, smiling. “You looked like you knew what you were doing.”

“Good!” I replied, laughing.

At some point—hopefully sooner rather than later—I’ll know what I’m doing with the Library of Things, with our new morning routine…maybe with everything.

Until then, I just feel huge gratitude for my family, my friends, everyone who’s supported me along the way.

Including my 7-year-old neighbor, whose observation proves that sometimes, you do have to fake it ’til you make it.

Photo credit: Pixabay

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Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s e-books on Amazon.com. Short fiction and creative nonfiction writing that’s engaging, witty and from the heart.

On Not Getting Everything You (Think You) Want

Earlier this summer, I had a job interview for what seemed like my dream job.

It was a writing position in the education field, similar to the work I love doing for my higher-education freelance clients. Another plus: The job was part-time, which meant I could continue my freelance work and even some of my library shifts. Wonderfully, too, the job was weekday-hours-only—my work schedule would match my daughters’ school days.

A regular writing job that was interesting, well-paid and flexible. What more could I possibly want, right?

Before the job interview, I drove over to the nearest LOFT, where the extremely kind staff helped me find the perfect interview outfit. (In case you’re curious, friends, I bought this beautiful tiled maxi dress, complemented by a white tunic cardigan. We felt this was the right mix of professional/approachable.)

The what-should-I-wear question now answered, I gathered work samples to share with the hiring manager, from the very first story I ever had published (at age 9!) to this magazine article I wrote for Loyola University Maryland (a piece I truly loved working on). I asked several colleagues if they’d be references for me. I practiced answers to potential interview questions, and solicited prayers and positive vibes from loved ones.

I felt prepared, polished, optimistic.

What more could I possibly want, right?

The job interview went well; it was a real conversation.

Then two days before our family beach vacation, I found out that while I’d been one of the top candidates for my dream job, the No. 1 candidate had been offered the job—and had accepted.

As anyone would be, I was disappointed. It can be painful learning that while you’re good, you’re not quite good enough.

I also agonized a bit over what I could have done better, or differently.

In the end, though, I accepted that the moment simply wasn’t meant to be. There may be a future opportunity there, but for now…no. And that’s OK.

It really is OK.

A quote that resonated with me recently is this one, from comedian Chris Hardwick: “The more you fail and recover and improve, the better you are as a person. Ever meet someone who’s always had everything work out for them with zero struggle? They usually have the depth of a puddle—or they don’t exist.”

I have to admit, friends: I laughed out loud at “depth of a puddle.”

Ultimately, I feel very thankful for my job interview. I genuinely enjoyed our conversation, and the hiring manager, who’s a lovely person, said we’d keep in touch. Overall, it was a good experience.

Very coincidentally (if you happen to believe in coincidences—I’m not sure I do!), less than 24 hours after I learned the supposed dream job wasn’t mine, a dear colleague got in touch to ask if I was available for some extended freelance writing and editing.

YES, I replied. As it turned out, I happened to be very available (and very excited) for this new project. YES.

Around this time, I also celebrated my one-work anniversary at the local public library. It felt really good to have made it one whole year. And while my current schedule there isn’t perfect, it’s OK too.

So after I marked my library work anniversary, I had a heart-to-heart with myself. I decided I’d make a conscious effort to be more positive about my schedule because the column of “Things I Love” about my library job was (much) longer than the column of “Minor Grievances.”

One of my first steps toward this effort was bringing chocolate-chip cookies to work on a Saturday morning. A small gesture, but a way to help make the best of working on a sunny summer Saturday. If I can’t change my schedule, then I’ll change how I respond to it.

(Cookies. Such an easy solution. Why did it take me so long to realize this? 😉 )

…if you happen to believe in coincidences—I’m not sure I do!…

The other evening at the library, a patron told me his son had loved the book “Moon Pops,” which I’d recommended the last time we’d seen each other. Another patron checked out the book “I Am Charlotte Simmons,” and we had a fun conversation about our shared love of its author, Tom Wolfe. “I even met him once,” I said.

The patron couldn’t believe it.

I smiled, remembering that evening, decades ago, in Richmond, Va. My friend Allison was part of an event that Tom Wolfe was participating in, and she found a way for me to meet one of my favorite authors at the reception afterwards. I hadn’t thought about that chance encounter—that happy memory—in years.

Not until that evening at the library.

As human beings, we tell ourselves all kinds of stories to explain things we can’t explain, or rationalize hurt away, or find the strength to move forward.

Sometimes, our stories are true.

The story I’ve been telling myself these last few days of summer is this: You are where you’re supposed to be. You’re doing what you’re meant to do. The people you have to meet, the stories you need to write—it’s all here.

I read once, a long time ago, in a book about writing, that nobody wants to hear the story of a perfect day.

Why not?

Easy: That kind of story is boring.

The story of a perfect day. No struggle, no endeavor, no adventure. No wisdom or lessons learned.

Partly for this reason, then, I decided to share here the story of my imperfect job interview. To share with whomever may read this that I tried, and I failed, and it hurt.

I did not have a perfect day.

However…the world didn’t end. I took a breath. Hugged my family.

And other good things, that I didn’t know yet were out there…those good things happened. Maybe for the best.

Here’s to not getting everything you (think you) wanted.

❤

Photo credit: Pixabay

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Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s e-books on Amazon.com. Short fiction and creative nonfiction writing that’s engaging, witty and from the heart.

It’s OK If You Cry (and Other Things You Don’t Learn in School)

It was a Saturday morning. Stanton was driving, and the girls were in the backseat. We were on our way back to the town soccer fields.

Grace had already played her game, at 9 a.m. The four of us had been there together and were now heading out again for Anna’s 12 noon match, after a quick lunch (and more coffee) at our house. This would be Anna’s very first soccer game.

From the passenger seat, I overheard Grace (a veteran, you might say, at this point) giving her little sister some pro tips. There were orange slices at half time, Popsicles at the end. Nobody really gets excited about the orange slices.

Sometimes the grass is wet, from dew or rain, Grace noted. Kids can fall. “If you fall, just get back up,” Grace said.

I smiled and turned around, just in time to see Anna nodding along, taking everything in. She trusted Grace, completely.

Then Grace paused, considered. “If you fall, you might get hurt. It’s OK if you cry.”

In that moment, friends, I wanted to cry. “Grace,” I said. “That’s beautiful advice.”

My older daughter smiled.

“What else, Grace?” Anna wondered.

Nobody really gets excited about the orange slices.

Kids are back to school now, and every school day abounds with thoughtful curriculum and instruction. I love listening to Grace explain fact families to me, and looking at Anna’s preschool artwork. I’m deeply grateful for the girls’ wonderful schools and teachers.

Also, overhearing Grace’s soccer tips to Anna reminded me that sometimes we learn meaningful lessons outside classroom doors too. Athletic fields, playgrounds, performing arts stages—even sitting cross-legged on kitchen countertops, keeping our parents company while they prepare yet another after-school snack—all these places offer up additional spaces for learning.

“It’s OK if you cry” is a good first lesson for sure. There are times when life hurts; acknowledge that, let it out. Don’t be embarrassed or ashamed; ask for help when you need it. Cry, and then try to move forward.

Here are some other lessons that I try to teach my children on a regular basis, and live out every day. And tell me, friends—what else should be on this list?

2. Spend time outside every day. Even if it’s just a few minutes to walk around the block, or sit on the front steps to open the mail. Give yourself a break from your desk, your screens, the unending stacks of dishes and piles of laundry indoors.

Feel the sun on your skin, breathe in the scent of pine needles, watch a monarch butterfly glide. This is life. Don’t underestimate the power of fresh air.

3. Let the people you love know that you do. If your sister’s standing next to you, hug her. If, someday, she lives in another city, call her, get together; stay close.

Mail your oldest friends cards on their birthdays, and when they welcome a child into their family. Invite new friends over for dinner. Send your 91-year-old grandma, who took care of you when you were a baby, flowers every now and then, just because.

Don’t take your people or their love for granted.

4. Don’t keep score. Not in personal relationships, anyway. I called you, now it’s your turn to call me. I made dinner tonight, you’ve got tomorrow.

Tallying up life’s minutiae is painfully time-consuming, if not practically impossible. We each have our own strengths (and weaknesses). Aim for fairness. And if the circumstances start to feel unfair, bring that up; talk it through.

5. “No” is a complete sentence. Recently, a friend shared this perspective with me, from an article she had read, and I love it.

As we journey through life, peers may invite us into situations we may not feel good about. Later, people may offer us jobs that conflict with our values, or volunteer opportunities that conflict with our time. This has happened to me, and for years, I’ve tried to finesse my negative RSVP’s with diplomatic explanations and apologies. I realize now that a simple “no,” expressed kindly yet firmly, is enough.

Feel the sun on your skin, breathe in the scent of pine needles, watch a monarch butterfly glide. This is life.

6. Home is and isn’t about the “stuff.” Anna calls our family room “the cozy room.” When I first heard her say that, I asked her why she liked to say cozy room. “Because this is where you snuggle me on the couch and read to me,” she replied.

That answer resonated with me. We’re lucky to live in the house we have, in the neighborhood it’s in. Those material things are important, yes. But what happens in that house—the time spent together, the warmth and safety and acceptance of the space—is equally important.

7. Sometimes, you need to let go. Of material stuff, for sure. The other day, I (finally) acknowledged I was never, ever going to fit back into a classic top I had worn for years. So I passed it along to our local clothing drop box, and hopefully somebody else will enjoy it as much as I did.

More difficult, however, can be letting go of the immaterial stuff. Memories of times that could have been better, people who could have treated us kinder. There’s no joy in being a grievance collector, though.

I was taking a walk, and all of a sudden, a memory came to mind. I shook my head, remembering this past irritation. Then I thought, just as quickly, it really is time to let that go. I breathed in deeply (the scent of pine needles, where I was now, content)…and did. It felt so good, friends—letting go.

8. Don’t underestimate the value of a good cup of coffee or a good night’s sleep. Mornings can be rough, and nightfall too. We can be frazzled at the start of day, sad or sentimental at the end. Just hang on ’til morning, and start the new day with a good brew.

9. There are a million other little things, tidbits I’ve picked up here and there, wisdom that’s become mine through “learning experiences” (less kindly known as “mistakes”).

I also want to tell my girls…go to the dentist regularly. Be careful with credit cards. Don’t vape; eat your vegetables. Watch “The Wire” and “Parks and Rec.”

Your first job probably won’t be your dream job. Still, do a good job. You’re investing in your growth, your future.

Things usually come full circle, and make sense in the end. Look for silver linings until they do.

Dine alfresco as much as possible. Roast marshmallows and make s’mores year-round.

Dark chocolate is more delicious than milk.

Travel—make sure you see London, Paris, San Francisco, Australia.

Be a regular somewhere. Overtip. Be generous when you can.

Two things you can never say too much: “Thank you,” and “I love you.”

There are a million other little things, but not enough time or space to share them here. And that is the main lesson I’d like to impart to my daughters:

10. Life goes fast; time is precious. Make the most of everything. Walk out the front door. Do stuff; have experiences. Get kinder and more patient with age.

You can always come home.

(Thank you, Grace, for inspiring me.)

Photo credit: Pixabay

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Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s newest short story, “Backtrack.” An engaging read that’s can’t-put-it-down good.