Well this started out as my thoughts on Young Sheldon--but this is going to be a week of many "lasts"...

 

Edit: I totally meant to sit down and write out a blog requested by one of my readers on the show Young Sheldon. Sorry! It was a bit of an emotional day today so I kind of got carried away. If you want to skip this one, I don’t blame you! I’ll have some time tomorrow so I will definitely talk about the show (which I loved, btw).  

 

Today was my last day at work—quite literally turned in my keys, signed a document acknowledging that I no longer have access to student and personal records and that my email address and folders would be deleted within the year after which all my data will be unrecoverable. My coworkers surprised me with an early baby shower and I ugly cried because of how much that little school and the people who work there mean to me. My workday ends at 12, school got out early at 12:30 today and I think after all was said and done...I ended up driving out of our little dirt staff parking lot at 2:45, I just couldn't drag myself away.  Everyone was so sweet and while I know I will work at special places in the future, I’m not sure if any will be this special. My principal, Marisol, took a chance in hiring me as I had only been a sub and a few years removed from my student teaching, she took a chance making me an assistant principal, she allowed me to take a leave of absence this summer when my husband and I needed some time to reconnect, and she stuck up for me when the district said they couldn’t afford to keep me on earlier this fall. She’s one of my best friends, Marisol—if you ever find this blog, I will always love you.  I wasn’t a teacher until you convinced me that I was tough enough for one of the most challenging districts in the state—and you forced me to stick it out to until I actually believed you. You are a saint.

I’m home alone this afternoon as Bubs is out at he and my dad’s warehouse going over everything with the staff so they are left in good hands when we leave next week.  Those of you who’ve been with me since the beginning will know that a major, major issue in our marriage was how much time my husband was spending working on he and my dad’s company. It was a little pet project that my dad dreamed up right before covid that somehow morphed into a real business with real estate, employees, headaches, etc.   My husband literally had three jobs: his corporate job, the reserves and co-owning the business with my dad. So much of the time I felt like I was second or third fiddle—or even lower because Bubs had so many commitments elsewhere. Because of that, I resented him, I hated my dad and felt lonely. But I must give him so much credit because he chose to back off because he knew that’s what it would take to make me happy. I know lots of men (well people really) that would look how much less money we’d be making every month and never be able to let that go.  I’m also very proud of he and my dad because they were able to come to an agreement over the ownership of the company. Basically Bubs is still a 50% owner, is involved in strategic and business planning and gets paid as such, but he stopped his daily duties and stopped drawing his engineer’s salary back in October when they hired the new guy (who is working out great but won’t take me up on my offer to try and hook him up with someone—he’s so shy and it’s so fun to tease him that he needs a woman in his life, which he does, Bubs gets so mad at me but I can’t help myself). But I know he’s going to be emotional today too when he gets home because he’s put a ton of effort into this, and I know he takes a lot of pride in what he and my dad created.  

When we were both leaving for work this morning, we promised to be extra nice to each other this afternoon. Before we started marriage counseling, our emotions on days like today were literally like a dry hay-barn and each of us was standing at the entrance with lit blow torches. I can guarantee I would have said something like “well I hope you know you wouldn’t be so stressed if you didn’t take on so much” instead of being supportive when Bubs was trying to express himself to me. I can almost guarantee Bubs would have tried to fix all my problems without even listening to me as to what they were.  We have come so far and I’m sitting here like a 13-year-old Dani counting the minutes down until I get to see him again. It's the same feeling I'd get when I could see his parents car pull into his grandparents driveway...and I knew it would be just a few minutes until I would see him walk around the corner on his way to knock on our front door. 

 The kids have a huge birthday/Christmas party for a church friend that my sister is taking them to today, so we are going to do something special. He thinks we are going to go out, but I know he’s exhausted so my plan is to cook him his favorite cheat meal (Vodka Pasta) and sit at the camp table we have set up in the dining room with candles and wine (for him). In my head I’m seeing it like the last scene in my favorite 80s movie, 16 Candles. I even dressed him this morning with his sweater vest, Levi’s and his work boots (lol, it’s so cute when he lets me do this, I get to dress him like my fantasy man, he’s just happy he doesn’t have to pick out clothes and he’s none the wiser). I get to have my Samantha/Jake Ryan moment in my big empty house—before it’s no longer our house. Only Samantha wasn’t 23 weeks pregnant—but I think my belly is pretty cute right now. So yeah, I’m really looking forward to getting him home today. 

We may be co-dependent idiots who’ve already lived a lifetime together—but we are each other’s co-dependent idiot.