I was taken aback yesterday. As I put Abby down for a nap, kissed her nighty night and held her so very close, tears began to flow. And then I thought to myself that even though I know I’m not meant to be a SAHM, it doesn’t make the transition back to work any easier. I’m still going to miss that little booger. Despite those frustrating moments we shared together this summer, I mean she is about to turn three after all, I’m going to miss her. Because in the long run, our summer was full on fun and joy and overflowing with special Mommy/Abby moments, which tremendously outweigh those few stressful times.
All of last week, and even into Sunday morning, I kept thinking to myself how calm I was. I wasn’t freaking out about getting all the things done, which never got done. I hadn’t even begun any sort of prep for teaching. And for the first time as I go back to work, I wasn’t stressing over it all. I felt I’d grown as a working momma. I had this all under control. No big deal.
So it was startling when the tears began to flow. I hugged my husband tight, told him I was sad to be leaving Abby, and he tried to joke with me about how at least I wouldn’t have to deal with those frustrating moments. It helped. Sort of.
It’s Sunday afternoon as I’m typing this. And the tears, well they are welling up in my eyes again. Abby and I, we are a team. Sometimes a dysfunctional one as we both can get frustrated with each other on occasion, but still a team, with a strong bond that nothing can break.
For a couple weeks now I’ve been talking to her about mommy going back to work and about all the fun new things she gets to do at preschool. Sunday morning as we snuggled up on the couch together, I once again reminded her that Mommy is going to work tomorrow. She looked up at me with a big smile and said, “You get to go back to work.” Not I have to, but I get to. She’s a wise little one, isn’t she.
I get to go back to my career that I love, where I get to make a difference in someone else’s life. And if I didn’t love my job, I think the transition back would be that much harder. But still, it’s hard.
I wonder if as she gets older if it will get any easier. I mean, I know it’s already easier as I’m not stressing one bit about being prepared. But the emotional side. Does that ever get easier? Will it be different when she’s going off to school alongside me every September? Or will I just lament over how quickly she’s grown.
So for now, I remind myself to cherish the small moments, and remember that being a teacher is part of my path in life, one that in the long run makes me a better mother. For me. This is how it all works. And I know next week there will be no tears, at least from me, as I settle back in. This is how it all works.