The Woe's of a Working Mom

I'm about to make an observation that is not news.  Here goes: it's hard to be a working mom.

I'm certainly not the first person to mention this, nor is this even the first time I've written about this topic on my blog.  And I'll probably write about it again.  It's always on my mind.

Today I dropped a clingy, weepy Callah off at her baby sitter's and went off to an appointment for my job.  It was pretty routine; signing my contract, listening to my health care options and having my photo taken for my ID badge.  Since yesterday was Callah's first official day at her new baby sitter's house and it went swimmingly, I didn't worry too much about today.  Even though what I was doing was not that thrilling, I got excited again about my job for the fall.  The new students and school are pretty great and I am looking forward to my new position.  Plus it was fun to blow dry my hair and put on a skirt. 

I assumed the tears would be shelved after the first few minutes, so when I returned to pick up Callah at around 11 this morning I was devastated to see a puffy eyed little girl having spent a miserable morning crying for her momma.

You'd think after nearly two years the gut-wrenching polarity would be a bit easier.  I would be able to reconcile my work and home life and appreciate the time I am able to be with her and realize that as full-time working mom's jobs go, mine is pretty great.  But it's just so damn difficult to feel torn in two directions.  And I don't like to speak for all men here, but I hazard to say, it's different for women.  My husband loves Callah and misses her when he's at work, but I'm not sure he completely comprehends the agonizing pull I feel in two disparate directions.  Work is not only a necessity for us (my job provides health insurance) but it's good for me and I like it.  

But home-oh home! It's where I can ensure that Callah feels loved and cared for and cherished in a way that only a mommy can. I can rock her before her nap and sing (off-key) the lullabies I've been singing to her since birth.  I can stack blocks and drip water on her toes. I can make a mess in the kitchen and put flour on her nose.  We can go to the library and listen to stories and the zoo to see the monkeys.  And I can watch every minute as she changes before my eyes, listen to each new vocabulary word and ride out each little (or big) tantrum.

I wish I had a solution, I wish I could protect her from ever feeling sad or (gasp) abandoned by her mommy.  I wish I could do these two things with the level of perfection I want to do everything.  I wish I could shield her from the unhappy and the ugly in the world.  In lieu of all that I wish for the peace to accept things as they are and the knowledge to know that I am blessed in all ways every day.

Here's some pictures of us doing the things at home I love to do!