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I Left Her for 3 Days

We went on vacation. Selfishly, we went on vacation by ourselves. Well, not vacation exactly. We dorked out and went to a Board Game Convention (that’s another story for another time).

We left Beans with my parents for 77 hours. Three bedtimes. Four naptimes. Endless hours of fun. Which we were not a part of. 

I have extremely mixed emotions about this. 

On one hand, I had such a fucking great time on vacation with my husband. We drank beers, we ate at restaurants without worrying about how much to tip because they’d have to clean up after our kid, we played so many games, met some really cool people and generally reconnected.

On the other hand, I didn’t get to read her bedtimes stories, sing her songs before her nap, get her milk, watch her climb stairs at the park, teach her about feeding the ducks, give her her first timbit (yes, Dad, I know what you did), make her laugh.

Is this meant to be cut and dry? I’ve always been more comfortable with cut and dry conclusions but I don’t think parenthood is going to work that way. I’m always going to want to spend all my time with Beans. She is fucking cool. But, I’m also going to want a break from parenting.

Sometimes you just want to spend a day not saying “not in your mouth”, “on your bum”, “sit down, turn around”, “the dog doesn’t like it when you rip out her fur”. 

The worst and best part was coming home. When she saw us it was like she finally realized we had been missing. My parents did such a great job of keeping her distracted that when she saw us she immediately started crying. She hugged me so hard I thought she might bruise me. She didn’t let go of me until she fell asleep that night. 

She missed me too.

And now I will never leave her again.

Just kidding. Sort of.

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I Didn’t Know I Would Feel Like This

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?