72 hours. That is what this mama worked the other week. And I have jelly all over my face. Jealous of all the time eveyone else besides me gets to spend with my little man. He is asleep when I leave for work and asleep---or ready for bed---by the time I return. It's starting to feel like I'm the babysitter when I see him only two out seven days of the week. I am torn between being able to work and provide for my blueberry and wanting to be the mom my heart wants me to be.
A few weeks ago I attended a lecture about women in the work place. A successful woman in my field (note: she has no offspring) said it was not about the quantity of time but the quality of time you have with your family. That sounds like a nice theory. But it is a theory that is not working for me.
While I am at the job my little boy has learned to crawl, sprout a tooth, and stand himself up in his crib. Everyday is a day of discovery and challenge for him.
Above is a photo from our time together this week. I followed him on his wild rumpus around his nursery. He was just so break-my-heart-cute in his striped socks and his Where the Wild Things Are tshirt from dear Auntie L---I had to share this little boy and his smile that makes my tired old soul sigh with utter adoration.
