I knew the day was coming. For some stupid reason I decided to let it sneak up on me and now it has sneaked up on me and I am not ready.
I’m not ready to be done mat leave.
I didn’t expect that. In the very early days I was looking forward to going to work, to talking to adults, to using my brain for adult problems, for adult responsibilities. I didn’t want to spend my days playing on the floor. I didn’t want to keep cleaning her tray three times a day. I didn’t want to tidy the house every day at noon. I didn’t want to wear only casual clothes. No, wait. I always want to wear only casual clothes.
But, today was my last day at my favourite play group and it was one the hardest mornings of my year. I got to sit down and watch my
baby kid try to climb up to sit in a chair, wander around the room looking for books, get too much stamp ink on her hands, and then give me a huge smile when she spotted me from across the room. We had a nice time. They even sang her Happy Birthday because she turned one on Monday.
I made friends this year. I like them and I like their kids. Which is huge and surprising. I’ve never really liked kids I wasn’t related to but now I’m going to miss them.
I’m not ready for this to not be my day to day. I’m not ready for a new routine. I’m not ready to not be her immediate source of comfort when she falls too hard. I’m not ready for someone else to be the one tickling her and making her laugh during the day.
I’m not sure I can drop her off that first
day week without crying. Not because I think she won’t be ok – she will be great – but because I want to hang out with her. I want to get her her lunch and tickle her toes when she’s done eating. I want to play hide and seek with her. I want to help her chase the dog around the house.
Instead I go back to work and someone else gets to do all those things while I… do my job.
The worst part is that I like my job. I like my job. I think that’s what’s hardest about this. Even if we could afford for me to stay home I would then miss my job.
It’s not quite fair that I have to go back to work right when she is getting to be the most fun she’s ever been and I can only assume she’s going to get more fun as she gets older – I mean, look at who is raising her. Is it going to get harder to leave her with someone else as she gets to be more fun? Will I feel like I can be more present with her when I am home because I’m home less? Will I ever be ok with someone else being the first to note when she accomplishes milestones? Will my heart ever not break when I drop her off at daycare?
I don’t know. And maybe that’s just my new motto when it comes to parenting. Who the fuck knows?