The only constant is change

I like to have a plan. 

I spent a bunch of time in my 20’s free wheeling.  Hmm, that’s not a strong enough description.  It was more like a human tornado that passed over a pile of railroad spikes, broken glass and a bucket of liquid arrogance.

In my 30’s I found a moral center and since I’ve spent my time trying to keep from starting any cyclonic motion and clean up the mess I’d left.  Part of that for me has been about trying to set goals and pick direction.  I’m not very good at it, but it helps me to keep things from spinning and repeating bad behavior. 

Out of that comes a heinous side effect.  Once I establish a plan or pick a direction I become rather insistent about reaching the destination.  When I get derailed I see another side of me that I don’t like very much.  I guess my 40’s is going to be about learning to be able to change plans with out stressing so hard my toes throb.

Here’s where we are, well ok, were at.  I’m 44, Tammy is 29 (just go with it, I’m scoring points here and besides, that’s how I see her).  Our short-range plan was all about becoming debt free and our long-range plans revolved around retirement.  We live out in the sticks where it’s quiet and comfortable.  We have a house that’s just about right.  The only down side is our commute but you know that story.  So, it’s a plan, not overly detailed, but it gave a place in the distance that we could check point against.

A couple of months ago Tammy was having some symptoms.  She was experiencing hot flashes, and had lost her appetite for certain foods.  Shrimp and the homemade breakfast sausage she had perfected suddenly made her turn green.  Particularly in the morning.  If I hadn’t had a vasectomy I would have suggested she take a pregnancy test, LOL.  So, we figured early menopause and she scheduled a doctor’s appointment.

Her doctor agreed.  The symptoms definitely sounded hormonal in some way, so he drew blood and took some notes.  Just to cover all the bases he ordered a pregnancy test.  That night about 7:00 her doctor called.  Now, when your doctor calls you in the evening, panic is the overriding emotion.  I watched Tammy as every emotion from surprise, through terror, and joy passed over her face.  “You might want to have your husband talk to his doctor because you’re pregnant.”

For the first 24 hours I tried to convince myself that it was a false positive.  It was either delusion or defibrillator and since I would have had to rig something up involving a car battery, delusion seemed like the appropriate choice. 

It didn’t take long though and reality set in.  We had just started to adjust to the idea as we staggered to the first Dr. appointment.  As is often the case reality brought its good friends fear and doubt.  The baby’s heart beat was high and space was cramped.  The next two weeks were horrid and it seemed like that next appointment would never get here.  God is good and the story doesn’t end there.

The kid has elbowed itself some more room.  All the beats, counts, and blips fell into the normal range.  Next Friday we should find out the gender and then we can start watching money fly out of the bank account like it had rockets attached.

What was retirement plans now becomes thoughts of private school and college funds.  I’m starting to get visions of our progeny’s graduation day.  With a big smile on my face I’ll steady myself with my walker and wave as our offspring shakes hands with the principal.   I have no idea how we get from here to there, but we’ll manage.  There are some terrific moments raising a child and I’m clinging to those thoughts like a used dryer sheet to the inside of a sweatshirt.

What does this have to do with commuting?  Not much really other than to say I look at the money we spend on our roads and the way people treat each other in that setting and pray for my child’s future.  I pray that he or she will live in an America where we’ve learned better fiscal responsibility than we have now.  I pray for that kindness and consideration prevails over selfishness and pride.

Most of all I pray that our child has the good sense to live closer to work.

Don’t drive angry, drive weird!