Tonight I sit here, unable to sleep, in my dark and quiet lounge, with a very heavy heart.
You see, tomorrow I go back to work after 3 weeks’ holiday. I have had the best 3 weeks with my family and feel more connected to our kids than I have in a really long time.
Tomorrow morning Etienne will drop our kids off at aftercare and I will feel like the worst Mother on the face of the planet for not dropping them off myself because I have to be at work at a certain time.
I took the girls to go and hang out at their new aftercare on Friday (because school only starts on Wednesday) and I looked at the other 4 year olds there that were dropped off at a brand new school that morning, some of whom have to be dropped off at 7am and will only be collected at 6pm because those are their personal circumstances. My heart ached for those Mothers that have to leave their kids there, because I know how it feels. We are lucky that they will only spend the morning there tomorrow because our Megan will collect them, but still. My babies.
The kids have been asking lots of questions this last week about why Mommy can’t fetch them from school and why they have to go to aftercare. Why mommy comes home so late every day. And it feels like I’m being stabbed every time they ask. We have explained to them that if Mommy doesn’t work there are a lot of things we wouldn’t have, like food.
But still. It hurts like a bastard.
Would I want to not work? No. I love my job and for my own sanity I need to leave the house every day to go to work, otherwise I would never fix my hair or my face (as I haven’t done the last 3 weeks) and I wouldn’t be a happy person.
I just wish I had more hours in the day or I could be in 2 places at the same time or have more balance. I wish I could magically shuffle my life around so I could get it all done. I wish I had my head around all the school things and work things and marriage things and friend things and never drop a ball. Sadly though, no amount of being super organised is ever going to solve that problem. Someone will always suffer. Or in my case, 3 little someones.
So kids, if you’re reading this and you are teenagers that hate my guts or parents yourselves one day that are battling the same demons, this is how I felt tonight.
Now push off, the pity party is over, life carries on.
And remember: Mommy loves you very, very much.