It's Tuesday, September 1st. My son is 22 months old. My wife is 6 1/2 months pregnant. And I am hopping on a plane to LA for a week to make a tv commercial.
Last night was semi typical. Lubi downstairs in her own room
attempting to catch up on lost sleep. Caleb, on the floor next to me in the bedroom waking up, what felt like every 90 minutes and me holding his hand when necessary attempting to sleep and feeling a little anxiety about the travel and the week ahead.
As much as this sounds like an entry in a diary instead of a blog I'm setting the stage for what's to come.
There I was, shuffling on my Southwest flight with the rest of the cattle, my eartag was #A57, my eyes were red and my tail was not
wagging.
Then it happened, an infant starts whaling behind me.
Remember, I've had very little sleep and am looking at a daunting week in front of me so I'm tired and anxious and grumpy. In a period of about 8 seconds, the last 22 months of Calebs life flashed in front of my eyes. The crying. The midnight feeding. The lack of sleep. The second guessing of my parenting skills. But as my flashback reached
it's 6th, 7th... 8th second, I remained calm. Actually, I was more than calm, I was happy. The infant screamed, the cattle walked towards the plane and I smiled inside thinking, "I can't wait to do it all over again."
Must be the sleep deprivation talking.
(Look for Part 2 of this blog coming at the end of November entitled:
"Nevermind")
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