End of an era
In a little over 10 minutes from now I leave to go pick up son J from daycare for the last time. I’ve spent the day at work bursting into tears from time to time (“um yeah, I’ve got…allergies…something in my eye…someone ran into me with the power-jack…I dropped an anvil on my foot”) just thinking about how he’s growing up at what seems a supersonic rate. Wasn’t I just pregnant? Wasn’t I just at UCD post-surgery holding on to my teddy bear while J was in the NICU? Didn’t he just learn to walk and talk a few minutes ago? How can he be going to kindergarten already?
I’m not really one of those people who regrets things. I do make the comment to husband J occasionally that I wish I’d slowed down and enjoyed when J was an infant more, but I know that no matter what, I’d always wish for more any way. I think it’s just human nature.
So it’s the end of one era, and the beginning of another. And I’ll be fine. Really. I just dropped an anvil on my foot.