If you need me, I'll be laying the foundation for two future WTA superstars.
That couldn't be further from the truth.
First, our newborn twin girls don't have the DNA. Although, despite first picking up the game a few years ago, their mom is pretty darn good.
Second, my girls are going to be great at whatever they choose to be great at. Let's hope they don't follow in the footsteps of their dad, who just ended a sentence with a preposition.
The one thing I know is that I'm going to expose my girls to as many potential passions as I can, in the hopes they'll find out quickly what they love and what they'd rather leave for another kid to conquer.
After all, if they do want to be tennis stars, they will need to get started early. That's not a drill sergeant mentality. That's just the cold, hard reality when it comes to games like tennis that demand both well-honed physical skills and an immeasurable acumen for the game.
I'm a softie, in case you haven't noticed by now, and it's only about to get worse with the arrival of not one but two apples of my eye.
With each passing day, I find myself stopping to smell the proverbial roses more and more. I also find myself displaying the sort of driving style that used to draw ribbing from the back seat of the Heimerman family vehicle when I was a teenager. I'm suddenly convinced that parking lots are death traps.
I'm excited for my girls to grew up in the Sauk Valley. A couple of months ago, I took Kayla to Madison to see "Wicked" for Mother's Day and, while dorking around on State Street, we found a onesie with a pink silhouette of Wisconsin that read "Native."
I said, "We have to get it." Kayla looked at me, and I could see a sadness in her eyes. Then I put it together. Our girls aren't Wisconsin natives. Truth be told, it bummed me out a little. I wear my native state like a badge. Like a styrofoam-cheese badge.
But as their birthday drew closer, I realized just how lucky they're going to be to grow up around the good people I've gotten to know over the last almost 2 years.
And I can't wait for them to meet the great people here at the paper. It's because of this job and its unique rewards – creative license and the great folks we get to cover being among them – that their daddy is about as happy as he's ever been.
That said, I'm also excited to have someone bury my phone in the back yard and not tell me where it is until my paternity leave is over.
I'll be back in the saddle in just 3 weeks, just in time to cover football. Hats off to my co-workers, who cranked out another award-winning tab – fingers crossed – despite my ridiculously bad timing.
In the meantime, if you need something, don't call. No offense, but I'm going to soak up every waking (funny right, parents? I think we know they're all going to be waking) moment of my daughters' lives.
And, Emma Hubbs, if you happen to be reading this, I'll be in touch.