
It’s just that this is my last week home with baby until
summer. While I know that summer is not
far off and I’ve been supremely fortunate to spend these last fourteen weeks
with my child, I don’t feel ready to leave him.
Oddly, I’m convinced I’ll be ready come fall at the start of the next
school year, a time of new beginnings, but this week has been tinted with
wistfulness and more than a faint whiff of sadness. I’d like to say that’s why I ate that package
of black licorice—besides, it’s supposed to be super good for your tummy too,
right?—but really, it just tasted good.
Still, I’ve been out of sorts and wishing for comfort. I actually did a good job of walking past of
a display of cakes at the fancy grocery store yesterday. I thought to myself, “That scrumptious
looking chocolate cake isn’t going to let you stay home with baby so put your
too-big girl panties on and keep walking.” And I did. I bought a sandwich wrap and small salad
instead. So maybe I’m finally starting
to show a little food maturity? (I wouldn’t
bet on it though.)
I know several people have told me that they were relieved
to be back at work, so maybe there’s hope that once I’m there I’ll feel better
(much like just jumping into a cold pool rather than easing in). It’s funny, months ago when I was arranging
the leave, I thought I’d be itching to return a lot sooner. Really though, the time passed so quickly and
now it’s almost time to go back in a couple days. In the meantime, I find myself holding him close
and trying to memorize each little smile, his darling cheeks, and those perfect
eyelids. Funny how work once felt like the
center of my life and in a short time, all my priorities have shifted. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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