Driving into campus this morning on the interstate, I think about how well the morning had gone thus far:
Four kids fed, cleaned, dressed (in clean clothes, even). Two kids to school, two to the babysitter. No one late. No meltdowns about outfits, or what’s for breakfast, or what’s packed in their lunches, or who brushes their teeth first. All backpacks found. All homework completed. All hair brushed (!).
No one left crying or shouting. All kisses and hugs appeared genuine, as they weren’t preceeded by “Will you just get your BOOTS ON NOW for the love of PETE!!”
Wow, I think. I really am doing OK today.
I walk into campus with my jacket open, enjoying the last of our heat wave (it was about 30). I make it to the computer cluster early, and have time to think a little and decompress. As the participants of the seminar trickle in, I feel something itch at the front of my neck. I look down. It’s the tag of my shirt.
Yeah, I got it together.