This week I courageously, and with a great deal of thought and faith, gave my 30 days notice at work. Liberating, you might think? Not really. Or actually, not yet. I am concerned about the last 4 weeks spent tieing up loose ends, assigning new therapists to my current caseloads, and the ever popular financial question.
No, I will not be looking for another job. Yes, I will be staying home. What drags me into the suburban woman's dream? You guessed it. Family. I have big plans. Please note that I said, "plans". We shall see how those well-laid plans pan out.
On a side note, I took my mom to see NKOTB for the second time in less than a year. My love is renewed, the fire rekindled, the light burns bright. They have moved from a teeny-bop, sugary sweet, dreamy group of teenagers into broad shouldered, scruffy, sexy, fathers who happen to be amazing singers and performers. Their music has morphed from "Popsicle" to "Sexify my love" and "Full Service". Yes Jordan, you may give me the Full Service. I will willingly leave the bills, soccer games, therapies, school work, spaghetti dinners, and Transformers to accept your Full Service. And no, I will not be nervous.