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August 12th was my birthday, one of the ones that isn’t quite 30, but sure is too close to keep thinking of 30 as old. More than New Years, birthdays seem like the appropriate day to take stock of the year that’s just passed and to make any necessary resolutions for the year upcoming. New Years just has too much hoopla and champagne surrounding it to take it seriously as a taking stock and making resolutions kind of day. . . noisemakers and champagne bubbles just don’t put one in the right frame of mind to do any serious self-contemplation. But staring down another birthday candle, gazing into the flicker of fire, could put one in the appropriate solemn mood.

Looking at this past year, the big change in life would definitely be my daughter, and all of the sundry life changes she brings. I can’t see topping that kind of change in the upcoming year, or at least, any change that topped it would be unplanned and most likely unpleasant, barring winning the lottery. (Note that I don’t play the lottery, so winning it would most definitely be unplanned.)

Resolved for the upcoming year: to work on contentment. Most resolutions that I’ve ever seen seeked to change something about one’s life situation or themselves. I’m all for goals and continual improvement, etc, but the thing is that the list of resolutions and goals to change should be small, and the list of things one is content with about their life and themselves should be larger. I’m not aware of a list of things about which I’m contented. I’m not discontented, mind you, but I can’t mentally say I’m content with any one particular area of my life. For a goal-oriented person such as myself, that’s a problem, because then there are just too many possible goals distracting me from accomplishing much on any of ’em. So, I need to either decide that I’m absolutely content about some areas, or that I’m temporarily content – so that I can table things until “later iterations”. If I managed to either be absolutely content or temporarily content about everything, then nothing about me would improve except my attitude and outlook on life. Which would be a big enough improvement of itself.

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My husband and I have been out of high school for ten years now, and our respective class reunions are fast approaching. I went to pick up tickets to his at the local library tonight. I didn’t go to high school with my husband, but had attended the same middle school (side note: I had a crush on him even then!), so I knew some of the folks in his graduating class. Turns out, one of the folks I knew was manning the ticket table at the library.

Surprisingly, she recognized me. I say surprisingly since I haven’t seen her since middle school and we only knew each other then and weren’t especially close. I’ve always thought that I’m a lot different than I was in high school and before, so it was a bit of a shock to be recognized. In fact, more than a shock, it was bit of an affront to my self-image to be recognized. Who wants to think that they’re recognizable as that same geeky, self-conscious, non-attractive person from high school? You want to go back to reunions as the stunning person who no one can figure out who she is; you want to have “blossomed” into a beauty queen who’s self-confident, accomplished a fair amount, and yet still a humble, likable person.

Now I’m thinking maybe I’ll let those tattooes show – I had figured on keeping ’em covered, but now I’m thinking that I need to do _something_ to show I’m not quite that same person. Hmmm. . . Useless musings. . .

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I can hear the squeak, squeak, squeak of the rocking chair. My husband’s rocking our daughter to sleep, and the rocker’s got a squeak. Sitting in the darkened room, sipping on a bottle, tucked into dad’s arm: that’s how she goes to sleep most nights. I know she’s finally dropped off when the chair stops squeaking. She’ll need to take a can of WD-40 to work with her, when she’s old enough to have a desk job. Any chair that squeaks is apt to put her right out.

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“Because I said so. . .”. I hated those words as a kid. Such power they had! What was the rebuttal? Of course my mother had the power to say them, and of course I had no power to counter.

This weekend I was in a mother-ish position. My daughter’s only five months old, so I haven’t yet had to use that dreaded phrase on her. But I was out camping with a group of girls from our church, and some of them wanted to go exploring away from our campground. They had a plan – they’d keep a walkie talkie with them and give one to an adult. I wasn’t satisfied – I’m a pessimist at heart when it comes to other folks’ kids in my care, and I’d much rather them not be out wandering without some sort of adult supervision. Walkie talkies just don’t cut it.

So, I said no. And they started to argue, these 12 year old adventurers. I never used the phrase “Because I said so” in its exact form, but I could suddenly understand its usefulness. My reasoning, though it held lots of weight with me, held no weight to a group of girls convinced that a national park held little or no dangers. Me, I think of snakes, bears, twisted ankles, other unfriendly adventurers who’d take advantage of a wandering young lady. They, they think that the risk of those dangers is small and that the walkie talkies would let someone know they were in danger. I’m not going to convince them, and they’re not going to convince me. . . we’re at an impasse. The only way to break it is to pull out the “Because I said so” card.

I hated the phrase as a kid, and can see why these girls would just as equally hate it being applied to them. But, darn, it’s useful!