Hard to be Both

I meant to write here to say that I found my fix, my change-junkie fix. I switched up my career again, back to journalism, which given macro trends is pretty counter to, well, everything.

And the job is great. And I could, if I was noble enough, write an earnest post about how thankful I am to be back in journalism at this crucial time with an opportunity to take a run at a new business model. All that is great.

But what really motivated me to write is @fightingfinn. She wrote recently about her One and Only. It was heartfelt and lovely and I could so relate.

I am sitting next to my own One and Only right now. He’s watching the Charlie Brown Christmas Special for the second time this season and keeps laughing his head off.

My husband is going to come home from walking the dog and be mad at me for paying another the $2.99 to Comcast to view this very ’70s, vaguely religious show for the second time. But Judson is laughing so hard he can’t even sit still. Belly laughs. Repeating every line with his own spin.

And as much as I always say I don’t want to be a mommy blogger, it’s this kid that keeps rising to the top of my priority and interest list.

Now that I work downtown I have occasion to pick Judson up at school on foot and walk with him to the bus stop to catch the bus home. Both of us enjoy it more than the exercise warrants. (I’ve always liked public transportation. I know, it’s odd.)

Tonight we barely missed a bus and Judson cried real tears, inconsolable, taking it personally that the bus hadn’t waited for us. A few minutes later another bus showed up and he was squealing with delight. “IT’S A FOURTEEN!” he shouted. A weary commuter smiled and said, “I feel the same way.”

Experiencing the highs and lows of the everyday is probably more painful than it needs to be but I’d rather feel more than not at all.

Also: If I could make my ringtone the sound of my kid’s belly laugh? I’d totally do it.