So, my phone rang at 7:30 this morning and it was my neighbor who was worried that her 15 year old had slept through his alarms and asked if I could go across the street and check on him. Could I?? I was out of bed and getting dressed in an instant!
This is the kid, who at 3 years of age, reached towards me with open arms and let me hold him while he hugged me on the day I woke up super sad and homesick for stepford (I know! Right???) I WOULD JUMP OVER AN ALLIGATOR FILLED MOAT TO ASSIST THIS KID. So, I threw on my clothes and ran over there to assist this kid. He was actually up and happily accepted my offer of a ride to school. Did I know how much I missed driving my own kids to school every morning? NO, I did not realize how much I missed driving my own kids to school each morning. And if I'm gonna be honest about it, I totally felt like an imposter driving up there with somebody else's kid, but I was just so flooded memories of being alone in the car with my own beloved sweeties for just a few minutes each day. This set me off on a sadness trajectory that ended up with me asking myself that all important and completely obvious question: Am I having some delayed reaction empty nest sorrow? Because, guys, I am crying all day over here thinking about how much I miss my own kids. I had to do such a fucking great job that not even one of them wants to live in my basement.
That's all I got for now. Maybe later I'll sit down and pour my heart out again.
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