The 1%

99% of the time I rock the working-mom thing with no problems. I love my job. I love the people I work with. My girls are well taken care of. I have a supportive husband who does way more than his fare share.

And while if given the choice, I would alway choose work over staying home, I don’t have the luxury of a choice. I have to work. It is what it is, so I just own it. I always have.

I have no guilt over working.

To be honest, most days I’m so busy with work I don’t have a lot of time to dwell on the fact that I miss my girls.

But then, there’s the 1% of the time. It creeps up on me when I least expect it.

Like the other day.

Reese had her 4 month immunizations. After her appointment, I dropped her off with my inlaws and headed to work like any other day. That evening while she was still happy, she wasn’t her normal self. It took longer than usual to get her to bed. Then, my normally sleeping through the night baby, woke up screaming at 11:30 PM. I went straight to her room, scooped her up and snuggled her in the rocking chair until she calmed down. I ended up sleeping on the couch with her for the rest of the night. Waking up every half hour or so.

The next morning she had a very low-grade fever, a side effect of the shots. I proceeded with my normal morning routine and she seemed back to her normal self. At drop-off I explained to her teacher at daycare about her shots and I walked out the door.

At the office, I had some pretty major deadlines looming so I had my headphones in and Pandora on and I was busy cranking through my to-do list.

Then it happened.

A song came on and it started with a baby cooing, playing. {yes, I’m listening to Christmas music on repeat} My mind immediately stopped. I couldn’t regain my focus. All I could do was think about my sweet girl and wonder how she was doing. Did she need me? My heart ached thinking about her. Did I make the right decision sending her to daycare? Should I have stayed home? Could I have worked from home? I hate questioning myself…I really hate questioning my parenting decisions.

Most days 5:00 rolls around and I’m still in the middle of something…I’ll look up at the clock and realize it’s 10 after and then rush to wrap up whatever I’m working on and get out the door.

But that day? Well, today I think it’s safe to say I was watching the clock at 4:57 ticking down the minutes until I can go scoop up my baby.

I hate days like that.

I hate the 1%.


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