For two weeks now, I've referred to this very Friday as my last Friday of freedom. Next week I will start working until 1. Even though it's not a full day, I'm still not home with Tommy and today especially I'm finding myself sad and weepy over what feels like a loss for me.
Because today is the last Friday I can sleep in my bed until Tommy is awake rather than to the sound of my alarm.
Because today is the last Friday I can enjoy my coffee in a mug rather than my travel cup.
Because today is the last Friday I can watch Sesame Street and make waffles for Tommy.
Because today is the last Friday we can show up to Todd's work just to say hi and surprise him with lunch.
Because today is the last Friday I can spend the day running errands and doing laundry and reading a book while Tommy naps.
Because today is the last Friday I will get to see Sarah and her boys for our usual every-other-week visits.
Because today is the last Friday....for an indeterminable amount of time.
Another season of change is upon me.
Change is like that. It doesn't ask our permission or wait for us to be ready - it just comes.
I'll be working more and at home less and there will be more on my plate than I might choose. Inevitably, I'll be missing out on pieces of Tommy's childhood and pieces of being a mom.
And still, I feel torn between enjoyment and guilt. The enjoyment of being a working mom - something that surprised me to know about myself. That I want it this way. That I'm happier and more balanced. And the guilt which is mostly about not being like everyone else. Not being the stay-at-home-mommy that other bloggers and church friends seem to be so content in. Most of my guilt comes from wondering what's wrong with me that I wouldn't want to stay home 24/7 and be a mom even if our finances allowed for that. Why am I different?
I'm aware too of where my son is so independent of me now. He needs less and less of my nurturing and kissing away of boo-boos. Though I am still invited to play, it's a rare event when he wants to snuggle on my lap unless he's sick or is being read to. He's potty trained and can get his own juice box out of the fridge and he can sit at the table and paint with watercolors without knocking over the glass of water.
Though he doesn't need less of my love, he does need me to do less for him. He's learning how to hold his own already - which that in itself is a weird experience. To watch this baby I had, morph into a little boy with a mind of his own.
This little boy who won't look at the camera to smile and take a picture for anything in the world.
It's been over two years since I've had to go to work on a Friday. Perhaps, next week will be the adjustment of the century for me. I'm off to do my usual Friday things, but this time, accompanied by a few tears.