I did a trial daycare run with Magoo this week so that if being away from him for the first time was really difficult I wouldn’t be in the middle of a meeting crying in the corner. It’s been an overall okay experience. And one to test my micromanagement tendencies. I have given the daycare lots of feedback on a variety of things. “Please don’t put him in baby vegas”. I’ll dedicate another post to some of the crazy things for babies. I say “crazy” without judgement 🙂
I did debate staying home and quitting my job. Like, for reals. The camera man and I had a sit down heart-to-heart. And, after much soul searching (and I admit, maj tears), I decided that working (at least part-time) was the right decision for me. For now. Much like daycare, I’m giving work a trial run. If I can’t stomach leaving his sweet face four days a week, then adios corporate world, and hello to those stinky diapers that I actually love! Who. am. I.?
I don’t want to get political, that’s not what this blog is about, but I will say this. I had five months at home with my child. Five. Way more than many mommas out there have. And when I sat down with HR to discuss my leave beforehand I asked, “Will I get bored? Do people come back early? Five months out is a long time.” Hahaha. Turns out, I didn’t get bored. I did go crazy, didn’t sleep, felt overwhelmed and in over my head, but never bored. And despite the madness and that life is waaay more challenging as a Stay at Home Mom than it is as a corporate cog, I loved every single second. And I wish all moms who want it could have that sweet time with their babes. Handing him over at five months felt almost criminal to me. He can’t even crawl yet and I’m letting someone else care for him? Am I giving someone else my child to raise? Is this why I had him – only to hand him over to some stranger who will teach him the secrets of life without me? These are the guilt-ridden thoughts swirling through my mind as I type.
He’s in daycare right now and I am enjoying my last day – had a TREAT YOSELF day (e.g., spa, books, real housewives) – but I am dying to go pick him up early. As I write this, tears are welling up. I miss him. It’s been eight hours and I feel like I desperately need to see him and smell him. I don’t know what it is about his smell, but it sends me over the moon.
Again. Who. Am. I.? I guess officially a Mom.