Max started middle school this fall, and it was a highly anticipated event for me, because for the first time in, well, basically forever, I wasn't going to have to wait until the school bus picked him up at 8:15 and then start my commute into Boston. I'd almost never get a train before 8:30, and often get into my office just a hair before 9:30. Our official start time, according to my offer letter fourteen years ago, is 8:45 am. There were occasions when Marc waited with Max, but generally, it was me, and generally, I was late to work. Gratefully, my bosses always understood, but it made me anxious.
I hate being late. Really, really hate it. In my mind, early is on time and on time is basically late. I routinely dial in to conference calls two minutes early, just in case. I actually don't mind if *you're* late - I really don't - but I can't do it. Send out a search party if I'm more than five minutes behind on anything.
I also felt like I was losing my best time of the day to waiting around. I didn't really get any extra sleep, since I wanted to connect with Hannah before she would leave for the day. While I often logged in to work in recent years, I typically wouldn't get much done. Sometimes there were 8 or 9 am meetings I would miss, and my email would really build up between 8 and 9 each day. I hated that feeling of always starting the day behind.
So now Marc, Hannah and Max all drive off together every morning, significantly earlier than the elementary school bus. Some mornings I linger a bit, playing with the dog or throwing dishes in the dishwasher, but a lot of times, I'm ready to go right alongside them. I get to work before the "start time" and I almost always get a seat on the train now, or have the flexibility to wait for the next one if I want. I don't feel constantly behind.
But I am working more. And spending a few less minutes with Max each day. Sooo...toss up?
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