On Tuesday when I came home from work, Andre saw me come in and let go of his nanny and walked all by himself towards me while saying "Mama, mama!" with a big smile on his face. He then hugged me and gave me a very slobbery kiss. I just about melted.
Andre has been growing by leaps and bounds. Every day he learns something new. The pure joy of seeing him change before my eyes is tainted with nostalgia. He is no longer a baby and I know I will blink and he'll be as big as Luca is today, going off to pre-school and talking incesantly about how a bird pooped on mom's car (he thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen).
It's moments like that hug and kiss that make it so worthwhile to be so sleep deprived, but they also leave me feeling torn about missing out on so much. Andre will never be this age again, and there I go off to work every day and miss out on all his glorious cuteness.
My dilemma is not unique I'm sure. I choose to work and bring home half the bacon. It's what works for me. But I guess no choice is ever perfect, no situation 100% ideal. Most of the time, I'm happy about going to work but this week I've been a little sad about it. My mind starts racing and I wonder if I should change careers, or downsize everything so we can rely on one income, or just bring Andre with me to work every day...
How do you feel?
Walter von Nessen (and Inspired) Mushroom Lamps
16 hours ago