I have only made a few posts to this webspace on this day in years past: in 2011, 2014, and 2015. The first, although brief, bespeaks an oddity in the calendar; it was a Sunday on this day in that year, much as is the case now. The intervention of two leap years since then would seem to account for the recurrence. No real importance attaches itself to the occasion; it is simply a thing that I noticed and that seems of moderate interest. I am often distracted by such minutiae, as those who know me know; it is the kind of thing that makes me good at parts of my job, as well as annoying to no small number of people. I more or less accept it; I have not got much choice in the matter--and it occurs to me that I need to be better about accepting quite a few other things as being beyond my choice or influence. Fighting against them has done me no good; it has probably worked to my detriment, although I have no way to measure it.
The second looks back to a reasonably pleasant time. I enjoyed teaching the literature class discussed in the post, and there is something satisfying in doing the kind of light criticism enfolded in the post. I have to wonder if I spent the time and effort on earning a doctorate simply to do such things--and whether I might have come to such a skill set through another path that would have left me better able to support the Mrs. and Ms. 8 better than I currently can. Again, though, I have no way to measure the hypothetical outcomes, and I have to consider that matters might have ended up far worse. I suppose I self-mark as ungrateful to ponder what I might have done differently and to look for how things could be better than they are; I have been told that I come across as not appreciating what I have to say that I want more and to work--however ineptly and without success thus far--to try to get to that more.
The third is something many parents will recognize. Matters in that regard have improved since then, to be sure. Ms. 8 sleeps through the night most nights, and though she does still sometimes dream bad dreams (this morning was such a time), her rest is usually undisturbed, her sleep peaceful. It is something about which I am glad, to be sure. And I am glad that, even if she woke this morning from nightmares, she is smiling and happy now. I think I will enjoy it.