To my wonderful gifts of love,
I’ve finished my first full week of full-time, out-of-the-home work, and it’s been hard. Not so much the job (which is satisfyingly challenging), but more so the adjustment. My heart aches and tears fall more each day that I drop you off at preschool.
I miss our days at home, the wanderlust in your eyes as you ask what we’re doing today, and the freedom to enjoy your smiles (and your cries) throughout the day. I treasure the years that we’ve spent with the flexibility my schooling and jobs have given us so far.
Sure, working from home was not without its struggles, and I still had time away to focus, but it doesn’t even compare to the amount I’ve spent away from you for the eight days that I’ve been answering the demands of grown-ups instead of your constant requests for something more to eat/drink or referee-ing the puzzles/dolls/blocks.
I’m still trying to reconcile the time I’m spending away from you. I know it’s good for you to see that we must work hard for the things we have in our lives and that life and successes don’t come without sacrifice. You’ve seen me transform from a master’s student to a working graduate and will, hopefully, one day find that same love and value in education and knowledge.
I envy those that I drop you off with five days a week now and dream of staying home without the stress of a moderate single income.
My heart grows heavier with each week day that passes, and I look forward to every second that I have with you even more. Even with a full-time, outside-of-the-home job, I will always be your mother first. And there is nothing that brings me greater joy than that.