And all I am thinking of is the very real possibility that I will miss bedtime for the second evening in a row. I am trying not to cry, in public, at this potentiality.
Being a parent, man, is all kinds of awesome. I am quite literally awe-filled by the deep seated feelings I have for my kid daily. Feelings of the purest joy when he smiles, the heart quickening concern when he cries in a way I have never heard before (dear God is he bleeding?!), or the gut-wrenching combination of regret, guilt, worry, pride, and love that comes with dropping him off at daycare.
(That daycare drop off, friends, that shiz is ROUGH. I dread the moment all morning. Why do we need money, again?)
Oft times it can feel as though I am delaying happiness now for the potential of magnified happiness later. Missing ten of my son's awake hours each day? When placed next to making money so he can pursue his life interest later in life, so we can travel, so we can enjoy our life without having to worry about money, it seems worth it.
Worth it about fifty percent of the time, anyway.
I find solace in knowing I am not alone in these feelings. There are countless articles and posts about the sacrifices parents make for their kids' future happiness. These sacrifices aren't relegated just to parents who work outside the home, though maybe we are just louder in voicing our displeasure around this topic.
I think what it boils down to is the constant fear of "am I doing this parent thing right? will I regret this decision later?" And there is no way to know. I try to keep the faith that doing the best I can, with what I have will be enough, will be worth it.
But all of this just seems like bollocks when I am counting down the train stops to make it home in time for nighttime kisses...