These days are filled with laughter and love. Of looking in the eyes and telling you you're special. Of closing the computer when you wake from slumber and soaking up every smell and breath of you that I can. Of watching the sisterhood, the love, the kindness of each other. Of really seeing.
Of course, then there the days when I go to work, and I hear from the babysitter that you have acted out and have tackled each other and pulled each other's hair and been unkind.
Where did my sweet girls go?
Did I not give you enough attention yesterday?
Am I wrong to be at work?
I should be home to raise them myself. This is wrong.
Am I doing this all wrong?
Is this just you testing the new guardian I have appointed you?
Would this be happening if I was there?
The damn guilt. The Working Mother's Guilt. The "I help provide for my family" guilt. The "I need a break" guilt. That guilt.
It envelopes me, gives me anxiety like I've never felt before. And I sit, helpless, ten miles away from your hand, your eyes, your giggles. I know if I was there I could have control of these situations. I wouldn't feel helpless. I would be able to facilitate and show you that you are loved and good and made just right.
I pray with all my heart that this place and phase in life doesn't affect you too much. That these days will not outweigh the good.
I pray with all my heart that your memories of your mama are not the days she was gone.
In between tweeting, reading books to my daughters, and [not] burning mac n cheese, I am the Founder + Creative Director of Blessed is She women's ministry + community.