It’s Always the Small Things

It’s always the small things. It’s the time Archibald (not his real name) made a joke which actually made sense. I turned my head instantly to acknowledge that fact and looked at him and he had the biggest smile on his face. I don’t know who was happier, me or him. I don’t even know if that is grammatically correct, but my spell checker didn’t highlight it. So that’s another point in my favor, it’s the small things.

It’s the time I called a customer to let him know that I had processed a $20 refund for him. He was so happy, he was euphoric. He went on for over 15 minutes telling me how great the company and I was/is.

I don’t talk about my job or my company very much. I’m pretty confident you know why. I’m sure a large majority feel about their job the way I feel. Also, I don’t want to leave a digital footprint, not to be confused with a carbon footprint that could somehow be traced back to me and used against me, just in case I need to join the Witness Protection Program.

Every time I ask the boys to clean the room, they disappear, as if they are already in the Witness Protection Program.   How come I’m always the last one to know?

It’s the time Mortimer (not his real name either) went to bed and noticed that he had clean sheets. For the record, I do most of the laundry in the house and he has clean sheets regularly. But, on this particular occasion, I didn’t tell him before he laid down and when he did, he sort of cocked his head while on his pillow and said very quietly, thank you, Daddy.

It’s the time SMM (Sergeant Major Mommy) and I went on a “date.” It was Valentine’s Day, just a few weeks ago. We’ve been married for 15 years and for the last seven and a half, we have gone out for dinner together, maybe twice. So, it was a pretty major small thing. C’mon, it was dinner. It wasn’t at a super high-class ritzy place, but it also wasn’t at a fast food joint. It was romantic. It was alone, just the two of us. It was an Italian restaurant with real Italian food and hospitality.

It’s always the small things that seem to make or break us. A series of small things, not in our favor, and our mind will connect the dots and make it into a big thing and suddenly we’re in crisis mode.   I don’t know at what point in adulthood that crisis mode seems more normal and expected than, heck, I don’t even know what to call it, non-crisis mode, happy mode, joyful mode or pie ala mode.

Being an adult is not the way cool thing I thought it would be.   Or maybe, it’s just me. You reach a certain age and surprises are fewer, pleasantries are scarcer and memories keep getting longer and farther away.   It’s good to have the boys going through such an exciting time in their lives. It gives me something exciting, too.

There are a lot of challenges with daddy-hood. One of the biggest is learning how to let go. When the little buggers were in their Tae Kwon Do class tonight, as a matter of fact, their attention was waning from the master. He quickly summoned the boys to attention and corralled their energy into doing quick physical exercises to train them on maintaining their focus on him. I’m glad he did it. He did it in a very authoritative way, too. But, with respect so as not to crush the buggers’ spirits. He looked at me and I nodded my head slightly to him. He nodded back and we both knew it was the right thing to do.

I have had to learn to let the buggers live their own lives and learn their own ways. They may be the center of my world, but I am not entirely the center of theirs. That’s ok. I get it. Sometimes the small things are enough to remind me that life is really just made up of small things. That, in the middle of the day, when I least expect it, a small thing will reach out and shake me up and say, hey wake up, this is life calling. And instead of asking me to ‘do’ anything, life will just say, see this is how it’s supposed to be, joyful, happy and with pie ala mode.