Love What You Do, Do What You Love

There's an age old adage that says you should do what you love, but all too often in the world we live in, we are forced to take jobs that are less than ideal. I count myself as one of the lucky few that can honestly stand up and proclaim that I look forward to Monday mornings and the start of another week.

Back in Ireland my friend Aidan and I used to tease our other friends about how great our jobs were. He worked with animals, famously hand rearing a baby ostrich, while I worked with animals of a different type, preschool children, usually aged between three and five years. We both loved our respective jobs and were happy to tell anyone as much whenever we got together. There are few things better in life than absolutely enjoying your job and lording it over others who do not...

I've had my share of crappy jobs too.

I once got so sick of one particular job that I quit on the 23rd of December, right before the seasonal staff shortages. I had volunteered to work over New Years Eve and Day, as I don't drink and the worst I could be on January 1st was tired, a much better condition than many others. Of course I didn't know I'd be pushed to the point of quitting when I offered to cover those days in exchange for a few days immediately after Christmas.

But my shift on the 22nd pressed just the right combinations of emotional buttons to finally make me take the step of ending my time there after debating with myself for months if I should hand in my notice or not. I was scheduled to open on the morning of the 23rd, and I didn't want any of the staff to have to cover for me right away. Instead, I went to work, opened up as usual, wished everyone a "Merry Christmas" and rang my manager at 9am to tell him I was leaving in an hour and not coming back.

Probably not the best way to handle that situation in hindsight, but I hand no interest in working in that industry any longer, so I didn't need to worry about references or other technicalities.

And by God, it felt good.

Since then I've promised myself that I wouldn't stay somewhere I didn't like to be. That worked fine back in Ireland, but it caused me some apprehension during the move to Canada.

I knew I'd have to find a job from scratch. I realised that there was a legitimate possibility that I would have to work somewhere outside of childcare at first while things got settled, in a coffee shop or store. It was not something I looked forward to.

Turned out, I didn't need to worry.

While handing around resumes, one center pointed me to their governing organisation that looks after a large number of childcare centers in Vancouver. They talked to me, and very quickly I knew I wanted to work for them. Their ethos and mission statement sang to the very core of what I believed was an ideal setting to care for children. Plus, they would give me the opportunity to work with children in age groups beyond what I was used to in Ireland, starting from as young as six months, right through to eleven and twelve year olds, an exciting chance to expand my skills across a wider care base. 

Thankfully, something about me assured them that they wanted me to work for them as well. I started the day after all my paperwork came through, and have been working every day since May, apart from a few days holidays I took while friends and family visited, or the trip to Seattle.

I love working for the organisation. I've gotten to work in all of their centers, working with probably over 600 different children, not to mention all the wonderful staff and parents as well!

I lucked out, big time. I know I did. I wake up every work morning, excited about what lies in store this day. I suffer from the "Monday Blues" on Friday, and proclaim with joy "Thank God it's Monday" once the weekend is over.

When you find something you love, you keep it safe. I hope to keep this for a very long time to come.

The Last Post

Closing a decade long chapter in our lives, Claire and I have had to face a lot of final moments over the last few days and weeks. Everything from seeing friends before we leave, to going somewhere we haven't been in a while. Work and play all have their share of closures, some easier than others.

The last week at work. I hated it. Not because I didn't want to be there. I very much did. I love my job, and just didn't want to have a "last week", or, worse, a "last day". I could feel this growing sense of gloom with each passing hour. Once the dreaded day arrived, I managed to hold back the tears amid repeated reminders of why I love my work, from my co-workers, other teachers, parents, and most of all, the kids themselves. I finished my day at noon, but left some time after half two. I dragged out the last moments as far as I could. But still the time came. As I walked out of the gates for the last time, my body cracked and my breathing shuddered, and I finally cried.

The last time with friends was never going to be easy, but I am so lucky to have so many, I was fooled into thinking it wasn't all that painful after all. Saying good-bye at our going away party was fine. I knew I'd be seeing a lot of my friends between then and now. Saying good-bye to my Early Childhood Studies friends was slightly more painful as I really was the last time we'd all be together as this group. It was numbed by speedy departures, avoiding long good-byes and leaving that clutching feeling you get in your chest until after the fact. I also avoided going back as far as any of their cars in an effort to escape the inevitable, final flood of emotions. And there was always the chance I'd see any of them before I left. I still had days to go before the flight! I was still in Ireland, still in Cork. It wasn't time yet.

Time.

The last time eating in Puccinos, where we had breakfast almost every Sunday for five years. The last time we celebrate New Years together. The last time walking around UCC. The last time wandering aimlessly into Other Realms. The last time I go to the weekly Sunday morning breakfast. The last meal from Lennox's. The last time playing BattleStar Galactica. The last time gaming online in the same time zone. The last time hanging out and just chatting. The last time we'll ever just be together as one group, one fellowship, one amazing collection of the best people anyone could wish to call friends.

The last day. Time was starting to run out.

I chat to Kris. I hand him my keys. I say my good-byes. I feel my eyes water, my mouth turn dry and my voice shake. I want to stay longer, but I can't. I don't have time.

I hug Ashka. Claire puts her in her carry case and we pack her stuff into the car. All the way to Cork I rest my hand on her. She doesn't complain like she usually does when she is locked up in that small box. She just sits quietly while I cry. The city lights are ahead. It's almost time to let go.

I stand outside in the night air. All around me are people that have written in the chapter of my life I am closing tonight. There isn't anything I can say to tell them how important they are to me. Instead we just joke and smile and fight back the tears. My voice shudders briefly. Time to go.

I sit on the step of the stairs. Ashka purrs softly on my lap, and I feel those tears returning. She's our baby, our child that we've raised and loved. She's staying with the best people we could hope her to be with until she can come back to us, but we'll miss her terribly. I hold her tightly and whisper things she doesn't understand. Time to leave.

I try to say something. The words stumble out. I hug them both and step outside. The door clicks behind me and I turn to Claire. "You ok?" I ask. ""Yeah. You?" "No. Let's go home. We have too much to do and too little time."

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Look!

A few weeks ago I was enjoying a cheese burger and chips in Supermac's when a father and daughter came in and ordered.The father then picked up the free newspaper from the counter and sat in the kiddies section, opening the paper and reading up on the latest reasons why we are all doomed to a meaningless existence void of any hope or joy.

The daughter decided that sitting down to wait for food was much too boring and looked around for something to amuse herself. She was only two or three years old, and it didn't take long for her eyes to fall on Supermac's attractive looking wet floor signage. Google has failed me. I cannot find an image that even resembles the signs Supermac's uses. So here's a quick sketch:

That's a terrible picture. Blurry, poorly lit,
out of focus, asymetrical and the wrong colour.
But it does have the important details.
Edit: Dave found it- 
http://bit.ly/bd75Gq




This little girl stood in front of the sign for a few moments before her eyes lit up. She turned, putting her back against the sign, spreading her legs apart and stretching her arms out sideways from her body, mimicking the plastic man. But she still wasn't happy. She looked side to side at each of her arms, then turned her neck further to look at the yellow sign behind her. Realizing what she needed to do, she pointed her right index finger up and her left index finger down. Smiling brightly, she looked at her arms and the sign again, now happy with her work.

Turning, she called her father: "Daddy, daddy, daddy! Look! Look what I did! Dad! Daddy. Daddy. Dad."

Without looking up from his paper, her father replied dismissively: "That's lovely dear."

The little girl put put her arms down and returned to the table to start eating the chips that had just arrived.

I pray that, when I have kids, no matter how busy I am, I will never ignore my childrens calls for my attention. Those moments are fleeting, and will never happen again. They are unique and special, and as a parent, they are all yours if you want to enjoy them.