Working Mom's Guilt

I'm a career mom. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I hate it.

I enjoy the people I work with, I like to get out of the house, I like to make money, I like to have a "career," I like that my child gets to be with other kids during the day. On the other hand, I hate that my job is no longer creative, I hate feeling like I don't see The Baby enough, I hate it when I feel like I DO see him enough (we all have those days, right? right?!?), I hate knowing that I may never be the mom strolling her children through the park or packing them up for the pool to pass a summer weekday (Mom, if you are reading, I LOVED that and CHERISH those memories). I hate the guilt.

So, why did I send my kid to daycare yesterday on the one day I have off? I wanted to sleep in, that's why. But I wasn't going to get off that easy. On Sunday, I stayed up until 2 a.m. reading blogs and writing about my husband's wonderful, if ill-measured, cat door. Then I watched "Family Guy" on Adult Swim. Finally, I went to bed. Just as soon as I got into deep sleep, The Baby started to wake up every 30 minutes or so, then at 5:30 a.m. he was up for good. *sigh* So, I was up until 8 a.m. when hubby took The Baby to daycare. I then fell back asleep until 10:30. Bliss.

I took my time getting showered and dressed and picked up The Baby--I did want to spend the day with him, just after I got a little shut eye. Then I did something that I've been doing way too much, I went to McDonald's. Gah... but that's another post.

Living room picnics are the best
Anyway, it turned out good. Totally worth the calories. We got home and I sat down on the floor at the coffee table. The Baby stood along side of me snacking on puffs, while I ate my hamburger and drank my iced coffee.

Since it's unseasonably warm, The Baby and I pretended to be picnicking outside: the couch, which we were facing, was a lake, the floor lamp was a tree with the sun behind it... you get the picture.

Then something very un-The Baby-like happened -- he crawled up into my lap. He sat there contentedly listening to me chatter about our picnic. This may not seem like a big deal, but my kid isn't a lap-kid. While he's quite sweet, he has an aloof independent side that he may have learned from the cat. At first, I thought it was a mistake -- The Baby must be trying to crawl over me, not onto me. I even took him off my lap to help him out! But he just looked at me as if to say, "Woman, are you nuts? Put me back. I was exactly where I wanted to be." I did. We enjoyed are picnic immensely.

In fact, it was the best lunch date I ever had. Who says that you can’t have the best of both worlds?