Superwoman

I’m not the first mother out there to have a full time job, nor will I be the last, but gosh darn it; some days are tough.  Today is one of those days and it is only 8:30am.  Our morning started like any ordinary day with our routine of getting out the door and making our commute downtown.  We arrived at school and took the elevator up to second floor (yes, we have to take this ride up one floor in the morning but must take the stairs down in the afternoon at pick-up.  Don’t ask me why, my children are creatures of habit as well).

We always drop brother off first and then make the trip up one more floor to sister’s room.  This morning, neither of Brady’s teachers was there.  One of them is off all week on summer vacation and the other wasn’t beginning her day until 8:15.  This shouldn’t be a huge deal, but to Mr. Brady this was the beginning of the end.  He has a routine at daycare and their absence threw him off.  He always sit with his “ducky” (blanket) on either Nikki or Kris’s lap for a solid 25 minutes before he gets down to play.  He buries himself in their arms and won’t even look at me when I leave the room.  It’s his way of letting me know he is upset with me, but at the same time finding comfort during the pass-off. 

I have gotten used to him ignoring me, which wasn’t easy, but today he clung to me with all his strength because of his anxiety with the new faces.  As if that reaction wasn’t bad enough, he started to shake and then a low cry followed.  Brady doesn’t cry.  I mean, hardly ever does this child shed a tear unless he is in pain or we take him into a hospital/clinic.  It was a traumatic morning for him, and a heart-wrenching one for me.

I stood there for a moment because all I wanted to do was console him and help with the transition process.  Ultimately, he seeing me there only made it worse.  Despite my desire to want to stay, I left with tears in my eyes and luckily a little girl by my side.

I dropped Tessa off and headed back downstairs to my car.  The drive to work wasn’t an easy one.  I sat there with guilt because I was leaving my children with someone else besides me.  And then there was the extra pile of guilt because I had left Brady in a state where he felt so uncomfortable he was shaking.

As a Monday through Friday, full-time working mother, these days are going to happen to me.  They are going to happen to all working moms.   There are going to be moments that are challenging, that are tough, and that are going to make us cry.  We are always going to have times where we feel guilt.  Guilt because someone else is seeing our children take their first steps.  Guilt because someone else is helping our child learn their ABCs.  Guilt because we aren’t there to kiss their knee when they fall on the playground. Guilt because we can’t take our kids to the pool, library, museums and other fun places in the afternoon during the summer like so many other moms can.  Guilt because we are absent to help them through many growing moments.  Guilt because we aren’t there at times when our children ask or want to see us.

When I have days like this I have to remind myself of a few things.  First of all, this too shall pass.  I can call Brady’s classroom right now and I know they will tell me that he is happy, healthy, and playing.  Kids are resilient.  I know that having these moments of guilt are okay because it is natural.  It is a testament to the kind of mothers we are; we care.  I also remember how blessed I am.  I am blessed to have a place to take my children where I know that they are safe, where they are showered with love, where they are involved in a curriculum and educated, where they are exposed to culture, music, and arts, where they have fun, and with people I whole-heartedly trust.  I am blessed to have a job that I love that helps provide for the lifestyle I want to give to my children.  I am blessed to have adult interaction every day and activity that constantly challenges my mind and fulfills my need for education, corporate activity, and helping others.

There are going to be good days.  There are going to be bad days. Being a working mom isn’t easy.  I’m sure most of us probably don’t hear enough how amazing, dedicated, and hardworking we are.  The amazing fete we do each day with getting ourselves and our kids ready, working eight hours, and working another five when we get home at a harder job isn’t always acknowledged.  But you know what, we are all amazing; we are Super Woman.  To all you hard working mommas out there, I commend you.