We are headed to Washington, D.C. So far, so good. TSA assured me that there are no issues with the body scan machine (and that they can’t actually see the baby), I got the seat next to my co-worker (he always carries my bags), and Baby T is staying still.
On Monday, she started to “kick” hard. I was having lunch with a long, long, long-time friend (who was my triathlon training partner and room mate in the early 2000’s) when my folded arms were catapulted right off my belly. So weird and so cool. Now, I sit with my hands on my belly waiting for her to wake up. I look like a weirdo and don’t really care. S felt it last night too.
This trip is really making me anxious. It’s too long and I am not interested. We are launching a new program at a fitness conference. The conference is hosted by a company that I used to work for and I will likely see scores of people that I know. It has every chance to be fun. But, I’d rather spend all my time on S’s couch and continue to get to know him.
We are simply going for it and the pace is overwhelming. Moving in together. Letting my friends host a party for us. Spending weekends at his parents’ house.
However, for now, I need to reel it in. My job is to ride out this job. Yes, it’s 50/50 that I get the new gig (I had an awesome, live interview with the entire C-suite) but, I don’t have it yet.
This is my responsibility. It’s not bad, a no – cost long weekend in D.C. that is UBER-distance from Equinox with a roommate-free hotel room and dinner plans with my former work-husband. Plus, if the new role doesn’t work out, I need to retain my golden status as a kick-ass Director.
Blah. I’d rather be with S, I feel safe with him and I like it.