And I used to want to do that for other kids.
Now when I think of returning to work, there’s just this giant black space
When I see my husband leave for work, there’s a little twinge of jealousy. A little piece of me wishes that I was able to do that, to get out of the house every day, interact with other human adults, problem solve and think critically over more than a laundry and meal plan.
I love being H’s mom, I love that I’ve gotten to stay home with him and watch all of his Firsts. I love that I get to wake him up every morning and put him down for bed every night. I love that I’m there to soothe him after he crashes and burns, and I’m there to give him high fives and applause when he does something awesome.
I honestly can’t imagine not being the one who has been home with him for the last 17 months. I feel lucky that we’ve been able to budget enough for me to do so.
Honestly, I don’t even think it’s really work that I want. I just want something that’s mine. Something outside of ‘just being a mom’ (as I’m often reminded of).
Is this some quarter (+1) life crisis that I wasn’t aware of?
Because I’m pretty ready for this funk to be over.