The alarm goes off at the same time every day. If you’re like me, you hit the snooze button at the same time every day, too. That way, you start a trend of tardiness. But since I’m at work by the same time every day, can we call it on time?
Anyway, many of us working moms follow routines. We live by them. We wake a certain times, wake our kids at certain times (or, they wake us), we work specific hours, we may stop for the same coffee at Starbucks on the way (not me… coffee is icky), we probably have the same lunch hour each day (mine is at 10:30, seriously?!), we face the same co-workers, similar tasks, and then, we end our days to start them over 12 hours later. Some of us might commute, and take that time to breathe deeply and recover from a tiring workday. Some of us might hit the gym on the way home (now we’re dreaming, right?) or pick up groceries for dinner. Either way, many of us end our “working mom” days the same way: picking up kids.
My son is with my mother-in-law for eight hours a day while I work. I always feared he would have this incredibly tight bond with his Abuela and that I would be competing with her for his affection. But this week, when I experienced what I call the best part of a working mom’s day, I realized my fears have been laid to rest.
My son is a momma’s boy, tried and true. The best part of my day is when I park my car in my mother-in-law’s driveway and get out to walk to the front door. Inside, is a little toddling one-year-old who somehow knows the time of day and begins saying “Momma, momma, momma” over and over again around 2:30—just a half hour before I usually come to pick him up. I can hear the “Momma, momma, momma” from outside in the driveway, and every bit of my workday melts away when I open the screen door and hear him coming. Every stress and every paper to be graded is forgotten when my mother-in-law turns the knob and my little boy lays eyes on his momma.
“Momma!” he yells, and he grabs me around the neck and gives me the best kind of eat-your-face open-mouthed kiss. Yesterday, he put his head on my shoulder and just stayed there. Dude. How many times can you melt my heart? It’s gone.
My mother-in-law looked at him with his head on my shoulder, and said a phrase I asked my husband about later: amores que matan. Love that kills.
My son has a love that kills for me. He is with his Abuela all day every day, and he loves her, but his love for his momma, nothing can touch.
And that feeling, my friends, is the absolute best part of a working mom’s day.