I recently went back to my part-time job and the past two days we have worked our way through some unusually early mornings. I set my alarm for 5:45 so I would have enough time to get dressed, tame my lion’s mane, feed the cat, make coffee, pack the diaper bag, put on make up in an attempt to look put together, pump a bottle for Mr. Man, and lastly, wake up Mr. Man for his morning feeding. I barely made it on time for my 7:30 shift yesterday and was five minutes late today.
But it was so difficult. I wanted to stay home and cuddle. I wanted to go back to a few weeks ago, when Mr. Man woke up to eat at 6:00 rather than his current 7:30 wake up and we would go back to sleep for an hour all curled up together.
Yesterday he was fine when I left him with my husband, who was driving the kids over to my parents’ house, but I was a mess. He was just too cute, and Little Miss was still sleeping so I hadn’t even seen her. I felt sad all the way to work until I called to remind my husband of something and Little Miss got on the phone to talk to me.
“Hop Hop doesn’t have clothes,” she said of one of her favorite toys, a plastic bullfrog from the National Aquarium in DC. I responded with, “Well yeah, he’s a frog so I guess he wouldn’t have clothes, would he?” She then told me, “He doesn’t have clothes because they would get wet when he went in the water.” Very solid logic, and just the random conversation I needed to perk me up.
Today was the opposite. I was feeling fine about leaving since I knew the kids would be ok— we had survived yesterday— but Mr. Man was the one who was sad. He wouldn’t let go of my arm and cried when I gave him to my husband so I could get in the car. Of course he got over it quickly, but you know, that mommy guilt is strong stuff.
So tomorrow we don’t have to get up early, and I don’t have any reason not to be with my kiddos so I am going to hug and cuddle and kiss them enough to make up for the time we spent apart.