I haven’t been to work in a week. Waking up at 6:45am this morning was a rude awakening to my eyes because they refused to open. Even with a little coffee, I willed myself to push through my morning routine.
I arrived early to work, parked my car, and gave myself a moment to transition into a work mindset. However, I still think about the previous week.
Now, I have this internal clock of when my son will turn 18 years. It’s like, the magic number when he could potentially take care of himself, go off to college, and discover his place in the world. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not thinking, “Alright, he’s leaving the house!” More so, it’s like “Oh man, gotta save for that tuition.” Well, I’m already 2 1/2 years into that clock.
But now, as of last week, I have another 18 year clock. Another tuition to consider. But, I’ll gladly accept. Last week was the birth of my daughter.
My little bundle of joy arrived early, early Tuesday morning. Everything went smoothly. I sent a text to work saying “I’m off this week.” Since then, it’s been staying home, explaining to my son that the baby’s name isn’t “Crying” and how we will need another laundry hamper for all the puked on clothing.
Still, everything is good. A boy and a girl. The perfect little nuclear family. Let the sleepless nights begin!