Tuesday, October 04, 2011

My meeting

I sit down for my meeting.  It's 4pm.  I'm thinking this should be quick so I won't be too late.  Usually office days I don't book anything past 4pm so I can be home for dinner with my girl.  

Meeting starts and it's not what I thought it was.  I sit, listen, contribute; and an hour later I start to get concerned.  The doodling begins on my pad.  I start giving myself pep talks:  don't stop listening, pay attention, don't think about Lyla eating dinner without you, don't worry about what time you'll be leaving, don't start a pity party about working too much, focus, listen, take notes.

I didn't bring in my phone nor do I have a watch. I glance at my coworker's watch.  5:20.  5:34.  My bladder is about to burst.  5:35.  5:40.  Finally I excuse myself and bolt out of the room.  I grab my cell phone off my desk and head to the bathroom as I frantically call Jared. What?  No service?  What the hell!  I pee and try again.  This time no answer.  I text him saying I'm still in a meeting.  I get back to the room and sit down.  The conversation gets deep and there are still things we've not talked about.  I sit there. I nod.  I text Jared again.  Still in meeting.  Still. Still.  No response.  I text again.  I want to do bed and bath.  Basically I am begging Jared not to put Lyla to sleep before I get home.  No response.  I text again. Are you getting these?  Finally he answers.  It's 6pm.  I've been working since 7:30.  I'm exhausted and just miss my girl.

Finally the wrap up starts.  I sit forward and get anxious.  6:10.  I'm freaking out just a little.  6:13.  I can finally leave the office!  I gather my notes and walk out the door calmly.  It takes all my control and then some to not run down the hall.  I casually pace down to my aisle of desks and when I turn the corner where no one can see me, I break out the sprint.  

Computer open full of things on is closed shut.  I stuff it into my bag along with my lunch bag, water, umbrella and everything else.  I have a big box to bring home today so I stuff that up, close the lid and try to leave.  My keys? They are in the bottom of my bag.  I put everything down, find them, and then proceed out to the door.  I casually saunter out and say good bye to a few colleagues on my way.  As soon as the door closes behind me I walk as fast as I can with a heavy box and my bag.  I bypass the stairs, my usual mode of departure because I don't trust myself with the box and bag. 

Once outside I ring Jared. On my way!  I get to the car and step on it to the highway.  Once I'm on the highway, I blast the tunes and I cry.  

Why am I crying?  I have a successful job, I make a good living, and I'm miserable being away from my child working so much.  

It's 7:10.  I get in the door with my arms full.  I drop everything and run to my babe sitting on the couch with her daddy sucking her thumb and watching the cooking channel.  The house smells amazing of fresh dinner awaiting my return home and the living room is piled high with clean laundry.

I hug my girl until I can't get her to sit still any longer.  I kiss my husband grateful for how much he contributes.  I am home.

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