When I say to people that having kids was the hardest thing I’d ever done, it’s hard to explain. It’s stuff like this:
[shortly after publishing this, I learned that an acquaintance recently lost her oldest daughter over the weekend in a snowmobiling accident. Her daughter was pregnant. I cannot fathom the feeling of sorrow and loss this would cause and I would like to express to the universe my gratitude for my healthy children who keep me up at night]
I was up late doing things for my coaching job. 11:15 one of the kids gets up to pee. Tuck him back in, fine. I go to be at 11:25. Almost asleep, he calls for us. I go in, he wants his closet door opened slightly (we leave an led light on in the closet and crack the door for a little bit of night light). Back to bed, almost asleep again. He calls. Drink of water. Almost asleep again, it’s now 12:10. He calls again. I don’t even know what it was he wanted. I almost cried.
I finally fell asleep sometime around 12:30. 5:30, my alarm goes off. But it’s downstairs because I forgot to bring my phone up to the bedside table last night. My wife graciously went down and got it for me, but now we’re both awake because of trying to figure out what the alarm noise was and why it was so far away.
Kid wakes up after being sick over the weekend, we figured he’d rally today considering he went skiing yesterday... “I don’t feel good.”
I love them dearly and I am grateful for their continued health and unbelievable growth.
Rally 911 for your time.