On paper, I have got this mothering thing all sorted out.
We have caregivers who are willing to look after the little man while I head to work. Both grandmothers love him and take solid care of him in the day. I have a job that I enjoy very, very much. I’m doing well, my colleagues are awesome and I have a fantastic boss. My commute from work to the caregivers’ to home is under an hour.
It’s all good.
And yet it’s not. You have no idea how the notion of not being able to bring up my child full-time kills me inside.
I miss my little guy so much when I am at work. Most of the time, I am able to compartmentalise and get on with my work. And it’s not like I don’t like it. But there are moments when I look at the photos of Aidan and wonder why I am teaching someone else’s child when I can be there for my own. And I’ll wonder if something has got to give.
It’s a constant struggle that I go through every single day.
I suspect that I am not the sort who will kill myself and my kid if I were to stay home and be a full-time mom. Granted, there may be frustrating days (*coughmentalleapcough*) when I will tear my hair out (or his) but in general, I won’t feel too sorry about being there for him.
There are so many things that I want to do with him. And I know exactly how I want to bring him up. As a working mom, the only time that I can do all that is during weekends but even then, the days are too darned short. On top of that, I am constantly performing the mundane chores of being a mom: packing milk, freezing milk, cooking dinner, freezing dinner, doing grocery shopping, ordering dipes and wipes, sterilizing pumps and bottles etc.
I once spent three hours in the kitchen whipping up his meals for the next week and was exhausted after that. And then I wondered about the point of doing that because those were three hours I could have spent playing with him. Or taking him out for a swim or a walk.
Perhaps the key to it is to let go. But how? This is my son, the child that I dreamt of for two years and was blessed with in the most unexpected manner. And this is my child: joyful, strong-willed, delightful, charming, adorable, chatty.
Maybe the catch is that I want to have my cake and eat it too. Work part-time. Or something. I just need to figure out what this “something” is.