It’s fall! I can’t believe it. I’m not entirely sure where this year has gone, but it flew, as they all seem to these days.
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It’s fall! I can’t believe it. I’m not entirely sure where this year has gone, but it flew, as they all seem to these days.
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Jay pretty much talks to Beck nonstop. When they’re together and I’m working or doing other stuff he just chatters away to her, and usually she rewards him with coos and smiles, which means he keeps doing it. We’re only 2 months in, but the gems that have come out of that man so far are quite the force to be reckoned with. I imagine that when Beck starts talking she’ll think that it’s completely normal to narrate the world 24/7 with no breaks even to breathe, but I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
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I am completely obsessed with my baby. My baby has become my entire life. She is my true North. All my decisions are now guided by this little, tiny perfect person. I now cry before leaving the house for work. The thought of not being around her is awful, which makes sitting in a cubicle all day long that much more terrible. I get lost in the infinite universe that is her eyeball. When she looks at me and we stare at each other, my heart melts thinking about all of the wonderful things (and sad things) that will unfold in her life. I tear up thinking about disappointing her. Seriously, I’ve thought about me assembling her first bike, not doing it right, and then her having an epic crash. I know that’s odd. After I had done something wrong as a kid, my mom use to say, “I’m upset because you lost my trust.” I get that now. I don’t ever want to lose my daughter’s trust. I just want to remain a lasting, positive force in her life. I’m not naïve. I know I will have moments of failure along the way, but it is a worthy path to journey down.
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The phrase, “zero to sixty” is usually reserved for the automotive industry. It typically describes how quickly a certain car can accelerate to sixty miles an hour. However, on rare occasions it can accurately illustrate how fast a man can move when awakened by his wife saying, “Honey, I’m in labor. We gotta get up and go.” I couldn’t have hopped out of bed faster if I had springs mounted on my ass. Like a bullet from a gun I was propelled into reality at break-neck speed. “Oh shit! What can I do? How are you feeling? Did your water break? Oh shit! What the fuck!?” All of those questions came racing off my tongue while running in place. If I were Fred Flinstone, there would have been a plumb of smoke peeling off my feet. We were off to the races.
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